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whytheylosttheirminds · 1 month

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

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lovebugism · 3 months

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hello sweetheart, i read your prompt list and saw this one "hug?” “clingy, much?……” but hugs them anyway and my heart melted, i don't know if you already did this, but can we have something like that with our sweet but grumpy eddie? 🤍

ty for requesting! — eddie doesn't know why you're avoiding him (fluff, ditzy!reader, 0.9k)

Eddie lost sight of you ten minutes ago.

You were squished between Robin and Steve on the loveseat last he saw you, giggling into your solo cup while they belted Total Eclipse of the Heart to you — at you — over the music and in their best Muppet impressions.

He only remembers it so vividly ‘cause he was jealous. Not jealous because you were subjected to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum’s drunken antics, of course, but jealous because you were with them. And so, so far away.

Now you’re gone, and he misses you like a stray dog — aggressive and hungry and hurt. He walks up to Steve in the kitchen just the same. Hair wild. Button eyes glittering. Slightly reluctant.

“Where’d she go?!” he shouts over the music, half-muffled into his drink. He uses the plastic cup like a shield ‘cause he doesn’t want people to know he’s missing you. The metalhead freak from the wrong side of town isn’t supposed to need the ball of sunshine from the suburbs.

But alas.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Steve slurs, half-distracted as he pours himself a drink. He doesn’t need Eddie to tell him who she is. There’s only one person in the whole world he’d go looking for. “She went outside with Robin, I think—”

Eddie spins on the worn heel of his sneaker before the words can properly leave his mouth. He ducks through the bustling, drunken crowd and finds you sitting lonesome on the porch outside. Prettier than the full moon and all the stars in the velvet black sky combined.

He walks to stand beside you, shoes thunking heavy on the wooden deck. You tilt your chin to smile brightly up at him while he slips a cig into his mouth. He cups the stick as he lights it. Pretends that’s what he came out here for. Not to see you, of course.

Definitely not.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he mumbles beneath the cigarette in his mouth.

“Robin just left,” you answer plainly, half-shy.

“Why didn’t you come find me?” he asks with an air of nonchalance, still trying to play it cool. ‘Cause there’s nothing less metal than yearning.

You shrug. “‘Cause you were busy?”

It’s easier than telling him that you thought he wanted the space. Or that you actually spent the whole night aching to hang on his side — too scared of embarrassing him in front of all his friends to act on it.

You know who you are just like you know who he is. Bubblegum pink doesn’t always go well with black. It gets in your hair. Makes everything go all sticky. It’s an acquired taste you know Eddie’s still getting used to — too much of it, and his stomach will start to hurt. So you figure it’s best to keep your distance.

You just didn’t think he was as grieved by it all as you were.

Eddie scoffs. I’m never too busy for you, he wants to say. He might’ve if he wasn’t such a coward. Instead, he blows smoke from his lungs and jokes, “I wouldn’t call keeping Argyle from crowd-surfing in the living room busy, sweetheart.”

A laugh tumbles from his plush lips. The golden sound falls over your skin like stars. You smile absentmindedly back at him as you rise from the creaking rocking chair. You plant your feet ahead of his and smooth your palms beneath his leather jacket, over his warm sides.

Eddie meets your twinkling eyes with narrowed chocolate ones. “What?”

“Hug?” you ask in a mousy voice.

The boy laughs like he’s too cool for affection, though he’d be lying if he said your offer doesn’t have his chest sparkling something fierce. He flicks the cig to the ground — sheepish gaze going with it — before snuffing it out beneath his sneaker.

“Clingy much?” he scoffs.

You nod with a proud smile.

Eddie’s chest swirls with an unfamiliar feeling. You’re strangely brave about all this — affection and love and all things sweet enough to make him gag.

It makes him feel like he can feel brave, too.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you with all the intensity of someone wanting to swallow you whole. You hug him back just the same. “I missed you,” you murmur with your cheek squished against his chest.

“Then what’re you avoidin’ me for, huh?” he teases, chin bobbing against your head.

You pull slightly back to squint at him. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“You’ve been hangin’ out with Steve and Robin the whole night,” he grieves, hiding his sincerity behind boyish theatrics. With a feigned pout that feels totally real, he says, “And you didn’t even sit next to me when we played Never Have I Ever.”

“I thought you wanted the space,” you confess in a hushed voice.

His face screws up like he’s tasted something sour. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “You always talk about how much you like being alone and stuff, so—”

“Well, yeah! I like my space— just not from you!”

It’s likely the least metal thing he’s ever said.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth contorting into a sheepish beam. “Well… Sorry.”

“Yeah. You should be,” he scoffs, mostly joking. He pouts softly and pulls you back into him again, nosing at your hair until his chapped lips brush your temple. “Just don’t let it happen again, alright?”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 months

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What about princess reader who falls for Konig? He's a retired royal soldier (Bit of an age gap but I was thinking more like he was so good he was able to retire early) that she saw every once and a while and she does the typical "disguise myself as a commoner so i can sneak into town" routine and he pretends he doesn't know but he used to serve her family so ofc he fucking recognizes her

He tries to be gentle with her but honestly she should just be happy he isn't ratting her out to her family 🙄🙄🙄 (not that she minds)

CW: 18+ MDNI. Medieval AU, forbidden love, mutual pining, virgin!princess!reader x veteran!knight!König. Undefined age gap (reader is of legal age which means she’s "old" for an unmarried woman of this period). Reader is kinda coercive, König is implied to be a virgin too. Bittersweet romance vibes, brooding guy/gentle girl trope, ambiguous ending.

Word count: 6.4 k

You never thought you’d have the guts to slap a knight.

Violence is unladylike, and even if you’re a princess, it doesn’t mean you should force your status down someone’s throat like that. Far less his, the man you were taught to respect and listen to because he’s a man, and older than you.

The fact that he was also an anointed knight didn’t seem as important as the simple truth that he possessed a cock between his legs, and it always annoyed you to no end that this was the reason why men ruled the world. As a lady still unwed, you’re supposed to be afraid of cocks, especially if they’re old and gruff.

But you never were afraid in the presence of your father’s most loyal knight. He was your sworn shield too, and the only time he had been away from your side was when he asked to go on a pilgrimage to some chapel nearby. Said he wanted to seek forgiveness for his sins.

A man like him must have a lot to pray forgiveness for, but knowing that he could split a man in half with that greatsword of his doesn’t stop you from sneaking out one night as you follow him outside the castle walls and into the local inn.

Dressed as a stable boy, you watch with wide eyes how he gulps down three pints of beer and doesn’t turn any dumber from it. His speech never slurs, his shoulders never slump, but when some kitchen wench sits down beside him, your breath gets caught in your throat.

You look at the odd couple for a moment or two, watch how your father’s knight, the secret object of your silly daydreams, finally loosens the strings of his purse and offers the girl a copper coin.

It’s more than you can take, so you shoot up from your bench and march to him. The woman looks up at you with lousy disinterest as you ask the man of your dreams if he’d like to have another pint of ale. Your knight recognizes you immediately, even in your too-big tunic and your uncomely hose, even with that dirty felt hat covering your hair.

And he’s mortified, from what you can tell.

Both your eyes are wide now, and the woman beside him is smart enough to leave. She slides herself off the bench and sneaks past your side, and your valiant knight just looks at you, looks at you, looks at you.

You should be worried that he’ll snitch about your adventures to your father, but right now, all you can do is stare at him like he’s the thief, caught fresh and red-handed. Because he is a thief, and a devil, the worst man on earth when he was supposed to be the best. You snort to let him know how much you despise him—for coming here and bedding women for money when he’s supposed to be a sworn, celibate knight—but what truly hurts here is that he’s bedding someone else than you.

When you march out of the inn, he follows you, even dares to lay his hand on you by grabbing your arm outside. That’s when you turn on your heels and deliver a fat slap on his cheek, lightly stubbled and sweet, something you had hoped to plant a kiss on for many, many years.

“Your grace,” He grunts and rubs his chin, slightly amused. “Have I offended you?”

The slap couldn’t hurt that much, and this man never does amused. Even now, the mirth extends only to his eyes, never to his lips.

“You know perfectly well that you have, sir,” you clasp your hands in front of you, now entirely his princess even though you’re dressed like a peasant.

“My lady,” he bows both in body and in voice. “I truly don’t know what crime I have committed.”

You’ve never seen him so… jovial.

Usually this knight looks like there’s a stick up his ass, that someone pissed in his porridge and shat in his stew, that there’s nothing but hailstorms and calamity in his life.

Were you any more clever, you’d leave him be, but God has made it so that you’re drawn to battered and beaten animals. Of course you’re drawn to him too, lonely and spiteful as he is. This man broods so much you sometimes wonder if he’s the reason why it rains so violently up here in the hills. He probably summons dark clouds above the castle with those ponderous frowns alone – but now he’s looking at you as if he just woke up from the dead and walked into the shy sunshine after a long, harsh winter.

“You… You shouldn’t bed women,” you tell him, and he looks at you even more curiously.

“You shouldn’t pay for it,” you mumble next – unladylike, again, especially when your eyes turn to your shoes and away from that hawk-like, calm stare.

There’s a short silence after that, and you almost turn heel and walk back to the castle from the desire to escape the weight of his eyes. Eventually, he shifts his weight to the other leg and clears his throat.

“I sometimes pay for women to hold me. There’s nothing more to it.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, but the mirth is all gone now. It’s replaced by solemn acceptance, some sorrow you never even knew he had. Yes, he’s always silent and looks a bit pissed, but he’s not heartbroken, no, not your brave knight…

“To “hold you”, sir?”

The sorrow is covered with white lashes before you get to the bottom of it. Something tugs at the corner of his mouth—shame and frustration, probably.

“To hold me. Like a mother would. Is that a sin?”

His eyes search for yours from under dark brows, they beg for your consent as if it mattered to him. They’re quite catching, his eyes; enchanting in their intangibility. You know he doesn’t need your acceptance, nor is he threatened by your disgust. He’s unreachable, untouchable, forbidden—a mountain you can never climb because you wouldn't even find it among the mist. And those eyes see everything but feel nothing: they haven’t taken part in the troubles of this world in years.

…

He evades you for the whole of next week.

Leaves the hall if you choose to dine there, walks away when he sees you at the stables, looks through you if you have the courage to address him. You stand watch by the window every night to see if he slips out of the castle, but it seems your knight has lost his interest in kitchen wenches and copper hugs.

It burns like hot broth in your stomach, the thought of him in some other woman’s embrace. This mighty giant of a knight, kneeling in front of a girl, paying for her to simply put her arms around him.

You’re not sure if you’re childish to believe him and his words. To trust that he truly goes to them just to be held. You’re not sure if you’re the worst lover of poor, crippled creatures for not wanting to let him have even that...

Because you wish to hold him yourself, here, in the softest of all beds. Just wrap your arms around him after you’ve unburdened him of that heavy mail and thick gambeson; you’d help him with anything he needs. Let him sigh against you and have those lines of worry on his brooding face smooth somewhat. Maybe sing a soft song for him to help him sleep...

The thought of him being so lonely that he spends his wage on girls just to have a hug is driving you to madness.

It’s tearing you to pieces because he would never, ever have to pay you to hold him.

It’s forbidden, you know: this love you’ve harboured for years. He’s far below your rank, even as a bannerman, he’s far below you even if he’s taller than the tallest war horse in your father’s stables. He’s older than you too, but that’s hardly the biggest problem: your father took his second wife when he was five and thirty and the maid was seventeen. The match was considered perfectly normal, even healthy, but this would not. This would cause an outrage.

Oh yes, you’re to be wed far away to some sadistic young lord if your father has his way. You’re sure they’re already gossiping about it in the streets: how you should’ve been sold like a horse years ago. How is it that you’re still here, burdening the kingdom with your presence and swallowing up coin?

If they only knew that you’ve fought against every match with tooth and nail, the townsfolk would work themselves into a small uprising. And you’re not against marriage because you like it here so much... You’re against it because the knight who dresses himself in black mail and makes the servants piss themselves with his heavy footsteps alone makes your heart flutter like never before.

Your father would kill both of you if he knew.

And you wonder… What would he do? Your pale, brooding knight?

Would he scoff and turn his head away if he knew you dreamed of him before sleep, would he be appalled to hear that you’ve touched yourself to the thoughts of him? Would he think you a whore…?

You dress differently that night, the night you catch him escape the dull horrors of the castle once more. Boredom oozes out of the walls here, a poison of nothingness and despair. The stones won’t offer warmth, not even during the height of spring, so it’s no wonder that your knight is headed elsewhere for warmth and a mug of ale.

You dress accordingly to see what this toughest of knights is made of: with a brown woolen skirt and a white cotton blouse, you look the part of a kitchen maid who forgot half her garments at home.

People look at you in the streets, but without your usual attire and with your hair styled differently, they wouldn’t know who they’re looking at even if they saw you frolic around like this in court. You know they’re looking at you because you're a half naked woman ripe for taking, stubbornly out at night and dressed so suggestively it’s a miracle no guard rapes you before you reach the inn.

Maybe it’s the royal pride that keeps them away: you certainly look like you haven’t toiled in the fields or shoveled horse dung in your poor miserable life. There’s an air about you, and he notices it too, far before you’ve sat your pretty bum on the bench next to him.

“What are you doing,” he asks with a slightly alarmed voice.

He has that stick up his arse again, sits so straight that you’ve never seen such a ramrod back on anyone. When you set your hand over his, he only blinks.

“One silver to hold you, sir,” you lean to whisper on his skin, the shaved cheek you’ve wanted to kiss for so, so long. “What do you say...?”

He’s still breathing, even if there’s no sound to prove that he is. You can only see it from the rise and fall of his chest, covered by a stained, cream-white gambeson, that he’s breathing. He’s big, even without his armor, big and strong and intimidating, a tower of strength in one man.

“I cannot bed women,” he talks to the stout logs that make the walls of the inn, refusing to even look at you after one quick horrified glimpse.

“Who said anything about bedding?”

“This is a dangerous game, your grace,” he warns with a low purr when you won’t relent.

His voice is parched but smooth, and you smell smoke; delicious smoke from the fire that sticks to the clothes of a person who spends too many hours staring into a fire. You smell ham and earth and leather and sweat, horses and metal, the rusty stench of mail gone bad.

You wonder how you smell to his nostrils – is it something sweet? Fresh herbs and lavender oil maybe, or soft, spun wool, some tangerines and summer wine?

“I’m not your grace,” you tell him, nose now touching the bridge of his ear. “Not in here.”

You see from the turned sleeve of his padded tunic that the hairs on his arm are standing on end. His eyes are closed, and you can finally hear his ragged breaths. Desire speaks in them, or then you’re in over your head... Why else would he sound like that, like he’s already making love?

“One silver, sir, and I’ll hold you all night,” you repeat softly, and he swallows with a dry, open mouth.

“I don’t have such money on me,” he rasps, voice drenched in slow, drowsy want.

He wants this; wants, wants, wants….

“Really? Is my price too high?”

“Far too high for a man like me.”

You breathe a smile upon his skin, the place where his neck meets his jaw. Running your fingers across his wrist, you leave little to the imagination and you both know it.

“You can pay for the room and we’ll see how much you have left after that.”

“Princess, this is–”

“Hush.”

He’s in pain now, you can see it: the sharpness, the distant eagle gaze from his eyes is gone. He can barely keep his lids open, and when you peel the sleeve back with your hand, pet him like he’s one of your cats, press your lips on the spot you know is the most sensitive, he groans.

“You’re going too far,” he whispers, but won’t move. Breathless now, he can’t even speak with dignity. Gone are the distanced grunts and the composure, even the stick in his arse has melted away.

If a touch of your lips and the softest caress can do this to him, what would happen if you straddled his lap? How would it feel to be pressed against him, naked and entwined in a mutual embrace?

“You didn’t say no to that other girl,” you breathe more kisses on his skin. “Am I so horrendous…?”

“You–” he starts, opens his eyes somewhat. “You are teasing me on purpose.”

“You never were the brightest of my father’s knights,” you smile a little laugh in his ear.

He grabs his pint as if that could save him; out of fury or lust, you don’t know. And that’s when your little adventure gets interrupted: someone must’ve had enough of this disgusting display of seduction and whoring.

“Pardon me, lovebirds. The room’s a copper, if it please you,” a tired voice says from somewhere above. “And the ale is–”

“Ja, ja. I’ll pay,” your knight grunts with such annoyance that you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or the poor soul who interrupted you two.

Everyone here must think that you’re here to make some coin on a lonesome, desperate man. And he’s desperate, by God, he’s desperate… But when you walk upstairs and into your room, he takes a dip in cold waters without you knowing anything about it. When the door shuts behind you, your knight is back to the unbroken effigy he was last week, as he has always been.

“You sleep there,” he points at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s plenty of room on the–”

“One more word from that pretty mouth and I’ll tell your father what you’ve been up to.”

You’re sent to your bed without supper, in your silly clothes, and get to watch how he barely takes his boots off before setting himself down on the floor, back turned to you. The innocent question “You think my mouth is pretty?” only gets an irritated scoff for an answer.

