#you’re reminded of how you fucked me over and stole my things
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Bro imagine being pissed off at having to have a mediator to talk through, SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE you blocked the other party while knowing full fucking well you still had the vast majority of their belongings.
Imagine making that a boundary when the other party tries to reach out to repair things, then getting pissed off all over again when the other party gets tired of being ignored for the better part of a month, sees you talking shit about them on Twitter when they went looking for old art on a deleted acct, and decides to go thru a mediator again bc nah fuck that. Theyre done this time.
Also imagine admitting to burning all the other party’s stuff bc you couldn’t stand looking at it, even tho the other party sent back your stupid fucking pikachu in the exact same condition it was left in.
#I got shit on my mind tonight so I’m gon yell into the void.#i wish you an aggressive infection in your tunnels#also maybe losing ur insurance was karma bitch lmao#I hope every time you wear the clothes I left use the mic the resistance bands and all the other shit I bought for you#you’re reminded of how you fucked me over and stole my things#my man the ONLY thing stopping me from doing something abt it legally#is your sick mother bc she doesn’t need that stress that you brought into her life by deciding to be a massive prick#lmao like father like daughter I guess#crit.txt#vent#rant#whatever u wanna call it
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Fancy
Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy
Previous | Next | Ao3
NSFW | MDNI
Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader
Word Count: 7k
Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.
Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.
A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever
A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.
The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.
After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.
It is what it is. Life goes on.
The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.
TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED
DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER
ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR
UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE
With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.
Nothing is new under the constant night.
Life goes on.
You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.
“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.
You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“
“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.
“I- what?”
“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.
The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.
“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.
It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“
“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”
You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.
“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.
“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”
“But I don’t-“
“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”
Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.
It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.
It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.
They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.
“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.
“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”
“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.
“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”
“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.
“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”
“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”
“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.
“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.
“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.
“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”
“Och, ye wound me, lass.”
You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.
John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.
Top dog gets the chew toy.
“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.
“Suits not your style?”
“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”
You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.
“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.
“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”
Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.
“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.
To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”
Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.
“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.
You scoff. “Me?”
“You’re a smart girl.”
“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”
John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.
“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”
“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?
Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.
Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” John demands.
“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”
There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.
“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”
“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.
John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.
“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”
“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.
John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.
You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.
~~~
It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.
Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?
“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”
“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.
“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.
You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”
“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”
“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.
“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“
Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”
You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.
That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.
Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”
“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.
Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”
It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”
The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.
A promise.
It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.
“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.
“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.
“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”
“You just got here.” You murmur.
“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.
You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.
“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?
You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.
“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.
They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.
Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.
“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”
His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.
Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.
Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.
You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.
Cheeky bastard.
The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.
You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.
“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.
The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.
Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”
You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”
“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.
You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”
They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…
“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.
“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.
The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.
You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.
“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.
“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.
“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.
“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.
Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?
You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”
Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”
The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.
Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.
It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.
He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.
You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.
Fucking Christ.
Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.
An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.
“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.
As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.
“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.
You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.
“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.
“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”
You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.
Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”
Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”
You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.
“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.
Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.
All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”
That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.
“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.
He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.
“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.
Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”
He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.
“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”
All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.
“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”
The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.
“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.
Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.
Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”
“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.
“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.
“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.
“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.
“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.
It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.
You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”
Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.
You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.
“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”
It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.
“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”
You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“
“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.
You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.
Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.
“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.
“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.
“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?
“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.
“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.
“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“
“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.
You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.
So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.
There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…
You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.
You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.
That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.
“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.
“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“
“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”
“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.
“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.
You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.
“Y-you don’t have to-“
“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.
“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.
“Johnny behave himself?”
“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.
Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.
“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.
“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”
“You do.”
You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.
“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.
Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”
“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”
Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.
“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.
Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.
“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.
Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”
You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.
“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.
Oh.
Okay.
You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.
These men are going to be the death of you.
A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.
Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡
#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#call of duty#cod#ghost cod#cod x reader#ghoap#ghost x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#polyamory#polyamourous#captain price x reader#captain john price#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#gazprice#vampire au#fancy au#fanfic#fanfiction#cod smut#plus size reader#john mactavish x reader#fat reader#reader insert smut#smut#fem reader
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snow angel - track one
series masterlist // next
1 YEAR LATER
liked by alex_albon, blakelively, mickschumacher and others
rheareynolds soft launches are a thing right?
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user1 nah cause how did lando no wins fumble her?
↳ user2 the better question is how did nowins ever bag her in the first place
user3 imagine fumbling the rhea reynolds. lando no bitches truly fucked up.
alex_albon i expect credits for that third picture. i was scarred for life.
↳ rheareynolds you're the one who barged in demanding we watch a movie.
user4 she's gone for a year, besides promotional purposes for her ep and comes back with a soft launch?
user5 MOTHER, WE DEMAND ANSWERS! WHO IS HE?
user6 can't believe a m*n stole my wife. she was for the girls and the gays only.
lilymhe can't believe some blonde bitch stole my wife.
↳ rheareynolds still yours baby. always 😘
↳ lilymhe good. blondie could never compete with me
↳ user7 i thank god everyday that rhea's break-up with no wins didn't take this wonderful duo from us.
vancityreynolds what the fuck? who is that? better not be some vroom guy again.
↳ rheareynolds don't you have children to take care of? blakelively you're overgrown toddler is loose again.
↳ blakelively oh how adorable! i expect to meet him when you're ready.
↳ vancityreynolds you're supposed to be on my side?
↳ blakelively i only married you for your sister.
↳ rheareynolds suck on that ryan!
↳ user8 this family is my everything.
charles_leclerc when did you start dating? why was i not informed of this?
↳ georgerussell63 or me?
↳ maxverstappen1 why did alex know before us?
↳ rheareynolds i told lily, who told alex. you think i wanted that guy to know?
↳ alex_albon i can read your comments rhea.
user9 no wins really thought everyone would drop rhea the moment they broke up these guys love her.
user10 WHY IS NO ONE LOSING THEIR SHIT OVER RHEA SOFT LAUNCHING? WHO IS THIS MAN? WE MUST HAVE ANSWERS!
↳ user11 as long as this one doesn't cheat on her, we don't really care.
↳ user12 something no wins never could do
george russell who is he?
charles leclerc we demand answers rhea!
pierre gasly i just like gossip
max verstappen oh so suddenly now she can't answer?
alex albon i love knowing something you guys don't
lily muni he reminder you only know because i accidentally told you
esteban ocon you people are stupid.
max verstappen excuse me?
esteban ocon i would recognize that blonde head of hair anywhere
lance stroll i would too. it’s mick
rhea reynolds BOOOOO! way to ruin my soft launch dumb and dumber
charles leclerc ANOTHER DRIVER?
george russell WHAT HAPPENED TO “I’LL NEVER DATE ANOTHER FUCKING DRIVER AGAIN?!”
rhea reynolds you’re gonna look at mick and say not to him?
lily muni he i wouldn’t. that’s like saying no to a puppy
alex albon they truly are the golden retriever and black cat trope.
lance stroll you’re fucking welcome
pierre gasly for what?
lance stroll for setting them up on a blind date? well lily helped.
lily muni he yeah i did! they’re great for each other
charles leclerc at least we know he won’t cheat on her like n*rris
rhea reynolds my brother would be proud of the censorship of his name. he still calls him no bitches to this day.
george russell well ryan is an icon and l*ndo has no bitches.
alex albon doesn't he have a girlfriend?
charles leclerc i thought they broke up?
max verstappen doesn't matter, in our hearts he will always remain bitchless
max verstappen and that is not me saying his girlfriend is a bitch. i've never met her.
rhea reynolds i heard she was nice girl. i just hope l*ndo didn't cheat on her like he did on me
daniel ricciardo what'd i miss?
liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, estebanocon and others
rheareynolds saw you bitches say on twitter i was trolling with my last post. i'm not, i am no longer bitchless. some people can't relate.
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user1 SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED!
user2 MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN!
estebanocon i'm telling him you called him a bitch
↳ rheareynolds do it you french fuck, i'll tell him you called him an overactive golden retriever puppy.
↳ estebanocon you wouldn't dare.
↳ rheareynolds try me bitch
user3 REGINA GEORGE HAS FIRED SHOTS!
user4 he may be bitchless but you still think about him
↳ user5 that's not the flex you think it is sweetie.
maxverstappen1 get this shit off my phone. it's gross.
↳ rheareynolds you dad is gross but you don't see me complaining do you?
↳ maxverstappen nice to know you're back to your old self
↳ rheareynolds and better than ever baby!
luisinhaoliveira99 is it me? am i the drama?
↳ rheareynolds no baby, it could never be about you 👩🏼❤️👩🏻
↳ user6 WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?
user7 OSCAR? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?
↳ user8 this just got messy with a capital M
vancityreynolds rhea lobster reynolds, i demand to meet him.
↳ rheareynolds mom (blake) said you could meet him when i was ready.
↳ vancityreynolds and i'm supposed to care because?
↳ rheareynolds hey blakelively your overgrown toddler is back at it again!
↳ blakelively leave the poor girl alone ryan.
maxfretwell i would love to inform you that sushi just let out an unholy screech
↳ rheareynolds must be because he's bitchless, can't relate.
daniel ricciardo oh, so that's what i missed!
↳ user9 not this man being confused on what's going on. me fr.
it's mick isn't it?
how the fuck?
i'm your older brother dumbass. besides, mick's the only blonde esteban hangs out with. that i know of.
you're not as stupid as everyone says you are.
who the fuck is saying i'm stupid?
your mom
WE SHARE THE SAME MOM DUMBASS!
i know, and she says you're stupid.
i still expect to meet him, as your boyfriend.
of course you do.
rhea reynolds added one person
rhea reynolds ryan figured it out.
mick schumacher i told you he wasn't as stupid as you thought he was.
daniel ricciardo YOU'RE DATING MICK? WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?
max verstappen you're supposed to read the group chat dumbass
charles leclerc l*ndo just called carlos to complain.
rhea reynolds good. he deserves to suffer.
mick schumacher she wrote an album about him
rhea reynolds NOT TRUE! THERE'S AT LEAST ONE SONG ABOUT YOU ON THERE! MAYBE MORE!
lily muni he is there another song about me? 🥰
alex albon you two said what can i do was a joke!
rhea reynolds lily, babe, that song wasn't about you?
lily muni he WHAT? EXCUSE ME?
rhea reynolds it was about a hypothetical with this other girl, who's not important. but i told you it was about you because you were so happy?
lily muni he don't ever talk to me again. i'm heartbroken.
pierre gasly it's giving charles and max.
max verstappen bitchless just called and asked me if i knew who you were dating and how you knew luisa.
rhea reynolds i met her while she was dating n*rris. monaco is not that big.
alex albon tell him she's dating some actor like ross lynch or something
lily muni he how long did it take for you to come up with a blonde actor?
alex albon too long
lance stroll tell him it's luisa in a blonde short wig.
charles leclerc that'll shut him up for a while.
rhea reynolds tell him it's taylor swift in a short wig.
daniel ricciardo thank god i don't have to hear his screeches anymore.
rhea reynolds that's one upside to being unemployed.
daniel ricciardo i have a job?
rhea reynolds but do you though?
¡leclerc-s speaks!
i'm indulging in my love for both mick schumacher and renee rapp + blake lively. i was originally going to make the oc a lively but i kinda wanted her name to have same alliteration renee's name has and nothing with an L went well so i chose reynolds instead. anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this!
¡disclaimer!
this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!
#leclerc-s#snow angel series#f1 instagram au#f1 x oc#f1 oc#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1#formula one#f1 fic#formula 1 fic#f1 x female oc#lando norris x female oc#mick schumacher x female oc
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Bad Days
Bad Days with HP Boys!
(Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter)
CW : Mentions of anxiety (Fred), Draco being a lil inept to feelings, Ron being a bully (Draco), cheesy pet names, GN!Reader
Fred Weasley :
Fred can tell what mood you're in most of the time. If you’re in a really shit mood he will baby you.. If it’s not as bad he will go for jokes and humor instead.
“Babe look at me” “I’m not in the mood Fred” “Just look”
He will blow himself up with some fireworks to prove his point and make you happy (much to your disagreeance)
He will do anything you need.. ANYTHING. Just ask.
You had laid on the couch with your thoughts for what felt like hours. You still felt as anxious as when you started your ‘calming’ routine. You didn’t know why nothing was working today and everything felt off. Even normal and casual things had become the pinnacle of impossibility.
“Ahem. Y/N, I would like to welcome you to the one and only show. A secret show just for you!” Your boyfriend bowed, his hands working at lighting sparklers. You watched as he did a silly jig, painting small pictures of hearts with the sparklers. The lights went out and he set the burnt sticks on the counter. Kneeling down to be level with the couch his hand brushed your cheek.
“Did you like my show, bunny?” His lips tickled against yours as he stole more than a few fair shares of kisses. You couldn’t help but grin into him as he attempted to crawl beside you.
“Babe you are too big to fit on that tiny portion of the couch.”
“Watch me.”
George Weasley :
George picks up on your mood right away.
He drops anything and everything and drags you to his bed
“The universe was telling me it’s cuddle time” “Is that so”
He will NOT let you out of bed.. Just accept your fate
“Fuck me.” You grunted as you walked into the living room. You had not had the best day at work and it seemed to only get worse. Your coworker had spilled coffee on you and then you got splashed with mud on your small walk back to the house.
“Well don’t you look ravishing. Mud really suits your eyes, darling.” George snorted as you shrugged off your coat and shoes. You rubbed a hand over your face and sighed. You started walking to your shared bathroom hoping to get rid of the reminder of said shit day.
“Baby, stop for a minute!”
You turned ever so slowly to George’s frame which stood tall right behind. You raised an eyebrow.
“Take a shower and then come to bed, yeah? I need to treat you to some signature Weasley cuddles. They’re known to cure anything.” He leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips and winked, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You felt yourself as you smiled just a tiny bit. He was something else.
Draco Malfoy :
“What’s got you all pissy” (He didn’t mean it he swears)
The moment he realizes you are not just being sassy/sarcastic he is chasing you down
“Babe I’m so sorry what’s wrong”
I feel like Draco has a lot of bad days and knows how it feels so he just sits and listens
He holds your hand/rubs his fingers across your palm.
“I’m sorry darling, you’ll always have me”
You walked out of Potions class absolutely fuming. The audacity of Ron Weasley to purposefully blow up your cauldron and then laugh at you! You had held back a few choice words and hexes, stomping away to be alone. You jumped as you hit something hard and a hand wrapped around your torso.
“Geez, love. Are you mad enough?” Draco smirked and you growled. You smacked your boyfriend's arms away and started sprinting.
“Wait-Wait! Y/N!” Draco yanked at your shoulder forcing you to come to a halt.
“What in the world is wrong? I didn’t mean that to be rude. I’m sorry.”
You rolled your eyes. This day just kept getting worse and worse. You knew he didn’t mean any harm but you were already so wound up that it felt like a gate came crashing down.
“Everything! Fucking potions is a mess. Ron decides to blow up my cauldron and Snape gives me a lecture.. I can’t get a fucking break.” You crumbled to the floor as the sobs continued.
“I’m just sick of this, Dray.”
His hand wrapped around yours, fingers running soothing circles on your skin.
“I know, love. It’ll get better.”
Harry Potter :
He just raises an eyebrow and takes you outside
“Where are we going Harry?” “Thought you’d like to clear your mind, love”
He just lets you talk for the most part and rubs your back while the two of you walk
Once you get it all out he will give you a little forehead kiss and make sure you’re all better :))
“Hey-” Harry startled you, your teary eyes meeting him. It had really not been your day and the last thing you wanted was for your boyfriend to find you like this.
“Harry, I-”
He shushed you, hand wrapping around your wrist to pull you up from your hiding cubby. He rubbed away at the teardrops that stained your cheek and sighed. You could tell he was worried to have found you that way but more concerned on getting you better.
He stepped away and held his arm out for you to take. The two of you fell into step as he led you out the back of the castle and onto the green grass of the highlands. The wind felt nice against your skin and you felt more at peace with Harry’s warmth next to you.
“Thank you. I really needed this.” You murmured and gave the boy a small smile when he met your stare. He gave you a reassuring hug and hummed.
“Anything for you. Come to me next time, okay?”
#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x y/n#weasley twins#george weasley x reader#george weasley#george weasley x y/n#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x y/n#harry potter imagines#harry potter#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you#harry potter x y/n#harry potter headcanon#george weasley imagine#draco malfoy imagine#harry potter imagine
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“Kiss me.”
Eddie Munson x female reader
summary: eddie is having a bad day, so he looks to you for comfort.
warnings: bully!eddie, mean!eddie, slight perv!eddie mentions of smut and masturbation, mentions of eddie’s home life.
