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pursuitseternal · 26 days

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“Seek Me:” naughty Hide and Seek for you and your Vampire Lord in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K of predator/prey, hide and seek double smut

Summary: To fight the impending ennui of politics, you play a game, just a simple hunt, a sort of dark and perverted hide and seek. Winner claims the spoils, and the spoils are always… delicious.

CW: predator/prey dynamics, perverted hide and seek, slight exhibitionism (twice), rough sex, possessive sex, double cream pie, (surprise) carriage sex

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Chapter 11… Seek Me

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Shadows stretch across the palace halls, bending and misshaping anything familiar. That creeping memory of sneaking in here years ago to stop the Rite that made you and your love what you are still niggles in your thoughts and nightmares sometimes.

Times like this, you wonder why Astarion insisted on living in such a place of past torment. Even though the decor was brighter and the crimsons more vibrant, it didn’t matter in the dark.

All looked the same cloaked in shadows and covered in night.

Your undead heart pounds, it's slow and hard as your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your breaths. Why… why did you agree to let him go first? Some little game to break the ennui. A simple game of hide and seek. But you should have known, hiding and seeking was more than that in an ancient ancestral, vampiric palace.

And it was always more than that with Astarion, your love, your sire, your husband.

You keep your eyes open for his glowing red gaze… your ears train the ground for his near silent step… he’s far more practiced at all being a vampire entails. He can hold his breath, slow his heart, move like death incarnate.

Your only advantage is that you know the palace better. All these days spent overseeing renovations as he attended council meetings and travels, you had more than a few tricks up your sleeve. As long as he didn’t catch you first.

Darting onto the balcony, you keep to the shadows and hug the wall. If you can just make it inside the hall, you’re sure he won’t find you for quite some time.

After all, it’s just a little game to play while your guests are still departing, admiring your new palace. It’s only a matter of time now before you both need to leave for some grand soirée, another of many evenings wrapped up in tedium and the boring banter of politics and power. This game is to spice up the evening ahead. And instead, it just makes your heart race.

Winner or loser, you know you’re just going to end up split on his cock, gasping and pleasured wherever you are. Wherever it is he finds you.

You just hope it’s not within earshot of these nobles…these poor, pathetic souls who wander to look at your splendorous home. You hear their voices from down below, lightening your step to go unnoticed. Muffled noises grow closer. Hands shaking, you know that hidden door is here… behind this panel, your hands skim over the ornate wallpaper, searching with fumbling touch for the switch. Noises grow louder, and suddenly you’re aware of the milling crowd on the other side of the railing. They can just catch you from the corners of their judgemental eyes, their ears just within reach enough to hear you if you were to make enough noise…

You wonder if they can also hear those footsteps approaching. Astarion. Hunting you down, seeking you in your fun and twisted game.

Trembling, ragged breaths come from your mouth as you finally hear the click of the hidden switch, the panel shifting in the wall to reveal total and utter darkness. You smile, relieved….

Until two glowing crimson eyes open to look down on you from within. Quicker than breath, he’s turned you around, dagger to your throat and arms pinning you against his chest as he laughs so quietly in your ear. “Shhhh, not a sound… my treasure.” He grinds his prominent erection on the curve of your ass through your thin silken gown. “Not if you want those Patriars and Council members to hear how much of a slut you are for your lover…”

You swallow the sound that longs to break from your throat. His hand, the one that isn’t skating the blade of his dagger tantalizingly over your neck, skates up your thigh, rucking up your skirts to reveal your bare legs and curves. Just the way he likes you.

“You want that, want to show off how much I crave you, don’t you…?” you hiss the question, pulling at his arm enough to free you, but he only retaliates with a smile on his lips.

Clutching you all the harder, he spins you both into the wall to press you into that elegant wallpaper. That dagger blade is stowed away, replaced by his hand at your neck. His laugh is laced with pure devilry—he lives for this. That hand returns to hiking up your skirt until you feel nothing but the fine, supple leather of his trousers grinding against your ass. “You question if I’d like the powerful men of this city to know that its Hero against the Netherbrain whimpers for me almost every hour of the day?” You feel his hands quickly, dexterously unlace those leathers. That thick, hot head of his cock teases against your ass, slipping beneath your thighs as he spreads you wider with his knee. “You wonder if I’m proud that my beloved longs for me always, and I for her?”

You stifle your groan against the rich and ribbed texture of the wallpaper. That cock head teasing into your entrance just enough to make you shake, to make you press against the wall harder to lift your hips more for him. A low growl shakes against your sensitive ear as he approves, that cock teasing inside you just a little bit more. “Tell me, my treasure, how hard did you try to hide from me? That couldn’t have really been your best…” he taunts you, both with that hot and blunted head in your folds and his words in your ear. “Once I’m finished claiming my victory this round, you’ll just have to try again you know…”

Shivering, you nod, your cheek rubbing that expensive paper, its lush colors too bright to have your face shoved against it. “Oh no, I was barely trying, my love,” you lie just to taunt him all the same. “I just wanted you to claim your victory, worried you’d take too long for how badly I need you.”

“Such pleasing words from my lust-driven consort,” he chuckles, quiet enough for your ear alone. “Such a slut, just for me, is that it?” he rasps as he shoves himself deep into you at last, fangs sinking into your neck all at once. “What kind of lover would I be to deny you that?”

He sucks harder at your neck, hips pistoning against your rear deliberately and smoothly. You physically bite your tongue and cheek to keep from moaning, the hard won prize of this game going to both of you, that desire flooding your bond. Thighs shaking, you know you won’t last much longer, not with the thrill of being just out of eyesight from the dozen or so guests that still mill around. “I look forward to you trying to beat me again,” he growls in your ear, words staggered and stuttered with his thrusts. “But we better finish this round before anyone suspects the Vampire Lord and his Consort of being so madly in love they can’t keep their hands or sexes off each other, hmm?”

A small whine escapes your self-imposed gag on your lips, and it makes him laugh low and dangerously in his throat. “What a good little consort,” he nips at your ear. “Just can’t help yourself. So clever to get caught…” he groans. With that thickening inside you, that gravel in his voice, you know he’s growing close.

The thought alone makes you come undone, back arching, your fangs breaking your own lip’s flesh. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep yourself from mewling and screaming as you burst in heat. And all the while, he’s groaning and rasping in your right ear. Shivers run down your back as he grunts harder in that sensitive spot against your neck. Erratic, hard thrusts jab deep inside you, his cock twitching as it pulses and fills you.

“That scent will make it harder for you to hide this time, you know my treasure,” he emphasizes with a deep breath right against your neck. “Your blood, my cum, your arousal… You’re such a mess, marked so well. There’s nowhere inside this palace I won’t be able to track you down, you know…”

You smirk, spinning in his arms to rest your back against the wall. “We’ll see about that…” you tease, breathless and overconfident. He just smirks, that edge of arousal and intrigue darkening the deep crimson of his narrowing eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best, my darling little vampling,” he kisses your lips longingly, a little playful nip at the end, the mingling of iron on your tongues from your blood. He breaks away, eyes wide, frightening as he wraps his hand around your throat, your skin still slick from blood. “We have half an hour before we must depart for the evening, my pet. You had better not delay us, you know.”

“You wish me to let you win in that time so we remain… punctual?” you tease.

“I’m just stating the obvious,” he shakes his head very slowly as he smirks wide enough to bare his fangs, “I won’t be pleased if I have to leave without you just because you decided to be clever.”

“I… am… clever,” you taunt, tapping him on his nose with each insolent word.

Astarion pulls his hand away from your throat, eyes glinting, breath still. “Then I’ll let you get a head start, my clever girl…” he leans his fanged face into yours, “so you had better run.”

You stumble away, thighs slick as he watches you break out into the evening on the balcony again. He just laughs, your scent too strong in his nose. Voices from below call up to him, those guests wishing to impart a few more good wishes to their host before their departure for the next gathering. Astarion shoves his cock back in his trousers, perfecting his appearance before leering down at the nobles form over that thick railing. Those mortals so literally far beneath him. “A fair evening to you,” he calls with a flourish. “My lady and I will see you at the festivities anon. A few matters of home to wrap up before the evening, I’m afraid.”

He sniffs the air, the stink of these guests cloud his senses. Striding down the stairs, he tries to pick up your scent, but there are just too many bodies, too much stale wine and general stink. Once the door is shut to the palace, once he is truly alone, he tears through room after room, searching and sniffing. His mind tugs against yours. “Where are you… darling….?” he growls down your bond, but you know better than to answer. “Trying so hard to be clever, is that it?”

He sneers to himself as he sweeps silently through bedchambers and ballrooms and galleries. He presses against the walls at cracks and hidden doors to scent you within the tunnels. The clock starts to chime, and Astarion hisses in frustration. He hears the carriage rumbling outside the main doors.

“On the gods, darling,” he hisses outloud and down their bond. “If you don’t come out right now, I will be sorely disappointed.” He huffs, grabbing his gloves and cane perched neatly in the foyer. He pauses for a moment, tilting his pointed ear to listen to his palace, scanning his domain for her. “You think you’ve won?” he snips, irritated and irked as he starts out the door towards the waiting coach. It’s black paint trimmed with gold shines in the torchlight as night falls. “I assure, my darling, if you don’t come this moment to the coach for the evening’s gathering…”

He lets the threat hang in the air. Not even a tremor of a laugh from her end of their bond. Teeth grinding, he launches from the door into the gathering dark of night. He opens the carriage door with a shout for the driver to make haste. Before the door has even shut behind him, his team of raven black mares is off through the Upper City.

Astarion flops down on the elegantly cushioned seat of his coach. His cane in his hands nearly breaks in the strength of his angered grip. “How dare she…” he hisses into the dark as the carriage bumps and sways over the streets. That little window lets the wind whistle in. Usually he enjoys the breeze on his face, but now, tonight, it annoys the hells out of it. He slams it shut

Suddenly, without that breeze, a scent reaches his nose. Blood… arousal…

“Oh… my love…” your voice tickles his mind.

The couch sways around a corner, something shuffling near his feet. A hand shoots up to grab the hem of his jacket, yanking him towards the floor.

“Darling…” he purrs down at you as your eyes lock into his, your fangs must be glinting in the dim light in the carriage.

“I win,” you gloat, your body pinned beneath him on the floor of your carriage. His legs are already spreading yours, hands already roughly pulling your skirts up to your waist, yet you feel like the victor. The prey finally catches the predator in her neat little trap.

“Clever little consort, setting her snare so neatly for me to wind up between your legs…” he rasps, his body bumping and swaying against you in time with the movements of your coach. But then he begins to add a few more deliberate thrusts of his clothed and hardened cock against your already used and soaking folds. “What is the prize you wish to claim, my treasure?”

“You know my favorite prize,” you purr, catching the edge of his pointed ear in your mouth for a suck, one that deafens him for the moment from the rumble of your coach. A moan slips out from his lips far louder than would be dignified.

His ear slips from your mouth as he turns his head, a snarl in Astarion’s throat as he catches your chin. “Then it is everything you shall receive…” he growls, “when I decide to finally give it to you…” he teases you darkly, those hips grinding against your folds mercilessly. He’s heavy on your core, the bumping and jostling of the carriage stealing your breath as he sometimes times his thrusts with the unpredictable up-down. It only makes him laugh harder and capture your lips in his when he squashes you so completely.