From under the linens, you watch him sigh and slowly turn to stone on the cold floor. There’s a big rug there but it’s barely enough to keep the chill out, and the hearth is cold during late days of spring. You’re warm enough here under your sheet, but you would be warmer if your knight was here with you… Warm body against yours as you both hold each other through the night.

If only he could be enticed here by lying that you’re freezing... His honor would force him to share the bed with you, and your poor knight wouldn’t have to wake up with sore joints. The more you listen to him let out those occasional sighs, the more you want to shake this man. This silly act of martyrdom has to come to an end, now.

Slipping out from the warmth of your bed, you tiptoe to him. You know he can hear you, probably cursing in his mind with that crude foreign tongue of his. Laying yourself down behind him, you snuggle close until your front is glued to his back.

It must pain him to have a maiden leave the comfort of her bed and trade it for the dirty floor, but you wonder if there’s pleasure in the pain when your touch finds him once more. And it’s not just want and lust you feel when you place your arm around him. It’s not motherly love either, although you do feel like you’re embracing a giant child who doesn’t want to be comforted. You know nothing about how lovers touch or hold each other, you’ve never touched a man other than your father, and those touches were never affectionate and warm, those touches were barely there at all.

You wonder if you should be scared: you were taught that men will fuck everything that moves when given the chance. If a man of his size chose to take you here on this floor, there would be nothing left of you. Such an outcome seems dubious, however, when your sworn shield acts like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Let me hold you,” you whisper when he continues to be stiff as a rock in your embrace. “You don’t have to pay me. Surely you know that you don’t have to–”

He moves, and at first you fear he’s about to rise and dart to the door. Make a run for it and slam it shut because you pushed it too far, his dumb, danger seeking maiden.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he turns around and buries his face somewhere in your neck. He does it so forcefully that you’re almost sent to lie on your back, and you barely catch the naked pain in his eyes before a rough arm snakes itself around your waist and pulls you close.

Warm breaths hit your skin, sending all the little hairs in your body shooting up – were he to move an inch further down, his face would be buried in your tits…

And then come the tears.

You’ve never heard a man cry like that – well, you’ve never heard a man cry at all. You didn’t even know they knew how to weep. It’s like all the tears in the world are reserved for women and children because there’s no wetness even now: your knight cries in thick, dry sobs, shudders that shake the both of you, years and years of suffering sighed through gritted teeth and into your hair.

Slowly, so slowly, you place your arm around him once more. Your hand barely reaches the middle of his back, so vast is this man, now only a crumbling mountain in your embrace. But when you won’t waver, when you refuse to turn your tail and run, he slowly melts in your arms like spring snow.

He still breathes as if in pain, the sounds that come out of his mouth heartbroken and strained. You’re not surprised to see that even his crying is an act of violence; he’s a man inconsolable.

And yet, you console him. Comfort him. Like a mother, you stay and let him cry his fill in your ear as he clutches you, threatening to tear the back of your poor cotton blouse while doing it.

When he’s done, the shakes recede and his body is warm and calm, soft, almost. He pants and swallows, comes down from it with so much shame that you’re sure he has never done this with anyone, not ever before.

And then…

“I beg for your forgiveness, my lady,” he gruffs on your skin. “That was–”

“Shh... It’s alright.”

You caress the back of his neck, sweaty from the toil. He releases the fabric of your blouse only to grab it again in an even tighter fist. The face in your neck is buried deeper, his lips now pressed right over your throat.

“It has always been you, Geliebte... God knows it has always been you.”

You freeze in the middle of his confession, the panting on your skin intolerably thick now. When you swallow against his mouth, he pulls you against him, the body that used to be rigid and cold now like a hot, thick furnace, threatening to devour yours.

“You must know it too,” he whispers. “You must. You’ve seen my torment. Tell me you’ve seen it…”

He’s not demanding more than he is desperate, some dam suddenly being breached by a long-held flood.

If anything, you thought he hated you... You thought you were alone in your anguish, but it turns out he has carried the same soft secret all these years.

And it drowns you for a moment, his want and yours. Hands trying to touch whatever they can, mouth searching yours like he’s about to die if he can’t have a sip. You’ve heard what happens to women who allow themselves to get groped in dark hallways and winding steps; they hardly ever escape a man’s touch with their maidenhood still intact. And yet, this is what you’ve always dreamed of; a hot, blunt, forbidden encounter with this man.

Now that he’s finally on fire for you, you’re not so sure though. What if you’re about to mate with a beast?

“Sir…” you whisper when he plants trembling kisses down your throat. He thinks you’re only moaning his title in the throes of pleasure, and squeezes you against him so hard that a tight little whimper is squished out of your mouth.

“I’m–I’m untouched,” you tell him before he sends his face between your tits, and it finally has the effect you feared and hoped for.

He freezes too, in the middle of tearing down your blouse. A shivering hand releases the fabric slowly, reverently; it rises to cup your face as your flushed knight meets your stare with shame.

“Of course you are,” he hushes upon your lips, strokes your cheek softly. “I cannot bed you. I know. But let me…”

He blushes while searching for the right words. That’s the moment when you start to suspect if he’s ever even been with a woman. What kind of a womanizer would blush when they’re about to make love to a lady?

“Let me make you feel good,” he finally suggests. “I’ve heard… of a way.”

He almost stutters when he says it, and you wonder if this is what he’s prayed forgiveness for. If he’s been thinking about different ways of wrecking you so much that it’s enough to send him to hell…

“And then,” he continues, “we’ll never speak of this again. You’ll become my lady, and I’ll become your sworn shield once more. We’ll be as we always were. As it always was...”

You’re not sure if you like that – returning to your status quo, becoming who you were before clutching each other on the floor like mad animals about to mate. But you nod.

Whatever he wishes to do to you, it must be something good, and you trust him. Even after he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before, you’d trust this man with your life.

Your valiant knight carries you back to bed, and delivers on his promise. He never undresses you, he never defiles you. He just lifts your ankle to his lips and gives it a soft, reverent kiss, grazes your shin with his mouth before starting to worship you like a pagan idol of old.

You don’t know where he heard about it–at the stables, or the kitchen, at the barracks or the taverns–but the way with which he makes you squirm doesn’t require a cock, not even a hand. His lips are gentle, but his mouth is hungry, and you don’t know how to feel shame when he’s buried under your dress like that. You can’t even see his face when he makes you his, claims you with his mouth alone.

It must be a sin to not take you like a man takes a woman on a wedding night; it must be a sin that it does not hurt at all, what he wants to do to you. But you don’t care. Love is much better and far messier than how they depict it in the songs, and no one ever talks about the noises a man can make when they pleasure a woman.

He groans like a beast, but moans like a whore – it sends a flush of hot blood up your cheeks to hear him so utterly needy and vile. Your knight who barely gave you a grunt as a greeting in your father’s hall now whines with a broken pitch between your legs. His hot sighs drown your own, and you thank Saint Mary and all the angels that there’s loud music and booming laughter downstairs. It’s still there, the dirty tavern, even if you’re being sent to heaven on this bed...

He gives you mercy only after you break upon his mouth with a series of tight cries. Spends a lengthy amount of time under your dress too, licking and kissing you clean.

He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to get out of there, but when he emerges, he looks like a drowned, happy puppy, this giant, brooding knight… The sight seizes your heart in a flaming hand that you know will never let go: it’s forever engraved in your heart, that drunken, devoted stare. You thought that men had the needs of an animal and that women were put on this earth just for them to have their fill, but when you look at your knight, it appears it’s the other way around... This man has finally found what he was looking for. Between your legs, he just found his Heaven on earth, his Holy Grail.

And so he returns from his quest with a devotion that leaves you breathless. Takes you in his arms like an injured bird, making you feel like it’s summer already, and the world is nothing but songs and tales and long nights of bliss.

“Know that I am yours,” he says. “Until my dying breath and even beyond, I’m yours.”

It’s a pledge, not a statement, and it’s said with so much weight that the vow he swore to your father pales in comparison.

“Sir... You always say such silly things,” you whisper back while lying in a pool of shimmering love, a heaven on earth indeed. Not even anointed, true to their faith knights talk like this… And he just smiles languidly when you raise a hand to brush his cheek.

He looks like another hug could save him, like a simple adoring stare from you is all that is needed to keep him going for another year. It irks you that he’s ready to settle for so little when you’re ready to give him everything he’s ever wanted and more. With what just happened, he’ll live on for a thousand, thousand years, he’ll survive even the coldest of nights – but you won’t.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him, and a flash of fresh panic crosses his eyes.

“Süssling…”

He says it with worry, but does nothing when you send an exploring hand to his bulge. Drawing a sharp breath when you sweep your hand over it, he goes rigid again, this time for reasons other than just nervousness.

You’re younger and therefore more impatient, which means you’re at the strings of his pants in no time. He looks at your greed with a slack jaw and a set of furrowed brows, but never tries to prevent you. It only spurs you on that he’s acting so shy in front of an eager maiden when other men would already be bullying their cocks in your unexplored heat.

“This is madness,” he whispers when you pull out the heavy, hard cock that reminds you of the members you’ve seen on horses and bulls.

Of course the man’s big down there when he’s practically a myth walking… And there must be a way to pleasure him too, some lovely devilry that will leave you a maiden. A virgin for him to take on your wedding night – because you will marry this man, no matter what anyone says. You’ll burn the whole kingdom down before giving yourself to any other man.

You wrap your fingers around him to punctuate it that he’s yours. If he feared you might mirror what he just did to you, he makes no comment about it when you don’t, only whines when his cock is snared by a frail but eager hand.

“Princess,” he warns, slightly out of breath. “I will stain your dress…”

“Shh. Show me how to please you.”

The worry in his eyes is wild and bright, but the way your fingers mold around him leaves no space for arguments. A broken, stiff sigh is punched out of him when you begin to move: if he won’t show you how, it’s no trouble at all to try and find out yourself.

But when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of him, he finally brings a trembling hand upon yours. He starts to guide you, adjusts your grip, huffs when you both apply pressure on it. The curious creature that you are, you look down to witness the ugly beauty of it all.

It’s intimidating and rough, the cock in your hand... It looks like a weapon, honestly, a battering ram that leaks heady liquid from the head. Smooth and heavy and ripped with veins, it’s like a too hard muscle about to bludgeon something, and your hand is making it drool profusely. Would that it were inside you, you would be in grave danger, and why is it that you find the prospect so seductive?

His hand is far bigger than yours, and it makes your heart run wild, the way he tries to be gentle while using your grip to get himself off. He can’t even keep his eyes open from the shame, just takes a quick glance at your enthralled face before squeezing his eyes shut once more.

“Look at me,” you command softly, and he obeys – what else can a sworn knight do? – but you can see that the poor man is on the verge of tears. Shaking and panting, he stares at you while fucking himself with your hand, and when you close the small breath of air between you and kiss him, he melts.

The first thick spurt surprises you completely, you even mewl into his mouth when it shoots to stain your dress. You didn’t expect that to happen, at least not so fast… And because this is the first time you’ve seen a man come undone, you quickly leave the panting, moaning mouth and look down.

There’s so much of it, and the release is so violent; it looks and sounds like it hurts because the man is shuddering and groaning as if stabbed. Thick, white pulses of seed coat the brown wool of your dress, but it soaks the semen gladly: there’s nothing left of his cum other than dark, damp stains after he’s done.

And there’s no end to his shame. He pries your hand away from his cock as soon as he’s somewhat composed. Does it with a shaky hand, wipes what little stains of hot, wet seed you have on your palm to his pants, and all you’re thinking about is what it would feel like to have this giant trembling and groaning like that above you, inside you… If you could even take all of that thick, brutal length. If he would be able to move away when inside your heat, if he’d let you hug him again, just hold him close so that he’d never ever leave anymore…

“I have soiled you,” he mutters while looking at your skirt.

“Nonsense. You have only claimed me... I’m yours now.”

“Princess… No amount of silver–”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

You actually manage to kiss him silent. Tears begin to run down his face when you show him where he belongs. It’s the final surrender as he pulls you into his arms and finally drowns you in love – at last, you find yourself under him as he takes what's his. What seems like hours later, he breaks the kiss, only to look into your eyes with full-blown adoration.

“How am I to live without you after this?”

“You don’t have to. Not ever,” you say.

“Princess. If there was any hope for me to have your hand, if there was any hope that your father would give it, I would have carried you away from this place years ago.”

For a while, you fear it’s the fear of sin that burns him. But then you realize it was always only just you.

He looks so anguished now, even more in pain, when all you wanted to do was relieve his agonies. This was only a taste of what he can’t have. You both took a bite of the forbidden fruit but can’t eat the entire thing – no wonder he looks like he’s cast out of heaven he didn’t know even existed.

“Sir, I cannot do this,” you grab his face with both hands now. “Please don’t make me do this...”

He sighs and looks at the mess you just made. He’s broken every oath he’s ever taken, and the evidence is scattered right there between you. The only thing deadlier than this would’ve been if he pumped all of that hot, fluid sin inside you.

“Sweetling,” he laments. “Look at us. You’ve already ruined me. Ruined us both…”

“It’s called love, silly.”

He breathes a short, shy smile, the first you’ve ever seen on him. It’s cute and makes him look young, the quick flash of teeth between unruly lips, the almost bashful, downcast eyes that are not quite ready to meet the full brunt of your devotion.

“Ja,” he breathes. “Ich weiss.”

Then he brings his eyes back to yours, his smile slowly making way for a more serious expression. He lifts a hand to touch your cheek, and you find yourself soaring in the sky like a bird, a phoenix that has risen from the dead. It’s heavenly, the way you both caress each other, here on the lowly tavern’s bed, covered in salt, sweetness and sin.

“Your father will have both our heads if he finds out,” he tells you as if you needed the reminder.

“I pray our heads will never be separated then.”

He snorts a quick smile again. It makes you heady, that you’re apparently the only one who can make this gruesome giant laugh.

“You’re dangerous, princess,” he gruffs. “I knew you were trouble… And yet I curse all the years I left you in peace.”

“I know,” you smile. “Never the brightest one, my love...”

When you lie in his arms that night and tell him about your silly little fantasies, he grows hard again. When you tell him you now have new ones—ones where you’d want to feel him inside you—he looks like a man condemned to death.

The stares he shoots your way make it clear that he’s lost – no matter what he says, he can’t be kept away from you, not anymore. You suppose he’ll forsake even more secret promises and vows before forsaking the pledge he swore to you. Even at the cost of your lives, he’ll come scratching at your door, howling for some quick, hot love in the night, begging for you to give him everything he has denied himself.

And eventually, you grow more serious too. While lying in his arms, safe and tucked away from all the horrors of this world, you play with the leather strings of his gambeson, tugging them and twisting them around your finger like a child.

“There will come a day when they promise me to another,” you whisper, wondering if he’s already asleep.

He promised to never leave your side again, he promised. And still… What will happen when the carriage and horses take you to some distant, hostile kingdom, far away from him? What if you only get this summer together, and then nothing no more?

“They’ll take me away,” you tell him, almost without a voice.

A soft, hearty grumble answers, a man who finally knows what he’s fighting for.

“No one will take you away, sweetling. Not as long as I live.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #medieval au #konig x reader #könig fanfiction #cheesy romance warning

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thewritingofamadwoman · 7 months

Text

Billy’s Girl

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Cheerleader!Reader (reader’s last name is Emmerson; no reason, just cuz)

Warning: Fluff, making out, Billy realizing he’s in love, and Jason Carver being the dick that he is.

Enjoy & let me know what you think! 💙

“Dude look at Emmerson, she looks fucking hot in that cheerleading outfit.”

“Nah man have you seen Chrissy? She looks amazing.”

“Yeah but have you seen that skirt on Emmerson? If she jumps a little higher, I’ll be able to..”

“Finish that fucking sentence Carver, and the only thing you’ll be able to do is drink your lunch through a fucking straw.”

Billy Hargrove turned around from his seat on the bleachers to glare at the boy seated directly behind him, who was objectifying his girlfriend. Now, dont get it twisted. No one loves cat calling more than Billy Hargrove. But now that he’s a taken man things have changed. He only had heart eyes for his girl. Little Ms Emmerson was one of the first people he met in this shitty, bumble fuck town when he first moved here with his fucked up family. She was beautiful, kind, and sweet, the love of his life. She was the light to Billy’s darkness. He promised her and himself that he would protect her at all costs. And he intended to keep that promise.

Jason Carver visibly gulped at Billy’s threat, knowing that the Hargrove boy wasn’t kidding. Billy’s glare deepened and it his nose flared, almost like a bull ready to charge.

“Sorry Hargrove, didn’t see you there. Just meant to say that your girl is gorgeous.” Jason said, attempting to calm the situation.

Calling her gorgeous? Strike two.

“Yeah I know she’s fucking gorgeous Carver, I’ve got eyes. Just keep your fucking eyes on your own girlfriend and shut your fucking mouth,” and with that, Billy turned back around, eyes back on his girl as she practiced with the rest of her team.

As if feeling his gaze on her, she turned and found Billy’s eyes immediately. She smiled wide and blew him a kiss before getting into the next routine formation. Billy pretended to catch the floating kiss and brought it to his heart. One of the girls around her whispered something and Billy watched as his girl smiled and blushed, the girls around her obviously teasing her about her their relationship. Her bright eyes found his again and Billy’s swore that in that moment, he’d never felt a love stronger than that. His heart tightened in his chest and he felt like he could explode with pride.