Eddie was tired, mentally and physically. Tired of his life, his friends and his fucked up family, apart from Wayne of course. He was tired of school, his band. Just tired. He was tired of living everyday pretending to be happy when he was only miserable. The trauma from his childhood was haunting him, the scars from his dad a big, nasty reminder of growing up.
The only thing that was keeping him going was you. Ironic, when it reality, you hated him. He treated you terribly. He knew it, he loved it. It was the only way he knew how to express himself. He fantasized about you, thought about how your cunt would feel with his cock penetrating inside of you, how it would feel to kiss your lips and pull your hair.
He got off treating you the way he did, being mean. He stole your things, pulled at your hair and tripped you in the halls, made fun of you in class in front of everyone. He loved to make you cry. He never once thought about having a civil conversation, asking you out on a date or just being openly friendly. He didn’t want that with you. Growing up was difficult. He learned how to express himself in different ways unlike everyone else. Wayne tried his best to raise him honorably, to respect people, especially women, and treat them right, but Eddie was complicated.
Deep, deep down, he was a good person with a good heart, he just didn’t know how to share it with anyone.
He wasn’t having a good day whatsoever. Everything was pissing him off. You were pissing him off. Your smile, your laughter. The fact you were obviously having an enjoyable day. He wanted you to be miserable like him, so he needed the chance to get you alone.
He sat in a seat in the auditorium, not participating in choir practice for the third time that week. His feet were propped up on the seat in front of him, arms crossed with tatted flesh and bracelets, clad in dark clothing. He watched you sing with your peers, chin high and that ugly pink bow that sat on the back of your head. He wanted to ruin you, and he hated that he was growing hard while watching you.
He loved your little stockings, your knee high socks and white shoes. The little bows you wore and the gold, cross necklace around your neck. You portrayed innocence, but Eddie knew better. He could practically smell the way you dripped for him.
When the bell rang and class was dismissed, Eddie stood, stalking over to you slowly and predatorily, like a hunter and it’s prey. You were left behind by your friends while you gathered your things, turning on your heel to wave goodbye to the teacher. He internally scoffed. Always such a goody-two shoes.
You gasped when you came face to face with him, left alone in the empty auditorium. Your face melted into fear, the look that he loved.
“What is it, Eddie?” You tried not to let your voice tremble. “I already gave you the homework for english.”
He shamelessly looked you over. “You seem like you’re having a good day.”
You gulped, knowing he was about to ruin it. “I am.”
He smirked. “Couldn’t help but notice you were watching me over there.”
“I was not.” You defended, adjusting the hold on your books. “I was singing.”
“Sure,” He stared at the open exposure of your chest.
“My eyes are up here.” You tapped your head, spinning on your heal to walk away.
He let you get a few feet away before stopping you again. “Don’t you have something for me?”
You stopped, shoulders dropping as your hand went to your hair. You turned to glare at him, pulling out your pink ribbon and tossing it to him. “You are so weird. What the hell do you do with those anyway?”
He watched the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders, and he looked down to the new silk ribbon he could add to his collection. He always made you give them to him.
“I like annoying you.” He smelled it before putting it in his pocket, making your face flush.
He smirked. “If it bothers you so much than stop wearing them? Ever think of that?”
You could, but that would mean you wouldn’t be getting as much attention.
“Whatever.” You brushed off. “Can I go?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
You groaned, which turned into a gasp when he grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him. “Eddie!”
He stared at you long and hard, holding you against his body firmly. Your breath was heavy, eyes fluttering rapidly as your eyes were locked.
“If I told you I wrap your sweet little ribbons around my cock, what would you say?” He whispered.
Your eyes widened, lips parting in shock.
“If I told you,” His other arm wrapped around your back, trapping you in his grip. “That I think of you scuffing your knees for me? That I get off to making you hate me? What would you say?”
Your eyes filled with tears, your heart racing and face flushing. You hated that heat rushed to your thighs.
He searched your face, looking for something, you didn’t know what. Answers, maybe? An explanation to why he felt the way he did? Why he had to grow up the way he did, experience such a horrific home life and father. Why was he falling in love with you? And why, damnit, couldn’t he tell you.
“Kiss me.” He said softer, not letting go of you.
It wasn’t an order or a demand, for once, Eddie was soft with you. It made you throb. Your eyes fluttered closed and you stood on your tip toes. You shakily placed your lips on his, giving him a delicate kiss. He imagined kissing you many times, but it was never like this. It was soft, gentle. You moved your lips with his like soft ocean currents.
When you pulled apart, he let you go slowly, releasing your arms from his tight grip. He was at a loss for words, looking down and avoiding your eyes. He felt so much. For once, he just wished he could tell you how he felt, why he did the things he did. Maybe kissing you was his way.
“Eddie-” You began to say before he cut you off.
“Don’t.” He shut his eyes, overwhelming.
But Eddie was Eddie. He was complicated, an over thinker. He made things much more difficult than they needed to be.
He looked at you, a mixture of sadness and anger taking over his features as he turned to walk away. “Just don’t.”
#lana’s shit post#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#stranger things season four#joseph quinn#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanons#bully!eddie
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prologue
★ pairings: choso x f!reader
★ synopsis: World famous rock star Choso Kamo’s new live-in assistant is convinced that she can fix him – substance abuse issues and all. Tensions ensue, and as new feelings rise to the surface, the two find it difficult to maintain an appropriate workplace relationship (or; the one where an unstable musician struggles to keep it friendly with his assistant).
★ c.w.: none (more content warnings and tags)
★ a/n: don't be a stranger! leave some comments for me to read teehee
★ w.c.; 2.8k
smoke and mirrors; chapter index
THE MUSIC INDUSTRY BLEEDS YOU DRY. That’s just the truth. It takes every ounce of your creative passion and tramples on it. It takes everything from you, and then it takes more. I find myself reconsidering my career path on a daily basis. There’s only one thing, in fact, that keeps me grounded.
“Choso! Choso! Choso! Choso!”
That. The chant of the crowd. The endless bodies waving their hands over the venue, reaching for me, singing for me.
I leaned my head back, feeling the cool breeze of the backstage air against my neck, against my trembling skin. Crewmembers swarmed around me like gnats, tweaking little details of my outfit – one had a black eyeshadow palette up to my eyelid and another was messing with my hair. She had said something about needing to look intentionally messy.
The low hum of their conversation was only background noise to me. I blew a bubble with the wad of gum in my mouth – a nervous tic that clearly betrayed the calm exterior I was trying so hard to maintain.
The girl who was touching my eyeliner up snapped the palette shut. My mind was elsewhere – it was out there.
“Choso! Choso! Choso!”
I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart. The chant of my name reverberated through the walls, a frightening reminder of what lay just beyond the curtain.
People. Thousands of them.
“Choso! Choso! Choso!” The chorus of voices seemed to grow louder. I shut my eyes, visualizing the sea of faces, the outstretched hands, the passion in their voices. The crowd– my fans; they were my lifeline.
Another crew member informed me, “You’re on.”
I nodded solemnly, feeling that strange pit in my stomach. It was terrifying, it was familiar, it was… exciting.
I took another breath, then I stepped forward. With each step towards the stage, the chanting intensified. The noise was like this strange, palpable force, urging me onward. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins the moment I reached the edge of the stage. The anticipation was almost… suffocating.
I stepped out. Then, for a blissful moment, it all seemed to go quiet.
I took a moment to look at them, really look at them. All of them. The mass of humanity blurred into one collective wave of joy. From here, I couldn’t even make out faces. Only smiles, flashing lights, and limbs flailing. Signs with my name on it. People with love in their hearts.
Nothing but them and me, hearts beating in tandem. I wondered how nervous they felt – if they knew how nervous I felt standing here before them. If they knew I had been nervously chewing on a piece of gum only moments prior.
Thousands of people who all came together for one purpose – to see me. A mosaic of adoration.
I glanced down at my trembling hands, fingers clutching the edge of my guitar. The weight of the crowd’s expectations pressed down on me. The realization hit me a second time – they were all here for me. That both terrified and humbled me.
I licked my lips, gave my old guitar a strum, feeling those familiar vibrations amplified a hundred fold. It was loud, so loud that I could still hear it reverberating throughout the venue when I reached for the microphone.
I stole another glance at the crowd as a smile broke across my face.
Deep breaths.
I shouted, “What the fuck is up, Paris?”
The response was deafening. The crowd erupted in cheers. I could feel their energy merging with mine – the lights, the love, the screams. In that moment, I remembered why I endured the trials of my industry. I remembered why I was still living – what I was fighting for. It was all for them, the countless faces who found solace and inspiration in my music.
And with that realization, I felt my heart begin to race.
“How y’all doin’ tonight?” I asked.
They screamed back at me in response. I grinned.
“God, I love you guys,” I laughed. Strummed my guitar a second time. Looked at them. “I got a special show for you tonight!”
It was all for them. I do it all for them.
Life on the road was pretty crazy. I wish I could say that I had family to miss back home, but that wasn’t the case. I had been in and out of foster care for most of my life; had to grow up pretty fast so my brothers and I could stay off the streets. Other than the three of them, I never really had a family.
I turned to music as a crutch. I bought my first guitar with the first paycheck I earned – I was 16. I bandhopped for a while, alternating between the roles of lead singer, bassist, and rhythm guitarist. I found a passion for writing lyrics somewhere along the way. It felt nice, being able to put pen to paper and make my fucked up life sound appealing.
It was great.
I did basement shows right up until I turned 21. I would have been more than happy to keep on doing them – hell, sometimes I found myself wishing I could still fit those small, shitty little venues – but some big, music industry talent hotshot came and found me at one of my shows. He handed me a card. Told me he liked my sound, that I could be famous.
Who could have refused?
I never anticipated hitting it this big. Not that I’m complaining. It keeps a roof over me and my brother’s head – to say the least. I have more than enough money to live lavishly for the rest of my days. I found my new family in my music team: my manager, my coordinators, my publicist. All of them.
The music industry is notoriously blood-sucking. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. I realized that rather quickly, though by the time I was hot enough to hire a whole team, I was in too deep. It all seemed so… superficial.
I grew to hate it.
My hatred only grew when I lost two of my beloved brothers – Eso and Kechizu. There was a shootout at the mall. They found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. I remember rushing to the hospital as soon as I heard the news.
It was too late by that point, though. They had bled out long before I was able to see them.
I didn’t sleep for a week after that – I developed insomnia that would last for years to come. I spent my evenings curled up on my shower floor, sobbing into my own arms. It was the same after that, and then the day after that. I found myself spending all of my time replaying the memories in my head, thinking about where I went wrong.
It didn’t take long for me to find comfort in the lifestyle of the rich and famous – the drinking, the partying, the drugs. I would go on week-long benders, drinking myself into a sickened stupor, rolling up two joints a day, popping pills I didn’t know how to pronounce. Doping myself up so I couldn’t think about it.
Ecstasy, Molly, Coke, LSD, Acid – I’ve taken them all. Shit, you could probably find trace amounts of them in my blood at any given point in time.
Or… however the hell that shit works.
I took Adderall every day to keep me grounded. That’s what I told myself, at least. No doctor in his right mind would ever prescribe someone like me 80 milligrams on a daily basis. Good thing I paid mine enough to forget his hippocratic oath.
I wasn’t completely lost, though. I didn’t feel good about it. Yuuji, my only living brother, told me multiple times that I needed to cut down on my consumption. He wanted me to go to rehab. Shit, over my dead body.
He stopped bringing it up, but I could see it in his eyes – I was breaking his heart. I had to remind myself that he had lost his brothers, too, that day. Probably felt like he was losing the only one he had left.
I try not to dwell too hard on it, though. Got better shit to do.
Fucking hate the music industry most days. Everyone expects you to be all put-together, even though you wake up feeling like you dragged your feet through a field of broken glass shards. Even though you wake up every goddamn morning feeling you’re reliving the same day over and over again.
It’s like a painful reminder that the only people I have in my life are paid employees. I have no one – other than Yuuji – who I could confidently say would be there for me if I no longer had the funds to compensate them.
It fucking blows. I drink to forget about it. Drink and… well, everything else I put in my body.
Never put a needle in there, though… at least not for drugs. I’ve got more tattoos and piercings than I can count.
Enough about my unhealthy coping mechanisms, though.
My “family” never let me put out music I like making. They stripped my creativity from me. I lost all enjoyment in songwriting along the way. They turned me into a husk – a shell of the man I used to be.
I couldn’t recall the last time I felt real happiness. You know, the kind you got from taking a walk in nature and not from snorting and ingesting copious amounts of illicit substances. You would think that someone would see me greened out on the couch and know I was crying for help.
Nah. No one ever listens.
They never noticed. The only reason they cared about whether I was dead or alive was because I kept them well-fed and their pockets full.
That’s the fuckin’ music industry, baby. Nothing but a bunch of soulless, drugged-up puppets pumping out music they hate making. Begging for help.
But no one ever listens.
My head hung low as I snorted a line of powder off the tray my housemaid – or some other woman I didn’t know – had brought me. As quickly as she had appeared, she vanished. In her absence, I relished in the rush that hit me all too fast.
I sniffed and coughed, shaking my head with remnants of the powder clinging to my nose. I blinked slowly, trying to make sense of my surroundings.
The studio’s walls were adorned with gold, platinum and silver records, a shark contrast to the disheveled state of the room. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor. The air hummed with companionable conversation and the distant echoes of a repetitive beat.
As I raised my head, the scene unfolded before me. Half-naked women, draped in a hazy glow from neon lights, raised their glasses in a toast. The shots went down smoothly, accompanied by the thumping bass of my latest creation, reverberating through the studio's speakers.
The instrumental was infectious, quick and catchy, resonating with a bass that seemed to throb in sync with the erratic pulse of the room. My eyes fell to the scattered papers on the coffee table in front of me – lyrics scribbled in messy script on lined paper that had been torn straight out of my composition notebook.
Cigarette smoke, a whiskey glass,
Fading memories, like shattered glass,
Every sunrise feels like the last,
Trapped in the echos of the past.
Stuck in the rhythm of a broken clock,
Every tick’s an echo, every tock’s a shock.
A carouse of monotony,
Lost in a loop, just try’na break free.
Guitar wails like a distant scream,
Reality blurs, just like a dream.
Drift through the hours, like a ghost,
In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.
Pouting, I wiped my nose, feeling the dull burn of the coke as it tingled in the back of my throat. I was congested as all hell. Still, I tried to sing the bridge beneath my breath.
“Drift through the hours, like a ghost. In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost…” I hummed, pouting again when I realized I still didn’t like it.
The women in the back of the room continued their celebration, completely oblivious to my internal struggle. They were too busy shooting the shit with my friends.
More glasses were poured, and one was handed over to me. I took a sip without looking – because it honestly didn’t matter what was in the cup, could’ve been piss for all I knew. The familiar burn of bourbon warmed me momentarily. Humming in recognition, I traced my finger over the rim of the glass, lost momentarily in the verbiage of my own creation.
Something felt off.
Furrowing my brows, I stared down at the words on the page. I sniffled again. Then I downed about half of my glass of bourbon, standing up on unsteady feet. The room swayed slightly, especially when I walked over to the corner where the producer was set up – a lone figure surrounded by the chaos.
I nodded at him, muttering, “Play it again from the chorus. I’m try’na see somethin’.”
The producer – Chris, or some shit like that – nodded back. He pressed a button, and the beat started over. The room’s ambiance, fueled by laughter and friendly chatter, didn’t quiet down.
I tried my best to immerse myself in the rhythm, but the distractions were just… it was just too much.
‘Guitar wails like a distant scream,
Reality blurs, just like a dream.
Drift through the hours, like a ghost,
In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.’
I hadn’t realized I had forgotten to actually sing the words until my producer looked over at me expectantly. I shook my head, huffing out an exasperated sigh.
“Shit, sorry, take it from… take it from the chorus again, please?” My voice cut through the noise – or tried to, at least.
The beat started over again, a few measures behind where I needed to be.
“Guitar wails like a distant scream…” I attempted once more. “Drift through the hours, like a lost– fuck, I fucked it up.”
The collective revelry around me was a wall – it fucked me up. I could feel a headache coming on.
“Can we pipe down a bit?” I groaned, massaging my temples. My ears began to ring a bit, growing louder with every passing second that the chatter continued. “Guys, shut the hell up.”
My pleas fell on deaf ears. The ringing persisted, drowning out everything else in the room.
“Yuki,” I directed at her, a little louder now. She seemed to have been leading the conversation. “Yuki, please.”
No one ever listens.
And they didn’t. They weren’t fucking listening. I tried to make eye contact with her, but I couldn’t seem to make out her face from the rest. The room was blurry, moving side to side, hazy around the edges. I held my forehead, groaning quietly.