“Maybe if you had just played the game properly, you wouldn’t be feeling so trapped like the little prey you are for me, my little treat…” he nips into your neck, just a small bite. Enough to draw blood by the mouthful for him to feast on.

“I did play, and I won,” you chuckle low in your throat, reaching between our hips to blatantly touch myself. “Maybe it’s time you paid respects to the victor this round?” You tease him, acerbic and haughty as he hears your fingers toying through your own slick.

Astarion gives that low and wicked laugh, relishing your defiant spirit. “I don’t think you want anything respectful done with you…. Do you my treasure?” He can’t stiffle a groan as he teases his own cock head through your sopping seam. Over the rattling of your wooden coach cobblestones, you hear the wet sounds of him playing inside you. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you bite your lips enough to draw your own blood to paint your lips scarlet.

You groan, the carriage lurches around a corner making you both roll to the side. A wicked laugh in your throat, you take full advantage of the surprise. Momentum swings you around, until you are the one on top, in a second, a little rise of your hips, and you sink his cock deep inside you.

Astarion bares his fangs and hisses at the sudden warmth and wet that sucks him in, his head now bouncing on the floor. You ride him mercilessly. “Such a good prize you are…” you tease him, gripping his chin to make him look at you. “Nothing like having the Vampire Ascendant at my mercy for once,” you flaunt your victory.

“You think yourself so clever and….” he starts, but you press a finger against his mouth before sticking two of them inside his mouth as you shush him.

“Hush,” you smirk, glowing in your moment of power. You swirl your fingers around his mouth, grazing over his wet and sucking tongue, pricking your skin on his razor-fangs. “Just let your clever Consort have this victory once,” you smile, pouting down at him a bit as you pull your fingers from his salivating lips.

“Very well, my darling,” he growls, “but at least you could let your loving Ascendant lord sit up so his head isn’t addled by the roads.”

You snicker, “Of course. We wouldn’t want to have your mind any more befuddled by my glorious win.” Your smirk is feral and arrogant. You ease off of him, watching with a knowing and careful eye as he slides himself up to rest against the door of the carriage.

He tosses his head, your bodies still joined perfectly, the coach still rocking with that extra, insatiable friction that moves your sexes on their own. He smirks as you ride over a massive bump, one that fairly throws you into the air to slide down his cock with more force than you can give. You gasp as it makes you land squarely on him, cock head slamming your cervix.

The grin on his face grows delightfully sadistic as it twists those sharp features. You see his ears twitching as he listens closely to the rumbles of the coach, smirk winding higher as he lifts you up in time with the coach to slam you back down as it falls….

You grit your teeth and scream through them with a smile as he fills you, sharp and suddenly. “Get riding, my clever treasure,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss, “or these roads and I will do it for you.”

You give him a glare, more amorous than angry, your mouth slack as you buck your hips with abandon. You bite your lip as you move, the vibrations of the coach send you barreling towards your bliss so quickly. Hard and fast, your hands grip into the stitching of his jacket, his breath hot at the base of your neck. His gaze burns your skin, watching the way your breasts jiggle and move right before his eyes as you are thrown around, at the mercy of the coach’s movements.

He groans, the pressure so great inside you both, you feel it searing between you and crashing down your mental bond. With one breath, you clench around him, his hands grip into your waist to keep you steady as he tries to snap his hips. It bursts inside you, the pressure and pleasure erupting through your core as you reach your peaks as one. He places a breathless kiss on the soft skin of your bosom. “I do so love when you win too, my perfect prey and equal hunter…” he pants against your flesh. “I’ll gladly let you claim your victory from me…” his left brow arches rakishly and teasing, “but only when you’ve earned it, my darling…”

“Hmmm,” you hum, irritated and yet shivering in pleasure. “Just admit, I’m just as good…”

Suddenly the carriage rumbles to a stop, and you lock eyes with Astarion. Voices approach from behind the door, and your two sets of crimson eyes flare wide a moment before the door pulls open behind him.

He grunts as he spills backward, unceremoniously dangling out the door. His head hangs over the edge of the coach, his fanged smile wide and grinning as he stares into the crow upside down, while your hands grabbing furiously at your skirts to hide your sexes still throbbing and intertwined. He laughs that low and rumbling giggle, quite the sight as other guests pause to stare at the Vampire Ascendant indulging within his own private coach. “Well,” he chortles, sitting up to give a bit of privacy as you slide off his lap, “there isn’t any use hiding our love any longer…” Astarion nips at your neck playfully as he refastesns his trousers. “If they sought a glimpse into the loving depravities of the Ascendant and his consort, they certainly found it.”

You giggle, the rush of being so on display racing through your nerves. Carefully you follow him out of the coach, both of you straightening your clothes as if nothing happened. “And you wanted to play your games thinking tonight would be boring,” you rasp into his ear.

He stops in the middle of the grave path and pulls you hard into him, his kiss all lips and fangs and tongue down your throat. Hiding nothing of your passion from the spectators. “Nothing is boring when I’m with you.”

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crybaby-writings · 1 year

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let's talk about shane from stardew valley

people who shit talk about shane because of how his spouse room looks (showing signs that he may have relapsed, that's despite being in recovery he's still actively struggling with addiction, ect.) are just as bad as men who date a woman that they know is mentally ill, and then throw a fit or break up with her when she shows signs of mental illness.

it's the exact same thing, to a tee. people are complaining/divorcing him literally because his spouse room shows that he's still struggling with a mental illness/staying sober despite being in therapy and going to meetings.

and guess what, that's exactly how addiction works. you don't stop and it just goes away. you relapse over and over, while doing your very best. relapse/"slipping" is a vital part of recovery, just like therapy and attending your meetings (if you have them for your particular addiction).

addict's will live with the aftermath of, and be in recovery with, their addictions until the day that they die. no matter how long they are sober, there is always a small chance for a relapse or a slip in your judgement. i speak from experience in this, both as someone who has family members who were/are addicts and as someone who has addictions (that are tied to other mental health issues, not substance based).

shane is doing his best to recover, for the people he loves, and doesn't deserve to be treated badly because of something that's a natural part of the recovery process- that he's trying so hard to not let happen.

also, shane is definitely an asshole for a while after you meet him- i completely understand that, and im not arguing with that. you have every right to not like a character, or not want to be married to a character, but not liking them of not wanting to marry them simply because they're mentally ill/you can visually see the way their mental illness manifests is not okay.

also, what is his deal with randomly putting up joja wallpaper in the house? what's the reason? what was he thinking when he did that?

#♤— ash tries #'he's a fictional character' so? this is a issue real people deal with and it's a topic that's very important to me #stardew #stardew valley #stardew valley shane #shane stardew valley #tw: addiction mention #cw: addiction mention #tw addiction #tw addiction mention #cw addiction mention #shane x reader #stardew valley shane x reader #stardew valley farmer

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works-of-fanfiction · 9 months

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Empty Spaces || Lando Norris x ex!Reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N broke up a few months ago but can’t seem to stay away from each other.

Song: affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS

Warnings: Implied smut and mentions of sex. Swearing and a lil’ bit of angst.

Word Count: 3.2k

a/n: I told y’all I’m in my Lando era! please listen to the above song if you have a minute; it really describes how I imagined the characters to feel during this oneshot. enjoy!

"I love you."

“No, you don’t.”

Those three fateful words rolled off of Lando's tongue too easily. The flick of the L, the rounding of the O, teeth meeting at the V, it was like muscle memory for him. It was easy to say he loved her when she was lying naked in his bed, her chest rising and falling slowly, hair splayed across the pillow. It was like Groundhog Day for them. They’d fuck, followed by an awkward silence, followed by Y/N rushing to the bathroom then returning with her eyes glued to the floor. She’d lie on the very edge of the bed as far away from him as possible and try to catch her breath whilst she thought about every reason why she shouldn’t have let it happen again.

The thing about sleeping with an ex is that it’s just too easy. It’s not simple, but so. damn. easy. You eliminate the trouble of meeting someone new and pretending to care about their family dog, or their little niece who just took her first steps. Instead, you’re able to climb on top of, or lie beneath probably one of the only people in the world who know exactly what you want and exactly how you want it. And in those few moments when it’s just two bodies messily colliding, the people within those bodies don’t need to think about the terrible decision they’re making. Lando had certainly never regretted a thing with Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist.

She liked to call their little liaisons ‘accidents’. In her mind, showing up to his door with a bottle of wine in less than acceptable clothing was nothing more than a mishap. The temporary fun and the need for familiarity completely clouded her judgement, at least until the deed was done. Being beneath Lando delayed the agonising process of getting over him. Regrettable sex was somehow less painful than facing their reality and accepting that they were no longer meant for each other. How were the two supposed to let go of the person they’d once considered to be their soulmate?

“You’re hogging the bottle again.” Y/N groaned, reaching over to snatch the wine from Lando’s grasp.

“That just proves I need it more.”

Drinking had become a great distraction for them. The sex was a distraction from the breakup, and the booze was a distraction from the sex, and they couldn’t have one without the other.

Y/N laid on the floor whilst Lando sat propped against the wardrobe with one elbow resting on his knee. He plucked at the carpet absentmindedly, the friction reddening the tips of his fingers. His eyes wandered around the room and Y/N watched on, wondering what was going through his head. Was he overthinking everything just as much as she was?

After four months of back and forth fighting, they’d fallen out of sync. No amount of love or history shared could protect them from the inevitable. They made each other miserable, and as much as they tried to fix and talk through it, it wasn’t enough. It was when Y/N failed to show up for the Spanish Grand Prix that Lando realised it was really over. Every time their schedules aligned, he’d bought her a plane ticket and tracked her flight until the very second she landed. Spain was no different, despite the condition their relationship was in. She’d gotten the email as usual, the PDF attached and a little ‘can’t wait to see you’ message from Lando. It was the first time the message had felt like a lie. He couldn’t possibly be excited to see her, and she knew seeing him would crush her completely. She had to change her phone wallpaper to one of the default landscapes to avoid staring at his face every time she got a text.

Y/N grimaced as she sipped the wine, pulling the bottle back to read the label. After polishing off the petrol station’s finest Malbec, the best Lando could offer was a bottle of Pinot Grigio he found in the back of the cabinet, which was evidently not her favourite. Despite her distaste, she went back for another swig, swallowing hard so the liquid would barely graze her tongue.

Silence fell between them, not awkward but filled with uncertainty. Lando’s head was littered with questions, but he found it almost impossible to focus with her sprawled out on his floor, legs bare and his t-shirt hardly covering her. He wanted to climb on top of her, crawl all over her and devour every inch until she was crying and begging him to take her back and love her all over again. Realistically, he knew it wouldn’t work and they’d never go back to how they used to be, but he didn’t know how to let go. A selfish part of him wanted to hold on and keep her around, despite just how much it was hurting them both. Every time he let those words slip out, they left a sour taste in his mouth, and a bruise on Y/N’s heart. She couldn’t stand hearing those words uttered when they had no weight behind them, but she’d much rather take those over no words at all.

The first time she’d showed up to his apartment after hours, it felt like he’d somehow wished her into existence. It had been a particularly hard weekend following tons of media appearances and unwelcome questions. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t do anything right by the media; even an improved performance in Austria wasn’t enough to get them off his back. Having a thousand people congratulate him felt great, but there were always people whispering in the background - it was a one-off. It was a fluke! McLaren can’t keep giving this kid so many chances.