Practice ended an hour later and Billy found himself outside, leaning on his Camaro and patiently waiting on his girl. With anyone else, Billy would have driven off, angry at having looked like a fool for waiting an hour for someone. But for his girl? Billy would wait until the end of time. The gym doors opened and the sound of a gaggle of girls made its way to Billy’s ears. He looked up, arms crossed in his denim jacket as he waited to spot her, a smirk immediately forming on his lips when he did. She locked eyes with him and said goodbye to her friends, making her way towards him with a huge smile on her face.

“Hey handsome. Thank you for waiting for me,” she said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her nose against his.

“Anything for you. Just don’t make it a habit. I barely wait for Maxine when she’s late,” he teased giving her a genuine smile, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

“That’s mean, you should wait for her more often. It’s going to get chilly soon,” she gently berated him, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. Billy suppressed the shiver he felt coming on, and pulled her closer. She giggled in his arms, pressed so tightly against him, and loving every moment of it.

“I’ll think about it. But I don’t want to think about my little shit head sister right now. I want to think about you in that little uniform of yours,” he whispered against her lips, barely touching. She played along, whispering a reply against his lips as well.

“Oh? And what about my uniform?”

“Just that it’ll look way better on my bedroom floor,” he growled and closed the space between them, pressing his lips hungrily against hers. He swallowed her gasp and slipped his tongue into her mouth as he devoured her. One of his hands slipped down to her behind, using his large palm to give her an impromptu squeeze. She squealed into the kiss and Billy laughed against her lips. When they broke apart, they were both panting.

“Woah, where did that come from?” She asked breathlessly. Billy grinned and nuzzled his nose against her again.

“What, can’t a guy show his girl just how much he’s missed her?” She smiled back at him and pulled him into a sweet embrace.

What she didn’t see, however, was Jason Carver’s car behind her as she and Billy were making out.

What’s she also didn’t see, was that while Billy was hugging her, he was sporting the biggest shit eating grin; his arm around his girl’s waist and middle finger up at Jason as he drove by, a scowl on his face.

#billy hargrove x reader insert #billy hargove imagine #Billy Hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x reader

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verstappen-cult · 21 days

Note

Maybe a lestappen fic were Reader friends are the worst and they comfort her, thank you 💗

You were out with your boyfriends when you saw them across the street, walking out of a shop, talking and laughing without a care. You had texted them yesterday to ask if they were free today to hang out, since you haven’t seen them in a few weeks. The answer? I have to work. I’ll be out of town. I’m sick, just numerous excuses.

Max noticed the change in your demeanor in an instant. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Oh, I just remember that I need to call mom, or she’ll get mad.” You smile, not wanting to worry him.

“You can call her once we get home.” He kisses your forehead and holds your hand to keep walking.

Being around them was enough to make you forget about what you saw and you actually ended up enjoying the day off.

Until Charles decided that it was time to eat and walked into one of your favorite restaurants in town. A very exclusive but cozy one.

The host just gave your boyfriends a look and it was enough for her to rush to get you three a table.

“Aren’t those your friends?” Charles asks you, looking behind your shoulders.

You didn’t want to look but you also didn’t want them to know what happened. So, you simply turned around with a forced smile.

“Oh, yes! What a coincidence.”

“You can say hello to them,” Max gives you a little pat on your lower back, encouraging you to go to them. “We will wait for you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek before walking towards them.

You notice the exact moment they see you, because they go from laughing to a complete silence.

“Hey!” You try not to show how affected you are, how much you want to cry. “I thought you were busy today.”

One of your friends gives you a once over before leaning closer to one of your other friends and whispering something before laughing.

They don’t even try to pretend.

“Yeah. This was something last minute.” One girl says, taking a sip of her drink. “We forgot to tell you.”

“Are you following us?” One of your male friends says, not hiding his smirk at all.

“Oh, no, I’m—”

“Because that’s sad.”

One of your friends, one you thought was someone you could trust, bursts out laughing before saying, “Even for you.”

You’re one second away from crying now, so you decide to excuse yourself and walk away, not hungry anymore and just wanting to go home. But Max and Charles are by your side in one second and you’re unable to do so.

“Max, Charles!”

Everyone’s expression changes just like it changed when you approached their table. The difference is that this time they’re all smiling, sparkling eyes looking up at them as if you are not even there, standing between them. As if you are invisible.

“Are you waiting for a table?”

“You can sit with us. We can make space for you!”

It’s laughable, really.

Charles looks at you, his hand on your waist. “You want to sit here, chéri?”

You avoid looking at your “friends” and Max notices immediately.

“We just came for take out,” Max explains, a friendly smile on his lips. “she just wanted her favorite dessert and we can’t say no to her.”

Everyone on the table laughs. But it’s forced, anyone would notice.

“Well, we should plan something, then.” A blonde girl you have never seen before says. She’s twirling her hair and everything, and you would feel disgusted if it weren’t for the situation you’re currently in.

Max holds your hand, rubbing circles on your palm. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Silence.

A beat.

And then.

“Some friends you are.”

You are out of the restaurant in ten minutes. Charles carries some take out while Max doesn’t let your hand go, at least not until you’re in front of the car.

“Are you okay?” Max cups your cheeks, and you finally let the tears fall.

“We noticed things were weird when you stood in front of their table.” Your Monégasque boyfriend says, his free hand rubbing your back. “We just didn’t realize how bad it was until we heard them.”

“How long has this been happening?”

You sniff, feeling the pad of Max’s fingers wiping the tears off your face.

“Now that I’m thinking about it,” You laugh, closing your eyes, thinking about how stupid and blind you were. “it has been this way since… forever.”

“Oh, baby.” Charles wraps you in his arms, Max joining the hug without a second thought.

“You should have told us.” Max whispers in your ear, and you nod because he is right. “We could’ve done something.”

Charles rolls his eyes, giving his boyfriend a little push. “You don't need them, okay?”

“You are an incredible,” Max kisses your cheek, “and amazing person.”

“Most beautiful girl in the world.” Charles kisses your other cheek.

Your Dutch boyfriend gives you a little peck on the lips before pulling away to look directly into your eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives.”

“Their loss.” You groan against Charles’ shoulder.

“That’s my girl!” They laugh and you feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

“Now,” The blonde-haired boy says, opening the car door for you. “Should we go home to eat in bed while we watch some movie?”

“Can we watch Cars?”

“Charles, she will choose the movie!”

“But she loves Cars too!”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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lovrre · 17 days

Text

Agreement prt1

Art Donaldson x Fem black reader

Warnings: cursing, infidelity(kinda), slight smut (fingering) sub ish Art. Slight he loves her more trope, needy Art and probably some other stuff

Word count: 2k

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: GUYS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. MY WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD, But I’m finishing all my requests and unfinished fics soon so stay tuned. 😚

Sitting on the bed in your brand new silk pajamas, you found yourself distracted, just like you had been the day before and the day before that. You played with The edge of the book you were attempting to read,mindlessly repeated the last sentence over and over in your head trying to retain anything. The loud television and the whirring of the ceiling fan only added to the chaos. Plus the freezing cold air conditioning of the hotel room made it impossible to concentrate.

In a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of focus, you clumsily reached for the remote, hoping to silence at least one of the distractions. your eyes falling on your fiancé who was sleeping peacefully, his dark hair all messy, in his crisp white t-shirt that matched perfectly to the expensive hotel sheets, he looked so sweet,so innocent. You thought if he slept more, maybe everything could work out

Mike slept while snuggled into your side. Like he often did when you two shared a bed, You had attempted to remove him several times but every time he ended right back at your side so you gave up, In any other scenario his action would seem romantic but they only made you feel worse than you were already feeling. In an effort to relieve some guilt you liked to reminded yourself your engagement was never out of love but business. But then again the line did blur in the beginning of your relationship. Before you left for Stanford, you and Mike got caught up in the act of pretending be in love.

After that you could never really tell real from fake with him, he didn’t like you talking to other men. He’d shower you with really expensives grift but then leave town and not answer your calls or text for days. But when no one was watching he’d try to hug and kiss you. The whole thing was confusing, You had known idea how he persived your relationship but you knew You Felt guilty, without all the technicallys, you knew that you still lied,

The people ate up the role you and Mike played. occasionally you’d have to leave campus and go out in public holding hands or sharing kisses in the rain. But it was all for show, at least on your end. Your Dad made sure to reminded you That, it was the love sick tennis player in love with his coaches daughter that sold tickets. kept the stands full of women hoping to catch the world win romances in action. Also Brought in a large number of his clientele. He promised It wouldn’t be forever unless you wanted to be. And Really how could you complain? 20 years old engaged to One of the wealthiest and most talented tennis players in the world and he wasn't bad looking either. Before all this, you weren't too keen on love anyway, so what were you really missing out on?

~~~

Ten months before

Patrick serves but Art's attention is elsewhere. The ball zooms past Art for the second time, prompting Patrick to turn around and finally see who's behind him. His gaze lands on you, playing tennis alone on a smaller court. The sun shining off your smooth, glistening skin, and your pink tennis dress gracefully flowing with each jump and run.

"Oh, I get it," Patrick chuckles, glancing back at Art. "She's hot. You should talk to her, maybe offer her a lesson. She could use it," Patrick suggests, looking back at you as you let another tennis ball from the machine fly past you . "I think I've seen her somewhere before," Patrick mutters, tapping his racket against his leg.

Still in a daze, Art jogged over to your court. "Oh, you're serious," Patrick murmured watching as he went over to you following closely behind him. "Hi," Art greets, slightly out of breath walking up to the net. "Hi?" you respond, slightly confused, giving him a small wave.

"Are you new here?"

"To the school or the court?" You ask

"Both."

"I'm new to both” you say a little breathless wiping sweat from your forehead.

“I just transferred," you explain.

"Where did you go before?"

"A small community college in Virginia."

"What about tennis?"

"You have a lot of questions," you laugh, tapping your tennis racket against your leg.

"Im just curious “Art jokes.

"I'm just doing this because my fiancé is a tennis player. I thought I'd try to learn," you reveal.

“Finance?” Art questions.

“Yep”

“ how old are you like 20?”

“ actually 19, I turn twenty in a couple months”

“And you're getting married?” Art asked clearly dumbfounded

“Yes” you laugh at his forwardness

", is he a pro or college?", Art asked, assuming the answer would be college.

“Pro," you replied, letting your curls fall freely from your hair tie. Art couldn't help but admire how beautiful you were,too young to be tied down

"Anyone we would know?" Art asks following you as you walk over to the bench with your tennis bag. "Hmm, maybe," you hum, sitting down to tie your shoe. "Mike Fitts."

"Your fiancé is Mike Fitts!" Patrick exclaims a little too loudly. "Mhmm," you confirm, starting to tie your other shoe. "If Mike Fitts is your fiancé, why are you here?"

"Are you referring to the court or the school?" you ask, looking up at both Art and Patrick.

"Both," Art and Patrick respond in unison.

You chuckled as you stuffed your tennis racket into your bag. "Well, whether I'm engaged or not, I always planned to graduate college. And Mike is too busy right now to teach me, so I'm trying to teach myself."

The two of them nod in understanding as you stand up. "It was really nice meeting both of you, but I have class," you announce, throwing your tennis bag over your shoulder. "By the way, it would be great if you guys could keep the whole fiancé thing on the down low. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible for now."

"Yeah, no problem," one of them replies.

"Of course," the other adds.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," you say giving them a small smile before turning around to leave the court.

just as you're about to walk away, Art calls out after you, "Wait! You said you're trying to learn, right? we could coach you if you want” Patrick gives him a look and Art ignores it waiting for your response.

You pause, considering the offer.

”the both of you?” you asked gesturing between them. Art gives you a nod. at that moment The risk didn't seem too big so you said

. "Sure," with small shrug

"How about tomorrow at 12:30?" you suggest, checking the pink Bvlgari watch Mike got you.

"Perfect," Art responds with a shit eating smile

“Ok see you guys ” you laugh walking out the court

~~~~~~

“Yeah see” Patrick says reading a newspaper. “Olympic coach, Dylan yLn, Daughter engaged to Olympics gold medalist Mike fitts” Patrick reads next to a photo of you and Mike smiling as you showed off your huge

engagement ring. “She wasn’t bull shitting”

“Let me see” Art says grabbing the newspaper. “She didn't have on her engagement ring when we saw her...” Art trails off

“You can't be serious” Patrick laughs

“What?”

“She’s engaged Art, not to anyone either,” Patrick leaned in on the table so only he could hear. “she’s engaged Mike Fitts!”

“I didn't say anything,” Art defends

“ you don't have to” Patrick says stealing a fry off Arts plate plopping it in him mouth.

”I know you,”

~~~~~

After that day, everything seemed to blend together. Art and Patrick dedicated themselves to training you throughout the weekdays for three entire months until you got tired of it and decided on once a week. You told Mike you found a coach but never told him who. Since they were kinda the only people you knew in the entire school, the three of you grew close fast. You started going out to bars and parties together. you had your most memorable college moments with the two of them. And then, your birthday arrived. Patrick had left for some torment and it was just you and Art.

You two were just having so much fun that night. On thing led to another And before you realized it, the two of you were constantly having “fun together”. It didn't matter where - in the dorm, in the shower, or even on the floor. It was bad, but you two couldn't stop

Trying to clear your mind you Let out a sigh. you carefully remove Mike from your side sitting up to taking a sip of you're water on the nightstand. Trying to ignore the ache of your core. This is how you spent every night away from him, needy, uncomfortable. You heard a knock at the door which almost caused you to spill water on yourself. You Quickly put your drink down and run to answer it before the person could knock again careful to be quiet not to wake up Mike.

You swung the door open to find Art standing there, hair slightly damp, with huge smile on his face. "Are you out of your mind?" you whisper, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind you. You can't help but notice his thin athletic hoodie and gym shorts. Slightly wet clinging to his skin as if he just stepped out of the shower.

"It's past one ,"Art huffed out , his voice filled with urgency and desire as he leaned in for a kiss. his hand gently cradling the side of your face in the process.

When the realization of what was happening washed over you, you pulled away, but still stayed close enough to feel his breath against your skin. "Art," you breathed out, eyes darting down the hall to check if anyone saw. Your hand instinctively found its place on his strong chest, you savored the feeling and the look of your manicured nails there, not knowing when you be able to do it again.

"I like these," Art hummed, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, his big hand gracing you thighs in the process. The little touch sent shivers down your spine. You somehow composed yourself pushing him away gently with your index finger, creating some distance between you two.

He looked at you with sad eyes like a rejected puppy. "Mike’s sleeping inside," you whisper, worried someone could hear. "What does that mean?"

There was a long pause as you carefully choose your next words. Art stared at you intently, trying to decipher your expression. "You slept with him?” Art asks, as if he already knew the answer.

"No, I didn't sleep with him!” You whisper yelled, “He just showered and fell asleep," you explained,

"What's bothering you then?"

"I feel guilty."

"You didn't feel guilty at Stanford."

"Mike wasn't at Stanford."

“You care about Mike's feelings now ?" Art's asks furrows his brow, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and hurt.

" I don’t know… he’s been nicer lately and were supposed to be married in three days”

“You’re actually thinking about going through with it?” Art asked the hurt now evident in his voice.

“There’s nothing I can do now, I signed contracts, this isn’t just about us anymore I’ve told you this”

“What about the private investors?”

"That's just a 'what if,' a perfect 'what if,' but we don't even know if he's seeing someone."

“ If I win tomorrow?”

“Art If you win are lose tomorrow it doesn’t change anything, my Dad expects me at the alter on Sunday regardless, nothings gonna change that”

“But you don’t love him ”

“ I could” your words come out more a question, maybe a hope. “I loved you?”

“You love me” Art corrects

"There's too much at stake now, Art. This is my father's career. We don't come from money, this is all he has."

“You honestly believe this will ruin his career?”

“It could” you reply with a small shrug your voice cracking slightly.

“It won’t” Art response

“You don’t know that”

“ Don’t do this ” Art whispered closing the small space between you. He sounded so tortured, like he was pleading with you.

you hadn't realize it but tears welled in your eyes Threatening to spill any moment. When You blinked an a tear fell down your cheek. Art tenderly brushed it away with his thumb. The stress of the last two weeks had finally caught up to you. “it wasn’t supposed to be this hard” you murmured, your voice barely audible, tears streaming down your face as Art wiped them away.

“Do you love me?” his questions sounded genuine but you knew, he already knew the answer. ”more than i’d like to” you joke, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes.

“Then let me make you feel better,” Art whispered leaning down so he was directly above your ear.

“You’re right about what you said earlier, Mike wasn’t there at Stanford”. He paused for a second moving a piece of your hair out the way, “I was,” he hummed brushing his face against yours “just me and you” he whispered leaving a trail of kisses on the outside of your earlobe down your neck. Causing Your breath catch in your throat .“We had fun right?” Art question, his voice deep and breathy causing you to instinctively press your legs together as you leaned back against the door. “Art” you mumble trying to shake the sexual haze that was swirling inside you.

“I missed you” he whispered his free hand slinking up the side of you short griping your thigh, hiking your leg up slightly. “So bad…All day”

“we can't” you manage to breathe out unconvisingly.

“I’ll beg,”

“Art” you warned

“I’ll do anything baby” he mumbles leaving slowly kisses on your neck. “Anything you want me to” he says kissing under your chin. “ I need you” he hums kissing down your neck, ”don’t you need me?” Art asked kissing below your ear. You don't respond giving small nodd biting the inside of your lip. “Can I hear it?” Art asked, the way his voice sounded so desperate, Damn near whiney had you looking for friction. ”I need you so fucking bad” you basically moan pushing your body against his.

“I love you so much you don't understand” Art said smiling against you cheek. sliding his free hand down the front of your shorts. He rubs his fingers through your folds collecting your wetness on his fingers. You throw your head back with a quiet moan, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. “Fuck your so wet” Art groans before pulling his hand from your shorts, sucking his fingers clean like it was second nature. You clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I missed that taste” he groans returning his hand to your heat. “Can I make you cum right here” Art huffed out peeping down the hall.

"Yea,” you breathed out, nodding your head feverishly. He could have asked you to drive to the moon in that moment, and you would have said yes. Art slowly pushed two fingers inside of you creating a medium pace before bringing his thumb to rub your clit, you moan lifting your hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck I could eat you out right here” Art groaned watching you Practically fuck yourself on his fingers. “Promise me you won't ever let him see you like this” Art goans leaving kisses on your collar done. “this is mine”

”You can bearly hear a word he's saying the feeling of his thumb on your clit and finger damn near touching you cervix was too much to bear. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned out grabbing Arts shoulder hard in an effort to ground yourself. “I can feel it,” Art breathed pressing his forehead against yours. He presses down harder on your clit causing you to buck into his fingers, letting out a loud moan You cum. his movement don't falter, he continues to pump them in and out while still rubbing your clit until he feels like you've finally had enough.

he removes his fingers from your pussy returning them to his mouth. “I’ll never get tired of that” Art laughs leaning in for a kiss, you return it, taste yourself on his lips. He gently places you leg back on the floor and you stumbled slightly grading his shoulder for balance. He instantly goes to your waist holding you steady. “You ok?” Art ask slight consern on his face. You don't respond afraid of what your voice would sound like after an orgasm like that.

You nod with a smile and Art led you to the hotel room directly next to yours, pulling out a key card from his pocket with a grin.

“You didn't,” you exclaimed as he opened the door.

“I did,” he replied, motioning for you to enter.

“How did you even know our room number?” you ask, stepping inside.

“I have my ways,” he answered, closing the door behind you.

“How did you afford this?” you asked, looking around.

“Are you going to keep ask questioning or are you going to take of your clothes” Art laughs , watching as you sit on the bed.

“You first,” you countered, settling back .

“Yes ma’am,” Art chuckled, starting to undress.