They were so fucking loud.
No one ever listens.
Downing the rest of my bourbon in one go, I – in a fit of frustration – hurled the glass against the wall above the couch where my friends were comfortably seated. It shattered, sending shockwaves through the room as stunned silence replaced the previous chaos.
“Yuki,” I mumbled, swaying slightly on my feet. “Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to.. Try’na fuckin’...”
“Choso,” She began quietly, her mouth slightly agape. Had she always had a twin sister, or was I dreaming? “Your… your nose– are you okay?”
I put a hand up to my nose, feeling around for anything out of the ordinary. My fingers were red when I brought them back, painted with a viscous crimson fluid. Another fell from my nostril onto the pale skin of my wrist.
My nose is bleeding.
I wiped my nose, waving them off. “I’m fine,” I slurred – I wasn’t, least I don’t think I was, but the show must go on, or some shit like that. “Can we just… keep going, please?”
A thick, heavy silence enveloped the studio. With all of them finally keeping their mouths shut, I could hear myself think again. The ringing in my ears began to subside, and I, looking over my shoulder at Chuck– Chris, whatever the fuck– demanded, “Play that shit again.”
He swallowed nervously, clearly caught off guard by my outburst. Still, he pressed a button or two, and the song started all over again.
Drift through the hours like a ghost,
In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.
a/n: hiiii! I hate the way this was written, but I always hate my first chaps hehe. NEXT ONE WILL BE SM BETTER I SWEAR!! this is gonna be a long, slow burn, smutty ass fanfic (loosely [very loosely] based on the show 'the idol'). and by based on ofc I mean I watched an ep and I was like damn I could make this better.
Enter our beloved emo boy choso kamo. anyway!! comment your thoughts/wishes/etc!! I love an interactive community of loyal commenters and I loveee reading all of ur thoughts and lovely remarks!! keep them coming, and ill keep the chapters coming in retribution! love you bunches!
comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!
credits: @/2OARIN on twitter (cover art). If you know the other artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work! I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.
taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @ynjimenez , @soraya-daydreams , @nonksity , @hinata7346 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @sad-darksoul , @sasuke-slut , @yuunie135 , @bratkuna , @aydene , @mshope16 , @pretentiousteentrash , @galactict3a , @kokos-property , @moonriseoverkyoto , @lyn-soso , @arilostie , @violetmatcha , @markleeisdabestdrug , @erensdior , @hp-simp505 , @fushiguro-kyuuuuuu , @bontensbabygirl , @switch-godess , @honey-yuh , @ddotsie
wanna join the taglist? | smoke and mirrors; chapter index
#smoke and mirrors ☄. *. ⋆#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#choso kamo#choso#choso x reader#choso x you#choso x jjk#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo x you#choso kamo jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#choso fluff#choso angst#choso smut#choso kamo fluff#choso kamo smut
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captain (18+)
JJ Maybank x Reader
Sum: boat sex.
Warnings: Unprotected Sex, oral sex, established relationship, use of pet names, hair pulling, spanking
“JJ when are you gonna tell me how and where you got this thing?”
A laugh came from the bridge and you turned to see his smiling face looking down at you. “You know I don’t reveal my secrets.”
“That’s fine,” You stood, adjusting yourself quickly as not to lose your balance to the waves below, “I’m just starting to worry you stole it.”
The boat you were on was like nothing you ever saw on the cut. It reminded you of something you’d only seen in movies and when visiting friends in figure eight.
You slowly paced to JJ’s side, leaning into him and placing your head on his shoulder as his steered. The water was mostly calm and it was almost sunset.
He only laughed again at your comment, faking a hand away from steering and placing it around your hip. “Had a friend who owned me a favor. He likes coke a whole lot more than this boat so it’s ours for the night babe.”
You only hummed in response, leaning your weight more into him and sliding a hand onto his lower stomach. He sucked into a breath as you rolled it lower and back up.
“What?” You teased, “Something wrong, captain?”
His eyes snapped to your in a fraction of a second at your words. You felt the boat slow to a stop with a slight jolt and you stumbled a bit.
The hand around your waist tightened to stabilize you, and then proceeded to slide down further to grope at your ass. “You’re really a tease.”
You giggled, leaning your face into his neck to kiss at the skin there. You sucked a love bite into the soft flesh as your hand trailed beneath your waist band and boxers. You felt his stomach tense as your hand wrapped around him.
Slowly, you stroked him as you sucked on his neck. His moans where breathy and quiet, but you lavished in them. “Fuck,”
His hips bucked into your hand and you pulled back from his neck. Locking eyes with him, you removed your hand from his pants and he groaned with frustration.
You lowered to your knees on the cool metal of the floor, your face level with his dick that was now straining in his shorts. “I think you’re gonna like this a lot better, Captain.”
He blushed at your use of the pet name, and you pulled him free from his pants. His cock was level with your face and mouth, and you planted a small kitten lick to the tip.
A strong hand came to fist your hair, and you looked up to meet dark lustful eyes. “Be a good girl and suck it now.”
You only nodded, taking the tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. As you slid your mouth down you felt the vein run against the flat of your tongue, and JJ moaned at your actions.
“Good fucking girl,” He bobbed your head with the hand in your hair, “Such a good girl for me.”
You gagged on him, and he pulled you all the way off with a pop. Your lips were swollen and mascara ran down your face.
The blond pulled you to your feet and flipped your backwards to bend you over the helm. “Need that pussy now.”
He pulled your soft shorts down, and your panties to the side, exposing your already wet pussy.
“So wet just from blowing me? You really do love me don’t you?” He smiled, landing a hard smack to your ass.
Before you could reply, he thrust into you without warning. The stretch was just as good as the first time you had felt it. It burned in all the right places and filled you to the brim.
“Oh what baby?” He cooed sarcastically, leaning down to nip at your neck as he rocked his hips into you, “Too big? Should I have fingered you first?”
“S’perfect J!” You cried, covering your face as tears now ran freely.
“Fuck,” He moaned as your clenched around him, feeling your orgasm nearing, “You gonna cum for me baby? Need you to. Need you to cum for me.”
His hand slipped underneath you and between your thighs to thumb at your clit, and you felt the coil inside you snap.
You shuddered as you came, opening your mouth to whine and closing it again almost immediately. “That’s it baby. That’s my pretty girl.”
JJ’s pace continued to be unrelenting despite your overstimulated state. He grabbed your arms and pulled them behind you to hold you up.
He pounded into you and you felt his tip brush your g-spot. “Think you can do one more for me baby? Just one more?”
You cried loudly as you felt yourself come undone for the second time around him, and he moaned loudly as you squeezing himself.
“Oh baby that’s it. So good for me. You did so good. Oh my fuck.”
You felt his hot cum empty inside you. He dropped one arm to snake around your waist to help you get your balance, and pulled out to find a towel.
“Lemme clean you up baby,” He smiled, “I brought snacks! Plus it’s almost sunset.”
You smiled at the man before you standing over the helm. The sunset was beginning to creep into the background.
#outer banks#outerbanks#obx season 3#obx smut#obx#obx2#obx fic#obx imagine#obx jj#obxhub#jj obx#obx3#obx netflix#obx x reader#obx x you#obx x y/n#jj maybank#jj obx imagine#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#obx jj maybank#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x pogue!reader#outer banks 3#rudy outer banks#rudy pankow
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You make a bet with Raymond Leon
Warnings - 18+, dirty smut.
Notes - First little drabble has to be with yours truly, Timekeeper Raymond Leon.
Word Count - 500+
“How’s the view down there?” Raymond grinned.
Even though you were both timekeepers, you and Raymond were not friendly with one another. Naturally Raymond thinks he’s better than you since you’re just a girl. The workplace enjoyed watching your bickering and grudges against one another. Yet, despite your hatred for one another, the attraction was clearly there, and the tension made your core squeeze and his cock twitch.
It was your idea, a case you both egotistically wanted to close, instead of closing it together, it became a competition, whoever closed it got to do whatever they wanted to the other. But he cheated, he stole your leads and got all of the glory, and he got you.
Your eyes batted up to him, he was still fully dressed minus the jacket, but you were completely naked before him on your knees. His cock hanging out of his pants was bobbing in and out of your mouth, you moaned around his size.
“Come on, be a good little slut and make me come. Then I’ll consider letting you come around my big cock. Do you like the sound of that?” Raymond condescended, he was talking to you like you were below him, well technically you were.
Even though you were in denial of enjoying this, you knew you were dripping. Palms placed on his thighs, you went as far as you could, but that didn’t satisfy Raymond. He gripped onto your hair and pulled you right down his length, your nose pressed against the base of his pubic hair. You were gagging, but he didn’t care, he just held you there.
“See? You can take me whole, all whore can” he grunted. “Tell me, was this just a plan to get me to fuck you? Too up yourself to submit to me willingly? I bet you slacked off on that case on purpose. Maybe I will let you come, just so you can stop being such a stuck up bitch” Raymond chortled, thrusting quickly.
When Raymond felt his balls tighten, he pulled himself out, you gasped for air. Quickly jerking himself off, his tip was pointed right at your eye level.
“Better open up wide darling” he groaned.
You did so, eyes shutting because the last thing you’d want is his semen in your eyes. With a soft moan, Raymond ejaculated all across your face. You didn’t know a man could spurt out so fucking much. He murmured as you began to wipe your face clean with your hand.
“You better be wiping that into your mouth” Raymond snarled.
You huffed, and did as you were told. To be fair, it could have tasted so much worse. Swallowing it all down, you wobbly stood up. Raymond smirked to you and wrapped his arms around your heated body. Pulling you to the table, he bent you over, his hand trailed over your gushing entrance.
“You fucking cheated” you hissed, hands naturally gripped across onto the edges. Raymond spat onto his hand and slapped your slit making you cry out.
“Maybe next time set some better rules and regulations darling” Raymond sighed as he pushed himself inside of you in one easy push. “Or not, because fuck am I enjoying this. Remind me why we've never done this before?”
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#raymond leon x reader#raymond leon smut#in time 2011#ficlet#cillian x fem!reader
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LOVE ME LIKE I DO | ONE SHOT|
Rafe S3 x Yandere reader
{OPEN COMMAND (please l’m bored)}
[English is not my native language ❗️❗️]
synopsis: If he doesn’t love you as you love him, just give him a little reminder, maybe he’ll understand who he belongs to this time.
Ok then, it’s really creepy to read, it’s the first time I write this kind of thing and it’s probably the last time. It’s really weird and not suitable for an uninformed public, so if you’re sensitive please don’t read this, I’m fucking serious. Don’t.
tw: murder, stalking, mental issues , weirdos, mentions of sex , mentions of murder , insults, violent, non-con, kidnapping, yandere.
______________________________________________
Rafe knew he had a problem, but you. You were crazy. You proved it to him several times, instead of scaring him, it turned him on.
You were also very jealous, so much so that once you tried to fight with a girl who watched Rafe for too long.
Simply put, Rafe wasn’t the only one who was crazy, you were a crazy couple. Who could kill to protect each other and vice versa.
But Rafe wasn’t as in love as you were, he was definitely possessive and strongly attached to you but he wasn’t obsessed with you. On the other hand, you were.
To say that you didn’t want to cover up several times without him noticing, or even spy, would be a lie.
You had the location of his phone, put a camera in his room with a microphone.
You were a psychopath. Rafe compared to you was a little gambler.
You could only take it out on your mother, the only memories you have of her are all the times she keeps telling you not to give up when you loved someone.
If it took 20 years, then it would take 20 fucking years.
When you lost access to Rafe’s location, a few things were weird. When you went to Tannyhill and the house was empty, you quickly understood what was going on.
Rafe had abandoned you, after all you had done for him. You had literally killed for him, you even had to hide a body for him.
And he to thank you was gone??? No Rafe you do not know who you belong to?
______________________________________________
Rafe had returned to Outer Banks.
As soon as he set foot on the island, he had sealed his fate.
The camera you had in his room was still working, and so was his microphone. You get up an hour instead of him every morning, just to see him get up and change.
You were just wet to see his abs or his hard dick in the morning.
Today was a day like any other, you plan to spy on him and take notes. You noticed he melted the cross you stole with him and sold it with Barry.
You followed him around the streets of Charleston. Making you as discreet as you could. You don’t understand why Rafe turned around and started looking around.
You hid as fast as you could and Rafe left.
______________________________________________
You felt your heart filled with sadness and hatred. Your whole body felt broken.
Rafe had a party to celebrate his official return to the island but, the latter was not alone.
Under his muscular arm is Sofia, a girl who worked at the Country Club that you and Rafe used to date.
She knows very well that Rafe belongs to you because, she had several times seen you slip away with him in the toilet.
That bitch knew full well she never should have done it, yet she did.
She’ll pay you, you swear.
When you got home that same night, you saw Rafe moan her name, touch her make her scream. Every second you spent watching that fucking screen disgust you.
You must have been the one he was exhausting, over-stimulating, so why were you there and she was being destroyed?
A wave of Jealousy and hatred overwhelmed you, You could not sleep. You got up, you started imagining what you would do to them and you liked the idea.
Your hand went to your panties, Rafe’s favorite.
You touched yourself with two fingers, you’d force Sofia to look at how much Rafe would rather fuck you, kiss you and make you scream his name.
how obsessed Rafe was with you.
You started shaking feeling your orgasm coming, you felt like it was Rafe’s fingers, you closed your eyes two minutes and when you opened them, you fingers were soaking your sheets too
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The next day, you made sure of everything. The hammer was in your bag with the ropes and the sedative.
You waited to see Rafe’s bike go and entered Tannyhill. You made sure to be as quiet as possible and is checking the camera through your phone. Sofia go to the bathroom.
You walked into the room and heard ten minutes, until Sofia was too busy washing herself to hear anyone coming into the bathroom.
When she got out of the shower and unfortunately for her, she didn’t turn around, you strangled him with the rope.
She struggled for a while and you pressed your knee behind her back to further limit her oxygen. "You’re gonna die when Bitch!" You’re screaming.
Her suffocations were the only noises in the whole house. Suddenly she stopped moving her face was blue.
She was dead. You took her body and dragged her into the room, put her in a suitcase and went downstairs into the kitchen.
You pulled out the ingredients to prepare Rafe’s favorite dish is here.
Once finished, you put sedatives in it, then you imitated Sofia’s writing to perfection. You looked at the time and realized that Rafe was coming home soon. You went up to get Sofia’s body and took it with you from Tannyhill.
You fed it to the alligators, including in the swamp, and burned Rafe’s suitcase. You went home and prepared everything for tonight, you put on your best dress and you made the most beautiful possible, your reunion was going to be perfect.
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Your moans were the only thing audible in the room.
Rafe opened his eyes more and more slowly, he wanted to move his arm but he could not. The more he forced the more he felt his arm was being burned.
He also felt like a few things or rather someone was on him. He was inside a pussy?
This thought made him open his eyes, look at his beas and he was hung on either side of the bed. He looked ahead and froze on the spot.
You were on him, He was inside you and you were moving on him. You moaned his name you shoved your nails into his skin.
"Damn it, Y/N..." he moans trying to come to his senses. "Fuck Rafe!" You scream while accelerating your movements.
You moan louder and louder until you reach your peak.
You collapse on Rafe. "Fuck Y/N what are you doing here?" Rafe asks screaming.
You look Rafe in the eye. "You belong to me Rafe, I came to take back what belongs to me." You say while looking at him.
"You’re a fucking weirdo!" He starts trying to get the ropes off his wrists.
A clapping sound sounds in the room. Rafe slapped violently. You grab the back of his head violently forcing him to look at you.
"You know I’m crazy about you? You know that?" You ask Rafe about to explode. "YOU KNOW WHAT I’M CRAZY ABOUT YOU RAFE??!" You’re screaming. He’s not answering.
You close your eyes and calm down. "Everything I’ve done and what I’m going to do, I do for love you know that." You gently caress Rafe’s cheek. You stand up and get the hammer that was in your bag. You walk up to Rafe. "What are you going to do?" he asks you to panic. "Make you understand never to leave me or cheat on me again."
You hit his head violently, which just knock his out.
______________________________________________
You watch Rafe wake up, when he opens his eyes he’s panicked, he looks around him. "You’re finally awake Love?"
You lean to put your face closer to his, he instantly backs up in his chair to which he is tied. You still manage to put your lips on his.
"Let me go, I won’t tell anyone." he asks you with pity.
You put your arms and your head on his lap. "I can’t, honey." You say in a little voice. "Why?" he asks." Because you’re not in love with me, and until you feel what I feel for you, I won’t let you go. Even if it takes me twenty years or more."