Arriving back in the UK ready for Silverstone was bittersweet, as his excitement was clouded by the pressure and prying eyes of fans, reporters, and everyone in between. He didn’t know who he could turn to as his feelings felt so trivial, and it crossed his mind just how easy it once was to talk to Y/N and offload everything that had been weighing him down. It was strange for her not to be there, so when the notification pinged on his phone that there had been movement detected by the Ring camera, he was surprised to see her standing on his doorstep. The image was blurry but it was unmistakably Y/N, as she rocked back and forth on her heels, one hand clutching a bottle, the other tucked into the pocket of her - Lando’s - hoodie.

“…Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I uh, saw the result from Austria.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You did great. Really uh… Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“Neither do I.”

Unsure what to say, she thrust the bottle into Lando’s chest and he felt forced to take it. “Thank you… I guess.”

“Yeah.” She hesitated for a second, hands coming up as if she was ready to speak, but instead she turned and started to walk away.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” She spun quickly, looking back at the doors that once led into her home; looking back at the man she’d once considered to be her home.

“What are you doing here?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. She wasn’t sure she really had one. Something in her told her that she needed to see him, and before she could think it through, she was already halfway down the motorway with the bottle of Rosé she’d been given on her last birthday rolling across the backseats.

That night, he made the mistake of inviting her inside and popping open the bottle to pour them both a larger than average glass. He made the mistake of confiding in her, telling her everything about the Austrian Grand Prix and how it still welcomed unpleasant press despite his P4 result. He made the mistake of hugging her, sinking into her chest and inhaling the scent that once grounded him and reminded him he was safe. He didn’t mean to kiss her, and she didn’t mean to run her hands through his curls as she kissed him back. She wasn’t supposed to push his shorts down and climb on top of him on the sofa, and he never should have whispered how much he’d missed her as he came inside her.

After his podium at Silverstone, Y/N had frequented his apartment a lot in the two weeks before he left for Hungary. The first time was to ‘congratulate’ him and he was more than happy to celebrate with her on her knees before him. They couldn’t stay away from each other after that. As long as they had alcohol in their systems, they couldn’t seem to control their urges. It was when the effects wore off that the regret started to seep in.

They didn’t miss each other outside of the intimacy and affection. There was nothing left to mourn about their tumultuous relationship; the constant fights and distance keeping them apart. Y/N tried to attend as many races as possible, but a race weekend wasn’t exactly ideal for spending time with her boyfriend. He was far too busy on the track, and she was often left to mingle with strangers or keep herself occupied at the hospitality unit. The most quality time she got with him was being there when he passed out in their hotel room, leaving her to order room service and eat it quietly in the corner alone.

“Lando.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come here?”

“Okay.”

Gently taking the bottle from her hand, Lando placed it on the drawers before lying down beside her on the ground. The carpet rubbed harshly against his back as he wriggled to get comfortable. The two laid flat, staring up at the ceiling where a light bulb had recently gone out that Lando had meant to change. Y/N had joked about it creating mood lighting a couple weeks ago, and that one little remark had stopped him from taking the new bulb out of its box.

Hesitantly, she walked her fingers along the carpet until they met his. The slight touch made heat rush through Lando’s hand and up his arm, and his chest tightened as she linked her little finger with his. She didn’t have it in her to hold his hand properly. She thought if she did, all the hurt and sadness would flood to the surface and she’d be a sobbing mess on the floor. As much as they craved each other’s touch, joining hands felt too intimate compared to having sex. The smaller, softer touches terrified them.

“I think we should stop this.” Y/N thought out loud.

“You think we should?”

“I think we need to.” She turned her head, Lando turning his at the same time. He tightened his grip on her finger, dreading the feeling of her letting go. This wasn’t the first time they’d tried to have this conversation, but the very same sick feeling still swirled around in his stomach. If they stopped this, they’d have to promise never to see one another again, and neither were sure they could do that.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Is that all you’re going to say? Okay?” She propped herself up on her elbows and he followed, mirroring her.

“What else do you want me to say? I can’t beg you to keep doing this.”

But that was exactly what she wanted. She hated how disassociated they’d become, and how having sex had moulded into some fucked up routine they couldn’t get out of. She wanted to feel something, for it all to mean something but it didn’t. It really was just sex. Just seriously messed up sex between two exes that couldn’t face the facts and let the breakup be final. All the times he’d accidentally said he missed her or loved her had been exactly that - accidents.

“I just… I don’t know what this is, what it means.” Her voice got stuck in her throat as if something was telling her to keep her feelings to herself.

“I thought we agreed it meant nothing.”

“Did we? Or did we just say that to make ourselves feel better?”

She sat up, scooting to sit against the bed frame. Bringing her knees to her chest, she hugged herself tightly, begging herself not to get upset in front of Lando. He shuffled over, sitting opposite with his feet almost overlapping hers. “I can’t pretend this doesn’t hurt, because it does.”

“…I know.” He agreed quietly, looking down to fidget with his fingers. She stared at the top of his head, the mound of curls unruly from her touch.

It made her sad just to look at him. The memories would come flooding back like a tidal wave, and she didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to hit him, scream at him for breaking her heart and ruining what they had. She wished she could turn back time and never meet him or develop some kind of magic power to erase her own memory and make him disappear. At the same time, she longed to hold him, to tangle her body with his and never let go. Imagining her life without him in it made no sense. He had been a constant for two years, so how could she completely cut him off and forget about him?

“Nothing good can come of this.” She spoke, mostly to convince herself.

“I know.”

Y/N sighed in frustration, throwing her arms down to the ground. “You know? That’s all you can say?”

Lando didn’t know how to respond. Did she expect him to offer her advice? How could he comfort her when he was in the exact same position?

“Tell me what to do Lando, just tell me.” Tears began to well in her eyes, threatening to fall as she bit the inside of her cheeks. “I… I don’t think I can keep doing this, but I can’t… Fuck.” The first tear slid down her cheek, and she pawed at her face to wipe it away before he saw.

“Y/N…” He reached out to touch her, but she pulled her arm away. “Y/N, come on.”

“Don’t do that. Please don’t.” She closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing to try and stop the tears from flowing. “You broke my heart, Lando.” She whispered, saying the words aloud for the first time.

“And you broke mine.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze. Her eyes stung as she looked at him, studying the anguish in his brow and the tightening of his lips. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Are you? Are you? Because you’re the one who showed up at my door and didn’t give me the chance to get over you.” Lando hissed, his tone far more aggressive than he intended. He saw how this upset her and immediately rose to his knees to inch closer to her. “Y/N, I didn’t – “

“No, you’re right. I should never have showed up and practically begged you to fuck me. This is all my fault, that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?” She seethed, anger mixing with her sadness to create a truly messed up cocktail of emotions.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant, right? If I’d never shown up here after Austria, none of this would’ve happened, we wouldn’t be in this mess, and you would have moved on.”

“How do you know that?” He asked, sinking back down to sit cross-legged. “Go on, tell me. How could you possibly know that? Do you really think I could move on that easily?”

“But you just - “

“Yes, I know what I said.” He sighed, holding his head in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. “I’m not blaming you. This is just as much my doing as yours.”

Silence fell between them again, Y/N’s tears drying and Lando’s pounding heart slowing to its regular pace. How many times were they going to have the same conversation? What two people spent more time discussing their breakup than actually going through it?

He moved towards her, seeking consent in her eyes before sitting down. She nodded, tucking her elbows in so he could comfortably sit next to her. Laying her hand on the ground, Lando placed his on top and slotted his fingers between hers.

“This is shit.” She declared.

“This is shit.” He agreed.

Once again, they turned their heads to look at each other simultaneously. The redness in her water line and the tears trapped in her eyelashes made Lando’s chest ache. He wished there was something he could do to take the pain away and make this easier for the both of them. He was yet to cry over the breakup as he mostly felt numb inside, but he knew it would come eventually. He feared it. He didn’t want to cry, especially not over something he could’ve prevented if he’d tried hard enough.

Y/N analysed Lando’s blank expression, the dark bags beneath his eyes making his entire face appear duller. She hated seeing him like this, as he’d always been so unbelievably full of life and constantly smiling. She wondered how much sleep he’d been getting. Was he cradling his pillow to fill the empty space in his arms at night? Or was she the only one who needed the comfort of something to hold in order to drift off?

With their faces so close, they could feel each other breathing. Instinctively, Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed, her breaths becoming more shallow as Lando tilted his face closer. Curling his finger under her chin, he guided her towards him. “If we do this, it has to be the last time.” He whispered, his bottom lip grazing hers, eliciting a gasp from deep within her chest.

“The last time.” She breathed, desperate for him to kiss her. He closed the gap between them, softly pressing his lips against hers. Quietly, she moaned into his mouth as he opened it just enough for her to slide her tongue past his lips. Tasting traces of the white wine on each other’s tongues, they laid back down on the carpet, Lando keeping a hand beneath her head for support.

She hooked her legs around his hips to pull him closer as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. He groaned, reaching down to push his shorts past his knees. Y/N balanced on her back, lifting her ass in the air so he could undress her with ease.

Their night ended how it always did. They held each other close as Lando fucked her slowly, trying to delay the moment for as long as possible. Over and over they told each other it would be the last time, knowing that they were lying to themselves.

It wouldn’t be the last time.

#f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 oneshot #lando norris x reader #Spotify

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marvelmusing · 1 year

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Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Two

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: Settling into the Sanctuary, an old house fashioned into a safe place by the General, you find yourself recruited by the man himself to free some of your fellow Grisha.

Warnings: canon level violence, death and blood, limited season two spoilers.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Life almost feels normal again.

The Sanctuary is an old country house, with peeling wallpaper and worn-out furniture, long abandoned by whatever nobles of the past had been inhabiting it. Every day, the halls are slowly being filled with Grisha as the General regularly takes small groups out to liberate your people from the First Army camps.

Durasts aren’t typically involved in field work, especially not for a mission that is combat orientated, so you are often left in the workshop not far from the General’s own rooms. Mostly, you keep your head down, beginning work on a treatment for the effects of merzost that have been ailing the General.

Genya had shared her concerns for him with you, telling you she struggled to heal the scars on his face, or the fragment of the stag embedded in his hand. A young Alkemi, Vladim, had joined you a few days ago and the General had asked for him to work on a remedy, although his results so far have all been temporary.

Yesterday, the tidemaker that had been accompanying the General for the majority of these rescue missions, Fruzsi, had been injured. A bullet wound to the leg that had been healed incorrectly during the journey back by an unexperienced heartrender. Once they arrived back at the Sanctuary, she had received the proper medical attention, but she could not assist the General in the field for the next week.

At lunch today, you had heard several Grisha speculating over who would be joining the General on his trip this afternoon to a camp along the riverside over an hour away from the Sanctuary. Which is why you’re confused when the doors to the workshop open, revealing the General who strides towards your desk purposely.

“Can I help you, moi soverenyi?” you ask him.

He says your name smoothly, a quick glance over the notes you had been writing before his gaze runs up towards your face. Then he nods.

“You are to accompany me this afternoon.”

Setting down your pen, you nod slowly, not meeting his gaze as you ask,

“Alongside?”

He waits until you lift your eyes to his before he responds,

“Just us.”

That makes you hesitate.

“Are you certain? I haven’t seen official combat.”

The corner of his mouth curls slightly, as if he has found something amusing, and you straighten yourself. He links his hands together in front of himself, rolling his shoulder slightly as he looks down, and the shadows around you ripple.

“You are forgetting my nichevo’ya.”