~~~~

Morning arrives and you found yourself back in your original room. Mike was in the bathroom getting ready while you fix your dress in the mirror of the bedroom. As you adjust the straps, you notice a hickey you hadn't seen before, one you forgot to cover up after coming back last night. You laid your hair over it and walk towards the bathroom to retrieve your makeup bag, slightly tripping as your sore legs gave out on you. "You good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think I'm just sore from tennis practice," you say, reaching past him to get your makeup bag.

"You know no one expects you to play," Mike laughs while drying his hair with a towel. "I'm not doing it for anyone, I want to learn," your words come out more offended than you intended. "I just mean you could spend your time doing something else."

"Like what?" You respond plainly, walking out of the bathroom back to the mirror. "Like calling your dad and asking him what time he'll be here," Mike says from the now open bathroom. "Is your phone not working?" You asked rhetorically, pulling out your concealer . "I don't want to fight today, okay," Mike Replies sternly, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. "This is a big match," he mumbles while running his toothbrush under the water.

"I thought you said it was going to be 'nothing,'" you chuckle dryly, applying the concealer as his face was turned. "It is, but from what your Dad's been saying, he's been getting good. So I'd like to be on my A-game and not have you trying to start shit."

"Whatever you want honey" you respond, quietly laughing in disbelief. He had resorted right back to his old ways,How could you ever agree to marry someone like him, someone so vastly different from the man you spent the night with.

~~~~

soon as you and Mike were finished getting ready, your father called you to come downstairs to join him for breakfast. You and Mike both stood in line, slightly overdressed, picking out your favorite breakfast items. Mike only getting French toast, disregarding his strict diet. Suddenly, you heard a familiar laughter and turned around to see Art chatting with your father near the entrance. Your heart sank as your father motioned for you both to come over. After dropping off your plates, you and Mike walked towards them, feeling Mike's hand slip around your waist.

"I'd like you to meet someone," your father announced with a smile, putting his arm around Art's shoulder. "This is Art Donaldson," he introduced, "the man I'm competing against today." Mike stated extending his hand for a handshake, and Art reciprocated. Your stomach churned at the sight. "This is Mike, you know him, he's also my daughter's fiancé." Your father says with a smile.

"Stressful, huh?" Art jokes. "Oh, you have no idea," your Dad replies, laughing. "You're both at the same college, right? Stanford?" your Dad asked, nodding towards you. “maybe you could try your luck at training her because I just can't get through," your dad jokes. Art's eyes rake over you, as if looking at you for the first time. "It be my pleasure" Art smiles, looking directly at you. You to discreetly warn him with your eyes but You notice Mike's grip on your waist tighten, clearly not pleased. "Actually, I've been training y/n already, she's improving every day," Mike says, planting a quick kiss on your head.

"Really?" Art inquires, trying to keep up the act to the best of his abilities. "Monday through Friday," Mike replies with a smug grin. “How do you manage with your Busy schedule?” Art asks tilting his head to the side slightly in the process.

“You find time for the people you love,” Mike says with a fake smile. You had to physically hold back your laugh. But you played it off as wiping your face. He had taken a line straight from media training. Silence filled the air as the two have a silent conversation with their eyes.

“Well I wanted to introduce all of you, as I will officially be coaching Art starting next fall,"

Your Dad says in an attempt to break the tension. But it only makes it worse, Somehow Mike's grip on you tightened even more, now you were concerned he’d leave a bruise . "When did you make this decision?" Mike asked, his face showing no emotion but you could tell he was angry. "two weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to properly introduce you two. I know the timing is awkward with the match, but it's better to do it now than later."

Mike doesn’t say anything giving an expressionless nod. There was another awkward pause before you decided to speak up. "It was nice meeting you…Art?" you trail off , purposely sounding unsure. He nodded with a knowing smile. "But our food is getting cold," you joked, trying to escape the suffocating tension. "I wouldn't want to keep the couple from their food," Art said, while a smiling again only looking directly at you. You wanted to scream, he was being so obvious and the way Mike was already acting, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. "You two eat, I have to go handle some things, I won’t be long" your father said, gesturing for you and Mike to sit at the table before walking off with Art.

Once the two of you sit back at the table you feel caught. "I don't want you near that guy," Mike says, taking a sip of his coffee. You roll your eyes and stab at your scrambled eggs. “He was basically eye fucking you the whole time, and it doesn’t help that your dress is so tight”

“I think you forget sometimes this isn’t real,” you reply, taking a bite.

"Lower your voice," Mike warns, glancing around to see if anyone heard.

"You didn't care about it being real when you accepted the gifts," he scoffs, "or in Virginia."

"It was once, Mike. And every day, you make me regret it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't get to control me just because you buy me shit. Anyone can buy me shit."

“I told you i’m not doing this with you today” Mike laughs dryly standing up from the table. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" he says a bit louder, forcing a fake smile as he plants a kiss on your head before walking away. You try your best not to flinch when he touches you. Once he's gone, your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see an unsaved number. It's a text from Art.

“meet me at the restaurant next door in 20, alone.”

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

#black reader #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #Art Donaldson x black reader #Art Donaldson x black female #art donaldson x female reader

460 notes · View notes

sea-lanterns · 7 months

Text

HALLOWEEN

synopsis: (slasher! AU) an escaped psych ward patient wants to see you again.

featuring: shenhe

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, mentions of murder, knives, stalking, breaking and entering, house invasion, size k.ink, size difference, praise, manhandling, oral (reader recieving), wall se.x, grinding, hump.ing, ni.pple sucking, ni.pple biting, hickies, marking, possessiveness, pwp, not proofread.

art credits: high rise invasion

“Hehe, I win!”

“Great job, Yaoyao!”

You smiled and pat Yaoyao on the head while her older sister Qiqi clapped quietly in praise. Although it was Halloween night, you spent your time babysitting your neighbor’s kids, as he had to go out unexpectedly to run some last minute errands. Though most adults your age would find this kind of thing “boring” and “a waste of a Halloween night,” you actually enjoyed babysitting Baizhu’s kids, as you practically raised them as an older sister from the time they were basically infants.

At the moment, you were currently playing board games with the two girls, after a long night of watching kids’ Halloween movies and helping them with their homework. It was almost nearing the girls’ bedtime at this point, so you made a note to yawn and pretend like you were tired.

“Oh man…I’m all tired you guys…” you said with a smile, looking up at the clock. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Awe…” Yaoyao pouted, but began cleaning up the games regardless.

“Does this mean you’re leaving soon?” Qiqi inquired in a quieter voice, looking hesitant to let you go. “Is Papa home yet? I don’t wanna go to bed until Papa is home.”

“Papa will be home soon. It’s almost nine.” You say reassuringly, giving Qiqi a small head pat before going over to the kitchen to pour Qiqi’s glass of coconut milk. “Come here and get your coco milk.” You say softly, peeking your head through the door. “Yaoyao, why don’t you go put on your PJs while I serve your sister her milk.”

“Okay!” Yaoyao exclaimed, running up the stairs while Qiqi quietly walked into the kitchen. She had a habit of drinking a cold glass of coconut milk every night before bed, so you opened up the fridge to grab the carton, before seeing Qiqi plop herself at the table.

“…Big Sister.” Qiqi said in a monotone voice, catching your attention as you poured the milk into a glass.

“Hm?” You glanced over, slightly distracted as she called you by your nickname.

“…Is it true that the boogeyman exists?” She asks in a softer voice, her head resting on the table with a small look of worry in her eyes. “One of the kids at school said that the boogeyman was a tall man, whose face was as white as a sheet.”

She turned her head and pointed to the abandoned house across the street, the one where the infamous murder incident took place over twenty something years ago. “They say that he lived in that house before he got taken away. That he murdered his father as a young boy…is it true?”

You froze when she said all this, not expecting Qiqi of all people to ask you about the murder case that happened about twenty something years ago. You were practically a kid when the news story made headlines, but as much as the story haunted you till this day, you didn’t want to scare the girl with a story that could potentially give her nightmares.

“No, Qiqi honey.” You say in a soothing tone, handing her the glass of coconut milk and rubbing her head. “That’s just a Halloween story. The boogeyman doesn’t exist.”

‘It was a boogeywoman.’ You couldn’t help but think, as you shuddered just looking back at the old abandoned house. Years ago, a young girl was the perpetrator of a murder case back when you were just a child. It was the talk of the town, the story of the infamous young girl; Shenhe, who brutally murdered her father in that house and was sent to a psychiatric institution with a case of homicidal tendencies.

You remember that day like it was yesterday, as Shenhe was actually one of your friends back when you were in elementary school. It was hard to believe such a quiet and mature girl could be the person behind slaughtering a full grown man, and while it was terrifying, you couldn’t help but feel upset that your friend had to be taken away.

“…Big sister, you spilled some coco milk on your shirt.” Qiqi said in a monotone voice, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Wha—” you looked down and saw that you had accidentally spilled some coconut milk all over your clothes.

“Oh…shoot!” You couldn’t help but exclaim, nearly cursing before remembering that you were in the prescience of a child. “Ah…sorry. I must’ve been lost in thought for too long.”

You set the carton back into the fridge and tried cleaning out the milk stain with a wet napkin and some soap. It was no use, the stain was simply too big and since you were wearing a white shirt, it looked translucent when in a brightly illuminated area for too long.

“…Big sister, I can see your—”

“Yes Qiqi, I know.”

You sighed and walked over to your backpack to grab a spare change of clothes. “Luckily for me however, I am always prepared!” You held up an old T-shirt you had brought and showed it off to Qiqi. “Cool, right? Now, since you’ve finished your milk, why don’t you head upstairs and join your sister in going to bed? I have to change before the smell of milk stays on me.”

Qiqi nods and gets out of her chair to make her way upstairs, leaving you to change in the kitchen as you sigh and begin stripping out of your clothes, already tired from today’s activities. As you removed your shirt however, you failed to notice a masked woman staring at you from behind the window, watching you as you removed the stained T-shirt and slid the new one on.

Her heavy breathing fogged up the window while she watched you intently. Sharp, iridescent eyes trailing over the curves of your figure, before quickly moving away when you glanced back to look at the window.

“…Hm.” You stared at the window for a few more seconds before turning away, cleaning up some of the plates off the table as the masked woman watched you from outside. It had been…so long since she had last seen you, so many years of isolation and she finally had the chance to see you again after being taken away to be locked like a prisoner for her own misdeeds.

“…Mine.” The masked woman mumbled to herself, watching you with need before quickly scrambling away when the headlights of a car pulled into the driveway.

As you finished cleaning up some of the dishes, you heard the sound of keys jingling into the lock before Baizhu’s familiar footsteps entered the house. “I’m home…!” He exclaims jovially, the sounds of tiny footsteps running down the stairs, as Yaoyao and Qiqi —now in their PJs— ran to greet their Papa before heading to bed.

“Baizhu!” You exclaim with a smile.

“Papa!” Both Qiqi and Yaoyao exclaim, running up to him and hugging him on each leg.

“Oof…easy there…my blood pressure is gonna spike…” he groans, giving the two girls a pat on the head before glancing over at you.

“Hey…how were they?”

“As easy as every other time.” You say with a chuckle, before beginning to put on your coat.

“Ah, I’m glad.” Baizhu says with a smile, nudging his two daughters to face you. “Well, what do you say girls?”

“Thank you Big Sister…!” Qiqi and Yaoyao speak at the same time.

“Anytime.” You chuckle, saying your final goodbyes to the two girls, as they head upstairs to finally head to bed. This left you with Baizhu as you got ready to head home, making sure everything was packed in your bag and nothing was left behind.

“Stay safe out there, it can get pretty dangerous late at night,” Baizhu hums as he counts the money in his wallet to give to you. “I heard rumors of an escapee from the psychiatric facility a few miles down from here. The police are tracking the escaped patient, but it’s best to get home quickly for your own safety.”

Your heart sunk at the impending news, the same psychiatric facility where your childhood friend was locked up for murdering her father. It couldn’t be a coincidence, surely.

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to head home fast.” You say with a nod, taking the money before stuffing it in your pocket. “Have a nice night, Mr. Baizhu, and have a wonderful Halloween.”

“You too.” Baizhu nods, allowing you to exit his home as you begin walking down the block to your own house. You didn’t live too far from the Baizhu family residence, yet walking down the block all alone on a late Halloween night was not really the ideal situation for you to be in. Especially considering the news of the escaped patient that Baizhu notified you about.

“Geez, how eerie…” you mumbled to yourself, glancing up at the abandoned house Shenhe used to live in, and being reminded of your childhood together before she was taken away.

Shenhe was such a sweet and quiet girl —at least to you— and you had such fond memories of playing with her everyday after school until it was so late into the evening you could see stars. You had no idea she was capable of such brutal, homicidal tendencies, yet perhaps you’ve misjudged her, and maybe she really was just a sociopath after all…

You shook your head at the thought. No, it can’t be. Shenhe was always so sweet to you. Perhaps one day she just snapped and was—

You stopped walking when you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. A shiver running down your spine as you slowly turned around and saw a tall, masked woman standing just several feet away.

“O-Oh!” You flinched a little and backed up a bit when you saw her. Her tall, looming figure made you feel small, as she towered over you like you were nothing but a mouse ready for her to step on. “Ah…sorry, you startled me a bit…” you say with a nervous chuckle, holding onto your backpack straps with worry. “I uh…I like your costume…”

The masked woman tilted her head slightly, staring at you with familiar, iridescent eyes that had you squinting for a closer look. ‘Why do they look so familiar…?’

“…Uhm.” When the woman did not respond, you looked around awkwardly before getting an idea.

“Oh! Are you…trick or treating?” You ask with a smile, reaching into your pocket to pull out a small, wrapped mint. “Sorry I don’t have anything else, but I hope this is enough to suffice!”

You hesitantly walk closer to hold out the candy to the woman, whose body stiffens up when you offer her the small, wrapped treat. You may have forgotten after all these years, but her favorite candy was actually small mints, and the fact you still carried around mints to this day had her heart beating sporadically out of her chest.

‘She’s still as nice as ever…’ the masked woman thought as she slowly looked down and stared at the wrapped mint with amusement. Carefully, she takes it out of your hand, her much larger fingers brushing over your palm and causing you to shiver.

“Ah…your hand is quite cold…” you couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling your arm back to keep it at your side. “Don’t stay out too long, it’s dangerous late at night. Stay safe out there, okay?” You smile sweetly at the masked woman and the sight has her blushing underneath her rubber mask. She had forgotten how sweet and beautiful you were after years of not seeing you, and she wanted nothing more than to keep you by her side for as long as she possibly could.

“…Thank you.” She says in a muffled voice, your pulse jumping at how unexpectedly deep and husky it was.

“You’re welcome!” You respond with a smile, giving her a polite bow before making your way back to your house. Though your initial encounter may have spooked you a little bit, all you could think about was just how cute the masked woman was.

‘Ahhhh I should’ve asked for her number or something!’ You groaned inwardly, calling yourself pathetic in several different languages before pulling out the keys to your house. ‘Oh well, it’s a small town. Maybe I’ll see her again…’

Or tonight, considering you failed to notice the woman still stalking you from the shadows as you headed into your house rather blindly. Shutting the door behind you and heading inside to kick off your shoes, hang up your coat, and go to bed since you were aching for a good night’s rest before work tomorrow.

“Ugh…” you trudged up the stairs to head to your room, plopping on the bed and taking a breather before mustering up the strength to do grown-up things like shower and eat a decent meal like a responsible adult. It took quite a bit of mental encouragement to get up from the heavenly abyss of your bed, but soon enough, you rolled off the covers and began digging through your dressers to find a nice clean pair of PJs to change into.

After finding a decent set, you got up and began making your way to the bathroom, humming a small tune to yourself and locking yourself in the bathroom. As you did this however, the door to your house slowly creaked open, the tall, masked woman from earlier making her way inside as her only goal for tonight was to see you again.

And hopefully make you hers.

She took a brief walk around your house, tilting her head at the various knick knacks and items scattered around your house before making her way upstairs. She heard the sounds of a shower being turned on and decided to surprise you by hiding in your bedroom closet. She couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you saw her again, the poor woman practically trembling with excitement as she stuffed her larger body into such a small space.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

And wait.

…And wait.