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#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#dark rafe cameron#outer banks rafe#drew starkey x reader#dark!rafe#rafe cameron#rafe smut#rafe cameron x you#rafe fanfiction#drew starkey smut#drew starkey#outer banks x reader#outer banks imagine#obx#outerbanks#yandere#yancore
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Soft And Plush — (DOL) Whitney [VALENTINES EVENT]
Pairing: M!Whitney / F!Reader
Genre: Smut 18+
WC: 5434
Warnings: name calling (whore, slut, pet, mutt, pup, puppy), “pillow” humping (it's a bear), pet play, smoking (cigarettes), praise, whitney takes pics of you without consent, blowjob, I use the word fap because it’s sexy to me, bullying, degradation, oral fixation, dacryphilia
Synopsis: “It’s my gift, pet.” He reminds you oh so kindly, clicking his tongue for emphasis. And it’s true, he’d allowed you to buy the bear yourself since you clearly wanted to gift him with it. “So I get to decide what to do with it, right?”
A/N: mmm.... petplay brainrot... also, this is my first time writing for whitney so please excuse anything too OOC... i wanted to try portraying their tsundere vibes, but im unsure how successful i was in doing that... also been thinking about that line of whitney having a stuffed toy collection and i think it's TRUE. anyway, enjoy this self indulgent puppy fic :D! happy valentines day!
Irritation settles thick in his arms, most present in how they flex under rolled up sleeves, how his veins pop from the crossed over position he’s got them in at just the mere sight of his favourite slut. Where he’s still mostly dressed save for an unbutton shirt, he’s got you completely naked, barking orders at you to strip the moment he allowed you entry into his room. So obedient, aren’t you? Even if a little shy, your attempts at coyness only make this game much more fun for him. Got him aching to knock you down a peg or two, remind you of who you belong to. So small compared to him too, yeah? Just a weak little pet, cowering at his feet like you should be. He’s annoyed in part due to how you’ve completely ruined his valentines plans for you today, and also from how downright adorable you look sitting on his floor with a new stuffed teddy hiding your pretty private parts out of sight, a reminder of his failure today. How unfair it is for you to have put him in this position, perched at the edge of his bed looking down at you as if he were holier than thou; and right now he is.
“Fuckin’ slut, wanted the bear so bad, the fuck are you complaining for?” He scowls down at you with jealousy, unable to hide the impish smirk from spreading to his cheeks that your stupid sobs causes him to make. Really, it’s your own damn fault that you’re sitting naked in his bedroom right now, shivering against the hardwood floor as his harsh tone threatens tears to well in your pretty doe eyes. Good, he thinks to himself. You’re pretty when you cry. It’s why he so often has you in these embarrassing positions, intimidating you to submit with his bullying tactics day in and day out. It’s because you’re so cute, too adorable for your own good. It’s your fault he repeats to himself, some effort to justify his rude actions.
He tuts down at you when all you do is clutch the teddy tighter, keeping it pinned to your pretty body in an effort to remain hidden from his lecherous gaze, so he leans forward. You didn’t think you’d get to escape his torment for long, did you? His dominating presence causing you to quiver, a similar shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine as his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek in impatience. You’re so cute it’s becoming a fucking issue, obliviously provoking him into petting at the overt bulge in his pants like you were any form of innocent. Of course he knows you better than that, but even the faux purity you display before him has him acting up, pants tighter than ever just from looking at you. Honestly, the things he wants to do to you are criminal. And all because you’re just too cute, shaking and shiver and panting against the soft fur of the oversized bear that you stole out of his hands at the store.
Or, well, stole is a gross exaggeration of what really happened. He knows he shouldn’t have left buying a valentines gift this late, and he should have known better than to go to the same store you frequent so often. Maybe this is God’s way of punishing him for being such a shitty boyfriend, or, as he’d rather think; this is his reward for showing you a sliver of kindness. Even just recalling the moment his head lifted and he was greeted by your meek expression causes his eye to twitch, his lips curling in sheer displeasure for not only getting caught slacking; but also from having his gift stolen. It’s a cute bear, fuck, he wants it for himself—he even has the perfect spot in his collection for it!—yet there you stood attempting to buy him it. How annoying. How fucking aggravating it is to have you know him so well, a familiar heat rising to his cheeks that he so often endures when you’re around him; only he can’t tell if it’s from upset or affection. They feel all too similar to him, especially when his cock is concerned.
“It’s my gift, pet.” He reminds you oh so kindly, clicking his tongue for emphasis. And it’s true, he’d allowed you to buy the bear yourself since you clearly wanted to gift him with it. “So I get to decide what to do with it, right?”
“Um, yeah… I guess so…” You trail off stupidly, and all he wants to do in response is pin you where you sit due to an overwhelming urge to remind you. Force you to accept who’s really in charge, to praise you for picking such a good gift for him, to punish you for ruining his valentines plans; fuck— he’s so agitated. It’s embarrassing, really, just how much you affect him. How easy you’ve got it, dumb tone going straight to his perverted cock, causing it to pulse under his idle touch as he stares you down, biting down on his bottom lip to refrain from praising you too much; can’t let you know so easily just how badly he wants to fuck you stupid. But that’s what good pets get, right? He just has to work you up to it, see if you really deserve some more kindness.
But first, punishment. Can’t forget about the way you stole his thunder from right under him, no matter how hard his cock throbs for your pitiful excuses and pretty face. No good owner lets bad actions go unpunished, right? Hand tugging lightly at his pants, right over the obvious wet spot he’s sporting, he leans back to show exactly what you do to him, to tease you under the guise of offering more than punishment, cursing under his breath when your expression switches to one of awe. That dumb look you always adopt when it comes to him, he wants for nothing more than to wipe it off your face again and again, deriving great pleasure from putting you down. Perhaps a little too much if he’s honest with himself, but when you offer your compliance on a silver platter, what’s a guy to do? After all, he is just a man. A dirty, mean, perverted man.
“Right.” He confirms your earlier ‘guess’, offering you a much more gentle smile now as his hand reaches out toward you, suppressing the urge to laugh at how pathetic you look when tentatively placing your hand in his own like an unsure animal; he’s sure if you had a tail it’d be curled between your legs right now. And for good reason, “I wanna see you ride it.” He huffs, forcefully tugging you forward so that you fall tummy side down on the big bear, your ass sticking up in the air for him to immediately admire; cock twitching in response to the cute little oof you let out after falling down. That’s what you get for trusting him, he muses to himself. “You’re a good girl, right?” He coos down at you, tone faux sweet and sickening, mismatching his sleazy lopsided grin knowing that he’s embarrassing you right now, tricked you into giving him exactly what he wants in spite of your endeavour to remain modest. It’s what you get for being such a meddling whore.
He doesn’t exactly hear you agree, but that’s never stopped him before. A soft mmph is enough for him, cock pressing persistently against his underwear when he catches sight of the dip in your back, how despite your obvious humiliation he just knows your pretty pet cunt must be leaking all over the teddy bear by now, having endured his gaze and taunts until now. “Good girl,” he praises your acceptance, voice barely above a whisper to hide just how much he loves it when you give in to him, tapping his toes under your chin to prompt you into looking up at him pawing at his cock. “Wanna ride my gift? Bet it’d feel soooo good, perfect for puppies.” He sneers down at you, hiding his affection behind a low laugh until you slowly start to rock against the teddy, just like he’d asked. It’s a barely there movement, but he catches it nonetheless, glued to your ass while you focus on his face. Actively ignoring your whimpers of discomfort in favour of gawking, tugging at his cock more intently now that you’re playing into his palm. He didn’t think it’d be so easy to convince you to objectify yourself like this, but maybe all the dirty talk he whispered down your ear as he dragged you to his home was enough to set the mood. Talking about you’re mine, my fucking girl, my little play slut, wanna have a playdate, pup? He doesn’t really care about the specifics right now anyway, sucking his teeth to the sight of your hips shifting back and forth, the way your mouth hangs open just a little, pink tongue peeking behind your teeth as you pant below him. Yeah, he’s got more important matters to attend to right now, like his raging hard on that stains his pants sheer, and how he wants to shove it against your cheeks.
So fucking cute, fuck— he wants to praise you some more, grab your stupid fucking face and press kisses all over it, tug at your hair so he has access to your neck, bite and suck on the soft skin there to properly mark his pup up. A permanent collar to signal ownership, keep all those other creeps off of you. But all he feels able to do is swallow. Gulp down the admiration that rests behind at the tip of his tongue in favour of putting you in your rightful place: under his feet.
He tries to commit your dumb look to memory, cock twitching with want to be buried balls deep down your slutty throat already, especially given the way you so expertly showcase your mouth to him, his feet glued to either side of the teddy to better watch you hump yourself against it—and he’s got the perfect view too. Eyes trailing all the way from your pouty lips, past your arched back, to finally settle on the swell of your ass. “Pretty…” he accidentally whispers, instantly flushing at how soft his tone has gotten around you.
Habit begs him to light a cigarette for distraction, swiftly procuring one from his pocket with his free hand to mouth at lazily before lighting it and taking a deep inhale. Time and time again you prove to be difficult around for him; not because you’re inherently stressful or anything, but because his heart physically aches to be with you, even as your humping his valentines gift right in front of him under his instruction. An instinctive need to watch over you, to both protect and bully you from his position as your boyfriend. It’s annoying, honestly, how deeply he yearns for you. So much so that even as you’re doing everything his mean words ask for, he still craves more from his perfect little pet. It’s unfair of him to expect, he knows, but you can hardly blame him when you’re being so pliant and sweet for him. He hears you say something over his heavy breathing, but he’s much more interested in talking to your tits, rubbing his cock to the way they push up nicely against the plush teddy with the rest of your body as you seek his attention.
“Whitney…” You whine all pretty and shit, and oh how gratifying it is to hear you sound so needy for him, so desperate for his rough treatment over the soft fur under you. “This is… really embarrassing…”
He takes another inhale, a greedy one full of lust. “Duh, that’s the point.” He huffs after a second to exhale, puffing away at his cigarette far too quickly, ash dropping to the ground that he’ll have you clean up later. “Keep movin’.” He sniffs, impulsively throwing the cigarette to the ground to stamp on, far too hypnotised by the easy back and forth of your hips to fully enjoy the smoke filling his lungs, cock leaking far too much not to pull it out of his pants. Convinced by the muted squelch of your cunt every time your hips rise, he stands up briefly to tug his bottoms down just below his knees, swiftly sitting down again and immediately spreading his legs with a satisfied sigh. Feels good to finally be free, hard cock on full display for your pitiful whines, fat beads of precum already rolling down his length for his fist to collect. Such a good girl, making him feel so good; and you don’t even have to be touching him! He’d tell you but the words are choked in his throat when your speed increases, assumedly from his now exposed cock, his head tilting to the side when you crane your neck up further in an attempt to reach his wet tip, puffy lips just begging to be fucked raw—
“Uh-uh, get back down.” He reprimands you even as it pains him to do so, placing a foot on your shoulder to pin you back to the floor, laughing darkly when you squirm in place on the bear. Dumb dog, he thinks to himself. “Pets aren’t allowed on the bed.”
“But Whitney—“
His eyes roll automatically, fist casually pumping up and down his fat cock to the sight of you whinging so sweetly for him. And God, he almost gives in. Wants to fuck your stupid mutt throat all sore, soothe it with a load in your tummy. There’s a flicker of greed in his core, fist tightening around his swollen cock for a moment before he sighs, deep and heady. The things you do to him; you’ve got to know. “But nothin’” he bites back, baring his teeth in a show of dominance, hips bucking into his closed fist when you immediately surrender by dropping your head—hidden praise. “Said I wanted to watch you, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”
At least that seems to shut you up for now, cock happy to watch you return to humping, sweaty palm gliding easily over his wet tip from how downright desperate you act for his cock, heart full of affection at the way you vie for his attention, his approval. To call what he’s experiencing love rests uncomfortably in his chest, instead focusing intently on the mess of your hair, pressing his thumb against his slit to coax more pre out. You have him so hard, cock throbbing in his quickly tightening grip as he jerks off to the sight of you, just out of reach of your cute face, teasing you with tell tale slick sounds and soon hushed gasps of enjoyment.
“That’s it— fuck, good girl.” He half laughs in the space left between, gaze drawn to your open mouth and the way your tongue threatens to loll out. Fuck, he hopes it does. Leaking all over himself at just the thought of your tongue, wishing that you’d drool all over the teddy bear you’re currently humping so that he can drag his tongue over it when he kicks you out tonight. “Feels good, right?” He asks, but it’s barely a question. He can hear how much you’re enjoying yourself, can smell how turned on you are from getting bullied. Honestly, he feels a bit dizzy with desire for you too. Struggling just as much as you seem to be right now, fisting his fat cock in time with your speedy humps; punishment. This is supposed to be punishment for you, and yet still he feels like he’s the one gasping for air when you moan so nicely for him, his muscles burning with insatiable thirst.
With every stroke his legs open wider too, pants dropping lower with his thrusts until they hit the floor and the resulting thud barely hides the obvious rhythmic wet slap of fist on cock. You just look so good like this, pressing your puffy little clit into the soft teddy bear, head tilted up to stare right between his legs, panting lewdly for his cock— it’s a bit too much even for him. An uncharacteristic stutter in his voice when he tries to tell you off, but his words end up sounding more like a plead than anything else, which is wholly unacceptable, except for when he’s alone with you.
“Don’t… Uh, fuck— don’t fucking look at me.” He warns you, squeezing at the base of his cock to hold off on cumming so he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of his pet. And to make sure you follow his instructions, he lifts a foot only to drop it on your head, forcing you to bury your face into the chest of the bear below you, immediately relaxing his expression as he leans into his fist now that his love is hidden from view. One hand supporting his weight behind, the other fucking himself stupid to the sight of your perfect ass pretending to be riding his cock— he knows you all too well. Instinctively, his hips start to follow after his fist faster, timing his thrusts into his closed palm with your humps forward, in turn simulating sex with you too. And fuck it feels good, to be in complete control of your actions and still making you wait, pushing you closer to the edge as you start to shake with your frantic movements, the muffles sobs you sound against the bear only prompting his hips to fuck faster into the air, his bed squeaking under the weight of his greedy thrusts all for you. Can’t let you see him get this hopeless for you, hiding his affections with choked gasps and muted sighs, refusing even with your face hidden to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much he needs you. How he wants even though he has you quite literally under his foot, wants you so bad even as his cock drools to the floor for your pretty little ass and the sweet sounds you make for him, a puddle forming under him thanks to you and your body.
It’s how he knows you’re so close, you know. The way you tremble. He’s felt it enough times on his cock to pick up on it, a sinister smile making its way to his lips as he selfishly removes his foot from your head, though it quickly transitions into a fond scowl when you remain buried; it seems his training is finally paying off with you, working against him when he’d really rather see your cumming face. “Dumb pup— does that feel good on your puppy parts?” he encourages you, tone sugary and soft due to how much pride he feels swell in his chest when you do exactly as you’re told, awaiting his command to look at him again. Watching his pretty pet hump herself silly on his gift, pumping away at his cock with sloppy strokes while he stares intensely at your nape; fingers itching to grab you by the scruff of the neck and shove his cock so far down your throat—
This is love, he suddenly thinks. Pretty puppy at his feet, getting yourself off for his enjoyment. This, fist wrapped tight around his pulsing cock, jaw taut and hips bucking up off the bed for better friction, is love. The barely audible moans of his name falling from your pretty lips and the soft shuffle of your cunt against the bears fur is love. And maybe it’s time for him to admit on valentines day that he himself is very much in love with you.
Or maybe that’s just his cock talking for him, trembling in his death-grip hold, fisting only his tip to stave off your reward as you surprisingly sit up despite his previous private praise, hands firmly planted on the bears face to support your weight; but most importantly, your hips don’t stop. No, all you do is offer him a best seat in the house view of your bouncing tits while you ride the bear, prompting him to suck in some air as his eyes narrow in on your nipples, throat suddenly dry as he pines to mouth at them. He can reprimand you properly for acting out later. “Filthy bitch.” He scolds you for now, but it’s a halfhearted attempt at best, teeth bearing to accentuate his adoration filled threat. “Just a dumb bitch in heat, yeah? Need cock so bad, huh?” He taunts you, but it’s all bark and no bite. Really, he’s just admitting to what he wants you to want, hoping that you’ll give in to his lust fuelled upset with broken sobs and eager nods.