“Of course not, sir. I only mean to say that, not many would rely on a durast as their counterpart for a mission such as this.”

He regards you for a long moment, tilting his head in a manner that has you feeling as though he intends to study you.

“The camp we are travelling to is only small.” There is a pause before he adds, “And you are no ordinary durast.”

Leaning back on the balls of his feet, the General looks towards the windows reveal a clear view of the foggy grounds surrounding the Sanctuary, meaning he doesn’t see the frown on your face in response to his words.

As he steps backwards, a half-smile tugs at his lips.

“Besides, you’ve proven yourself more than capable of self-defence.”

His words remind you of the moment he had arrived to free the Grisha in the camp that held you, only to find you had freed yourself and many others before taking on the First Army soldiers, picking them off one by one.

Some nights you wake with a jolt, phantom wire pulled tight against your throat in your dreams, and you sit up in bed gasping for breath as you push away thoughts of jeering soldiers and your friends being thrown into the Fold.

As those memories return to you now, you shake yourself, raising your chin towards the General as you ask,

“When do we leave?”

»»---------------------►

The plan is simple enough.

While the General engages with the First Army soldiers, you slip unnoticed over to the cells holding your fellow Grisha captive. Unlocking cages and unclasping shackles becomes instinct, a familiar synchronisation of your hands and your power.

With each person you free, you give them the same instructions. Any healers are to tend to the wounded at the meeting point you had agreed upon with the General. The crack of the Cut in the distance reassures you that he’s still fighting as you unlock the last set of shackles.

Searching through the rest of the camp, you grab a few bundles that contain food and first aid supplies, fright halting your actions every time a shot rings out.

As you head towards the meeting point, your eyes scour over the people tucked carefully behind the bushes, searching for a head of dark hair and a black kefta to match. He isn’t here.

“Where’s the General?” you ask.

Met with frowns of recollection and contradicting stories of his last sighting, worry stirs within you. Something doesn’t feel right. He should have disposed of the soldiers quick enough to have returned to you long before now.

“Wait here. If I’m not back within the hour, head north, the horses will take you back to the Sanctuary.”

Carefully, you make your way through the almost silent camp. Following the sound of fighting, you peer out from the side of a tent, just in time to see the General take a punch to the face that makes you wince. The scars on his face are newly healed, you can’t imagine how much pain he must be in from a single punch.

There’s four soldiers, though the General seems to be holding his own despite being outnumbered. A billowing plume of shadow curls around the feet of one of the soldiers, but the General’s nichevo’ya appear to be resisting his call.

From the pain wracked expression on his face, you realise that his body is resisting the request for more merzost. He might have the capability for more power, but his current pain level isn’t allowing him to summon it. With a frustrated cry, he slices one of the men in half with the Cut.

As you step out from your hiding spot, clasping your hands together to join the fight, someone grabs you from behind. Frustration and fright fills you. How has this happened to you again? The sound of several guns being clicked into position, including the one pressed to your cheek, has you stilling instantly.

The General has been manhandled into a half-kneeling position with his hands behind his back. Dark blood, stained with merzost, trickles down his forehead, blooming from the scar there that had reopened.

A large figure holds onto the General, pulling a knife from his belt and holding it against the General’s side when he struggles to free himself. The man holding on to you hisses against your ear,

“Hands where we can see them.”

Then he shoves you forwards.

The General’s eyes lock on yours, widened slightly with surprise at the sight of you. Something flickers over his features, too fast for you to identify. Was he annoyed that you hadn’t stayed at the meeting point? Was he concerned for you? Or disappointed that you had been caught?

Rousing yourself from your spiralling thoughts concerning the General’s opinion of you, whatever it may be, you focus on how you’re going to keep both of you alive.

The man standing behind you moves forward to get a closer look at the General and an uncomfortable feeling crawls over your skin as you stand with your hands raised in surrender.

“I know where the rest of them are,” you say quickly, drawing his attention away from the General. The man raises a brow at you. “The rest of his Grisha, I know where they are.”

Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin as you stare at him.

“You let me go and I’ll tell you.”

There’s a brief moment of consideration before the man nods.

“Alright then.”

“There’s an old country estate.”

The General struggles against their hold, his eyes ablaze with an anger that chills you to the bone.

“No,” he demands and the desperation that leaks into his voice makes you ache. Unable to pull your gaze from his, you say,

“It’s south west from here, around ten miles from the nearest town.” The complete opposite direction of the Sanctuary.

The intensity in his eyes shifts into something you can’t identify, but the General doesn’t miss a beat at the sound of your lie, his voice low with warning as he hisses,

“Traitor.”

There’s enough heat in his tone to make you shiver, a prickle of shame in your chest as if you had actually just sold out your fellow Grisha instead of bluffing.

The man turns towards his friends, putting his back to you. Just as you expected, the other two soldiers raise their guns to put you down at the nod of his head. Pressing your pointer and middle finger together, you reach for your power, seeking out each bullet that they intend for you.

The mechanisms within the guns shift as the triggers are all pulled in succession. Twisting your hands together, you bend the path of the bullets, sending them hurtling back at the soldiers.

For a few seconds, they all stand stunned. Then they collapse, one by one, including the man who had grabbed you.

Now only one remains, the one holding his knife against the General’s side. He grips tightly onto the back of the General’s neck, steering the both of them backwards as you step in their direction.

“Stay back,” he warns you.

Seizing the blade with your power, you hold it still in his hand, unable to be moved anywhere closer to the General.

“Drop it,” you order him.

He shakes his head, looking down at his weapon as he attempts to stab the General, his arm shaking with the force of his effort. His determination makes your own hands shake with exertion and you know this stalemate won’t last long.

A dark thought crosses your mind, something you have never considered before, but you’re desperate, so you push your power up from the knife to seek out a different material. Jerking your dominant hand in a harsh motion, you release your power and there’s a satisfying snap.

The soldier cries out in pain, dropping his knife and clutching the newly broken bone. Instantly, you lunge forwards to retrieve the knife. He becomes aware of your sudden movement, staggering in your direction with anger twisting his features.

With as much force as you can muster, you land a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back, caught off guard, and you slam the knife into his chest. As he falls onto his back, you cling to the handle of the knife, twisting it as you land over the top of him.

Blood pools over your hands, droplets spurting over your face as he chokes out his final breath, lungs and throat clogged with the thick red liquid.

It’s then that you realise you had been holding your own breath, body heaving as you take in air, recoiling shakily from the body. This wasn’t the first death you had caused, but pressing a knife into a man’s heart is completely different to redirecting bullets.

The sound of someone saying your name pulls you back to the present.

Somehow you manage to lift your gaze from the blood drying over your skin, and the General’s eyes are dark as they scour intently over your face.

“Are you alright?”

The nod you give him is weak, though the sight of him wincing as he moves to stand helps you to shake away the daze and focus on finding some first aid supplies.

He thanks you rather curtly when you offer him a pot of ointment that should help his scar heal again before he disappears into one of the tents to deal with it himself.

Genya had told you he had insisted on her healing his scars, instead of a healer, so you suspect he feels somewhat self-conscious about them. Whenever you see him, you try not to stare at the dark lines that spread over his features, but the thought of how he gained them always tugs slightly on your heartstrings.

While the General is tending to his wounds, you clean your hands, scrubbing with the harshest cloth you can find to scrape at your skin forcefully. The General finds you as you’re drying yourself, wincing slightly at the drag of the rough towel over the raw skin of your hands.

He pockets the ointment you had found, giving you a small nod as you discard the towel.

Silently, you walk through the camp, and it’s only once you’re half way to the meeting point where you had left the other Grisha that the General speaks up.

“You broke his arm.” Not looking at him, you nod. “How?”

Shrugging lightly, you share your reasoning with him.

“Everything contains matter. Bone is just another material.”

As you step over a puddle, a quote from a Grisha theorist comes to mind.

“Aren’t we all but things?” you muse quietly.

The silence stretches between you.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

KYJ Tag List: @tartiflvtte @weepingwitchofthewest

#keep your judgement au #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

The Taste of the Divine | Rhett Abbott (18+)

There’s something wrong with the Abbott land. Something bad about it, it’s clear as day. Angered and maybe on the wrong side of tipsy, Rhett stumbles across something — someone — he shouldn’t have out on the West pasture.

Warnings: vampire reader, race inclusive so ignore the header, written third person with she/her pronouns. Blood, lots of blood, biting, drinking, consuming — yaknow— vampire stuff. Oral (f receiving) and unprotected pinv. Kind of dubcon in that rhett is scared and horny but still down for what’s happening, wc 5.4k

…

“There’s a weird lady out on the West pasture!”

Cecelia’s nerves are already shot to pieces, what with her two terraway boys and all the trouble they’ve managed to cause both recently and over the almost three decade span of their lives. The crash of the door swinging open and banging into her wallpaper, followed by the thundering clap of Amy’s mud-caked boots along her hardwood floors, and then the true snarl of the thunder that rages on outside.

She drops the plate into the sink, suds and soapy water splashing onto the countertops and tile. Curling her hands around the granite, she inhales slowly and closes her eyes.

Royal jolts awake from his nap in his recliner, his rheumatic hands flinching as they clench around the now warm bottle of his beer. Rhett glances up from the shotty news cast on the television as she wizzes past him towards the kitchen.

She’s met with a dubious gaze from her father at the kitchen table and an eye roll that she isn’t supposed to have caught from her grandmother.

“There was!” Amy insists, her voice shrill and panicked as she stomps her boot into the floor and splatters her own muddy footprint. “She was staring right at me! — And she was dressed weird!”

Royal shakes his head and rubs at the bridge of his nose. He exhales all of his irritations out into the room and narrows his eyes at his youngest son, “Don’t worry, princess. Rhett’ll go check it out.”

Rhett scoffs and sinks back further into the arm chair, shaking his head, “No he won’t. Maybe her dad’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it.” Royal stares right ahead at Rhett, serious and stone-faced. “You’re the one who showed her that damn scary movie.”

The young cowboy growls in frustration as his truck plows through the storm, mud plastering the wheels and the paint job. Fucking Amy and her wacky fucking imagination.

He checks damn near the whole west pasture. It’s dark out, pouring with rain. If there was a woman out here, she’d probably be making her way to the house by now anyway.

It’s after he has already given up on looking and decided to come back that he spots it. The herd separated from one of the cows. He drives a little closer for a better look. It’s on its side — dead. He sighs, knowing that Royal will just be pissed about this too. He turns his head and catches movement in his peripheral. Looking back towards the cow, he sees it. The figure hunched over the animal.

Rhett squints, trying to look through the glaring white of his headlights. There’s a figure amongst the herd, he can’t quite see what it is. Hunched over one of the cattle like a damn animal, but it’s not shaped right to be a wolf. His better judgement tells him to stay in the truck.

Chilled fingers reaching out across the bench beside him, they curl around the butt of the shotgun. Brows furrowing, his eyes never once leave the contorted figure. Its shadow through the light tells Rhett that it’s moving, but it’s not right. It isn’t moving… right. Not like any kind of predator he has ever seen.

Being out here in the wide open, with the beams glaring right at this fucking thing, and it isn’t bothered in the slightest. Usually the wolves would be spooked by the lights or the sound of the engine. Not whatever is in front of him now.

Perry used to tell Rhett stories about this kind of thing. Figures lurking out in the pasture, things that weren’t human and wanted to hurt him. Older now, not the same angry little boy staring at the shadows on his wall with his covers pulled up over his face, it’s dismaying to realize that the same stomach-sick, cold kind of feeling washes over him.