And wait as she did, but the woman was beginning to feel incredibly cramped as she stood in your closet door for what seemed like eternity (even though it had only been ten minutes)

Feeling a bit bored, the woman slowly exited the room and was about to walk down the hall, when she came face to face with just you in a towel. The moment you locked eyes on each other, you screamed and nearly dropped your towel out of fear, almost flashing yourself at the other woman as she scrambled to keep you calm.

Before you could start running, the woman quickly ran up to you and suddenly picked you up in a hug that had your legs dangling in the air due to her strength.

“H-Holy shit—!”

“Quiet…Quiet…”

The woman pressed a comforting hand on your head and began petting you in soft, yet sturdy strokes. Her other arm had muffled your screaming as she tried her best to silence your fears, pleading for you to stay quiet so you didn’t alert the neighbors with your cries.

“Mmmpf! Hnnn!” You squirmed in her grasp but it was no use. The woman holding onto you had some sort of freakish strength that kept you from making even the slightest of movements, causing you to flip out even more as you realized this might be the end.

‘I’m gonna die. Oh my fucking god I’m gonna die!’ You were so close to tears and continued trying to fight for your life. Squirming and thrashing around like a fish out of water, before suddenly being pinned to the wall to stop your flailing.

“Mmpf!”

“Quiet…!”

The masked woman spoke in a rough, yet somewhat familiar tone. Her larger body pinning you to the wall as she kept a firm hand over your mouth to successfully gag you from screaming any unwanted sounds.

‘I’m so dead…I’m so dead…!’ You screamed with your eyes closed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst, only to have the killer…suddenly hug you?

At the feeling of the masked woman’s arms embracing you like an old friend, your body tensed up as she leaned forward to bury her face into your shoulder, as if she didn’t just scare the shit out of you moments prior.

“Ah…h-hah…wha…”

“Mine.”

You heard the woman grumble the word like it was a fact, pushing you further against the wall. Your heart was still beating sporadically out of your chest from all the adrenaline, but something in the tone of her voice made you shiver with a strange nostalgia you had no idea you had.

“Mine.” The woman repeated once more, the screams in your throat dying down to a pathetic whimper. “Don’t go.”

“Aha…hah…” Was this hysteria? Were you finally beginning to lose it?

“Don’t scream.” The woman says in a quiet groan, stroking the back of your head. “I missed you.”

“Wh-What…?” You were beginning to wonder if you were losing it, body trembling like a feather as she continued delivering soft and gentle strokes to the back of your head. Was this woman insane?! I mean, she was stalking you and breaking into your house, but perhaps this was the patient that escaped the psychiatric facility…?

“…U-Uhm…can you let me down…?” You ask in a shaky voice, too afraid to scream any more as the knife she had fastened to her jumpsuit paralyzed you with fear.

“…Okay.”

Sensing that you won’t run away, the tall woman plopped you down like an obedient dog dropping a toy. You were shocked to say the least at how easily she complied, but didn’t want to question it as you stood there, trapped against the wall in nothing but a towel while you stared your house invader down. “…Wh-Why’re you here?” You ask with a bit of reluctance, pulling your towel up so it wouldn’t accidentally drop.

“…I missed you.” The woman says again, keeping her head down as she stares at you through the eye holes of her mask.

“Well, you can’t just follow me home and break in…” You mumble politely, “It’s illegal…”

“It is?” The woman tilted her head and looked slightly upset. “I’m sorry…”

Your eyes widened when she suddenly hugged you again, body tensing up as her muscular frame practically engulfed yours. “H-Hey now…” you froze under her grip and felt how easy it was for her to snap you like a twig. “Do you…uhm, have somewhere else to go?”

The woman shakes her head no.

“Ah…okay…” you wanted to call the police more than anything, but something in the back of your mind was screaming for you not to. Instead, all that was going on in your mind, was who it was behind the mask.

“…Can I…see who you are at least?” You ask in a quiet tone, wondering why this random stalker took such a liking to you after all you did was give them a candy. “I want to know…who it is I’m talking to.”

The masked woman pauses at your statement, slowly leaning back and staring at you with those familiar, iridescent eyes. At first, you think she’s mad at you with how quiet she was being all of a sudden, but then you see her hand reach up to pull at the latex of her mask.

Your breath hitches when the mask slides off to reveal a matured, much older, and familiar face of your childhood friend; Shenhe, who got taken away from you all those years ago. She never changed a bit, and with the way she was looking down at you, you realized you had reunited with her after so many years of disappearance.

“Shenhe…” you breathed out after a moment of silence, eyes trailing over the contours of her face before settling on her eyes. “It’s you?”

She nods at your response, almost excited in a way as she was happy to know you remembered her. “Yes, it is me.”

She could barely contain herself as she moved forward to hug you once more, spooking you as she lifted you off the ground with ease. Shenhe was always strong as a kid, however; you had no idea she would be this strong as an adult, as she could practically split a man’s skull open like a pumpkin.

“Oh!” You let out a yelp when she scooped you up in her arms, all fears of a home invader leaving your head, as all you could think about was the fact that your childhood friend was back and wanted to visit you.

“I missed you.” Shenhe repeated against your ear, voice gravelly and rich with the way she purred. “That’s why I escaped.”

“You— You escaped the psychiatric facility?” You mumble in disbelief. “Just to see me again?”

Shenhe nodded like an innocent child, burying her face into your shoulder and inhaling your soft, shampoo-like scent. “I wanted to see what was mine again…”

Your face flushed at those words and you couldn’t help but be reminded of your old, puppy love crush on the woman back when you two were just children. You knew this woman was capable of homicidal tendencies and yet, despite seeing a killer; all you could feel was your friend.

And you wanted this friend to be yours too.

“…Okay.” You whisper in a shaky tone, hesitantly hugging Shenhe back as she nuzzles her face deeper against your neck, her hot breath tickling the skin of your ear and making it difficult to control the strange arousing feeling beginning to stir in the depth of your core. “I can keep you here for a bit, Shenhe. Just until you can manage on your own.”

You had no idea why you were doing this, but allowing a killer to stay in your home was not the best idea. Nevertheless, Shenhe was ecstatic and she suddenly leaned in to kiss your cheek out of appreciation for what you were doing. The moment her lips planted on your face, you froze and almost dropped your towel completely out of shock.

“Oh.” Shenhe stopped when your towel moved lower and accidentally revealed your breasts, the tall woman’s face flushing pink at the sight, before glancing away in embarrassment.

‘Oh…’ your hands quickly pulled the towel back up, yet when you looked up to see Shenhe’s reaction to the accidental flash, you saw her looking away, but also not-so-subtly trying to sneak an extra peak.

‘Wow, I did not expect Shenhe to be such a closet pervert…’ you thought to yourself, smiling a bit cheekily and laughing to yourself. “Shenhe, it’s okay, we’re both girls. I mean, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“But I haven’t seen it before…” Shenhe mumbles ever so quietly, iridescent eyes slowly taking up your figure. “Your body…is so pretty.”

Aaaaand that’s how she managed to seduce you. All it took was for your pretty childhood best friend to say your body was pretty and bam, your heart began to flutter with newfound feelings for the killer.

“I could…show you more if you’d like,” you chuckle a bit teasingly, wondering how far Shenhe would push the limits.

“You would?” She looked intrigued and leaned a little forward. “Can I see?”

Your eyes widened at her boldness, before deciding to see where this goes and chuckling.

“Alright…”

As it turns out, Shenhe was a lot bolder than you took her for, as the moment you dropped the towel to reveal your entire body, Shenhe had you pinned against the wall and her lips sucking on your chest. You weren’t sure how you got here, as every second with Shenhe was a blur, but you knew for one thing that you were enjoying it.

“Hah…eager aren’t we?” You teased a bit light-heartedly, groaning a little when Shenhe bit on a nipple. “Nngh…gentle now, Shenhe. You have to be gentle with a woman…”

“‘M sorry…” she mumbles against your chest, trying to kiss your nipple better.

“Hah…it’s okay.” You whisper reassuringly, petting her long, white hair like she was a rabbit. “Is this your first time? I assume it’s not often you sleep with someone in a psych ward…”

She nods hesitantly and hides her face in your chest.

“Pfft…” you missed this. You missed the feeling of your friend laying on your chest and whispering with you like you were the only two people in the world. “It’s okay…do you want me to guide you?”

Shenhe nods again. You swear, if it weren’t for the news articles and details of her homicidal tendencies, you would’ve thought Shenhe was the sweetest girl on earth incapable of murder.

“You’re so sweet…” you murmur into Shenhe’s ear, watching as the tips of her ears turn pink. “Do you wanna go to my bedroom so it’s easier?”

Shenhe shakes her head no, pushing you further against the wall. “I want to touch you here.” She mumbles under her breath. “I want to take you here. I don’t want to move.”

A jolt of heat pushes through your body and you feel yourself dripping just at how direct she was. For someone so innocent and charming, you really did not expect Shenhe of all people to be so good at dirty talk…

“Aha…are you sure? The floor is kinda hard so it’ll be uncomfortable. I’d say a bed would be better as it— OH!” Shenhe suddenly lifted you up with ease and shoved you against the wall, your legs dangling over her forearms as she pressed her body closer to you.

Where on earth did she learn this position?!

“Sh-Shenhe, this position—” you flinched as your legs were spread and the bare skin of your cunt brushed against Shenhe’s rough jumpsuit, the position making you blush as you were left vulnerable to whatever Shenhe had in mind for you tonight.

“…I like this position.” Shenhe said after some time, practically folding you to her liking and leaning in for a kiss. Your eyes widened as you tasted the familiar freshness of peppermint, and realized Shenhe had eaten the mint you had given to her prior to meeting her. ‘So sweet…’ Shenhe couldn’t help but think, trying to shove her tongue in your mouth and taste some more of what your body had to offer.

“Mmpf…hnn…” your moans were muffled by her tongue and you couldn’t help but close your eyes as she began adjusting your legs to wrap around her waist. Once she had you wrapped firmly around her, Shenhe began to move her hands all over your body, searching, squeezing, trying to find that one spot that would have you whimpering out her name.

“I want…I want more…” Shenhe pants out like a dog, nudging your legs further as she begins grinding her hips against yours. “Want more…want— n-need more…”

At the sudden grinding sensations you threw your head back and nearly hit your head against the wall. The rough cloth of her jumpsuit moving against you so well it had you writhing in her arms, Shenhe’s brutal ruts making it seem like she was trying to envision herself having a strap, as she was panting rather loudly with the sight of you all naked against her.

“Sh-Shenhe…I think– hah… it’d be better if you took that jumpsuit off…”

Despite your pathetic pleas, your words fell on deaf ears as poor Shenhe was too caught up in her pleasure to even hear you. You just looked so perfect and pliable for her to maneuver, her feelings of missing you all these years starting to cloud her thoughts, as she leaned in to claim your neck as hers and hers alone.

“Mine…mine…mine…” you hear her grunt into your ear, teeth grabbing at your skin and pinching it so hard it left a mark. “Shenhe! Gentle, baby. Gentle…” you whimper in a smaller voice, gasping with the amount of hickies she was starting to suck onto you, as it seemed a switch had flipped in your sweet, innocent Shenhe.

“S-Slow down, please…” you whine into her ear, pulling something feral out of Shenhe as she decided this position wasn’t enough. She needed more. She craved more.

And you were going to give it to her.

In one quick motion, Shenhe crouched down for a moment before lifting your legs over her shoulders and having you practically straddle her face. You nearly screamed when she did this, her body keeping you upright as your legs dangled in the air, even higher than you were before.

“Shenhe this is dangerous what’re you–”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when Shenhe began lapping at your clit, her tongue darting out with hunger as she tasted your glistening folds for the very first time.

“Stay…still…” Shenhe practically growls as she keeps you balanced with just her strength alone. You had no idea how she was capable of such impressive feats, yet you weren’t complaining when her tongue was so wet and (somehow) so experienced.

Or many Shenhe was just really, really horny. Who knows. But either way, you were laying on cloud nine as Shenhe nudged her cold little nose onto the button of your clit. Strong hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs and leaving small nail indents in your skin that would surely leave a mark when you woke up in the morning.

“Shenhe…Shenhe oh god…” your legs were trembling from the constant pleasure as Shenhe continued thrusting her tongue with insatiable hunger, her face practically glistening with your juices as a sex-drunk expression glazed over her face.

“More…I want more…” she groans in a huskier tone, practically burying her face into your cunt and drinking up all the cum that was leaking out of you, too pussy drunk to even think.

“Shenhe please…” you whined as you gripped her hair with your fingers. “Put me down I can’t…I can’t take it anymore…”

“No, you can.” She groans in response to your whining, pushing you further into the wall as she lapped up your sex like it was her last meal. “Just stay still, stay still.”

At her deafening command, you whimpered and let her take the reins as she coursed her tongue through each crevice and corner of your folds. You’ve never heard or seen Shenhe act so possessive before, but the feeling of being all hers, and only hers, had you nearing your orgasm sooner than you expected.

“Go on…I want to taste it.” Shenhe says rather directly, giving your right thigh a squeeze. “I want to taste you.”

“Shenhe…” you groaned, feeling your stomach tighten. “You— nngh…”

You arched your back off the wall and gripped Shenhe’s shoulders tightly, cum starting to spill down your thighs and onto Shenhe’s awaiting tongue. Eagerly, she lapped up any stray droplets she could catch, savoring the flavor of your release like it was a fine wine she could ever hope to taste again.

“Goodness…” you panted, catching your breath as Shenhe continued to clean up any traces of cum left on your hips. “Shenhe you…are you sure you’re a virgin?”

She nodded obediently, kissing the inside of your thigh before marking it with her teeth.

“Oh wow…” you couldn’t help but tiredly laugh, petting Shenhe like the good girl she was and kissing the top of her head. “You’re really good, you know that?”

Shenhe beamed at the praise and continued kissing the inside of your thighs before setting you down in her arms and carrying you to the bedroom. “I…I can please you more,” she murmurs in a rather pleading way, looking almost like a puppy getting ready to serve their master. “Please let me please you more.”

“Gosh, round two?” You chuckled, clinging to her arms as she brought you to your room. “Ah, why not. I’m sure you have enough stamina to go all night, hm?”

Shenhe nodded eagerly and set you down on your bed, climbing over on top of you before kissing the base of your neck and whispering under your ear. “I can go all night if you want.”

“Really?” You chuckle back in a whisper, bringing her down by the neck and kissing the side of her cheek. “Well, if that’s the case…”

“Happy Halloween, Shenhe.”

#shenhe smut #shenhe x reader #shenhe x you #slasher au #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin women smut #genshin women x reader #genshin imagines

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hazelfoureyes · 9 days

Text

A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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cozage · 11 months

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Hi hope you are having a good day

I wanted to know what would it be like if, Mihawk, Shanks and Buggy had a female s/o that was basically like inosuke from demon slayer, they are a bit dumb but will pick a fight with everyone, and they only wear a bandaged top with like shorts or smt.

You guys have been asking me lots of questions and making me feel loved so here is this!!! (And maybe more spicy things to come later this week 👀)

Characters: female reader x Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy Wordcount: 850 CW: the last bullet point in all of them that are a little spicy

She’s Kinda Stupid, but…

Mihawk

This man is literally so tired. He’s so tired.

Will very often say things like “I didn’t know I was in charge of three children.” (yes Perona and Zoro are his CHILDREN okay) or “Are you acting your age today, or are we pretending you’re six years old again?” or “I’ve met dogs more behaved than you.” (it’s all coming from a place of love and he knows you won't take offense because you don’t take offense to anything)

You’re a brat and he knows it (and loves it). He loves you but god you are so much work when the two of you are out in public. He feels like he can’t take his eyes off you or you’ll end up in a fight with some random guy because he looked at you funny.

Most of the time he doesn’t acknowledge your shenanigans. When you fight with someone, he’ll grab your wrist and physically pull you away from them, usually with some kind of snide remark.

Sometimes you’re justified, though. And when that happens, he gives the guy who wronged you five seconds to apologize before he sets you loose. Most of the time the guy sees Mihawk and apologizes, but the swordsman secretly hopes the guy won't apologize. And on the few occasions they don't apologize, he smirks as he releases you.

He always has to pull you off the guy because you just don't know when to stop. In all truthfulness, it kind of gets him hot and bothered, but he always pretends to be irritated. “You’re psychotic. Do I need to teach you how to behave?” he scolds, his gold eyes scanning your body. “I can think of a few ways to get you to listen.”

Shanks

Shanks adores you. Cheers you on. Loves watching you cause absolute chaos. Why? Because you are him without a conscience.

Shanks knows when he needs to flip the switch from polite to fight, but you don’t. You are always at 100%, your most authentic self 24/7. And he absolutely adores that about you. Even if that means that sometimes you take it a bit too far.

Sometimes Shanks will even use your emotions to his advantage. “Can you believe that guy just did that?!” or “Talk about rude!” knowing full well you’re ready to throw down whoever wronged you or him.

The absolute only time that Shanks will stop you from fighting someone is when you all are in a building. He’s had to pay SO MANY owners back for you destroying glassware and furniture and plenty of other damaged goods. You learned pretty quickly that the first words out of your mouth should be “Wanna take this outside?!” because if you were outside then Shanks didn’t stop you.