Which of course you do, because he’s a good owner that’s trained his perfect pet well. A coo escapes him when you frantically nod up at him, doggy tongue sticking out while you pant for more. And he’s more than happy to give you just that, now that you’ve endured partial punishment; he’s just as much a desperate dog as you are right now. Only difference is, he has the (swiftly declining) composure to keep his true intentions hidden enough— and you’re just a dumb dog. If you want his cock so bad, he’ll give it to you. After such a good performance too, it only makes sense to reward your good behaviour with some cock; that and it’ll replace the gift you stole from him and are currently grinding into the ground like a good girl.
God you’re so cute like this, holding yourself up while circling your hips, stroking that pretty little clit hard against the big round heart the bear is holding. He bets it’s soaked with your slick, his throat closing at the mere thought of sucking it all up later tonight. His lips part in awe, infatuated at the sight of you so desperate for release, keening loudly with a repeat of his name, rocking yourself forward with every thrust because of how much you need him. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.” Slips out of his open lips, though he does little to correct himself. Instead, he leans into the soft nature of his words and finds his phone, immediately opening the camera to snap a few pictures of you in your time of great need. Jerk off material for later, his friends can fuck off if they think he’ll send them such prime material. Only he gets to see you this sloppy and messy, so fraught with need for more and all for him. He doubts you even realise he’s captured your degeneracy with photographic evidence given how you paw at his knees anyway, head hung low as you hold on for some sense of stability; of which he cruelly takes away from you the moment he realises what you’re doing.
“Tryin’ t’climb on top?” He questions, but his voice is breathy and gives away just how much he needs you to do exactly that. “C’mon, you should know better than— fuck—” your hand brushes his cock, right over his slick with precum tip, a string of shine keeping your palm connected to him even when he forcefully retracts your hand. He immediately wants to lick it when he spots it, clean his pretty puppy up and treat her well. But the pit in his stomach demands otherwise, tapping on your shoulder to grab your attention and tugging you as close as possible between his legs.
Prime blowjob position.
“Should know better than that, slut…” Able to finish his previous sentence, he takes a rough fistful of your hair now that you’re prone and yanks it back, cock twitching to attention when you yelp in surprise. Always so pretty for him, so eager to have his mean hands bully your body, he doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze around the bears heart with his unfair grip. Your constant stream of pleaseplease Whtiney please! causes him to release an egregious moan of his own, pulling your head further back as payment for coaxing such a needy sound out of him.
He’s not all mean though. Ever the gentleman, he thrusts his cock against your face, smearing precum all over your blushing cheeks and tapping the leaking tip on your lips. God he could cum just like this, tugging at his cock once or twice against your lips before you automatically open, like you understand what you’re made for, that you belong to him. So cute, so completely and utterly disgusting that you already know what he wants before he even asks for it. The perfect valentine.
He makes tutting sounds at you with a wide grin, doting on you from above until your tongue makes contact with his tip and it’s all over for him. Grin wiped and replaced by a frown, brows furrowed in concentration to fully feel the way your slippery tongue sucks all the precum off his tip, how your lips tighten and glide up and down his cock just a little, his hand still buried deep in your hair to control the pace. Still, good girl and so pretty continues to drip from his tongue, drool pooling in his mouth when he’s unable to look away from where your lips kiss his tip, how you worship his cock in an effort to gain his affections.
"Want me to pound that pretty throat?" He questions, but it’s rhetorical. Of course you do, right? Why else would you be inviting him inside so eagerly.
But he’s not so kind as to give you exactly what you want, no! He never has been, has he? Instead of fucking your throat like he wants to, he merely keeps your head pinned in place, tip and then some engulfed by your warm mouth for you to suckle on, to have a small taste and no more. And to make matters worse for you, he starts fisting his cock again. Warming his tip while jacking off into your mouth, not even allowing you the pleasure of getting him off yourself. The cruelty of his actions causes you to whine and vibrate down his length, proving only to turn him on further as his grip tightens in your hair. A warning of sorts, to shut up and take what he’s giving you because it’s better than the alternative of nothing at all. He knows he’s being a bastard, fuck, but it feels too good to stop; pumping his length with precision into your greedy little maw, feeling your tongue squirm and beg to be used, attempting to convince his hips to buck and fuck your face, but it feels too fucking good to stop bullying you.
It’s your fault for being so cute, he reminds himself. Your fucking fault, slut, he wants to lecture you with, but every suck and lick you offer him leaves him breathless. Staring down at your watery eyes with a mimicked pout of his own, which would have be paired with mockery over how slutty you’re being right now, but the way his balls grow tight and taut otherwise distracts him, leaves him gasping for air due to your kitten licks against his tip, rendering him only to moan roughly and roll his eyes back in sheer satisfaction over your resentment. “Keep— ah, shit— keep movin’, mutt.” He reminds you through clenched teeth, lightly kicking your cunt as a reminder to get yourself off too; he’s not mean enough to leave you without feeling good too.
Or rather, he’s more selfish than you might think. Wanting only for you to cum too so that he can enjoy his orgasm more, knowing that even after all his mistreatment of you, you still require him to make you feel good. And after squeezing his eyes shut briefly to focus on anything other than cumming on your soft kitten tongue, he opens them to see you humping feverishly, as if you didn’t know how to do anything else in that moment. Upset immediately fills his chest, though he’s not sure why. Something about feeling so frustrated over how much he feels for you, how strongly he wants for you. But he’s not of the right head-space to properly think about it right now, too busy fucking his fist to have an honest discussion with himself. Whatever, you’re fucking hot and that’s all that matters, fuck, he’s so close. Needs you to cum too, an act of reassurance, of security. If you cum then surely he’s doing something right, treating you the way you want to be treated, right? “That’s it,” he motivates you through moans, grunting into the harsh way he fists his cock, a stark contrast to how politely your tongue wraps around his cock head. Precum beads onto it, surely dipping down your throat from how you ‘sneakily’ bob your head with some humping movements, but he’s concerned enough to correct you. Not when you have him feeling so fucking good, fapping furiously against your lips because you offer him no other alternative.
An urgent mmph! is sent down his cock when he tugs on your hair again, followed by a string of something, he can’t fucking hear you with a fat cock stuffing your mouth full, but he can probably guess what you’re moaning.
“Yeah? Fuck, babe…” He trails off, holding your chin to drag it open in a selfish need to hear you whine properly for him as you cum on the teddy bear, and also because he wants to watch his cum splatter your tongue possessively. It’s when you’re at your cutest, he thinks, waiting for his seed. Fisting his cock obsessively for you as his orgasm quickly follows suit and washes over him, wrist refusing to let up even as he’s shooting a fat load down your throat, catching you by surprise as you’re clearly not done grinding yourself to completion yet either. Not that he cares, fuck, eyes involuntarily shut tight as he shoves his cock as deep as possible down your throat despite his previous wants, he simply can’t stop himself; and you can't blame him either, cause that whore mouth of yours is too good at taking cock to stop and think for even just a second. Forcing him to act out of pure instinct as he humps your face roughly. Buried as deep as possible down your throat, balls resting against your chin with a soft plap! because his hips keep fucking forward through his orgasm until your tongue fully milks him empty—and even then he keeps fucking, shoving his cock just a little further down your throat, smiling to himself as you start to choke around him, pulling out only to watch you swallow.
You know exactly how he likes it too, and it’s infuriating. Soft and pliable, submissive under his foot, watching as you gulp a few times before opening your mouth wide for inspection just like he’d taught you, his fingers pressing gently on your tongue to flatten it before hooking your cheek. A lazy thanks escapes him as he collects his breath, bending over to reach your lips with a soft kiss as soon as he’s able to. It’s not often he feels this soft after sex, but he likes to indulge you every now and again; and Valentines day seems perfect for it. He lets his tongue poke out against yours, mingling with your own for only a brief moment to get a taste of himself before sighing down your throat and pulling away, resting back on his hands as clarity hits him after such an intense good feeling.
He regards you for a second or two more, noticing just how fucked out you look. Really has his heart thumping, y’know? Which is why he promptly looks away. Maybe the best gift you could have given him was stealing his gift, especially if it means he gets to see you all roughed up with tear stained cheeks like this, yet still you beam up at him so sweetly, as if his bullying made you the happiest girl in the world.
Gross. Not that he’s any better, his heart skipping a beat as he realises with upset just how much he really likes having you around, and how he doesn’t want anyone else to be around you. That can only mean one thing, right?
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&Team as Yanderes🔪
CW: Cussing by me, yandere content, some suggestive content
A/N: Jo a little special for my girl @luneengene2, also this is not how the members are in real life it’s just fiction,
WC: 494
Kei- Kei is known for having a calm demeanor, but he does like to be in charge, he has set rules for you and specific punishments. I see him being pretty violent with his punishments, He’s not much of a brat tamer as he wants his princess/prince to be good and obedient, he has a God complex so he wants you to worship him.
Fuma- So soft yet so so protective, he has a lot of anxiety when it comes to you, you’re just way too innocent and weak for this world he has to be there 24/7 to protect you. Is the type limit what you do, like you’re not allowed to cook or clean in fear you’ll end up hurt. He won’t ever lay a hand on you though, but it can be mentally draining having someone constantly watching you…
Nicholas- HA GOOD FUCKING LUCK, mans a sadist try to tell me other wise, He will punish you when you haven’t even done anything and then gaslight you into thinking you did actually something bad. He loves the look of fear in your eyes and he’s so cocky about it I swear.
Euijoo- *sighs* the clingy type, poor baby can’t live without you, like Fuma he will be near you 24/7 and has deep routed anxiety when it comes to you. But unlike Fuma it’s because Euijoo sees you as this Goddess and that you’ll leave him at any moment. He is literally obsessed with you and is in constant fear that one day you’ll find someone better than him…
Yuma- So you know how I said good luck with Nicholas? Yeah same thing here, I honestly don’t know which is worst tbh. Yuma just loves seeing you in pain, but he’s more sexual about it. Dude needs to have sex with you everyday just to remind you who you belong too.
Jo- Stalker, he has stalked you and is right now as we speak. He’s too shy to say anything but he is insanely obsessed over you, like this dude takes photos of you and has a wall dedicated to you, he even broke into your house and stole a few pieces of article of clothing just so he could uh ya know…feel good👁️👁️
Harua- Seems innocent at first but honestly I think he’s probably the most dangerous out of all of them. His mood will change ever so slightly depending how you act. Like he will be all lovey dovey with you first but you smiled at the barista today? Suddenly he’s worse than Nicholas and Yuma combined.
Taki-OMG He’s so hyper about you, probably the most calm and less violent, but he just wants your attention 24/7, he’s like a puppy who needs his owner at all times. He always calls you “mine”, will do anything for you, this mans is just head over hills for you and will even possibly murder someone for you.
#auntiefaye🧚🏻♀️#&team hard hours#&team smut#&team imagines#&team yandere#&team nicholas#koga yudai#&team fuma#&team harua#&team taki#&team jo smut#&team yuma#&team euijoo
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Hello, Lee! ❤️
Ok, John. No request but imagine/headcanon/something.
John climbing through the window to meet his girlfriend or s/o in the middle of the night? And the next day he returns to Small Heath with leaves on his clothes or perhaps a thorn in his hands, but it was certainly worth it 😂. Probably Arthur finds that very funny, and Tommy "not again" but if his brother is happy...
Flor, I took inspo from your lovely ask and included it here, but perhaps not quite the way you meant. I hope you still like it! In this one Y/n is healed from her wound and is ready for trouble which is good bc she finds it with John right before Tommy's wedding! This is prob the closest thing I will ever write to crack fic so enjoy this bit of utter nonsense!
Read previous parts here.
Plus One (Partners in Crime AU)
John Shelby x Y/n Solomons
“Who’s your man, Ada?” Polly asked, eager to know everyone attending Tommy’s upcoming wedding. “He’s not from one of your political meetings is he?”
“Tommy would hate that, wouldn’t he?” she asked with a smirk. “But no, he’s not. I’m bringing a man from the library.”
“John that only leaves you, love,” Polly noted. “Grace doesn’t want uneven numbers so you’ll have to find someone.”
“Why don’t you ask Y/n?” Ada asked, trying to be helpful.
John pulled a face at her remark before exclaiming, “Are you daft? I can’t ask her!”
“Why not? You’re always together,” Polly pointed out.
“We work together, Pol. Thought this was supposed to be a night off. Besides, she’s a pain in my arse,” John replied, twisting the toothpick in his mouth with great agitation.
“I think you fancy her! Are you afraid she’ll say no and break your heart?” Ada teased, shoving her elbow into his ribs playfully.
“Fuck off!” John said, stomping away. The family had noticed he was spending more time with you recently even when you weren’t on the job and he was tired of the insinuations that there was anything more than friendship between you.
As he took a stroll outside the Garrison, he made a mental list of everyone he could possibly ask, but the only girls he could think of were whores. A few of the girls had serviced Tommy after the war so that definitely wouldn’t do. After careful deliberation, he hated to admit that you were looking like the best option after all. He just didn't know how to ask you, knowing you'd hold this over him for months.
————————————
Despite his predicament, there was work to be done. Tonight your brothers wanted you to report back on the Russian royals living in Hampton Court Palace and their jewels, an interesting task considering the orgy of epic proportions going on in the parlor.
John stole a glance at you from his position at the door, gun in hand in case a partygoer or member of staff should wander in unannounced. “Three minutes,” he reminded you of the time you had left before the guards would check the rooms again.
“Four! Get a watch that fucking works!” you hissed in return.
John tapped at the glass above the ticking hands, then held the time piece to his ear as you continued to pry at the case holding the jewelry Alfie instructed you to find. There would be no robbery tonight, only reconnaissance so you knew you had time for a bit of fun.
After taking a quick inventory of what was kept in the duchess’ bedroom, you took up one of the rings, admiring the biggest diamond you’d ever seen against your fingers in the dim light. “Look at this beauty,” you cooed at the gem.
“Stop playing dress up, Y/n! Do you want to get shot?” John warned you harshly as he moved away from his post.
“By the cossacks or you?” you asked cooly. Standing to your full height, you paced toward him so he could see the irritation in your eyes as you pushed his arm away from you carefully. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing! You know I don’t like it when you bring that one.”
“And what’s wrong with me Webley?” he asked, looking down at the gun.
“Jumps on the hammer, don’t it? Nearly shot your bollocks off last week,” you said at full volume.
“Stop talking so loud about my balls, alright?” Glancing down the hall, his eyes grew wide as he whispered, “Someone’s comin’” and began dragging you away from the door.
You tried to shake him off reasoning. “I been practicing my Russian accent. We’ll be fine. Let me do the talking,” you said, attempting to jerk your arm from his grasp.
John whipped you around to face him arguing, “What are you going to say? You brought me up here for a shag?” Looking at you doubtfully, he added, “No one here is going to believe you’re Russian.”
“Yeah? Well, no one’s going to believe I’d fuck a bellend like you either! Not for all the money in—” but John cut you off, shoving you out an open window. He came barreling out after you with a grunt, rolling toward you into the flower bushes.
Just as he did, two men went rushing past, unaware of your presence on the well-manicured lawn. You didn’t understand what they were saying, but the sounds echoing inside of their rough curses and heavy boots were enough to make you grateful you hadn’t attempted your plan.
————————————
As you drove home John stole a glance at you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “That’s two for me,” he commented.
“Two what?” you said, picking leaves from your hair.
“I’ve saved your life twice, alley cat. Three if you count the lie I’m going to have to tell to keep anyone from finding out you stole that ring tonight,” he chuckled, gesturing toward your left hand.
You gasped as you realized that in the chaos of your escape, you absconded with the jewel you’d been admiring earlier. “Fucking hell!” you exclaimed, trying to wiggle it free. However, it wouldn’t budge and John watched you claw at your hand helplessly as he shook with laughter.
“That’ll teach you to impersonate a bloody duchess!” he roared.
In desperation to remove the ring, you began sucking on your finger to use your saliva as a lubricant, but John quickly pulled your hand away.
“Stop it! You don’t know where that thing’s been,” he said, disgustedly. “You wouldn’t believe the things Tommy’s told me about what they do with their gems.”
“Like what?” you asked in a distracted, far off voice, too busy watching your finger turn from red to purple as you squeezed at the metal band painfully.
John snickered as he replied, “Tatiana said that’s been inside her aunt’s dusty old cunt!”
“Get it off me!” you cried, thrusting your hand in his face and slapping at his shoulders as though the ring was burning your skin.
The car swerved as John batted you away, scolding you in his deep fatherly voice he reserved for his errant children. “Behave yourself, Y/n. I’m fucking driving!”
You slumped back in your seat with a frown, feeling the gem snag your dress as you crossed your arms over your chest. Thinking of Alfie’s explicit instructions not to take anything from the house, you lit a cigarette and began to ponder a way to hide your accidental theft.
It wasn’t long before John’s taunts drew you from your sulking. “So what’s Russian pussy taste like, Y/n?”