Instinct. Royal says that Rhett didn’t inherit a damn ounce of it. But he did. He knows how to keep himself alive. Even after he hits the ground after getting tossed off a bull and it feels like he can physically feel his brain swelling and heart struggling to keep him going, instinct has always pushed him onto his feet and out of that heaving creature’s way. It tells him now to just shift the gears and go back the way he had come. Something tells him that it won’t follow.

Not even sure that he’s still breathing, he sits forwards and tries to make out what it is. It’s not right to be scared of the dark at his age. Of a fucking monster that Amy thinks she saw. Not a monster — a woman. He squints again, tilting his head just slightly. It can’t be a woman. Tearing apart that poor thing in front of it like it’s a sheet of paper. No human could rip through muscle and bone and tendon like that.

Too small to be a bear, not shaped right to be a young one either. It’s not a fucking wolf. He has no idea what it is. But he’ll be damned if he lets it kill off half the herd just for sport. If he could see better, maybe if it was a clearer night or if the rain wasn’t soaking the windshield, he’d be able to see the methodical way that the creature has picked apart its prey. Not sport. Survival.

Rhett’s calloused hand curls around the shotgun, his other grabbing the latch on the door handle. Perry was always more scared of his own damn stories than Rhett ever was.

The sound of the rain amplifies as he swings open the truck door, letting his right leg follow it. His boot touches down into the soaked mud, sliding just slightly before he’s even out. Adjusting the cap on his head, the door swings shut behind him and he tightens his grip on the door stock wrist, gripping the fore end of the gun with his other hand. He lifts the stock up to his cheek and takes a step forwards.

Even out here, Rhett can’t quite make out what he’s looking at. Doubled over and clawing at the flesh of the animal in front of it, he can’t even tell where the cow ends and the creature begins. Jagged-movements, snarling like a wolf, strength like a bear.

“Hey!” It’s a big of a sound as his tightened lungs will let him make. Not meek, it’s deep and graveled. It has scared off bigger animals before. It’s a mistake.

The snarling stops, it doesn’t get any less loud. Rain beating into the ground around him, soaking his clothes and chilling his skin. His heartbeat thudding in his ears is probably the loudest thing for miles.

Like an abstract painting, what is in front of him is just one of those things that doesn’t make any sense until you catch glimpse of that one part that tells you exactly what you’re looking at. Slender fingers braced on either side of the torn open chest cavity, resting still.

The sky and horizon black around it, solely illuminated by the beams of Rhett’s headlights, the creature finally looks up, grinning.

Mouth soaked, chin dripping with blood. Eyes red too, a deeper, more furious colour than the blood that coats her skin. A woman. No longer contorted strangely forwards, her head tilts as she stares right at his face. He’s right — his heartbeat is the loudest thing for miles.

She’s on her knees, pressed into the mud, devouring an animal twice her size. There’s something in her eyes that Rhett doesn’t recognise. He blinks slowly, fingers curling tighter around the shotgun. Rhett has never been looked at by anything the way that she — this thing — is looking at him now.

“What the…” His boots slip in the soaked mud, it cakes the soles and sides, threatening to swallow his footing in the marshy ground if he doesn’t move more cautiously.

She’s barely human looking, there’s something sinister in the reds of her eyes that makes Rhett’s stomach flip. His body carries him backwards quickly enough that his feet start to slip in the mud and the barrel of the gun falters away from the red, splattered target she has made for herself on her chest.

Her lips quirk further at the sides, her grin stretching as he stumbles back from her. Her pointed tongue, a deep crimson as it lifts forwards and cleans the blood from her teeth. She presses her weight forwards onto her palms like she’s going to stand.

Blue eyes widening, his heartbeat falters and amusement covers her chilling features as he drops the gun all together. The safety wasn’t even off. His hands fumble from the door, boots slipping in the mud, rain pouring down his back. With a panting breath, he finishes his sentence. “Fuck?”

Her stomach tightens, reminding her of why she was out here feasting on damn cattle in the first place. She’s so. Fucking. Thirsty. Something in her eyes changes. Rhett recognises the exact moment that he stops being entertainment and instead, becomes prey. It’s not something that he has ever been before, and yet, his body knows exactly what to do. Instinct. Something primal, maybe.

She reaches up and wipes her chin on her forearm, finished with the dead animal in front of her. Primal seems like the right word.

He glances up to the sky, pitch black and still pouring with rain like the heavens have opened up. That seems right too. It’s the first time that his eyes leave her since she has looked up, and he doesn’t dare look back. He tears open the door to the truck and hastens inside, locking the doors and fumbling for the key in the ignition.

He catches hold of the cold metal and looks ahead. She’s standing now. Looking right at him. It’s a little too bright to see with the headlights on, but there’s something disarming about the way she’s looking at him. Blood gone from her chin but still covering her chest, her arms, her hands. It’s the first time that Rhett notices what she’s wearing.

A plain white nightgown, cotton, soaked through and clinging, almost sheer to her body. It comes down to her mid-shins, torn around there. Satin woven through the neckline of it. It’s old — he can’t place it to a certain time period, but it isn’t from this one. Blood and rain mix together to saturate the material, evidence of what she has done lingering on its threads even as the rain washes her skin clean.

She’s barefoot. She must be freezing.

A sick feeling fills him as he realizes that she has drawn closer. That he can see that she is barefoot because she has stepped around the carcass and is walking towards him. He hadn’t even noticed.

His fingers curl tighter around the key but he doesn’t turn it. He just watches. The softened, almost timid look on her face as she stalks towards the truck, bathed in the white glow of the headlights. Still stained in red.

As she reaches the hood, she leans forwards and rests her palms on it. Rhett glances down, remembering the way her slender fingers had been braced on either side of the cow, nails sunk into its flesh. He swallows, blinking hard and forcing his fingers to move. The engine splutters.

Looking back up, his eyes study her face. She’s looking right at him, drenched. Scared. Out here all on her own. He doesn’t try the key again. It occurs briefly to him that something is wrong — that the sick, dreadful feeling had flooded away the second he met her now dark, but not red, gaze.

“Rhett.” She says his name like a prayer. A baited sigh, pleasant and desperate all at once. He blinks at her waiting at the hood of his truck. She tilts her head as he swallows, watching his adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat, listening to the blood gush through his veins. It was the name that the little girl had cried out earlier. She knows that it’s his name.

She mimics his swallow and reminds herself to blink. It freaks them out when she forgets to do that. He’s calmer already, but he’s afraid of her. Her lips almost quirk. He’s smart, he knows better. And yet — as she passes around to the passenger side, he makes no effort to try the key again.

Rhett slides further along the truck bench, pressing his back to the driver’s side door as she watches him through the passenger side window. She curls her fingers around the door handle and it complies with a quiet, effortless snap.

She looks up quickly as his breathing hitches. She shouldn’t be able to hear it from that side of the door, but she does. She shouldn’t have been able to snap the lock like this, but she did.

The door clicks open with no resistance, and Rhett finally gets a good look at her face. His brows furrow slightly as he looks her over, those sweet little features and those big, trusting eyes. He can’t remember why he locked the door in the first place.

“Rhett?” She moves fluidly now. As her gaze breaks from his to watch herself kneel on the truck bed, Rhett remembers. He catches sight of the almost washed away blood on her forearms. He looks quickly back towards the torn apart cow a couple feet from the truck. He remembered her jagged, twitching, animalistic movements. The truck door closes behind her. On her knees, she slides delicately across the bench and rests her hand against his.

She’s soaked, but her hands are warm. She curls her fingers around his palm, lifting it from the leather. His attention turns back towards her, arms tense, breathing shallow. Her lips quirk softly, almost sweetly, as she brings his bruised knuckles to her crimson-tinged lips and kisses softly.

Bringing it back down slowly, she rests his hand in her lap, against the soaked material of that strange nightgown. Next, she lifts her hand and strokes it along the length of his neck, smoothing his hair back away from his jugular. “You don’t have to be afraid.” She tells him calmly.

With every fiber of his being, he believes her. He believes that he doesn’t have to be afraid, but he is anyway. He’s afraid of what he saw, and what she is — plenty of things all at once.

Leaning closer, his scent is intoxicating, her mouth waters as her nose brushes against the stubble on his jaw. Rhett slams his eyes shut, suddenly wishing that he was a kid again, with covers to pull up to his chin, and his parents to tell him that he was going to be alright.

Her throat squeezes, desperate. She presses her lips tenderly to his skin, feeling his pulse under her. Pulling back, she hooks a finger under his jaw and turns his head towards her.

With his eyes on her again, he’s unafraid. Handsome. Pretty, blue eyes with long lashes, sun-soaked skin but in the kind of way that demonstrates hard work. A few centuries ago, she would’ve adored him. Now, it’s enough to just soothe his fears. She sits forwards and presses her lips softly to his cheek, pulling back and doing the same to the other one.

He doesn’t flinch. She can feel how badly she wants her touch, even with his trembling hands still rigid on his thighs. She takes his hand again, this time placing it over her breast through the sheer material.

Rhett’s brows furrow, he searches her face for answers and finds none. She leans into him again, this time kissing his lips. His hand remains stationary, unmoving, frozen. His lips move just the tiniest amount, chasing her kiss.

He had been expecting her to taste like blood, but she doesn’t. She smells expensive and she doesn’t taste like anything at all.

Rhett watches as she pulls back long enough to curl her fingers into the hem of the nightdress, peeling it up her body and letting it fall into the footwell. Kneeling before him, completely bare, she leans in again and kisses him tenderly.

His hand flexes against her hip, curling around her skin, feeling the warmth under his palm. Unmistakably human. He kisses her, fingers pressing into her sides.

“It won’t hurt,” She promises him, smoothing her open palm along his clothed chest. Wordlessly, Rhett understands what she is asking of him. He knows what hunger looks like. She kisses him again, more desperately this time, her fingertips trailing the dampened stitching of his jeans along the inseam of his thigh. Pulling back, she nips softly at his earlobe, feeling him shiver. “You give yourself to me, and I’ll give myself to you.”

Again, he understands what he is agreeing to. Her eyes are more red than they were before, her thumb stroking along the column of his neck. She’s intoxicating up close.

“Rhett?” She prompts him, smoothing her hand over his crotch, featherlight as she kisses his lips again. One more taste and she might just lose her mind. The flush in his skin makes her throat dry. The smell of his hair, his skin, the day that he has had. She growls lowly as he presses forwards and kisses her hard, grabbing at the back of her neck.

Almost eighty years of rest — her thirst nips at her nerves, fingers flexing against his shoulder blades as he covers her body with his, a silent reminder that he is still the one at her mercy here.

Her tongue trails the length of his jugular, as far as it spans along his throat. She kisses him feverishly as his rough, calloused hands explore her smooth skin. Not a scratch on her. Like she was just dropped out here, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been a while since she has had sex, even longer since she has had sex with a human. She had almost forgotten how eager they were. The beat of his heart against her bare chest is practically an aphrodisiac.

“I need something soon,” She murmurs into his neck, kissing it tenderly as she pushes his open button down back off of his shoulders. Rhett nods as he drops his head down to her chest, suckling at her warm skin. She pushes her fingers into his hair as he nips at her navel. “You aren’t scared, are you, cowboy?”