The first few fights, he watched carefully, making sure he would be able to jump in if he needed to. The next couple of fights, he watched you with an amused look, excited to see how you were going to beat up the guy (and just to make sure you would win). Nowadays, he doesn’t even feel the need to go outside with you, but sometimes he does just to cheer you on.

After your victory, he always rewards you with a bunch of kisses and sings your praises. He pulls you onto his lap at the bar, making sure everyone knows you're his. “You did so well. I loved how you stomped that guy into the dirt,” he’ll coo, dotting kissing across your neck. “How about later I show you just how proud I am of you, okay?”

Buggy

You never cease in stressing this man out. He is always on high alert now because of you.

Stealth missions? Forget it. Normal day in town? Absolutely not. He BEGS you to be a normal human being in public. To have an ounce of self preservation. But you cannot comprehend that. People who talk shit deserve to get hit.

He is constantly running after you, screaming at you to stop fighting people for no reason. Sometimes he’ll even jump in front of your punches to try and de-escalate it (which of course doesn’t work and results in you just punching him in the face). You don’t even feel bad, you just scream at him to get out of the way and beat up the other guy even more since he made you hurt your boyfriend.

If anyone makes fun of him, he doesn’t even have a chance to scream at them anymore. You’re already pounding their face into the ground. And every time you do, he falls in love with you a little bit more.

“That’s right, that’s my baby!” he screams, watching you smugly walk away from some guy’s beaten body. “Let’s go celebrate, you can do whatever you want.” He grabs your hand, practically pulling you back to the ship.

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willowrites · 2 months

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heyyy so this is a request for colby. i thought that maybe he invited his “friend😉” y/n for a collab on his channel and theyre playing truth or drink and the questions get kinda spicy and he also gets kinda jealous fron some of her answers and stuff and maybe add some crazy smut idk its up to u😙😙

POUND TOWN

PAIRINGS. colby brock x fem reader

SUMMARY. amid a no big deal type of video of truth or drink some feelings and needs get mixed...

WARNINGS. drinking! smut, dominant male x sub fem (colby showing his dominant side fr), choking, spanking, rough sex, scratching, oral female!receiving, degradation, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex (don’t do this!!)...

AUTHORS NOTE. i absolutely LOVED this request!! i usually don’t get a lot of these types of requests so u best believe i tried putting my whole heart and soul into it. hope you enjoyed bae !! SORRY THIS IS SO LATE BTW.

WORD COUNT. 4.9k

as you sat on the couch scrolling on instagram you heard your friend colby’s voice.

“we should do a special kind of Q&A huh?” he was speaking to sam but you still took the liberty to answer.

“how about truth or drink? it’ll still be a q & a. just more fun.” you raised your brows.

they both looked at each other and nodded. “fuck, for once she has a good idea.” colby scoffed.

“oh shut the fuck up dick. i always have good ideas.” you rolled your eyes.

“yeah, that tiny ass skirt not being one of them.” he looked at your outfit.

you had on a basic black fitted shirt which fell just above your belly button. a blue-wash mini skirt with black high-heeled boots that reach just the middle of your shin.

your hair was pin-straight because you straightened it and you had on your usual makeup.

“my outfit is fire you’re just a hater.” you eyed him.

“oh please, you could see your bare ass cheeks in that thing.” he gestured up and down towards your body.

“oh, sad you can’t see more?” you grinned and he immediately left the room.

you shrugged him off waiting for their queue to go to their little filming area.

it was 11:30 when they had started to get things ready. you headed towards the filming area and sat down on the couch.

“guys sorry i have to go. my friend just texted and told me it’s an emergency.” sam was panicking and you could tell. “maybe you can do this for your personal channel colby, but i gotta go. have fun.” he was quick to say bye and headed out towards the door.

you hoped everything with sam was okay but all you thought about after he left was how it was just you and colby and how you were bound to get heated.

“for fucks sake,” you whispered to yourself.

“don’t act so excited.” colby randomly appeared. you had no idea where he came from. he was carrying a bottle of tequila and plastic shot cups. “you ready?”

“i guess.” you fake yawned.

colby clicked on the camera making it start clicking.

“it’s counting down to ten then it’ll record. just in case you’re too stupid to realize.” he snickered after his rude remark.

“i know you fuckface.” you sneered.

you and colby always had this love-hate friendship. of course, it wasn’t real but it was just more interesting to be mean to each other. you both got the memo and never got mad about anything you guys have said to each other.

in the midst of your friendship, you found yourself finding colby more attractive by the day. you didn’t give yourself the time of day to really think or dwell but in the back of your mind, you knew you had just the tiniest bit of feelings for him.

were they as tiny as your little brain thought though?

“what’s up, guys! it’s colby brock here and welcome back to my channel! today we’re going to get…fucked!” he says to the camera. “i haven’t done one of these in a loooong time. oh shit…by the way guys this is y/n!” he pretends to shrug then grins.

“wow thank you so much for the introduction colby, hi guys!” you smile. you weren’t usually on colby’s channel so you wanted to make a good impression all the time.

“of course.” he fake smiles. “alright! you guys already know what this video is based on the title. view discretion is advised…if you do not have 21! don’t drink.” you both paused. “why’d i say that so weirdly.” he cringed.

“because you’re odd.” you stated. “what he means is if you are underage obviously don’t drink.”

“yeah, what she said. now i posted a little instagram story thingy asking you guys to ask us truth or dare questions but we are cutting out the dares and doing drinks!” he rubs his hands together. “so let’s get started”

he brought out his phone scrolling through it. “i’m so not prepared for the hangover i will endure tomorrow.” you groaned leaning back on the couch.

“me too, i haven’t drunk in like 3 days.” he wiped his forehead playfully.

“wow colby that must be a new record for you.” you patted his back.

“oh fuck off. here you read the questions.” he rolled his eyes passing the phone to you. “alright guys, the first question let’s get it.”

you were biting your cheek as you carefully skimmed the question. “woah! starting off strong huh. alright…what’s the worst ‘doing the dirty’ experience you’ve had.”

his eyes widened. “starting off very strong.” he laughed. “wow…um”

you thought about it. there were quite a few. “are you going to answer this?”

“yeah! i’m gonna…m gonna answer it.” he leaned back on the couch. “just uh..one time i had a female use a lot of teeth. and it hurt.”

you winced at that and giggled a bit. “yikes that’s uh…”

“yeah yeah it was really awkward and i just..yeah we never talked again.” he looked down in fake shame. “what about you. you going to answer?”

“yeah for sure um…well i’m not going to name names but this one guy i was with …let’s just say he didn't have the best hygiene and well it smelled so bad i genuinely had to leave.” you laughed painfully.

“that is so nasty y/n oh my god.” colby covers his face.

“you’re telling me! i wanted to die then and there. somehow i was the embarrassed one.” you covered your face.

“jeez alright alright well i am soooo sorry about that.” he chuckled.

he wasn’t sorry.

“next question!” he fake demanded.

“okay, which one of you has the better style?” you spoke.

“oooo that is a hard question…” colby pretended to think. “me!”

“oh that’s such a fat lie!” your tone playful but offended. “i have a much better style than you!”

“liar liar!” he sang.

“oh, whatever i’m better and you know it. next question.”

as you both bantered and went through questions some you drank some you answered you felt the alcohol hit you after three shots.

your brain went fuzzy and your actions became more free.

you looked at colby throughout your time and he got increasingly hot. you didn’t know if it was you or the alcohol but you wanted to jump his bones.

“colby why do you have a pair of handcuffs in your room?” your eyes widened on that one as soon as you said it.

you’ve never really been in colby’s room. only once to use the restroom so you never really looked around.

you turned to him and his eyes were wide and his face turned red.

“what the fuck.” he laughed in disbelief. “umm…why? i mean…?” he grabbed the bottle of tequila ready to go.

“no come on answer it!” you wanted to get it out of him even though you clearly knew why. “were they props for a video?”

“no.” he stated. then he got ready to put the bottle back. “you know what i use them for personal fun alright.”

“what the fuck does that even mean? personal fun?” you questioned, confusion written on your face.

“that should answer the question right?” he nods to himself while you’re shaking your head.

“no no, you need to go a little bit more in-depth with it.” you have a smug look on your face.

“oh my god, i’m getting embarrassed.” he smiles awkwardly at me and then at the camera.

“then go ahead and drink.” you raise your brows trying to use reverse psychology to make him spill…and it works.

“i’ve used them for sexual fun.” he says while about to pour the shot. “that counts right.”

you thought about it, your stomach doing loops. “fine.” you roll your eyes.

“ha ha…” he rubs his hands together. “next question.”

you scroll through and find the perfect one.

“ñame two dirty kinks that you have.” colby’s face as you read the question was filled with surprise.

“jeez…oh my god. sorry…m-mom.” he apologized.

“oh so you’re gonna answer?” you squinted your eyes in intimidation.

“w-what. you know what now i’m not.” he scoffed and picked up the bottle. he poured half the shot when you interrupted.

“you already said one!” you shrugged.

“oh so that counts?” he questioned.

“mhm.” you hummed waiting for his second response.

“ummm…” he paused putting his hand out in front of him and leaning against his knee. “i like to be dominant. alright, there we go.”

your eyes widened. even though you could tell what kind of guy colby was in the bedroom, it was more effective as he said it right in front of the camera not being afraid to express it.

“oh wow…” you said slowly. “not surprised.”

“oh really? now you have to answer.” he waits.

“mmm, or i could drink.” you snicker grabbing the bottle from his hands.

“nuh uh, cmonnnn…” he tries to convince you.

“oh my god ugh.” you whine. “fine, um…i like to be …praised?” you questioned.

“wow…a very good one. mhm…” his gaze on you was strong. you felt so small under his stare. “one more…” he says softly.

“and iliketobechoked.” you muttered as quick as you could.

“you what now? sorry i didn’t hear you! doesn’t count.” he fake frowns.

“oh my god. i like to be choked.” you sternly let out. “moving on!” you raised your voice trying to distract yourself.

little did you know, for the rest of the video colby was thinking of you in that position and his mind ran through all the other times you could’ve been with someone else.

he was envious.

envious of people who got to pleasure you and who got pleasured by you.

as the time went on you both got more drunk. you were a bit tipsy but thanks to your genius plan of just telling the truth the alcohol barely affected you.

same with colby, after that he realized he really had nothing to hide.

“okay well that’s it you guys thank you for watching…and thank you y/n for joining. ” as he was talking to the camera you were analyzing him. his perfect face. his jawline. your eyes trailed down to his hands.

you felt you dampen your underwear.

you felt embarrassed at the fact that he was able to make you feel these things so easily.

“of course it was fun! i definitely learned a lot more about you.” you laughed.

“yes, same here…” he paused and squinted at you. “but anyways i will see you guys next time!”

he ended the video and there was just silence.

“how tipsy are you?” he asked.

“considering ive told the truth more times than i took a drink, i’m sober.” you snickered. “you?”

“not at all,” he spoke. his tone is not something you’ve heard before.

“i’ll be right back im going to use the restroom.” you got nervous under his gaze.

you scurried off to the restroom looking yourself in the mirror. you made sure to fix anything about yourself and reapplied your lip product.

you then adjusted your skirt so that it was in a higher position. you didn’t know what possessed you to act so teasing but you did.

after you were done, you walked out confidently heading back to the main room.

“in here!” colby shouted his voice heard from the hall leading towards the den.

what you loved about sam and colby’s house was that it was always cozy. it wasn’t like a big celebrity mansion you always felt at home here.

to explain the sudden thought in your head, as you walked into the den there was a massive L-shaped couch that was basically a big bed. there were detachable seats where you could just slide them wherever to maximize the space.

the huge window on one side of the room looking out to darkness but covered with curtains that had fairy lights draped. the colors red.

then a fireplace with a large flat-screen TV above it. some plants scattered around too which also pleased your eyes.

“wanna watch a movie?” he was manspreading making you want to squeeze your thighs together.

“uh..thought you’d want me gone by now.” you playfully spat one hand on your hip and the other on your thigh playing with the end of your skirt.

you were never really flirty but maybe you’ll admit the alcohol is affecting you more than you mentioned.

“mmmm, see i would kick you out because being home alone is depressing. sam won’t be back until tomorrow he just texted.” he was looking down at his phone but then put it to the side and rested his gaze on you.

you were still in the door frame which was quite wide so you were being illuminated by the light behind you.

“turn the light off and come over here,” he spoke softly. you couldn’t tell but when you turned around to shut the switch off he admired how you looked in your outfit.

he was throwing a fit earlier because he was jealous he wouldn’t be the only one seeing it. he wanted to be the one to take it off too.

something you also didn’t know was that he was jealous. jealous that you’ve been with other people but not with him. he wanted to be the one who kissed you and loved up on you. he wanted to choke you while he fucked you at a relentless pace.

and he too, was more tipsy than he’d like to admit.

you made your way back once you switched off the light; the only thing illuminating the room was the flatscreen TV.

you sat on the opposite side of the couch starting to get nervous.

“you act like i’m going to do something to you.” colby chuckled his arm resting on the back of the couch. he looks so good, you thought to yourself.

you wanted him to do something to you.

“i’m just getting comfortable.” you settled on the couch and somehow some way the skirt barely covered your underwear.

colby looked and noticed which had him visibly become hard.

you didn’t notice because you were focused on his ring-clad hands and how they’d feel inside you.

you looked away to then look at the TV and see what he was putting on to watch.

“so what we are watching?” you questioned fiddling with your hair.

“mmm” he started to speak distracted by your thighs and how they’d look around his head while he…you know. “what do you feel like?”

“hmm, i’m not sure how long are you planning on keeping me around?” you look at him.

as your gazes met your stomach churned and you squeezed your thighs tighter.

there was pure lust in his eyes. you felt like he could kill you with his glare. he fiddled with his ring causing you to gulp.

“why do you look nervous?” he said disregarding your question.

“i’m not…” you denied. “you’re the one who looks nervous.” lie.

“how so?” he said starting to get up.

your eyes didn’t leave his body as he stood up to turn on the fireplace. he then came towards you. you froze heart beating out of your chest.

“what’s wrong?” he pouted. “stand up.”

what the fuck was going on.

you were confused but still followed his orders.

“how are you not cold in this tiny ass skirt.” he played with the end of it.

you lifted your head to meet his eyes trying to keep your composure.

“last time i checked im not outside.” you scoffed rolling your eyes at his comment.

“mmm, i turned on the fireplace because i thought you’d be a bit chilly. aren’t i a nice friend?” he grinned his hand making its way to your shoulder brushing the hair away. his touch sent chills down your body you couldn’t control.

“friend is an overstatement,” you whispered. he was now a centimeter away from you. his hand made its way behind your neck and caressed softly.

“not friends? funny.” he humorlessly laughed now playing with your hair. “you love my company.”

“do not.” you snort. he grinned knowingly stepping closer toward you. you were close to stumbling back onto the couch but kept your balance.

“then why are you so nervous? you’re shivering but you’re not cold…you get chills every time i touch you. you love my company.” he called you out. you were stunned to speak. what did you have to say to that? “and you love my touch.” he stepped even closer this time causing you to fall back onto the couch. you sat up in a sitting position looking up at him.

he knelt down meeting your eyes. “look at you in this skirt.” his right hand trailing down your thigh and the other on the couch. “do you have any idea how good you look? and how pissed the fuck off i was to see you wearing it not just for me?”

you had no idea where this behavior came from but it was turning you on.

your breathing became heavier as his hand trailed closer to your sex. “dressed like a slut to get who’s attention?” his demeanor changed but you could tell it wasn’t serious, even then it was still turning you on.

“certainly not for you.” you felt breathless.

“the way that your legs just opened at my touch; i'd say it was.” he bit his lip a little bit. “just ask and i’ll touch you, baby.”

his teasing had you wanting to drop to your knees.

you placed your hand protectively at the end of your skirt. “touch me? you think you can make me feel good?” you challenged.

“find out.” he replied tapping your knee. “cmon, open up.”

as if you were hypnotized your legs spread giving room for colby hands to go further.

“good girl.” all that he was able to see was your lacy black lingerie, he pressed the back of his palm right on top of your clothed clit. “ironic how you’re this wet but seem to despise me.”

he’s more harsh with his touch pressing firmly focusing on your clit rather than where you’re most damp. your face contorts as you’re experiencing the smallest bit of pleasure.

“fuck, just wanna taste you so bad. you have no idea how fucking long I've wanted to wrap my lips around your sweet pussy.’ he groaned rubbing back and forth on your sensitive area.

so the dirty talk has begun…

your legs spread further apart granting him more access.

“all needy, go on beg for it.” he pulls his hand away from your sex setting both on top of either of your thighs.

the pleasure you were just receiving seemed to have wiped your memory from all the previous comments he's made because you find yourself begging for his touch.

“touch me please,” you whine trying to grab his hand and bring it toward where you were aching the most.