Exhaling smoke in his direction you retorted, “Probably the same as the cock you had to suck to get in the front door, you fuck wit. Now help me figure out what I’m going to do about this!” you cried.
“I’ll sort this for you,” John said confidently, eyes trained on the road once more. He knew Tommy would do anything to keep Grace happy, even concealing this massive fuck up from Alfie.
“Yeah, how?” you challenged him, exhausted and definitely not in the mood for his scheming.
“Let’s go see Tommy,” he announced.
“Now?” you shrieked. John just nodded. “Is he even awake?”
“You’re asking the wrong questions, sweetheart,” John said with a smirk.
You rolled your eyes at him, letting your head drop back against the bench seat in frustration.
“So do you like weddings?” he asked nervously clutching at the steering wheel, though he had no reason to be. You’d have to say yes after a favor like this.
—————————————-
The light of the pre dawn hours had not yet breached the Shelby household when an ominous scratching noise woke Tommy and Polly. Giving up any hope he had of resting the day before his wedding, Tommy rose cautiously with his pistol in hand. Creeping toward the steps in the darkness, he held his breath as he heard the thud of a body tripping over the low windowsill.
“On your fucking feet before I put a bullet in your head,” he warned in a low growl. He readied his weapon, fearing the worst before seeing a lighter flicker to life before him and John’s face appear in an orange halo of light.
“For fucks sake, it’s me Tommy!” he called out, brushing off his jacket which was still coated in dirt and grass, a few leaves sticking out from his back pockets.
Tommy came forward to light a lamp and took in the sight of his younger brother helping you through the window, a large diamond ring shining brightly on your left hand. He blinked several times at the sight, rubbing his eyes to be sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“We need your help, brother,” John said cryptically.
Tommy stood still for a moment, running a hand down his face before exhaling a weary reply. “What have you two done now?”
--------------------------
Read next part Birthday Gift
#Peaky Blinders fanfic#Peaky Blinders imagine#John shelby#John Shelby x Solomons sister#John Shelby x you#john shelby x y/n#John Shelby x reader
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hi. so. I NEED MORE OF THAT TIKTOK AU
While I am writing this for me, to try and remind myself why I love writing, I also love that other people loved it too ❤️ I promised myself i wouldn’t answer this until I finished the next bit, so I have :) So thank you 😊
Wolfstar tiktok AU- Part Two (sorry if it’s unrealistic how often they go on “lives”. The next one will likely be them accidentally creating a couples trend).
Previous (Part One). Next (Part Three).
Oh and… this is 3k words. So i’m thinking of putting it on ao3. BUT ITS GOOD. I promise. Please read it (if it’s ur thing). They flirt embarrassingly and then Remus gets Sirius a super cute birthday gift!
Half their fan base are “Wolfstar” fans now. Thank James for sharing the ship name Marlene came up with a couple years ago. Luckily, Sirius is reassured that Remus has none and will not get any social media, due to his constant slander of it. So he’ll never find out about their fans.
But their platform is pretty great, it’s a community already and there’s almost no toxic people. Which is exactly why Sirius feels comfortable with this stream on his birthday. Him and James have been trying on skirts.
They’re on the final ones now. Pete’s in the background ranking them. James has on a kind of ugly red skirt, it passes his feet and has weird frills all over it. But Sirius likes his skirt. The most actually. It’s a pleated, green mini(ish) skirt, the type that goes perfectly with his leather jacket and boots.
He doesn’t have a super feminine build (except maybe his long hair- it’s all dumb stereotypes though) and he’s certainly not as thin as skirts are often designed for, so he was worried they wouldn’t suit or fit him. But James offered to do this, and he’s really enjoyed it.
And now Sirius is tempted to wear it to the mini birthday celebration Marlene’s organised for him tonight. Only there’s a slight problem, it’s a little cold outside and none of his shirts go with the skirt.
“Padfoot, you literally own everything, how do you not have anything that goes?” James cannot even say that right now, he’s wearing a football top over the skirt. Football tops can go with skirts, but definitely not that skirt.
“They do go. But it’s so cold and Marls planned a mostly outside thing. Usually i’d sacrifice my temperature for my style but it is my birthday. Shouldn’t I just get my perfect outfit?”
Pete warned him. He said that wearing the skirt outside wasn’t the best idea in November. But it hasn’t been too cold recently. Plus, it really looks good with his boots.
“Hey how about one of Moony’s jumpers you stole? They’re thin enough to fit under the jacket, would go with the skirt and would keep you warm. Plus you love them.” Sirius feels his cheeks warm a little. Trust Pete to simultaneously contribute a good idea and embarrass him. But regardless, he goes into his room and comes back out with two jumpers.
“I’ve only got red and orange? Neither go with green. I need like a- a brown one. So never mind.”
And as Sirius contemplates his outfit, the door opens.
“Sorry i’m late I had to pop back to my place to grab your gif-“ Sirius looks over when he hears Remus trail off.
“You alright Moons?” Remus is frozen in place, staring at Sirius like a deer in headlights. From their camera placement, the phone is recording only Sirius and James, with Pete popping up in the background. So Sirius steps out of frame to go towards Remus at the door. “Hey Moony.” James yells from behind him and it seems to snap Remus out of whatever caught his attention.
“Fuck, shit, sorry. Got erm- distracted. Hey, Happy Birthday Pads! I like- hah- the skirts. They suit you both. Well. I’ve got the drinks demanded by Marls and your gifts Padfoot.” It’s not even a compliment towards him and yet Sirius blushes.
“Yeah Remus is right, you’re really pulling of that long fucking red thing there James.” The compliment was probably just Remus trying to be nice. Petes right, James has pulled of many of the skirts so far but this is not the one.
“What the compliment, thanks Wormy.”
Full disclosure, they had to admit the background story of all their nicknames to the internet, lest their fans think they’re bullying Pete.
Sirius steps back into camera, with the whole living room behind him, placing the drinks to the side and grabbing his gifts. There’s two. A small box and a bigger, less obvious-shaped gift.
“So everyone, I haven’t seen Moony alllll day since he had class and tests without stopping and he had to revise. But, worry not, he did text me Happy Birthday between each class cause he knows I want attention. So, how’d they go Moons?”
Sirius is inspecting the bigger gift, it’s an odd shape, and vaguely squishy, perhaps clothes, and when he looks back up at Remus, he’s got a little blush on his cheeks and his neck, and Sirius (not for the first time) wonders how far down his body it runs.
“Oh we don’t- it doesn’t matter... Oh okay stop glaring at me. All three tests went okay. I was really happy with my essay one though. So yeah, not so bad.”
“Congrats Moony, knew you’d kill it. Since we’re sharing news, I got to cover for the missing chef today, above all the other interns, so...” He’s told James and Sirius already. But there’s something about telling Remus news that matters more (at least to Sirius).
“Holy shit Pete that’s awesome. I knew they loved you. Good job. Hey, let’s see the cake you made. We’re so lucky to have a cook, I swear i’d starve to death without you.” Pete smiles at Remus’ compliment like he doesn’t say the same sort of thing every time Remus eats Pete’s food. And they live together, so that’s very often. Remus is just always so genuine.
Pete lifts the lid of the cake box to show Remus, and they fall into a little conversation in the kitchen, just to the edge of the screen of their live.
“You gonna open his gift now or later Pads?”
But Sirius isn’t even listening. He’s got an idea.
“Hey Moony come over here.” Remus walks towards Sirius with a doubtful look on his face. He clearly knows the tone Sirius takes when he wants something.
Sirius places the gifts on the table beside him, he’s desperate to know what they are but it’ll have to wait.
“So... i’ve been trying to figure out what top can go with this skirt-“ There’s a joke about Remus topping him in there someone, and that’s obviously what James is thinking, “But nothing I own goes with it. I was going to wear one of your jumpers, but the ones i’ve got here are the wrong colour.”
Remus furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head as if to ask where this is going. It’s a bit far to go to Remus’ flat to steal his jumper. That’s not the plan though.
“And then in you walked, like the answer to my dreams,” Remus attempts to lean on the mini table behind him but it pushes backwards easily and he stumbles forward, sort of recovering. “And I realised the jumper you’re wearing right now matches absolutely perfectly with my skirt and my jacket.” Sirius takes a step towards Remus, and grabs onto the jumper ever so gently with his hand, and then looks a little up at Remus with what he hopes is a cute and not at all guilty smile.
“You-“ Remus chokes on his own words as he tries to speak, “You want the one i’m wearing righ- erm- right now?”
Sirius isn’t stupid, he knows Remus gets flustered sometimes when he’s a little flirty (Remus is gay, and Sirius is fucking hot, anyone with eyes would want to fuck him, so no James, it is not proof Remus loves him back). And he knows Remus never refuses anyone cause he’s so lovely. Especially not on their birthday.
“Come on Moons. It’s my birthday. Please.” Puppy dog eyes never fail. It’s funny actually, cause when anyone else sends Remus cute eyes in order to persuade him, like James, he usually just rolls his eyes and ignores them. But it always works when it’s Sirius.
Maybe he’s just really good at it. Pete always said Sirius was a dog in another life.
“Don’t you think I should wear the skirt? Or do I not actually look good?” For the record (he’ll be accused of this later by fans) he was not guilt tripping Remus. They both know he’s going to agree. Sirius just has to jump through a few hoops so Remus can feel like he has willpower. “Pads you- you look great.” Sirius raises an eyebrow. “You look hot okay. Really hot. But what- erm- what’ll I wear if you take my top?”
That was easy. And yes, he does look hot. Good of Remus to notice (James is shooting him the look, as he always does. It means “It’s reciprocated you idiot”. But Sirius still isn’t sure. That was just a compliment after all).
Sirius wraps one hand around Remus’ arm and keeps the other one buried in his jumper, and then tugs him. Remus trips over a little but follows behind.
“I’ll find you something.”
“Wait Padfoot- I just-“
“Oh come on,” Sirius spins back to meet Remus’ eyes, “You’re the one who said I should wear the skirt. You said I look hot. Hot enough to have earnt it?”
Remus coughs and turns red, again. He blushes so easily. But he tugs Sirius into his bedroom so they can trade.
That’s for sure a win.
And while they’re in there... let’s just say James makes plenty of innuendoes. And Pete laughs his head off.
“You are going to give me the jumper back... right Pads?” Remus walks out the room in his red jumper that Sirius stole a month ago, and Sirius in Remus’ brown jumper. To be fair, it does go with the skirt perfectly.
“Really Moony? It’s my birthday.”
“Yes and usually the rule is I pick you a gift, you don’t just steal one of my belongings. Which I have by the way, two actually. and you haven’t opened either.”
“I’ll give it back eventually Moony. But don’t I just look lovely in this? Or- do you not think I look lovely?”
Sirius reaches to where he left the gifts and picks them up. It’s got a card stuck to the front of the wrapping. He’s ignoring the slight insecurity in his voice. It’s never an easy thing to dress more feminine after being raised the way he was. But he loves fashion and makeup. And he believes it’s for everyone. So he won’t let his past prevent his future.
“You look-“ Remus grabs Sirius’ arm and turns him so they’re facing each other. It throws off Sirius’ balance a little and now he’s definitely close enough for all the fan edits to take advantage of. Plus he’s in Remus’ jumper. And it smells so much like him. He really must’ve been a dog in another life. “You look absolutely gorgeous Pads”.
He whispers it, like it’s a secret, and yet also like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Trust Moony to recognise the slight worry in his voice and go to extra effort to reassure him.
“Th-Thanks Moons.” Sirius never used to believe books or tv when they claimed the world fell away when they locked eyes with their soulmate. Frankly he never even believed in soulmates. But if soulmates aren’t real, what the bloody hell is Remus Lupin?
Because Sirius has never been more sure of anything in the world, than this. Than that he meets Remus in every universe and in every time and in every life and Remus ruins him. In a heartbreaking, life shattering, incredibly brilliant way.
Because when he meets Remus’ eyes, time becomes a simple construct, a useless concept unnecessary to his thoughts. And other people become 2D, folded flat and barely visible. Sound falls away and all he can hear is Remus’ words and his gentle breathing.
“Wanna open your gifts now Pads?” Remus’ hands are still ever so slightly on his hips, and his right hand has slipped just low enough that one of his fingers is resting on Sirius’ skin. It’s electric, and yet also calming. He’s buzzing and yet peaceful. And he still can’t look away.
Sirius is convinced he’s never once been the first one of the two to break eye contact. Because how the fuck could he ever look away from Remus’ eyes.
“Okay.” I’ll do anything you say. You don’t even have to ask.
Sirius stares into his eyes until he looks away, as always, not breaking eye contact first.
Then he carefully takes the card of the paper and opens it with his nail the way his mother trained him to do.
It’s got a tacky 21 on the front but when Sirius opens it, it’s got quite a bit written inside.
Dear Pads
Happy Birthday!
I know we don’t usually write much in these dumb cards, the gift and the day itself are the point right? But I thought maybe this time I should add something extra.
Your 21st birthday is important Pads. And not because you can now drink legally if you ever go to America.
Today marks 5 years since you were brave enough to leave home, sorry that’s probably not something you want me reminding you off. And yet here I am.
You pretend like today doesn’t hurt you. But I know you. So I know it does. And that’s okay.
You don’t listen to James or Reg when they tell you, so please listen to me, to this. You are brave Sirius. You are brave and you are sweet and you are tough. Tougher than me. And you’re so fucking smart.
You are the most incredible person i’ve ever had the luxury of knowing. And hey, i’m not saying this out loud okay? God knows your ego’s big enough ;) So just… believe this Sirius. Believe me. Please. I’d go through anything to know you. I’d do all the dumb shit i’ve done again and again as long as I knew i’d get to keep you.
This world is boring as shit half the time and too painful to live in the other half. And yet with you, it’s a fairytale.
I guess you’re just magic Pads.
So I hope you enjoy today. And the rest of your birthdays. And I hope I get the pleasure of being there for them all.
Love, Moony ❤️
“Jesus Moony-“ Sirius chokes on a slight cry. “Fucking sappy git.” He tugs Remus’ jumper and pulls him into a hug. Remus just chuckles.
“Open the fucking gifts Pads.” Sirius laughs.
“Damn alright Moony.” Looking back down at them, Sirius still isn’t sure what they’ll be.
Ripping open the paper to the bigger one (James bullies him if he uses his nail to gently open it like his parents used to make him) Sirius feels its clothing. And it’s black. He takes it out to find…
That fucking sneak. A few months ago Sirius wanted to order this old leather jacket, from a brand that went bust, but to get it he had to consistently outbid this random guy on ebay. He didn’t have the time. Remus offered to take over for him but Sirius refused, deciding (disappointed) that it wasn’t worth it.
But he must’ve done it anyway. Even when he was feeling sick. Just to win Sirius a fucking jacket he adored.
“This is the jacket I wanted.”
“Yeah.”
“That I couldn’t get cause I had to outbid someone all day.”
“Yeah.”
“That I told you not to try and get for me cause you were sick.”
“Yeah…”
He’s blushing. Well- they’re both blushing. Sirius is blushing because Remus fucking Lupin worked so hard to get him an amazing gift, and Remus is… well he’s probably blushing out of embarrassment. He hates it when people compliment him, which technically Sirius hasn’t done yet but the intention is there.
“Thank you.” He tries to sound as sincere as possible. He wants Remus to understand how much he appreciates him.
“Just open the other one.”
Sirius looks at the small box. He has no idea what could be in it (within reason, it’s obviously some sort of jewellery).
He unwraps it and opens the box.
And it’s his old rings.
The ones he left behind, at his house, when he ran away.
He’d gotten them at a one-time, random stand in London with Remus when he was 15. They were expensive but fucking good quality. He wished he’d remembered to grab them when he ran. He’d searched forever to find the people who ran the stand. And no rings since had felt the same.
“What the- Moons how the hell did you get these?” There’s silence for a moment before-
“What are they?” If he’s being totally honest, Sirius forget James was even there.
“Look-“ Sirius tips the box towards James, and he gasps, “That’s the rings you lost!”
Sirius looks back at Remus.
“I just- you bring them up sometimes. You got most things when you left, and Reg brought some things, but your parents bragged about burning them, and I can tell it bothers you that you lost them. Not that it was at all your fault. Anyway, I had a picture, of the inside of one. I’d sent it to Lily after you bought them. And I noticed the photo had an engraving on it, I zoomed in and it was the name of this company. I checked it out, turns out it was a little family company and they still had a little ring shop in Italy. So I had my friend Grant, he’s in Italy for uni, drop by the shop and look. Turns out they did all their work as custom designs but I had some photos of the rings on your hands, so I sent them to Grant and the people there recreated them. That’s why I stole a bunch of your rings 4 months back. To photo them with a coin, for measuring. So they’ll all fit on different fingers.”