Rhett looks up at her from where he’s situated between her legs. Rugged, flushed with life, a spark of amusement in those wild blue eyes. It sparks her with envy as she sits up quickly. A little too quickly, something unhuman in the swiftness of it.

“No.” Rhett tells her. She catches hold of his jaw, nostrils flaring briefly. He should be. His hand smooths along her hip. “It’s okay. Go ‘head.”

She softens, not turning her head away from his throat. It’s not his fault, she supposes. She thinks of his family, hearing them pottering around their little home miles away — not thinking of him, out here, all alone with her. She thinks of her own family, long gone now, but not dissimilar to his.

“‘M gonna make it feel good, Rhett,” She says softly, honeyed cadence and soft lips as they gaze his throat. He closes his eyes and waits. Her index finger pressed to his throat, a discreet spot right below his jaw. The nail presses into his skin and drags, splitting the flesh. Blood spills from the cut immediately. Rhett gasps softly as she lurches forwards and presses her mouth to it.

She sucks the fresh blood from his neck, warm and sweet on her tongue — she should’ve known that a gruff looking cowboy like him would taste sweeter than honey.

He grunts as her palm cups his crotch through his jeans, using the meat of her palm to grind against his hardening cock. His eyes flutter closed as he tongue flicks over the small cut, still sucking at the crimson liquid.

Rhett curls a hand into her hair, holding at the base of her neck, keeping her against him. “S-Shit,” He pants out, grinding his hips up into her palm, leaning his head back in surrender. “Oh.”

Her free hand curls into his hair and tugs, exposing more of his throat to him, making him groan. His fingers smooth softly over the nape of her neck, she reminds herself to be gentle with him.

Licking away the remaining blood, she presses her thumb to the small cut to stop the bleeding. He kisses her slowly, slipping his tongue into her mouth. This time, he does taste copper, but he doesn’t mind it that much. She makes it worth tasting.

He glances down at her blood-soaked skin, the remnants left of what the rain wasn’t fast enough to wash away. He knows that he should be afraid of what’s coming, but he isn’t.

She reminds herself to move slowly and to breathe, to blink, as she takes the cap from his head and discards it, moving into his lap. Bracketing his hips with her thighs, she curls her fingers into his white undershirt, lips quirking. It’s not the same smile as earlier, that gutwrenchingly terrifying grin, but it’s enough to remind him to be afraid.

Her nails press into the material, tearing it with ease. It splits at the middle and down the sides. She discards it with little care, pressing her bare chest against his, carding her fingers through his brown locks as he kisses her. Desperate for that taste again, his lips chase hers. She gives it to him graciously, caressing his tongue with hers. Desperate for more than that, quite clearly.

He’s rock hard against the denim of his jeans, breathing hard through his nose as his hands grope at her still-wet skin. They stop briefly, finding purchase on the curve of her ass, using his human strength to angle her hips and rock his hardened cock against her core.

He would have eaten her alive if he had come across her before she was turned, the sweet little thing she had been back then. Raking her nails along his chest, she reminds him swiftly of the now leveled playing field.

Rhett thinks that this is just like every other girl he has been with — she feels it in his movements. The experienced, cool way that he knows how to touch a woman. Curious — how the times had changed.

The last human she had been with hadn’t paid her nearly this much attention. Maybe this is just Rhett, maybe it’s a new fad. If he lives, perhaps she’ll ask him. She hums, somewhat contentedly, as his nimble fingers work circles on her clit. Still in his jeans and not even asking her to touch him. Truly, curious.

Her reaction isn’t what Rhett is looking for. The soft hums of approval, it’s not enough, it’s not worth the ice-cold fear in his chest. She inhales sharply, a purely symbolic measure, as he turns them both and presses her back into the leather of the truck bench.

He’s got a dirty mouth for a farm boy. Wet, open-mouthed feverish kisses on every inch of skin that he can get his lips on. His trail of filthy kisses continues, his thin nose grazing her sternum as his mouth works towards her navel. His hands are strong and capable, holding her in place by your ribs. As much as she will let him, anyway.

Experienced and well-knowledged about sex by this point in her immortality, she can detect his eagerness in his movements, his desperation to please in the way his tongue moves against her skin. It's sweet. He’s good at it. It’s been a long time since someone has burned for her in the way that this rugged cowboy clearly does.

His hands trail from her hips, up and along her warm sides. Calloused hands roam her flawless skin. Move up and back down again. He revels in the feeling of her under his fingertips, on the tip of his tongue.

She lets the cowboy have his fun. It’s fun for her too, to still be surprised, even after all of this time. It’s not the first time that a man has buried his head between her legs, but it’s the first time that she hasn’t been just waiting for it to be over. Rhett knows what he’s doing. His hands grope at her chest as he sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

She cums, shuddering against his tongue, curling her fingers into his hair, making him hiss. Rhett grins at her as she releases him. There is plenty that she knows about him, but he knows what he did just then.

He’s cocky for someone who’s life is no longer in their own hands, warming up to her too much. This happens frequently. A handsome young man with a troublesome smile, and the wolfish woman ready to tear them apart.

Rhett pops open the buckle on his jeans and pushes them down his thighs. Her eyes burn red, crimson lips quirked at the edges as she spreads her thighs for him. Her hand slides between her legs, two fingers dragging along her folds and gathering her juices on the digits.

“God.” Rhett breathes out, covering her body with his, fingers curling tight into her hips. She smiles into the crook of his neck, kissing the taut skin tenderly, feeling his pulse under her lips.

“He can’t help you now, Rhett.” Her breath fans over his ear as she speaks, making him shudder. Turning his head, she kisses his lips. Slow, longing. Like a goodbye.

He groans softly as he presses into her, the storm raging on outside of the truck, wind slamming cold rain into the windows. Her lips are warm against his throat as she hums softly. Her fingers card through the lengths of his hair and along the muscles in his back.

Rhett rocks his hips back and forth gently — she almost scoffs — he’s concerned about hurting her. “More.” She tells him, her nails digging into his skin. Rhett exhales slowly and drives his hips into her.

To her surprise, he lifts his head to look at her. Studying her face, her reactions to the way that he moves. She moans softly, as he tugs at her hips, angling himself against her g-spot. Rhett’s grip tightens, keeping her there as he fucks into her again and again. This predator, much stronger than he is, completely at his mercy, moaning against his throat.

“You want it?” Rhett mumbles against her skin, grunting softly as he snaps his hips into hers. She gasps back. “Bite me, darlin’ — s’alright.”

She moans, an excited sound as he tugs at the lengths of his brunet hair. “I want it.” She tells him, grazing her teeth, featherlight against the oh, so breakable skin.

The truck is filled with their sounds as she lets another delighted cry out, surprising herself. She pants, squeezing her thighs around his hips. He reminds her so much of someone that she knew. Someone that she misses so dearly. It’s why she didn’t snap his neck out there in the rain. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pulls him closer. He looks down between their bodies, watching as his cock fills her over and over.

“I want you, Rhett.” She decides, something primal and possessive in her voice. Her fingertips trail the stubble on his jaw as she tips his chin to look at her. He nods blindly.

“You got me, darlin’.” He kisses her mouth, another filthy little exchange that’s all tongue, moaning and panting. She grins against him, pressing her heel into the small of his back. “Whatever you need.”

Fingers curling around the muscle of his jaw, her strength braces him there, steady. She leans in close and inhales slowly, savouring this delicious scent. Rhett gasps as her teeth sink into his throat, hips stuttering and slamming forwards. She moans at the feeling, blood trickling down her chin.

She grabs desperately at the back of his neck, not wanting to spill a drop, liquid gold on her tongue. Not only because it has been so long, but because it’s him. Rhett’s fingers curl tighter into her hair, struggling to keep up with the pace of his thrusts as his eyes squeeze shut, muscles tensing.

His body’s natural reaction tells him that he is in danger, but danger has never felt this good. It’s like he can feel every ounce of her desire for him, pulsing through his veins when she’s attached to him like this. His arms squeeze around her middle, desperate to have her closer.

She squeezes her legs tighter around his hips, crying out his name in her mind, moaning against his throat. Her fingers curl into those long locks at the nape of his neck, feeling his blood lubricate that excruciating burn in her throat. Her stomach tightens at the thought.

Devotion. Sustaining her like this, fucking her like this — he’s right, he is all hers. Those people back at the house have all already gone to bed without so much as checking if he was alive. He wouldn’t be, if not for her mercy, and his wonderful mouth.

Hers. She licks a stripe along throat, gathering the spilled blood and lifting her chin to kiss his mouth. He accepts her kiss hungrily, sucking at her tongue greedily. Entirely hers. As their lips part, she goes right back to his neck, biting again, feeling her stomach tighten as his hips stutter.

She bites him harder, feeling him tense up, knowing that she’s hurting him. His blood spills freely into her mouth, gushing onto her tongue and out of the corners of her lips.

“Fuck!” Rhett grunts, feeling her walls clenching around him. The honeyed taste of his blood, the sound of his gravelled voice in her ear, the life flowing through his veins. Her back arches up off of the truck bench as she hits the peak of her climax and spills right over it.

There are a few more, erratic, desirous thrusts before the cowboy is spent, spilling into her. Wrapping the monster tight in his arms, forehead braced against her bloodied collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” She smooths her fingers through his hair delicately, licking the last few drops of blood that spill from the teeth marks on his neck. “Rhett.”

He’s dizzy and warm, burning warm, in fact. He squeezes her softly in his arms, closing his eyes for just a moment. He should have expected to be tired, but not like this. It’s like an anaesthetic— he feels sleep come for him and there’s nothing that he can do to fight it.

It crosses his mind briefly that it could be worse than sleep, but he isn’t afraid for it.

“Damn it, Rhett!” The curtains are drawn open sharply, making him flinch. He growls and pulls the covers up over his sensitive eyes. “We’re going to be late for church!”

Cecilia storms out of the room and slams the door behind her. Rhett sits up in his bed and presses the base of his palm into his eye socket, rubbing tiredly. He glances towards the window and squints at the light cascading across the floor, not quite reaching his bed.

He falls back against the comfort of his mattress and exhales slowly. Fucking weird dream. He shifts, hoping to find sleep again, feeling a soft discomfort at the bottom of his throat. Brows furrowing, he swallows and flinches at the white hot pain that passes through his nerves. His brows scrunch as he sits sharply upright again.

He looks towards the window and brings a hand up to cup his throat. His gaze falls down to his boots by the door, caked in mud and bloodied.

…

@fudge13 @hangmanscoming @hexpectations @bradshawseresinbabe @xoxabs88xox @topgunbiqueen @perpetuelledaydreaming @thedroneranger @noorsworlr @princess76179 @phoenix1388 @astronomeoww @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff

#rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott one shot #Lewis Pullman #outer range smut #outer range

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hookedonhook730 · 5 months

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because who doesn’t love our favorite duo?💜🖤⚖️

#rhea ripley #dominik mysterio #mami rhea #dirty dom #mami is always on top #latino heat #the judgement day #the judgement day wallpapers

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bluerskiees · 2 years

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SEISHU INUI FLUFF ☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

♧ Has written many poetry about you but is shy to show it to you.

♧ Slightly insecure about his scar but dont worry, the way you kiss it makes it dissappear.

♧ He's pretty emotionless but its only because he has a hard time expressing it. After what happened to akane, expressing his emotions wasn't easy.

♧ I'm sure he bought heels as a joke first, but then enjoyed wearing it so yeah.

♧ Can watch a horror movie without flinching, so he absolutely loves it when you cuddle him when you get scared.