“look at you, being such a needy whore.” he spat all of a sudden pulling you by your legs closer to him so that your legs were wrapping around his waist. “you sure you wanna start this baby? i don't know if you can handle it.” he egotistically chuckles.

his comment sparked something up in your brain.

your past relationships have been slightly rough in the bedroom but not to the point where you were fully satisfied. you found that you like it when you're belittled or manhandled, it turns you on like nothing else does. you enjoyed being choked and spanked and having your hair pulled. just imagining all the hints colby would do to you had you pulling colby by his shirt and connecting your lips.

immediately he took control grabbing you by your neck just the way you liked it. he slipped his tongue in your mouth swiftly dominating the kiss and his other hand pulled you closer to him, your pussy and his cock only being separated by a few pieces of clothing.

after a few more seconds of your heated make-out session, he pulled away placing the hand that was choking you on your chin and dominantly looking down at you. it was a few seconds before he spoke, “so fucking beautiful.” he said, aggressively connecting your lips one more time before picking you up, your legs still around his waist.

with no more words, he walked out of the den, through the halls, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. he tossed you on the bed then turned around and slammed the door shut locking it.

“gonna let me make you feel good?” he questioned quickly scanning you up and down. you both had lust unmistakably written on your faces.

you leaned up on your elbows looking down and noticing his prominent bulge signaling he was enjoying this as much as you were. “mhm” you hummed wanting to continue as quick as possible.

“good.” he quickly replied before taking off his black shirt in milliseconds revealing his rose tattoo. he then followed by taking off his belt and his pants, his muscles completely visible to you.

while he was doing that you went again and removed your boots while admiring the way his body moved and how it looked. the way he was moving had you wanting to suck him dry. “you're cute when you stare.” he mentioned before making his way onto the bed and pulling you by your legs toward him causing you to lie down on your back.

you moved the hair out of your face to get a better look at him. “can i take this off?” he toyed with your mini skirt. instead of replying you took the skirt off yourself; as well as your top revealing the lacy bra under.

“god, look at you.” he groaned feeling you up and down admiring you. admiring the way you looked in your lingerie on his bed. he’s been wanting to be in this position for so long so you best believed he would savor the feeling.

the way he was looking at you made you feel so good.

“gonna make you feel so fucking good.” he climbed on top of you connecting your lips once more before pulling away. “gonna let me touch you?”

your hands made their way to his hair tugging on it. “yes.” you panted.

he chuckled and pulled down your underwear so that you were bare. your legs immediately spread welcoming his hands to do whatever they wanted.

“wanna taste you. let me taste you.” he managed to slowly make his way to the edge of his bed right in front of your wet pussy. “so pretty. you can tell me to stop whenever okay?” his pointer finger dragged along your folds receiving a gasp from your lips.

“i will but please colby, want your tongue so bad.” you whined, your right hand gripping his hair while the other gripped his bed sheets.

it was like he didn’t need any more reassurance before he latched his lips onto your clit sucking harshly. surprised by his antics your head lunged forward in surprise.

“oh fuck.” you groaned tugging on his hair earning a moan from him.

“do that again come on. you want more?” the animalistic sounds he was making while slurping up your juices had you getting closer and closer to your release.

you repeatedly whined ‘yes’ so desperately wanting his mouth to keep pleasuring you.

his tongue was moving so fast you couldn’t keep up. you were so sensitive you had tried pushing his head away but this only caused him to grip your thighs harder.

"cmon baby, you can take it." you looked down to see a smirk on his face. 'mmm' he hummed, he went from a slow pace to a fast pace but regardless you were nearly there. you felt it.

you were getting so close you forced yourself to let go of his head and brought your hands up to your breasts playing with your nipples.

your breaths became short showing colby you were almost there. he pulled you impossibly closer sucking on your clit; his actions succeeding as it caused your orgasm to crash into you. "fuck fuck fuck" you came on his tongue.

you were screaming because of how sensitive you were and how he didn't stop the pace of his tongue on your sensitive clit.

he finally pulled away giving you time to breath. you felt as if you were in another dimension.

"holy fuck you tasted so good." he crawled up your body as you lay there trying to catch your breath. "come here" he spoke connecting your lips.

even though that orgasm nearly had you tired for the night, it didn't satisfy the need you felt for his cock.

your hand went ahead and groped his print; boxers were the only thing separating his skin from yours.

he spasmed as you started palming him slowly.

"want my cock?" he whispered against the skin of your chest as he sucked lovebites all across.

"so bad" you begged. "want you in me now" your sentences were short and straight to the point.

no time to waste. you thought.

"don't worry baby, i got you." his hand went towards his bedside table looking for a condom you assumed.

"im on birth control and clean if that matters. with or without I don't mind. just need you so bad." you stopped walking him so he could make up his mind and think clearly.

"wow, im that special?" he joked which earned a eye roll from you.

"oh please, you wish." you stated.

after your comment which colby wasn't fond of, he kissed you.

his tongue delved in through your lips completely dominating you and a second later you felt him push all the way inside you.

to say you lost your breath would be an understatement. you wouldn't say this out loud but he was huge. he completely took your breath away and he didn't allow you to catch it as he pulled out and then slammed back into you.

"i wish?" he asked still relentlessly pounding into you. he groaned and spoke again. "look at you. you're telling me i’m not special when i have you fucked dumb here in my house, in my room, and in my bed?" he laughed in disbelief.

you wanted to speak and tell him off. you wanted to say something, anything but nothing came to your mind; not that you'd be able to say it anyway.

all that came from your mouth were moans from how pleasured you were feeling.

your orgasm was coming faster than you thought. your hands were scratching at colbys back trying to hold onto anything.

your hand scratched down for the first time on his back earning a full groan from him. "god feels so fucking good." as he continued pounding into you, his right hand made its way to your throat.

fuck yes.

"you like to be choked?" he asked obviously not looking for an answer. "yeah? i’m the only fucking person who'll have you feeling this good. no one else. do you understand me?"

you had tried to respond but your brain couldn't move fast enough. apparently, colby would get it out of you.

when you didn't respond he pulled out and flipped you over, ass up. he then pushed into you once again slamming into you over and over again.

you felt a hard smack on your ass. it hurt but it hurt so good. you felt tears stinging your eyes.

"i said do you understand me?" both hands were on your hips for support so that it didn't mess up his rhythm. your face was in the pillow so he didn't hear your response.

he then pulled your back to his chest still inside you and wrapped his hand around your neck once more.

"oh y/n? fucked you so good you can't speak?" confidence laced in his tone. "i said, do you understand that i am the only one to make you feel this good?"

"yes yes yes!" your words finally slipped out of your lips.

"good girl." he praised you pushing you back down so he could continue ramming into you. "fuck m'gonna come"

those words had you coming whether you liked it or not. "I'm coming oh fuck" you gripped the bed sheets.

"mhm, that's my girl." colby moaned, his rhythm interrupted by his own orgasm.

he still had the strength to ride you both through your orgasm.

as you both were coming down from your high you heard a door slam downstairs.

"what the fuck was that?" you gasped.

colby's dick was still in fact inside you so you had nowhere to go.

all colby did was throw his black silk sheets over both of your bodies.

"colby?" you heard sam downstairs.

"i guess he didn't end up staying?" colby said confused. "fuck, he's such a cock block."

"who said we were going to keep going?" you asked knowing damn well you wouldn't turn him down.

colby eyed you, connected your lips chastely, then pulled out of you getting off the bed and slipping his boxers on.

"ill be right back," he whispered.

as he walked away you couldn't help but hope that this wouldn't be just a one-night stand.

#✮ ⋆˙ 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾 #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby x reader #sam and colby #sam and colby imagine #sam and colby smut #colby brock x reader

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penny00dreadful · 4 months

Text

Rating: G tags: post-breakup, angst, hurt, wedding, happy ending prompt: Love is what makes you brave (@sidekick-hero) For @steddielovemonth AO3

Should he be here?

No.

Was he going to continue to be here for as long as he could take it?

Hell yeah.

Sitting behind the wheel of his stupid expensive car that would have stuck out anywhere else.

But not here.

Not amongst the BMW’s and Bentleys and limos and wedding cars.

It had been three years.

Three long and fucking lonely as shit years since he’d last seen Steve.

Three years of writing songs about him.

Three years of dodging interviewer questions about who the songs were about.

Three years of the fans creating some nebulous phantom person that all the songs must be about because they all fit together like puzzle pieces if looked at correctly.

Three years since Steve broke his heart.

Eddie wasn’t even really sure what had possessed him to be here right now.

He hadn’t been invited.

But some kind of insane impulse had grabbed him when he’d first gotten into the car fourteen hours ago and it hadn’t left him since.

He needed…

He didn’t know what he needed.

He didn’t know what he expected.

His passenger door opening and a figure sliding into the seat nearly scared the life out of him, so lost in thought and with eyes laser focused on the church doors, he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching.

He was forced to remember again that he was no longer some nobody living in bumfuck nowhere Indiana, he was a somebody, with a fucking penthouse apartment in New York City and an extremely recogniseable look.

Maybe he should have locked the doors.

And maybe he should have dressed down a little before he jumped in the car. Gotten rid of some of the jewellery, covered up the tattoos, tied his hair back, not worn the kind of clothes that always got him noticed in Hawkins in the wrong way. He was more noticeable now more than he ever had been.

He was the most successful person to ever make it out of this shithole town and the town itself loved to pretend they always encouraged him.

They advertised it proudly.

Like they hadn’t tried to drown his passions at every opportunity.

But it wasn’t some crazed obsessive fan now staring at him from his passenger seat, dressed in a pair of black slacks and an overly frilly lavender blouse, probably a compromise so she didn’t have to be stuffed into a dress.

Eddie tensed his hands around the wheel while Robin continued to stare at him like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, bewildered more than anything. He supposed that was fair.

There was no reason for him to be here after all.

He’d gotten no hint from Steve that this wasn’t what he wanted, none of the kids had said as much either but…

It just didn’t feel right.

It felt like Steve was falling back into a pattern.

Living the life that had been mapped out for him by society.

Go to school.

Get a good job.

Get married to a nice girl.

Eddie didn’t even know if the person that would be meeting Steve at the end of the aisle in about fifteen minutes was a nice girl.

He didn’t know anything about her at all.

Didn’t know anything about Steve either.

All he knew were the little tidbits the kids would occasionally drop by accident when they would forget they weren’t all one tightly knit group anymore.

Not since Steve shoved him out the door and told him that it wouldn’t work, it could never work.

Eddie suspected Steve had been looking at shadows on a cave wall for so long he had no idea there was a whole world just outside. That they didn’t have to live their lives the way everyone else did.

But there was nothing for it, he couldn’t force Steve to take him back.

He’d told Eddie he didn’t want him anymore so…

Eddie went and got the life he’d dreamed of since he was a kid. He got the success and the accolades and he was being heard.

But it was empty. It had always been empty.

He had never been able to move on.

Not really.

And now… now he was here.

“Hey Buckley.” Eddie shot her a tight grin. “It’s been a while.”

And it had been. Because along with losing Steve, he’d also lost Robin.

It was understandable, really.

Robin was Steve’s ride or die and though he’d heard she’d raised holy hell, trying to figure out why Steve had thrown his happiness away, as she herself had said, she was still, first and foremost, Steve’s soulmate.

She would be by his side come hell or high water and though she wasn’t happy with his decision, there was also nothing she could do about it.

Steve was a grown man and he’d made his choice.

“What are you doing here, Eds?” She asked again with so much concern, it was like she was worried Eddie was ripping out his own heart over again just by being here.

Maybe he was.

But he was here now.

He couldn’t leave until it was all over.

“Is he happy?” Eddie asked, rather than answer her question. They both knew why he was there anyway. “Is he happy with Miss… Whatever Her Name Is?”

Robin looked at him for a long time, eyes darting all over his face, chewing on her lip.

She took a big breath in.

“He’s… content, I think. They both are. I think they’ve both… made themselves content with the situation.”

“Right.” Eddie nodded, tearing his gaze away and staring down at his hands.

He could feel Robin’s eyes boring into the side of his head.

“But not happy.” She said into the silence. “He’s not- I’ve never seen him as happy as he was when he was with you.”

Eddie tightened his jaw, tried to blink away the wetness in his eyes.

“Then why did he end it?”

“I think he was scared.” She almost whispered. “I think he didn’t know what to do with it all. There was no rule book to follow.”

“But that’s the best part, Rob.” Eddie sighed out. “There’s no rules for how we’re supposed to live our lives.”

He didn’t turn back to look at her, but he could see her nodding in agreement out of the corner of his eye.

“I think he’s started to realise that too, recently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you here?” She asked again, no longer willing to put up with his avoidance.

“I don’t know.” He said, mostly honestly. “One last big romantic gesture?”

Robin sighed, a hand on the handle. “Okay, wait here.”

“Hadn’t planned on going anywhere.” He muttered but it was drowned out as she slammed the car door, speed walking her way back to the church where a crowd had begun to gather at the door.

He tried not to let anything like hope bloom in him, he tried to keep any kind of bubble build up and puff him out but it wasn’t that difficult.

Especially when Robin made her way back to the car only a few minutes later, looking far more stressed than she had before and notably, alone.

“So, slight bump in the big romantic gesture plans,” she said, opening the door again but not getting in. “They’re missing.”

“They? Who’s missing?”

“Rita apparently got a call at the hotel before she was supposed to come here and then just disappeared, leaving her engagement ring behind. And then Steve left sometime when we were talking-”

“Left to go where?”

“I don’t know, Edward.” Robin grit out, tensing her fingers around the roof lip but it was more worry than irritation.

“Okay.” Eddie said, shifting the car into gear. “Okay, get in, we’ll go-”

“No. I’m staying here, I need to keep his parents from calling in the National Guard to drag him back by the hair. You go. You know where he is, don’t you?”

Eddie stared at her, opening and closing his mouth until he could finally form his lips around the words “I think so.”

He knew so.

Or at least he hoped he did.

Robin gave him one sharp nod. “Okay.”

She slammed the door closed and turned back to the crowd.

Pulling out of the parking lot of the church, Eddie tried not to panic.

There wasn’t much distance that Steve could have gone but the idea of him going missing still had his heart constricting, full of what if, what if, what if?

It wasn’t very far, but finding somewhere to pull over at the edge of the forest where his car wouldn’t be suspicious wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

Though it was probably easier now than it had been years ago, since he no longer had the van and his shiny, sleek and expensive car would be glanced over for any bored cop looking to bust someone for drugs.

Not so much of an easy target now, huh Callahan?

He had just pulled his car into a clearing that was somewhat hidden when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

He switched the engine off and was halfway out of the car when he froze, finally seeing the number on screen.

It was Steve. It had to be Steve.

He’d recognise that number anywhere, he knew it off by heart but Eddie had changed numbers at least twice in the last three years.

He hadn’t bothered to add Steve back into his contacts, what would be the point?

It would have just been a temptation on drunken lonely nights.

How the fuck did Steve even have his number?

Eddie tapped the answer button before the call could ring out.

His mouth was dry and his heart was in his throat as he raised the phone to his ear.

“Stevie?” He practically breathed, gripping the door so tight he was surprised he didn't dent the metal.

There was a sound from the other end, like a sigh, like relief or a release of tension.

“Eddie.” Steve said and his voice, different as it was through the phone, was the most painful and comforting thing Eddie thought he’d ever heard. It was followed quickly by a sniffle and a quiet, “Hi.”

Eddie had so many things he wanted to ask.

Why are you calling now?

Where are you?

Why did you run?

How do you even have this number?

Instead he just slammed the car door closed and asked softly “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

A sound came down the line, one that sounded suspiciously like a sob, followed by another sniffle.

“Can’t- can’t I just call to see how you are?”

Eddie didn’t answer as he started to tromp his way through the forest, half worried anything he said would just end up with him begging Steve to call him again and again and again.

But Steve seemed to take his silence as stony.

“Yeah, I-” Steve sniffed. “I guess I deserved that.”

Eddie could practically hear his lip wobbling through the phone and Steve broke down into sobs again.

“Where are you, Stevie?”

“The past.” He muttered out which was as good a confirmation as any that Eddie was heading in the right direction. “I’m- I… I’m sorry to call you right now and you’re out living your life-”

“Are you sober?”

Because it was high stakes at the moment but this was still a lot of emotion for noon.

“Unfortunately.” Steve sighed out and then quietly, so quietly Eddie could barely hear him. “I’m supposed to be getting married today.”

“So I heard.”