Remus is staring at his feet the whole time as he speaks, as if Sirius is going get mad that he went to so much effort to get him the most thoughtful and lovely gift of all time. Fuck. Remus Lupin. How was Sirius ever supposed to not fall in love with him?
“I- I don’t know what to- thank you Remus. Thank you so, so much. Fuck, you’re so amazing, and sweet-“ And there’s the blushing from the compliments, “You are so fucking lovely and kind and thoughtful.” Sirius can think of anymore words so he pulls Remus in for yet another hug.
It lasts longer than it probably should.
“Erm- not to interrupt or anything- but we’re totally gonna be late and this is erm- is sort of still going.” Sirius turns around to James.
“What’s still going?” James blinks and then Sirius remembers.
“Oh the live thingy.” They’ve probably been half in shot the whole time. Remus doesn’t seem bothered, but Sirius is kinda pissed off. This is a moment for them, the internet doesn’t need to see it.
“There’s plenty of things they don’t see Pads. It’s okay. We still have our privacy.” Remus whispers in his ear. Fucking mind reader.
“Right. Well. We’d best turn it off so I can put these rings on and go to Marlene’s. Bye.”
Sirius shuts it off before James even gets the chance to say anything.
He turns to the others with a smile, “Text Marlene, tell her we’re about to leave, i’m just gonna put these on.” Sirius holds up the box and runs to his room.
All the rings fit perfectly.
Thanks for reading ✨❤️ (I hope you can’t tell I know nothing about jobs or chefs or fashion or university tests or clothes or rings)
#I didn’t mention it yet but remus is totally wearing a hair tie around his wrist for sirius all the time#imma try and include that soon#ugh i’m really rediscovering writing#I shall write what I love again#and what I love is dumb idiots who can’t communicate#dead gay wizards#marauders era#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#marauders#wolfstar#fanfics#i wrote a fic#i wrote a thing
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ahhh for the smut bingo 2.0 could you do hatefucking with Manon? also I love your blog and your writing so much
Remind Me
Manon Blackbeak x Reader
a/n: based on this bingo card
nsfw under the cut (18+ please)
“Just my fucking luck,” you muttered as Manon stepped out onto the balcony, the sounds of celebration and music audible from just inside the palace.
“Cope,” Manon said simply, leaning against the rail.
Despite the anger boiling in you at her presence, you stole a glance at her. Her creamy, soft skin. Her long, white hair hanging loosely down her back—
No.
“Don’t you have better things to do, than stand out here and bother me?” you questioned, now staring up at the moon.
Manon laughed, the sound low and bitter. “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking anything I do is related to you.”
You ignored her. Ignored her face. Her intoxicating smell. Her perfect body.
“Aww, did I strike a nerve?” she mocked, taking a couple steps toward you. “Poor y/n.”
“Fuck you,” you spat, glowering at her.
“Hmm…” Manon hummed, eyes boring into yours as she looked down at you. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You scowled, trying to brush off her tone of voice, and the way she sent heat pooling at your core.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to say it. I can smell you,” Manon declared, shrugging.
“Fuck you,” you said again.
Manon bared her teeth in a smile that held no warmth. “Can’t you come up with something different? Or are you just that stupid?”
You glared, face heating with anger. “I hate you.”
Manon didn’t flinch. Didn’t so much as blink. “Is that so?”
Before you could react, she flipped you around, your stomach harshly pressing into the balcony railing as she hiked your dress up over your hips. She dragged a finger through your slit, reveling in the mewl that fell from your lips.
“Can’t hate me that much, if you’re this wet,” Manon mused, teasing her finger at your entrance.
Someone could walk outside, see the two of you—
You bit down a moan as she slid her finger into you, pumping slowly.
“What? Dumb little slut can’t speak?” Manon teased, before adding a second finger. “Come on. Remind me how much you hate me.”
You stifled the moaning that threatened to rip from your throat, gripping the balcony so tightly your knuckles turned white. “I fuck—fucking hate you, Manon.”
Manon used her free hand to pull your hair, craning your neck as she whispered in your ear, “The way you’re squeezing my fingers tells me otherwise.” She curled her fingers against your sweet spot over and over, bringing her other hand to your clit, circling the nub quickly.
Your legs were shaking, whimpers falling from your lips as you neared your orgasm.
“I can feel you,” Manon whispered, increasing her pace. “Come for me.”
You cried out her name as your release barreled through you, her fingers still working you through the aftershocks. When she finally pulled away, she turned you around, readjusted your dress, and licked her fingers clean.
“Remind me again, how much you hate me?”
You didn’t reply, too stunned to speak.
Manon tutted. “Thought so.”
She went back inside without another word.
#throne of glass smut#throne of glass#tog#tog smut#manon blackbeak smut#manon blackbeak x reader#manon blackbeak#witchling#manon#fem reader
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Look at Us Now — Ch. 9
Fic masterlist
Look who’s back three days late! Thank y’all for your patience, I promise we’ll get back to our usual schedule this Thursday ❤️
I’m using @autumnbabylon’s prompt, and I’d also like to thank @renxzs for helping me with a few chapter titles (my translation was a huge mess)
Warnings: language, Fenrys (he’s on fire today)
Words: 5,7k (I’m never beating the irregular chapters allegations)
Rowan hovered the spoon with chili sauce over the freshly-cut mangos as he wondered if he should pour it or not. Maybe he could put the sauce in a separate container, in case she reconsiders.
One month and a half being in charge of Aelin’s food wasn’t enough to prepare him for some of her cravings. This morning, she texted him asking for hot chili sauce along with her mango, and an onion.
He was still hoping she requested the onion because Aedion’s house ran out of ingredients.
His phone pinged on the counter.
Aelin: where r u
Aelin: im abt to climb on a tree and pick some rose apples
Snorting, he thought about how she made Aedion do that last week. It was June, which meant the Rose Apple trees spread across their military housing complex were bearing fruit, its smell enticing pregnant women’s senses.
Rowan: I’ll be right there.
One quick look at the clock made him rush the lunch boxes into the huge thermal bags. Every day, he prepped several meals and snacks for Aelin to eat throughout the day. Rowan only let her run out of full lunch boxes once, and her reaction was enough so he’d never let that happen again.
Earlier today, Aelin texted him a very cryptic message telling him to meet her at another address, a short walk from his place. Before leaving his house, Rowan didn’t recognize the pair of fancy sneakers beside Fenrys’ at the front door. At least they were quiet last night. He couldn’t think about that right now, Aelin was waiting for him.
Despite his current unease, the sound of children playing at the playground in front of his house made him smile. It was usual for a Saturday morning, and Rowan never gave much thought to it until he realized one day he’d have a little one squealing there too. The reminder sent a soft smile to his lips, feeling the kind of warmth he knew wasn’t due to Doranelle’s sun burning his skin.
Which led him back to Fenrys. Rowan never minded his friend’s parade of one-night stands, but he couldn’t think of raising a kid in this kind of environment. He noticed Aelin’s car parked in front of a white, bare house. He’d have to figure out this thing about Fenrys later.
The front door was open. Rowan knocked on the door, hovering over the threshold until he heard Aelin’s voice telling him to come in. This house has the same layout as his, but it was completely bare. No lighting, no furniture, just the smell of dust.
He found Aelin in the kitchen. Standing on a ladder, its hinges squeaked while she changed a light bulb. Rowan’s heart almost jumped out of his throat as he rushed her way. Careful enough to not startle her, he picked her up by the hips and placed her on the floor, not caring about her squeal of protest.
Aelin rubbed the area below her belly. “You can’t press over a pregnant woman’s bladder. It’s rude.”
“What the fuck were you doing?” Rowan had both hands on her shoulders, his breathing still fast.
“Changing the light bulb.” Aelin took a step back and opened her arms, grinning. “Welcome to my new house.”
“Huh.” Rowan looked around, taking in… nothing. The house had nothing. “When do you plan to move in?”
“I just did.”
Rowan’s eyes widened. “You did not.”
Aelin took him by the hand and started showing her arrangements. “I stole Aedion’s cooler and one old microwave Uncle Orlon had.” She led him to the master bathroom and showed one mattress and a suitcase on the floor. “I’ll sleep here until my furniture arrives next week. I bought it all online.”
Horrified, Rowan slowly shook his head. “You’re not.”
“What?”
“Does Aedion know about this?”
She crossed her arms. “Why’s that important?”
“Aelin…” Rowan looked around, taking all the nothingness of the house in. “You’re not sleeping here. I can’t see one good reason for you to.”
She was glaring at him with a high chin, looking defiant from head to toe. Rowan had been doing everything he could to keep the easy friendship they built in the past weeks, but he couldn’t put his foot down on this.
“Well, it’s my house, and sleeping here won’t affect the baby, so you don’t get to say a word about it.” A pause. “Neither does Aedion, because if I look at him one more time, I swear to Mala, Rowan, I’m going to flip the fuck out.”
He flexed his jaw. “What did he do?”
“Everything!” Aelin flailed her arms around and started pacing around the room. “He’s so annoying! He making jokes about my cravings, and then he goes and steals a bite of my food, and then keeps suggesting ridiculous baby names.” She was finger-counting her cousin’s shenanigans, face reddening with each example of his teasing. “A few days ago, he said—“ Aelin stopped speaking to take a deep breath and look up, but her eyes were already wet. “He told me to name our daughter Wiggly Jiggly!” Her lips wobbled, and she looked away, hiding her teary face. “That’s such a horrible name.”
Oh, fuck. This wasn’t the first outburst of pregnancy hormones he witnessed, and Rowan was sure he’d never be ready for them.
He sat on the mattress and patted the spot beside him. “C’mere.”
Aelin obliged, laying down with her head on his lap, facing away from him. He just caressed her hair and let her be, knowing very well she didn’t like to cry in front of people, even if she couldn’t help it.
“For what it’s worth, I’d never let our daughter’s name be Wiggly Jiggly.”
She groaned. “You find this funny?”
“No,” he lied. It seemed to be all good-natured cousin teasing, but Rowan did a mental note to ask Aedion to tone down the name suggestions.
“Did I tell you he ate half of my mango yesterday?”
“That’s terrible.”
“He apologized when I started crying, but I haven't forgiven him yet. The apology mango he gave me wasn’t as juicy.”
Rowan snorted. “I have a very good mango supplier.”
She sniffed. “I know you do.”
Aelin’s puffy red nose was so adorable Rowan loved and hated it at the same time. He wanted to peck it with kisses because of how cute she looked, and then completely crush and destroy whatever threat made her cry.
“I have an idea.”
Aelin made a sound that was somewhere a hum and a purr. She was no better than a house cat when he ran his fingers through her hair like this.
“If you don’t want to live with Aedion anymore.” He trailed, pondering his words. “You can stay with me. Just until your house is ready,” Rowan quickly added the last part, before she could protest.
Aelin turned her body so she could lie facing him. Her eyes scanned his face, reading how much he meant it. “I don’t know…”
“I have a very comfortable guest room, but you can take mine if you want. Or my roommate’s, I can kick him out.” Aelin chuckled, eyes blissfully closed as he caressed her scalp. Rowan continued, “You can take a nap there, and when you wake up, we can discuss it over freshly baked cookies.”
Her lips morphed into a teasing smirk. “You’ve always been good at dirty talk, Ro.”
It should be illegal, the heat that flooded over Rowan’s body. Especially when they agreed their affair was over. Whenever he looked, scrambling his mind for a decent thought, his brain conjured the memory of Aelin’s flushed face and aroused looks.
He cleared his throat. “Is that a yes?”
“Let’s see how soft your bed is, Lieutenant.”
For Mala’s sake. Rowan let out a string of curses inside his head as he forced his gaze on the ceiling. She had to be doing this on purpose. Which reminded of the other menace he had to deal with.
Rowan: You have 3 minutes to get rid of your boy toy.
Fenrys: how do you know it’s a boy?
Rowan: The sneakers
He helped Aelin get up from the mattress, which was another reason she shouldn’t sleep here. It would kill her with back pain, considering her bump was bigger each day. He opened the chat again.
Rowan: Aelin may or may not spend the next few weeks in our place
Fenrys: nice
Fenrys: does it mean you’ll cook for me too?
Rowan: I already cook for you.
Fenrys: i know
Fenrys: but the pregnant lady stole my chef
When he rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone, Aelin was carefully studying him.
“I was letting Fenrys know you’re coming over.
“For the nap, right?”
He didn’t answer.
Aelin slowly shook her head. “I’m going to disturb your routine.”
Rowan squeezed her hand. “I don’t mind.”
“You’re being a big Buzzard right now, did you know that?”
Rowan tilted his head. “A what?”
Aelin tried to portray a serious look, but she was clamping her lips together, trying not to laugh. “A Buzzard. Because you’re hovering.”
After that, Rowan offered to drive her to his place, but Aelin refused, saying she was pregnant, not disabled. His only response was to chuckle and stay close to her during their short walk, in case she tripped or felt ill.
Rowan didn’t mind being called a Buzzard, as long as she didn’t mind that he acted like one.
˜˜
As much as Maisie deserved the best of the best on her birthday, Rowan felt like this outrageously expensive condensed milk was laughing at his face. He didn’t even pay for it, his parents did, but it was a matter of principles.
From the other side of the kitchen counter, Rory barely acknowledged her son’s distressed state. “Being cheap doesn’t look cute, Rowan.”
“Cheap?” His voice came out a pitch higher than he intended. “I’m not cheap, I just do a cost-benefit analysis before buying something, and it still ends up being expensive. But your groceries weren’t expensive, they were outrageous.”
Rory pointed a finger at her son. “Your job is to parent Maisie and teach her to be responsible.” She pointed at herself. “My job is to spoil her rotten, and that includes baking her overpriced cakes.”
“And giving overpriced gifts,” Rowan murmured to himself while organizing his shelf.
“You’re still bitter about that?”
Rowan looked at his mom dead in the eye. “You could’ve bought her a toy. You could’ve bought her a princess costume.” A dramatic pause. “You bought her an acoustic drum set.”
“It was your dad’s idea.” Rory beamed. “She’ll love it.”
“I will never know peace again.”
“Is Sellene coming tomorrow?” His mother asked, changing the subject.
Rowan resumed putting groceries away. “Just for Skull’s Bay on Saturday.”
After tomorrow morning’s surprise, Maisie had something with Aelin at Orlon’s, and on the weekend they’d go to the pirate-themed restaurant every kid in Doranelle City loved.
“It’ll be just us and Aelin, then?”
“Just us.”
“And Aelin?”
Rowan gave her a hard look, and his mother’s shoulders dropped.
“I thought things were better between the two of you.”
He ran a hand through his hair as if it’s take the frustration out of his mind. Yes, they were communicating better. It only erased one of the problems they had. And to be fair, it’s much easier to look Aelin in the face when she’s shooting daggers at him than when she’s smiling because of something their daughter did. It made him feel more at ease with his choices.
“We’re fighting less, yes, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“You’re not friends yet, that’s alright. But is the birthday yours or Maisie’s?”
“What do you mean?”
“Because you just told me you didn’t invite Aelin because she’s not your friend, but this is not your party. She’s Maisie’s mom, Rowan, it doesn’t matter if you’re friends or not.”
“Well, Aelin’s throwing another party in the evening and didn’t invite me either.”
Rory shrugged. “I don’t care about the guest list for her party. In my parties, Aelin will always be a guest.”
He raised both eyebrows. “Your party?”
It was Maisie’s party at Rowan’s house.
“I’m making the food, which means I have a say about who gets invited.”
It didn’t, but his mother was impossible to argue with.
“Fine. I’ll text her when I’m done here.”
Rowan didn’t even mind Aelin’s presence there, it was just how they operated since last year. But they were better, and maybe he should have more initiative. Rowan scrubbed the flour container clean a lot more than he needed, thinking about this over and over.
“You know how I feel about this, son.” his mother turned to him from the other side of the kitchen.
His shoulders went rigid. “I know, could you not—“
“You should’ve married her.”
Rowan spilled flour all over the counter while opening the sack.
It wasn’t the first time his mother expressed her feelings about this, but they got fewer and far between as time passed. Going from encouraging him to propose while Aelin was pregnant to… this.
“We’re seeing a therapist after years apart. Can you imagine the shitshow we’d be if we were actually together?”
His mom had to understand this. If Rowan had been telling this to himself so much he had the words memorized, it had to make sense.
She didn’t seem to, though. “Every couple has fights, Rowan. It just needs to balance out with how much sex—“
Grimacing, he felt his upper arms quiver. “Could you not?”
”Alright.” Rory sighed. “I’m just saying you chose to have just the bad end of the deal. Apart from Maisie, that is.”