♧ Jerk. Would definitely make it seem like he forgot your birthday only to take you out later at night.

♧ NEVER do a cheating/hickey prank on him. Kicks the "other bf" in his face with his gorgeous heels without a second thought.

♧ Judgemental af (sometimes). "Baby, are you actually gonna wear THAT ?" "No no i mean it is nice but you know?..... it could be better?"

♧ Picks your outfit sometimes

♧ Would actually wake up at sharp 5.00 and open the screens not caring if it would disturb you. "Babe chill, it's vitamin d. If you want then I'll close it, I'll find another way to give your dose of vitamin D—😏" needless to say, your slippers kissed his pretty face that day.

♧ Actually a very sweet boi. You on ur periods ? Wait a sec I'll buy the whole shop for you.

♧ Has your contact saved as "Pretty monster". Dont ask me why, I just feel like it.

♧ Would randomly show up behind you and backhug you. Scared you a lot of times.

♧ Lives by the quote, "Less sleep, more Fashion"

♧ Insomniac.

♧ Fucked you in his bike many times.

♧ If he sees a guy talking shit bout you—

♧ Wouldn't tell you who his first kiss was for some reason. 🧐

♧ Leaves everyone on delivered most times except you.

♧ Not afraid to express his emotions/opinions.

♧ Bold af. Literally asked you out with an emotionless face looking straight into your eyes.

♧ You thought he was joking but apparently he wasn't.

♧ If he was an emoji, he'd be "🐡" . Wouldn't hurt you, but if you tried playing dirty, stings you back with no care.

♧ Does amazing work with his hands. No not that— as a devoted follower of Shinchiro, he learned a lot of things from him. One of which is handling motorbikes.

♧ Lover-boy. Has you as his wallpaper, a pic of you in his wallet, in his desk, everywhere.

♧ Not afraid to show others that he's taken and vise versa.

♧ Would never cheat on you. It's either he dumps you straightforward or a sucker for you. No in between.

♧ If he was a song, "LO$ER=LO♡ER" by txt or "Heather" by conan gray.

♧ Has inferior younger sibling complex. Can't beat me on this one.

♧ Always proud of you even if he never says it.

♧ Write you a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong text message to make you feel better.

♧ LITERALLY the prettiest lover boy. :(♡

⤷ ୨🎐୧࿐ @markedsweetly

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sxrenityy · 2 years

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the scoops ahoy incident

eddie munson x f! reader ♡ (NSFW)

❝Looks so good, yeah looks so sweet; baby you deserve a treat.❞

- Or you and Eddie Munson go to Scoops Ahoy in an attempt beat the heat. Then, Eddie gets some ice cream on his shirt and the two of you go to the back to get him a spare.

Shenanigans ensue when clothes start coming off.

making out, french kissing, table sex, blow jobs, facials, semi-public sex, dorks in love, vaginal sex

☆ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40428471

“Ahoy! Would you folks like to set sail on this- oh, it’s you two.”

“Wow, thanks for the warm welcome, Harrington.” Eddie said.

Steve rolled his eyes, hands on the counter as he grumbled profanities under his breath.

“Why must you guys always come here? To rub it in my face that I’m single and you guys are happily skipping off?”

“That and this is the only decent ice cream parlour - plus, it’s thirty-four degrees outside.” You said.

Steve groaned again, this time louder. He was most definitely frustrated, but you honestly couldn’t take him seriously in that cutesy sailor uniform.

”Nice uniform, dude. Oh, hey, could you say ‘ay, ay, captain!’ for me?” Eddie snorted as he flicked Steve’s little hat - Steve looked ready to take it off and chuck it straight at him.

”Go fuck yourself, man,” He shook his head. “Y’know at least I have a job! What do you do again besides play Dungeons and Dragons with a bunch of pre-teens?”

”Hey! Being a DM is hard work.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Hard work at what? Being a high school burnout?”

“At least I didn’t peak in high school…” Eddie whispered.

Steve just waved his hands around, “Okay, whatever. Just- what do you want?”

”Glad you asked! I shall have a… dark almond chocolate in a plain waffle cone,” Eddie said before turning to you. “And for my lady?”

”Hmm…” You looked at the ice cream flavours, nothing really caught your attention, so you looked up at the menu. “I’ll have the banana split sundae in a size small - no sprinkles, though. I hate those.”

Steve nodded, “Separate or together?”

”S-.” Eddie was about to say.

”Together.” You quickly said, pulling out your wallet.

Eddie blinked in confusion, “You sure?”

”Yep! Since you drove me here and all.”

”You’re the best.” Eddie kissed your lips, you kissed back.

Steve cleared his throat loudly, “Hey, shitheads!” He snapped his fingers and you and Eddie broke apart. “Kiss later, pay now.”

”Oh, right, how much?”

”Four dollars, seventy-five scents.”

You handed him a five dollar bill, he gave you the change in accordance.

With another depressing sigh, Steve went to work with your orders as you and Eddie stepped to the side.

Eddie leaned against the colourful wallpaper of the parlour as you leaned against him, holding his hands.

You took one of his hands and brought it to eye level so you could marvel at his rings.

”Your rings are so endlessly fascinating, Eddie.”

“Why thank you, I’ll tell my uncle.”

You looked at him, slightly shocked, “Your uncle makes these?”

He laughed - oh how you adored that sound, “You kidding? Nah, my uncle just has a collection of ‘em with other miscellaneous jewelry. They’re from his high school days.”

“That’s still so cool…” It also made sense as they looked a little worn - though, knowing Eddie, it would make sense for him to have gotten these through his several stunts.

“So, what do you wanna do after this?”

”Hmm…” You take a moment to think. Starcourt had been the best thing to happen to the youths of a boring town such as Hawkins - there was so much to explore that you hadn’t even seen everything yet.

There were trendy food chains, trendy clothing, mini arcades, and…

You smirked, “How about…” You take one of your hands and pull your shirt slightly open for Eddie to see your bra. “I hear there’s a store that sells a bunch of… women’s products. You can pick out whatever.” You whispered.

“Whatever I want..?” Eddie smirked.

”Whatever.” You confirmed.

”My, my, that’s a big responsibility.“

”I trust your judgement,” You said. “Sometimes.”

”Ouch.”

You were about to lean in again before a yell stopped you dead in your tracks

“Lovebirds! Your ice cream’s done. Eat it quick so I don’t have to see you sucking face in my store.”

”How charming, Harrington,” Eddie went to take his and your order. “Thanks for these, matey.”

Steve subtly flipped him the bird as Eddie was in the process of grabbing his cone. Except, Steve had let go too early and the ice cream started to fall.

In classic, Eddie fashion, he overreacted by spazzing out and leaping to grab it. He somehow saved it, but not without the chocolate smudging into his shirt.

”Shit!” Eddie exclaimed. It was a Black Sabbath shirt, too.

”Oh, God my bad. I’m sorry,” Steve said. “Uh… there’s some spare shirts in the back. But they’re… Scoops Ahoy uniforms.” Steve said with an awkward smile.

Eddie sighed, clutching the empty cone so tight it started to crumble.

“And where is the back?”

“I can help you find it,” You stood with your sundae and took Eddie by his hand - the one not holding the crumbling cone. “It’s really close by, actually.”

”Wait, how do you know where the back is?” Steve asked.

”Three words: Robin, free movies.” You said with a wink before dragging Eddie off.

Inside the break room, you saw Robin with her feet on the table, reading what seemed to be a music sheet.

”Hey, Ro.” You greeted.

Robin looked up, her eyes shifting from you to Eddie, “Uh… what are you two doing here?”

You pointed to the stain on Eddie’s shirt.

”Ah…” She said before starting to smirk, “Oh, I’m gonna love seeing you in a Scoops Ahoy uniform, Eddie.”

Eddie pinched his temples, “Yeah, thanks.”

”Don’t worry too much, I think you’ll look cute.” You said.

Robin gagged, “Eddie Munson? Cute? No, never. Especially not in a goofy little sailor boy’s outfit.”

“Even if I somehow don’t look like a total idiot, I’m still gonna have to walk around with this- this,” Eddie’s hand flailed to Robin. “That.”

”Hey, I rock this.”

”Anyway, let’s get you out of that before the stain sinks in too much,” You go back to dragging Eddie away. “Bye, Ro!”

The storage where cleaning supplies, spare uniforms, and a random assortment of other items was found in the hallway where you snuck out to watch free movies.

Was it illegal? Most definitely. However, was it worth the thrill and saving money. Absolutely.

Eddie opened the door and took one of the male employee outfits, “Oh, God. I haven’t worn this bright of a colour since…”

“That Jungle Book class play in third grade where you were the tiger?”

“How—.”

”Uncle Wayne.”

Eddie groaned, “Should’ve known.”

”Hey, at least you were cute,” You said as you took a scoop of your ice cream. “I think you’ll look adorable with this as well.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Eddie said as he began to strip off his shirt.

You watched with bated breath, Eddie’s body always being a sigh for sore eyes - even if you had seen it a million times before.

The sheer beauty of his slender frame and tattoos never failed to make you blush. Maybe this was weird, but his define collarbones were perhaps one of the most attractive parts about him.

”You’ve seen me asscrack naked a hundred times yet you still blush when you see me shirtless? That’s cute.”

You smacked his pasty arm, “You would do the same if I suddenly took my shirt off.”

”So, why don’t you?”

”Because my shirt is spotless.”

”Well, Y/N, can I ask you something?”

Uh oh, you didn’t like that mischievous tone.

”Well, no, not in particular-.”

Eddie suddenly dipped his finger in your ice cream and spread it onto your shirt. It was a small stain, but definitely noticeable with the bright colour of the vanilla.

“Eddie!” You set the sundae down before samcking his arm again, he only laughed. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear to God.”

All he did was put his arms behind his back and press his lips together into a tight, smug smile as you stripped your shirt off.

”Happy now?”

”Very.”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to search for the female employee uniform as Eddie rustled around behind you. You heard him unbuckling his belt - weird, as only his shirt had been stained.

”Holy, shit, Y/N, look at this!”

When you turned around, you nearly gasped. Eddie had found Steve’s clothes and took it upon himself to wear them.

”Oh, my God…” You emphasized each word out of pure shock.

There he was, standing there in straight blue jeans, tight navy shirt, and a grey, Member’s Only bomber jacket.

“Do I look like pretty boy Harrington?” Eddie spun and put his hand on his hips, in a way which scarily mimicked Steve.

”Yes, until I get to your face and hair,” You cup his cheeks. “But… I like this better, anyway.” You kissed him.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist as he walked backwards until he hit the wall. Entangled within one another, you bite his lip and he opens his mouth happily.

Your tongues wrapped around each other as Eddie’s hands snuck down to your ass where he grabbed it firmly, Eddie slid them around to the front and fumbled with the buttons of your shorts.

”Wait, Eddie,” You push him back. “I don’t think we should have sex while you’re in Steve’s clothes.”

Eddie blinked, “Yeah, yeah. Right, right.”

You giggled and backed away to watch him strip. As if to tease you, he ever so slowly took his jacket and shirt off, tossing them to the side as he snapped his hips.

”Like my show?” Eddie asked, smirking.

”Hmm… good, but a bit weird because you’re wearing Steve’s clothes.”

”Fair.” Eddie shrugged and unbuckled Steve’s signature blue jeans.

Now in his underwear, you unknowingly bit your lip. My goodness, was this man simply… gorgeous.