It sounded like the air had been punched out of Steve’s chest and the whine he let out after sounded like one of pure pain.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie had to duck under a branch and as a result, nearly tripped over a root in the ground but managed to right himself.

“You’re sorry for supposed to be getting married?”

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way. From- from someone else.”

He came to a stop.

“Oh.”

Not sorry I’m getting married.

Just sorry I’m not the one who told you I’m getting married.

Which, like, Steve didn’t need to apologise to him for getting married.

They weren’t together.

They weren’t a thing.

They didn’t even talk anymore.

Eddie had no right to that information.

Still.

Didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Eddie.” Steve whimpered out, kicking Eddie back into movement again. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad.”

“You didn’t fuck up, Stevie, it’s fine.” He sighed, resigned to his fate now. “You can still go back-”

“No, no.” Steve took a large painful breath in. “You don’t understand. I fucked up. I left you. I made you go. How could I do that? Why did I do that? You were- you were the best thing that ever happened to me and I just-”

It sounded like Steve couldn’t speak anymore through hit tears, the raw anguish in his voice making it sound like he couldn’t breathe.

“I pushed you away. I pushed you away. I was so scared and I wanted- I wanted to take it back the second I did it. I wanted to but I couldn’t make myself do it and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry about that, baby. You have to believe me, I’m so sorry.”

The sound of Steve’s sobs were no longer just coming through the phone but were now starting to echo around him from just up ahead and Eddie kept walking.

“I was such a coward. There was no precedent. Nothing in my life was like what I had with you, I didn’t see it anywhere else and I didn’t know what to do. There was just this big vast emptiness in front of me where before there had always been a path, it had always been mapped out, telling me where to go next and I didn’t know what to do about it, I didn’t think it was possible to have-”

Steve cut himself off with another sob and Eddie could see him now, sitting on the dirty forest floor in his brand new designer tux, head bowed into his knees and his back against Skull Rock.

“I’ve made such a mistake, Eddie. I’ve never fucked up like I did with you and if I could take it all back I would. I’d be brave for you, I swear-”

Eddie dropped to his knees in front of him.

“Do you still want to be?”

Steve’s head snapped up so fast he cracked himself hard against the giant rock they used to come to all the time when they were full of young love.

Eddie winced in sympathy but didn’t reach out while Steve stared at him wide eyed, even through the pain.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Eddie.” He breathed out, completely disbelieving. “What- wh- what are you-”

“I was at the church.” Eddie said, sitting himself down fully and bringing his own knees up to his chest. “I was… I don’t know what I was doing there. I don’t know what I expected to happen.”

“You…” Steve blinked at him. His face was wet and blotchy and red, his eyes were raw and still swimming and he was still the most beautiful person Eddie had ever laid eyes on. And he was looking at Eddie like he was the most unbelievable thing in the world. “You were there the whole time?”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s hands were twitching around his knees, gripping into the fabric of his dress pants and Eddie could tell he wanted to reach out but he wasn’t sure he could handle that yet.

He needed to know.

He needed to be sure.

He didn’t think he’d survive it if he let hope back in only to have it pulled away again.

“What happened?”

Steve’s face scrunched up, like he was trying to push the tears back and he brought his hands up to his face, digging the heels into his eyes.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t go through with it. Rita, she… she- she’s not you. I couldn’t let her live a life with me waiting for me to love her like I still love you because it’ll never happen. I could never love anyone like I still love you. And she… she’s the same, she didn’t want this, she never wanted this but it was what we’d been told to want for so long and… she couldn’t do it either. So we both- we both ran and I want… I want to be brave for you, baby.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his knees and pressed his lips into his skin, silent and thinking.

He couldn’t take it if Steve did what he did to him again.

He just couldn’t.

And why did it take Steve getting to this stage for him to decide on what he wanted?

Would it have still happened the same way if Eddie hadn’t come?

Would Steve have cried his heart out here in their spot until he was done talking to Eddie over the phone and gone about the rest of his life?

Would he have let the fear get to him again?

But could Eddie live with himself if he turned this chance down because of his own fear?

It wasn’t even a question.

He’d regret it for the rest of his life.

So he had to choose to be brave too.

He unwrapped his arms from around his knees and spread his legs wider, scooching forward until he had Steve’s curled up body cradled in his.

Steve all but stopped breathing with a dramatic hiccup when he felt Eddie’s legs against his own and when Eddie brought his hands up to encircle Steve’s wrists and pull them away from his face, his eyes were wide and disbelieving.

Eddie pulled Steve’s hands into his chest.

“I need to know you’re sure. I need to know you mean it, okay?”

“I do.” Steve nodded and his words were sure if a little breathy. “I do, Eddie. I promise you. I’ll show you every day. I’ll be brave for you I swear.”

“Because I won’t survive you doing what you did to me again. It nearly killed me the first time, Steve. I can’t go through that again. So you need to be sure.”

Where Steve’s hands were pressed flat against Eddie’s chest, his fingers curled in now, balling up the shirt underneath and holding on tight.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Eddie, I swear to you on… on… Dustin’s mom.”

Despite himself, Eddie felt his face crack into a smile.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Steve asked, though his own smile was slowly blooming, even as he started crying again.

“Yeah. Okay. Now kiss me like you mean it.”

AO3

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #robin buckley #steddielovemonth #day 7 #love is what makes you brave

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queenimmadolla · 4 months

Text

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Summary: Tired of seeing Eddie with other women, you reflect on how much longer you can take it.

Warnings: no mentions of y/n, fem!reader, heavy on the angst, hurt with attempts to comfort, both reader and Eddie are bad at feelings, self-deprecation, Eddie is toxic and doesn’t know why, infidelity (but not technically), no happy ending.

The house is quiet as the front door creaks open, you’re quick to slip inside—chill of the October air nipping at your back. The lights are all off and your arms curl around your exposed midsection. It was colder outside but still chilly in your home, your parents out of town on a romantic anniversary road trip.

You sigh, tossing your keys on the table to run around searching for in the morning, and make your way to your room with a quick detour at the thermostat to turn on the heat. It’s a blind fumble to reach the antique lamp, once you enter your bedroom, but you refuse to use the overhead light. It would cast your room in non-aesthetic lighting, and you’re already annoyed, pissed off and depressed enough.

An irritated breath is huffed from your lips, top lip curling as you recall the very reason for your negative attitude, hands yanking your top right over your head. It’s only when you’re in your pajamas, faced with your own reflection as you prepare to remove the makeup that had been so empowering to put on but you can now feel on your face like an unpleasant mask, that you allow the hot tears of anger and hurt to fall. You almost want to laugh at yourself, mouth curling into a bitter smile as you swipe the ponds cream all over your face. As you massage it in, making sure to focus on your eyes, the smile wavers, corners tugging down as moisture still leaks from your clenched eyelids.

You don’t have to be mean to yourself, you shouldn't. Not when the guy you’re in love with already does such a good job of it.

You purse your lips, trying to hold back sobs as you recall the images of him all over a girl you didn’t know at a party he’d convinced you to go to. You couldn’t even describe her, couldn’t remember what she looked like—all you saw was your Eddie, the guy who drove you to and picked you up from work, took you on cute dates involving picnic baskets, fields, lakes, empty lots to stargaze in, nearly empty movie auditoriums so the two of you could canoodle, your tongues tasting each other as the two lovers on screen professed their undying love.

He even bought you stuffed animals, would pretend to give them life and personalities to go with it, all to amuse you. Did arts and fucking crafts with you.

But anytime you so much as brought up the status of your relationship, he’d wave it off, claiming labels were for Petri dishes, not people.

You were his girl and that’s all that mattered.

It’s what you’d repeated in your head the first time you’d seen him playing with Bianca Anderson’s fingers while the two of them were tucked away in the corner of the hideout, after one of Corroded Coffin’s sets. And again when you’d stumbled out of Rick’s house party to see him laid out on the grass, his head in the lap of a former cheerleader from high school he used to admire, her head bowed to connect their lips and his hands in her hair.

By the time he was tugging at Tina’s hair, playfully shouldering her while they stood in front of the bonfire at another gathering, you’d stopped repeating it in your head. Not even when you watched her lead him to her car.

You lost count of how many times Eddie had made other girls his, too.

And like some pathetic worm with no backbone, you let him. Okay—it’s not like you could physically stop them, though tonight your drink had ended up all over him, maybe that put a little stutter in his plans. But there wouldn’t be a too if you just fucking stopped.

Just . . .stopped.

Stopped taking his calls, stopped answering your door for him, your window, let your co-worker take over the counter the moment he stepped in, stopped looking for his car, stopped thinking about him and that stupid fucking dimple, stopped thinking about how special you felt when he had your naked body pressed against his under the warmth of blankets, his rough fingertips tracing over your sweaty shoulder. How he’d always get so tender, pull you even closer and whisper how much you meant to him while pressing slow kisses to your face. How he never wanted to lose you, wouldn’t know what to do, couldn’t live. It was the sweetest agony.

Most of all, you wish he would stop being there in the morning, all soft breaths and fluttering lashes as he tried to be as close to you as he could, even in a deep slumber. It’s how you know he means it. He means everything he tells you. There is truth to those sweet nothings, declarations, proclamations. You know it.

And that’s why it all hurt so bad, because you know he cares about you as much as he says he does and he still always fucking hurts you, always breaks your heart, but because you know he cares, you’d just let him back in like some fucking clown.

He gets to break you over and over again and you let him because he always puts the pieces back together.

You know what people say about you—everyone knows the two of you are involved and they’d see him out and about with others. Your fumbling answers about what the two of you aren’t just make it clear to them that you’re a doormat and you can’t even deny it. Just avoid their pitiful looks thrown your way.

After washing your face, you take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror; eyes rimmed red, lashes clustering together, face etched in misery. When you can’t stand the person on the other side of the mirror any longer, you flip the light switch and leave the bathroom, pick your favorite tape to listen to, set the volume low and slip into bed.

You’d teetered with the idea of smoking a little, but that would just stave off the heartbreak. Might as well feel it in the moment while you still have the sense of mind before—

Knock, knock, knock.

A humorless chuckle escapes you, muffled into your pillow as your eyes slip shut. Sometimes by the front door, just about always by the window. You think it’s another one of his little relationship doorstops; can’t be serious with you if he uses your window to sneak into your house, it’s much too intimate to walk through your front door.

Of course, he can’t let you have a moment of peace, not even when you’re down. No, he has to fix you now. That’s how the toxic cycle goes. So, dutifully, you play your part, though this time, things have changed.

You toss the blankets off and pad over to your window but you don’t open it right away. Instead, you stare at him. Take him in.

Eddie is in different attire, shirt and jeans swapped out for one of his old club shirts and some sweats. His hair isn’t as voluminous, it’s wet. He’d had to shower to rid himself of your wine cooler. There’s no trace of the Eddie you saw at the party, this one has eyes filled with sorrow and depth, almost like he’s known nothing else. You know better.

Please, he mouths through the glass. You stare a beat longer before the latch is unlocked and he’s hastily pulling it open, clambering in ungracefully.

As you watch him gain his footing, part of you wants to taunt yourself about how you’ve let this man, so below your league and wonderful, ruin your life. He’s hot, sure, but you're hotter. That’s just the truth. You denied it a lot at the beginning of your shitty cherished relationship, felt so insecure to have a man like him paying you attention when he can have everyone. But he was no man. And he still had everyone along with you. Those pitting glances weren’t just because of what you let him put you through, it was because they knew you could do better.

For some reason, the idiot who got his shoe caught on the window sill is the one your heart wants.

God, you hate him.

Rolling your eyes, you go back to your bed, climbing back into your warm blankets. Your back is to him, yet you can still feel his hesitance, see the look on his face, how his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His stare is intense but it doesn’t unnerve you. Not this time. You feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind you.

There’s still some distance between the two of you, you can tell he’s uncertain. Then, he scuttles forward until he’s pressed to your back, arm slipping around your middle to drag you impossibly closer.

He’s surrounding you, the scent of Eddie’s all-in-one shampoo and body wash filling your nostrils, underlying smell of the joint he’d smoked to calm his nerves before coming over, and the cheap body spray he’d soaked himself in to try and hide it.

“I didn’t fuck her,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “Swear I didn’t. Couldn’t.”

You don’t say anything, just stare at the poster of Roxette pinned to your wall. His arm tightens around you and you can feel his heart hammering against your back.

“I-I couldn’t do that to you,” he continues and you huff, that bitter smile from earlier returning. Eddie goes stiff behind you, but he has nothing to worry about. You won’t kick him out, won't toss him to the curb like you should. You both know you won’t. He knows you should, knows he hurts you and he honest to god doesn’t know why. Couldn’t tell anyone to save his own life.

He just—he just fucks shit up. It’s not self-sabotage because Eddie knows he risks losing you and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t ever want to exist in a world where you don’t want him, don’t want to be with him.

But he still does it anyway. Still goes and kisses girls knowing you’re watching, does worse when you’re not.

The worst part—other than hurting you—is that he doesn’t even want them. Not really. Other than in that moment, Eddie couldn’t give a single shit about them beyond being a Good Samaritan. It’s you he wants all the time.

You’re the only constant thing he needs in his life, wants around him all the time, craves, lusts after, loves, cherishes. For the rest of his life. But Eddie hurts you, and he doesn’t know why.

That’s why he can’t be your boyfriend. Evidently, he’d be a shit one. Not that he’s doing a spectacular job being your…whatever it is he was, whatever the two of you were.

Yes, he always fucks up, but he keeps part of you safe from him by not being your boyfriend. One day, you’ll leave him.

He knows it. It scares the shit out of him and he prays to deities he doesn’t really believe in that it won’t happen, that he’ll get this shit together and make right by you, but he knows you’ll leave him. You genuinely deserve better.

“I wish I didn’t know you,” Eddie tenses once more at your voice, at your statement. It’s said with nonchalance, like you were commenting on the weather. He relaxes, heart clenching in pain as he somehow holds you even tighter.

“I know.”

“I hate that I love you. Wish I would just stop.” You shimmy around until you’re facing him, Eddie’s hold on you loosens to allow it, and when you’re settled, he pulls you close again, your nose nudging along the neckline of his shirt.

“I know.” He whispers out again, vision blurring with unshed tears. He loves you, too. Neither of you ever say it directly, just make references to it.

“I will, though. Maybe not tonight, but I won’t always love you.” It’s said with certainty. You’ll take this treatment for now, but you know you won’t forever. Despite the pathetic place you’d found yourself in tonight, again, you’re making strides. Gone was the loser who would just watch him betray you after spending the entire day making you feel like the two of you were the only ones on earth who mattered. Tonight, you’d stepped in. You were growing more self aware. Soon, you would stop answering the door. Stop answering his calls. Stop loving him.

And you’d look back and cringe, maybe laugh with your friends about how stupid and naive you’d been. You’d move on, too. Meet someone who treats you as good as Eddie does when he isn’t sucking another girl’s face. They won’t kiss or fuck anyone else, they’ll only ever know you from the moment that spark ignites. You might worry from time to time, effects from Eddie, but they’ll gently coax it out of you, build your trust up and one day you won’t worry. All you’ll know is their love.

Yeah, you’d stop loving him.

Eddie makes an indistinguishable sound, you know he’s fighting sniffles. Can hear the emotion in his voice, “I know.”

You nuzzle your face into his chest before your cheek settles there, listening to the fast paced beating coming from within it and you wonder if it’ll happen tomorrow. If you’ll wake up, see Eddie sleeping in your bed, and have your first thought be how much you want him out of it and away from you without a trace of fondness for him. You’ll just wake up and not love him anymore.

You slip a leg between his to tangle your limbs, breathing in his scent as deeply as you can when your eyelids flutter shut.

And while you spend your last moments of consciousness hoping tonight’s the last night you’ll let him hold you, Eddie spends the rest of it wide awake, and hoping. Hoping if he doesn’t fall asleep, he won’t wake up to you telling him you don’t love him. Hoping he’ll miraculously become a better person for you overnight. Hoping he won’t lose you.

Hoping you’ll always be his girl.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

#Eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction

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