He was so beautifully masculine; his long hair and accessories accentuated his more feminine side, but that slightly hairy chest and thick veins along his arms and hands added a nice duality.

The tattoos which decorated his pale skin also added onto his appeal - them being the first thing you noticed when the two of you had sex for the first time.

“Done ogling me?”

You flinched then blushed, “I can’t help it when my boyfriend is so madly beautiful.”

This time, he blushed. Despite how cocky and confident Eddie could be, he was a sucker for compliments.

”Always loved the flattery, don’t you, sweetheart?”

As Eddie was a sucker for compliments, you were a sucker for his sweet, sweet pet names.

”Anything to get you going, dear.”

”You know me so well, love.”

”Do I, honey?”

”You indeed do, darling.”

The two of you inched closer with each sentence until you burst into laughter.

”Those were the most painful words I have ever had to utter.” Eddie cringed.

”I’d say mine were worse.”

“No way,” Eddie firmly shook his head. “Anyway on a side note, this might be a little crude but… I’ve been hard this whole time.”

Bold. So very bold yet so very Eddie.

”I’m flattered, really.”

“You should be, I always feel like… like— I don’t know, I’m on cloud eight or something when I’m with you.”

Cloud nine, You wanted to correct him, but kept it to yourself. “I appreciate the sentiment, Eddie. I feel the same when I’m with you… you’re like, my best friend and my boyfriend! How perfect is that?”

”I know right? God, I don’t know what I did in my past life, but I would have had to been some medieval saviour of a village to be here with you.”

God, Eddie Munson and his weird yet sweet compliments.

”Anyways…” You avert your eyes. “Should we continue where we left off?”

”My boner says absolutely.”

You smacked him.

Eddie had you up against the wall, ass-naked as he ground against you. He pinned your arms to the side as he left a trail of purple bruises from your ear to your collarbone.

Each one was a different shade of purple and had a unique, imperfect circle shape to them.

It tickled as he sucked on your neck, his hair falling all over your bare shoulders and making you breathily giggle every time his chapped lips would make contact with your silky skin.

”Eddie… these are gonna be a pain to cover.” You moan.

”Mmm…” Eddie just groaned.

You sighed and allowed him to keep at it, secretly enjoying how he marked you so thoroughly.

Perhaps this was to mess with Steve, perhaps it was just his naturally jealous attitude - either way, it was strangely pleasant.

However, you wanted to pleasure him as well, “Eddie, Eddie, wait.”

He pulled away, “What’s wrong? Fuck, did I hurt you?” His face distorted into concern as he let go of your arms and checked the hickeys.

You put your hand over his lovingly, “No, silly. I just… wanna give you some pleasure.”

Eddie’s expression relaxed, a small smirk now forming, “And how will you do that?”

You were smirking now as well as you flipped your positions around so that now Eddie was against the wall. You leaned in to his neck and left a small, but somewhat noticeable hickey there.

”C’mon, you can do more than that.”

”I’d rather focus on this.” Your eyes point down to his boner, clearly noticeable through his relatively thin, black underwear.

Before Eddie could respond, you got on your knees and pulled out his cock. It had been hard for a while; you knew this as it’d been rubbing up against your thigh as Eddie made out with your neck.

You could tell Eddie was relieved to finally have his cock be freed as a loud groan left his mouth when you gently put your hands around it.

As always, you start with a few pumps to get him going as you dab your tongue on his tip which dribbled with pre-cum.

”Yeah, fuck, Y/N…” Eddie put his hands through your hair and squeezed.

The slight burn on your scalp pushed you to give bolder, rougher strokes to Eddie’s painfully erect cock.

You slid your tongue down the base of his cock in a painstakingly slow pace, savouring the drawn out groan which left his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, oh fuck yeah…”

He has a favourite word. You smirked to yourself.

It wasn’t long before you deep throated his entire cock into your throat, that was when Eddie grabbed a fistful of your hair as he grunted, leg twitching.

Your mouth went in and out of his mouth, making sure your tongue thoroughly slid by every inch of his cock whilst giving gentle hums every now and then to send vibrations down.

You knew Eddie was close when his panting became unstable, almost desperate as his fingers slowly slid off your hair.

When you felt as though he was on the brink of finishing, you released his cock from your mouth and grabbed it so that his tip was to your tongue.

You licked it rapidly until his cum sprayed all over your face and you let his cock go.

Eddie caught his breath as a wide, elated smirk spread across his lips.

“Jesus… I feel like… like… I just finished this super sweet campaign and everything went according to plan.” Eddie panted breathlessly.

“Odd comparison.” You noted.

Eddie looked down at you and rubbed his finger along your cheek, wiping off some of his cum.

“It’s been a while since you’ve had my cum on your face.”

”Yeah, because you always finish in my mouth,” You said. “I decided to switch things up.”

”You look so pretty.” Eddie said and gestured for you to stand. He took the time to clean your face the best he could with his calloused fingers.

It was defined rough against your skin, but it was comforting as only Eddie’s fingers had this unique sensation to them.

When most of his cum had been cleaned, Eddie let his hands rest by his side. You watched him as his big, dark brown eyes wandered around the semi-cramped room.

”Hey, Y/N…” Eddie asked as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

”Mm?” Your response was muffled.

”Do you think that chair is sturdy?”

You lifted your head to see Eddie pointing at a white, foldable chair next to a matching table.

”Um… probably? Or maybe not since it’s back here and all…” You said. “Why?”

Eddie looked at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Oh lord, what was he planning?

”How about we… test the durability of that chair..? Y’know, for Steve’s sake.”

”For Steve’s sake?” You couldn’t believe your ears.

”For Steve’s sake.”

You were practically impaled onto Eddie’s throbbing erection, legs spread across his lap with your back facing him.

Your arms were on the table, holding onto the big hunk of plastic for dear life as Eddie lifted you up and down via your hips. You tried to keep it down, you honestly did, but Eddie made sure that you couldn’t stay silent for long.

”I wanna hear your voice, Y/N, fuck…” Eddie grunted in your ear as his hands going from your hips to your arms.

Eddie pulled them back, forcing you to straighten your back as you gasped.

”Ah! Eddie!” You shouted out of surprise.

Eddie just held you in that position, back arching as he lifted his hips in the air to fuck your dripping pussy.

There was nothing to hold your moans in, and you just let go.

You moaned loud, Eddie’s cock feeling so insanely good as it pounded you deep.

The lewd sounds of sweaty skin slapping and breathy moans filled the room, almost bouncing off the walls.

”Eddie! Eddie… oh, my God… I-I feel like I’m gonna… ah…”

“You’re gonna what?” Eddie licked up the side of your neck.

A particularly harsh thrust sent your body and voice up, screaming out another moan.

”What are you gonna do, Y/N? Huh?”

“Mmm…” Your head titled down slightly as you mumbled incoherent words. “I’m gonna- gonna— ah… l-lose my mind…”

Eddie laughed aloud, head flying all the way back out of pure amusement.

”It took you that long to say that?”

”F-Fuck off…” You panted.

”Fine.” Eddie suddenly released your arms.

Your body went flying towards the table, but before it could land, Eddie’s arms snaked around your torso and had you upright as you leaned against him. One hand was squeezing your tit as the other had turned your head towards his mouth.

His had kept your jaw open as he shoved hit tongue in.

Well, at least now your moans were concealed.

Eddie’s breath felt so hot against your face, and you were sure yours was as well. Your teeth clashed with his as you made out in such a messy, near desperate manner.

“You taste like vanilla…” Eddie said in between the breaths.

”No shit…” You groaned, loud.

Then, out of nowhere, the door slammed open with a prominent thud.

“What the fuck!”

You and Eddie immediately pulled away to find Steve standing at the doorway, eyes widened and face distorted into an expression of initial horror and disgust.

”Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie jumped, and you did so as well.

”Steve!” You exclaimed, cheeks burning.

Steve slapped his hand over his eyes, “What the fuck!” He yelled again as he slammed the door shut.

You and Eddie stayed frozen in place, even after the door was firmly closed.

”Um…” Eddie began. “Maybe… we should have locked the… uh, door.”

”Yeah, maybe.”

There was another fee seconds of silence before Eddie took you off his cock and stood, keeping you in your place before bending you over the table.

”Let’s finish this quickly, yeah? So we can explain to pretty boy.”

You just sighed, “Good idea.”

Eddie took that as a sign to begin again. Your already wet cunt was spread by his thick fingers to slot his cock back in.

”Mmm…” You couldn’t help but groan as it entered again.

It was such a perfect fit, easing that lustful ache as Eddie roughly grabbed ahold of your hips and thrusted with such vigorousness.

He was pushing you all the way up the table, its legs squeaking against the tiled floor as it was shaken about.

You felt Eddie leave a trail of feather light kisses down your spine before licking up to your neck where he bit down hard.

”Eddie!”

”I could kiss you for hours, sweetheart…” Eddie moved your hair out of the way to whisper right into your ear.

And with a firm slap to your ass, Eddie came again into the strained condom.

You also orgasmed, your entire body seizing as this delicious wave of pleasure racked it - your body almost going limp from how sudden and how intense it was.

Eddie pulled out slowly and collapsed into the chair, you also slowly slid off the desk and onto his lap where Eddie wrapped his arms around your panting form.

”We should do this more often…” Eddie said into your ear.

You giggled, both from his statement and how his whisper tickled.

”And traumatize Steve again?”

”His fault for walking in…” Eddie said and you rolled your eyes. “You have to admit it was exhilarating though.”

You bit your lip as you shyly admitted, “Yeah…”

”God, you’re such a freak.” Eddie nuzzled into you.

”Says you.”

You kissed him, he kissed you back.

“You guys sure took your time searching for the uniforms. I thought they were easy to find - were they hidden or something?”

Robin was sitting at the table in the middle of the break room with her legs atop it, a book and a walkman on her lap.

You and Eddie walked out in matching Scoops Ahoy uniforms - or parts of it. You certainly didn’t take the silly vests, hats, and accessories - just the very basic elements.

“Yeah, um…” You and Eddie exchanged awkward glances. “They were hidden.”

”Super hidden.”

”Huh…” Robin said. “Steve, did you do that?”

Steve shook his head as if he had broken from a trance, “What?”

Robin made a show to roll her eyes, “Keep up, dingus, would you?” She sighed. “Did you put the uniforms in some weird location when you went to clean the back?”

His brown eyes shifted to you, then to Eddie as his face wrinkled in disgust.

”I did. Sorry.” Steve said in an uncharacteristically monotone way.

”Okay…” Robin said, clearly weirded out. “Well, anyway, it’s my turn to serve ice cream to those sweaty little kids. Enjoy your time!”

She flew to her feet and slid across the window which led to the main part of the parlour, closing it shut behind her.

The second Robin had left, you said, “Steve, look-.”

”Ap, ap!” Steve zipped his mouth shut, and you did exactly that. “I- no, we will put this behind us. We will never talk about this. We will never mention it to anyone again. And you two are never allowed back there again. Copy?”

“Copy.” You said.

”Copy…” Eddie was more reluctant.

“Good.” Steve said, though he still seemed annoyed with how he had that classic look of disapproval on his face.

It was the one where his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were squinting, practically asking “seriously?”

“Okay, get out now and return those to Robin tomorrow; I don’t wanna see either of you for the next few days.”

a/n: #justiceforsteve

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #female reader #robin buckley #smut #oneshot

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