Fed up with this conversation, Rowan felt his pulse faster each second. He identified the anger he was feeling and repeated to himself that he would not snap at his mother over and over as he slowly wiped his hands on a cloth.
“I know you mean well, but I don’t like it when you tell me what I should’ve done,” Rowan explained in a carefully controlled tone. At that point, he had all of Yrene’s pdfs memorized. “It makes me feel…”
“You can talk to me,” Rory insisted when silence stretched, lips pursed as she looked too concerned for his liking. “How does that make you feel?”
Resentful. Frustrated. Hurt. There was no point in admitting that, though. The worst part is that no matter how much Rowan forced his face to look neutral, his mother still read him like a book. He drew out a long breath. “I need to pick Maisie up from school.”
The kitchen couldn’t be more silent after that.
˜˜
Turns out shoving his feelings down his throat was just what Rowan needed to go on with his day. His phone pinged around an hour past Maisie’s bedtime, and he already knew who it was.
Aelin: she’s still up??
Rowan: She’s too excited
Rowan: The first party I’ll be throwing for myself, *if* she falls asleep.
Aelin: lol lmk when i can come
Since they planned two separate celebrations before inviting each other, Maisie was now having two parties on the same day with both parents.
A small smile made its way into Rowan’s lips as he watched Maisie babbling in her kitten pajamas about her birthday tomorrow. She barely noticed he was using his phone, and if his little girl even suspected what was happening soon, her chances of falling asleep would be ruined.
Rowan: You don’t need to, I’ve got this
Aelin: stop fussing
Aelin: and text me when she’s out
“…I also like my birthday because I don’t have to brush teeth.”
Rowan crossed his arms. “Who told you that?”
“Mommy!” Maisie’s voice was more high-pitched than normal, and she looked a little too eager for his response, wearing a maniac smile. His daughter was such a bad liar, and Rowan hoped that never changed. At least not before teen years. She tapped the side of her head. “I have it in my rememberys.”
Rowan felt the warmth in his chest and refused to correct this mispronunciation. They got rarer each year, and he was enjoying the remains of this phase before it stayed just in his rememberys.
“Come on, Mais.” He kissed her forehead. “The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner your birthday will be here.”
She didn’t only close her eyes, but squished her eyelids together as if it’d make her fall asleep faster. “Maybe I can turn 7 and not 5 when I wake up.”
Rowan snorted. “That’s not how birthdays work.”
“But I want to be older than Charlie!”
After a lot of wrangling and lavender sleep spray on her pillow and reading books about hippos and answering that no, tomorrow isn’t Mrs. Hippo’s birthday as well, Maisie’s tiredness finally overthrew her birthday euphoria.
Rowan: She’s asleep.
Aelin: k. i’ll be there in 5
As carefully as he could, he removed himself from Maisie’s strong hold and went to the guest bedroom.
Rowan knocked on the door, even if it was open. “Everything alright there? She’s asleep.”
His parents let out a collective sigh, as if they were the ones fighting Maisie’s frenzy with their lives.
“Finally!” Rory whisper-yelled while getting up from the bed. She tapped on Rowan’s shoulders at the threshold. ”Time to do some baking.”
As loud as his mother could be sometimes, at least she understood that this preparation needed to be as silent as possible. If his daughter wakes up and sees what they’re up to… for Mala’s sake, he doesn't even want to think about it.
Crouching, his dad dragged a huge suitcase from under the bed and opened to reveal the new bane of Rowan’s existence.
Maisie’s acoustic drum set.
Rowan’s eyes widened. “Buying her drums wasn’t enough, you got one kit so big it needed its own suitcase.”
His dad was smiling so much at that thing it showed off every crinkle around his eyes. ”Nothing more than what our Maisy Daisy deserves. And it’s pink!”
Rowan crossed his arms, feeling a little torn. As much as he hated the idea of leaving a very active kid with the loudest, messiest musical instrument of them all, it could be overwhelming when his parents and Maisie were together. Rory and Owen were the kind of doting grandparents Maisie deserves, and it warmed his heart to see how much his little girl was loved.
A notification from his phone snapped Rowan out of his thoughts.
Aelin: where r u??????
He frowned at his phone, confused.
Rowan: At home?
Aelin: GREAT. could you pls answer the front door????
Cursing under his breath, he quickly dismissed himself to get the door.
“Don’t worry about me, son! Sellene sent the link on how to assemble this.”
“Of course she did,” Rowan called over his shoulder from the hall.
Rowan’s heartbeat was a little quicker than he intended while fumbling with the door handle. He didn’t want to upset Aelin tonight, but
“Gods, Rowan, I was knocking for ages!”
“Sorry,” he apologized, but then frowned. “Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?”
Aelin crossed her arms. “And wake up Maisie?”
He grimaced. Their daughter didn’t wake up that easily, but he was actually glad she didn’t take the risk.
“Sorry.” He scratched the back of his head. “Mom’s cooking, Dad’s assembling her drums, I’ll do the decoration.”
She blinked, eyes widened. “I’m sorry, drums?”
“Yes.” Rowan mimicked playing with drumsticks with the dullest face possible, to portray how unhappy he was with it. “Drums.”
“Dear Mala, this—“ Aelin cackled into her palm, shoulders trembling as she tried not to be loud. “You are so fucked,” she wheezed.
He squinted his eyes at her amusement, arms crossed. “Are you done?”
Of course she’d find this funny. The drum set was too big to fit into Maisie’s backpack when Rowan dropped her off at Aelin’s house.
“Alright, alright.” She raised both hands in surrender. “I can’t cook, and I’m not a percussion girlie. What do we’ve got?”
She was carefully silent the whole time Rowan showed his decoration plans.
“You got…” Aelin wrinkled her nose. ”Orange, pink, red and green balloons?”
“Maisie likes those colors!”
“But this is a terrible palette!” She complained, waving a hand at the packs of balloons displayed on the table, but then something about his face made her stop. “As much as I appreciate your efforts, I…” from Aelin’s furrowed brows, Rowan knew she was trying to mentally fit her unkind words into Yrene’s Guide On How To Communicate With Kindness. “I’m not a fan of the color scheme you chose. I think we can do better for Maisie.”
“Alright.” Rowan’s posture relaxed. “I’m listening.”
Rowan still didn’t know how to feel about this new technique. They were always saying how much they acknowledged each other’s efforts and feelings and respectfully disagreed. Sometimes, it made his interactions with Aelin feel too robotic, unnatural. It gave him a weird hollow feeling to see the two of them like this, but it was for the best. They were doing the best they could for Maisie.
After some explanations Rowan didn’t pay much attention to, Aelin decided the pink and orange balloons went better with the number 5 rose gold balloon he bought, and it was settled.
She rubbed her hands together. “Where’s the balloon thingy?”
“The what?”
Aelin gestured with her hands, but he could only understand a small, squared shape. “That thing we use to fill the balloons.”
Rowan tilted his head. “Our lungs?”
“Boo! Boring!” Aelin protested, but she was smirking at him.
He sat on the couch with the pink pack of balloons and tossed the orange one at her. “Come on, I’d like to get more than three hours of sleep tonight.”
They fell into a comfortable silence after that, lungs too busy to speak, being interrupted only when Aelin groaned about the smell of food coming from the kitchen.
Her eyes were full of mischief. “Do you think your mom will let me take a bite?”
“Only after Maisie wakes up,” his mom warned from the kitchen’s threshold, pointing between the two of them with a dirty whisk. Then she aimed a soft grin at Aelin. “But I’m making those chocolate hazelnut cookies.”
She sagged back on the couch, eyes closed while wearing a small, blissful smile. “Your mom is the best.”
“Thanks, darlin’!” Rory called from the kitchen.
Aelin chuckled and turned to him. “Shall we get the tape?”
Rowan shook his head. “Nope, it’ll ruin the walls.”
“Really?” She had her arms crossed and brows raised. “Are you worried it’ll ruin Maisie’s drawings? Because it doesn’t look like you care about the paint.”
Completely ignoring Aelin’s taunt, he kneeled in front of her and tapped his shoulder. “Hop on.”
Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, but he didn’t miss the way the corner of her lip twitched. “This is terrible for your back.”
“You think I can’t take you?” Rowan wore a playful smile while watching Aelin’s blood rush into her cheeks. “Be careful, you’re about to bruise a man’s ego.”
Resigned, she carefully sat on his shoulders, cursing under her breath when he got up. When Aelin grabbed a fistful of his hair to support herself, Rowan’s body immediately tingled. It brought him back to another time when she’d yank his hair the same way, but he was quick to shrug it off. His memories were a menace.
“Okay…” holding Aelin’s legs, he kicked a balloon up and she caught it with the hand that wasn’t holding his hair. “Now rub it in my hair and put it on the ceiling.”
She was quiet for a second. “You want me to do what?”
He squeezed her calf for reassurance, since they couldn’t see each other’s faces. “I need you to make the balloon electrostatically charged enough to stick it to the ceiling.”
“And that’s better than tape?” He couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t sound happy.
“For Mala’s sake, Aelin, I’m an engineer! Just rub the damn thing in my hair.”
She kicked his torso with the heel of her foot. “Where are the manners Yrene taught you?”
“His mother too!” Rory called from the kitchen.
Rowan closed his eyes for a second, embracing his defeat. He was helpless when the women in his family ganged up on him. “Please.”
“Here we go.” Aelin did as he asked, and let out a squeal of delight when the balloon adhered to the ceiling. “It worked!”
“It had to. It’s a law of physics.”
She playfully kicked him again. “Killjoy.”
This was nice. The weight of Aelin on his shoulders didn’t even cause an itch, maybe because Rowan felt so much lighter right now he didn’t even notice the extra weight on his back. Just like he didn’t notice time running, only realizing how late it was when his parents went to the living room to say goodbye.
After they finished decorating the ceiling, Aelin started on the wall while he rested on the couch for a few minutes. As much as the orthopedist beside him disagreed, there’s no running from back pain after 30. In fact, at this point in his life, if Rowan didn’t wake up in some sort of physical pain, that’d probably mean he’s dead.
“What’re you doing?” He asked her as she grabbed the pack of green balloons, after they made a half-wall of pink flowers.
She filled a small one and placed it on the corner of one balloon flower. “A leaf! You wanted more green.”
That gave him a faint, very tired smile. Rowan barely remembered their disagreement earlier about which colors they were using, but apparently she did.
She sat on the couch next to him after adding a few more leaves to the flower wall. “I can help you with your old man's back pain if you keep teaching me cool Physics tricks. How about that?”
He snorted. “That’s basic high school Physics.”
Aelin rolled her eyes. “Of course you were the nerd.”
“And you weren’t?”
“Nope. Too cool for that.“ Aelin tried to conceal a distant look on her face as she reminisced, ”I was hot and depressed. Had bigger things going on than physics.”
Rowan stared at her, wide-eyed. “How did you get into med school without studying?”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m just that awesome.”
The TV’s remote control was right by her side, so Aelin turned it on Netflix. He didn’t feel like watching TV yet, though. Rowan didn’t miss the part about her being depressed during her teenage years, especially how she tried to laugh it off. The same way she downplayed her going to therapy weeks ago.
“So…” Rowan cleared his throat. “How are you now? With the… Yrene stuff.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “We’re doing better, right? At least that’s the impression I got from the last few weeks.”
Now that he was paying more attention, he realized Aelin sometimes talked about family while answering his questions about her. Rowan didn’t know if this was intentional, so he didn’t pressure her to correct her answer, but he didn’t like it either.
“I think so too.”
“And now that we don’t fight as much and I don’t spend half of my time being angry at you, I realized I have all this energy I can focus on something else.”
“Like what?”
He glanced at Aelin from the corner of his eye. She looked calm, relaxed. Maybe she didn’t lie to him about the reason she was seeing a therapist. Maybe Rowan was just being a worrywart and worrying about things he shouldn’t.
“I’m reading more, but sometimes I think about getting back into playing the piano too.” She paused, biting the inside of her cheek. “And sometimes I think maybe Maisie could use some siblings.”
“You’re pregnant?” Rowan blurted, completely ruining the mood they were in.
“What?” She jerked at the couch, staring at him. “Why would you think that?”
“You just brought babies up!”
Why in hell was Rowan’s heartbeat so fast?
“Gods, no.” She sighed, relaxing again. “I just get pensive around Maisie’s birthdays, that’s all.”
That definitely wasn’t all. Considering having more kids just because one turned five isn’t a thing. Rowan felt his chest burn and tighten. It felt wrong to have his family fixed just so she could finally grow another, but maybe not in Aelin’s head. Maybe he was naive to think just him and Maisie would be enough for her.
Sensing something was wrong with him, she pressed play on a half-watched show on his TV. Good. His eyelids were starting to drop, but he was a trained military man. He could survive under the hardest conditions, especially exhaustion.
˜˜
Rowan woke up with Fenrys Moonbeam slapping the side of his head. He was laying on the couch with his legs intertwined with Aelin’s, who apparently fell asleep with her head on the other end.
Turns out his friend crashed into his daughter’s birthday breakfast because he assumed there’d be food, but everyone just shrugged it off as Fenrys being Fenrys and went on with the party.
As predicted, Maisie was a little bubble of excitement. Rowan had no idea what kind of bribery his parents would do to take her to school after that, or why they insisted on doing it in the first place.
It was all nice and easy, but the second Fenrys got him alone in the car, the questions started.
“Did a bug bite your ass on that old couch?”
Rowan had his eyes narrowed at his friend. “What do you mean?”
“You’re too stiff for your daughter’s birthday. Spill.”
He grimaced, hoping Maisie didn’t notice that. There was one thing going on inside his head today, but Rowan decided to give Fenrys some other answer. “Did you see my parent’s present? I’ll never enjoy silence again.”
Fenrys clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he turned off the radio. “When Maisie pisses you off by being a little hellion, you do that thing where you’re making pissy faces while trying not to smile. Now you’re just full pissy.”
Rowan’s shoulders slumped, and she ignored the hollowness inside his chest as he recalled part of his conversation with Aelin last night. He was probably going to regret sharing this, but it was done now.
“She definitely wasn’t just thinking about it. She’s on the hunt.”
Rowan tilted his head. “The hunt?”
“Listen, man, Aelin’s different. The way she’s lighter when she talks, you can’t fake that shit.” Fenrys was counting on his fingers with one hand the same way they’d do on a mission, before becoming drill instructors. “She’s happier. Each year, her ovaries only get closer to the shrinking age or whatever. She’s on the hunt. She wants Mr. Right, and she wants him now.”
Rowan faked a bored look now that his friend could look at him during the red light. “Go on. Without the ovaries part, please.”
It was so frustrating how easily he engaged in Fenrys’ nonsense. But if he did, it must hold some truth, right?
“We need to avoid The Sam Mess from happening again.” Fenrys’ voice was so serious Rowan could barely believe it came out of his friend’s mouth.
He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a mess. She didn’t- green light!” Rowan winced when the car harshly took off. There was a reason he didn’t let Maisie drive with Uncle Fen. “Aelin didn’t tell me about him, probably to avoid said mess.”
“Nope, I’m talking about you. You were a mess.”
“What’s your point?” Rowan was definitely going to snap at Fenrys if he mentioned Lieutenant Cortland again.
“My point?” His friend raised his hand in surrender and Rowan gripped the steering wheel to save them from a car crash. Fenrys immediately got back to it, cursing. “My point is to save my best friend from endless heartbreak.”
“Not an endless heartbreak, that ship sailed years ago.” A pause. Fuck, he was too curious to shut Fenrys out now. “But what do you mean?”
“It’s a complicated plan with many, many steps.” His friend gave him a look as if daring Rowan to disagree or find it funny. “But when the time comes, you’ll need to be fucking someone hotter than her.”
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. Like it was an easy task.
Over the years, he had a few flings. Real flings, not the kind where people move in and have children together, since Aelin insists on labeling what they had like this. But these affairs happened sporadically, and Rowan never considered turning any of them into something serious.
Showing up with some arm candy out of the blue just to spite Aelin sounded petty and desperate. There was no way Fenrys was talking him into it.
His friend continued, “Being hotter than her next boyfriend works too, but that’s harder to control.”
“You know, I’m almost regretting telling you this.“
“You have an advantage over Aelin—“
“If you’re trying to suggest I’m near as good-looking or interesting as her—“
“Not that.” Fenrys gave him a quick apologetic look. “But you’re a dude. Dudes are like taxi drivers.”
Rowan rolled his eyes. “Not one of your theories again.”
“Not mine. Sex and the City’s.” Fenrys raised a finger without taking his hands off the steering wheel. “We see someone there who looks like they won’t kill us, and they hop in. That’s how dudes work. Have you ever put your love life on hold because you were hoping to get the right person?”
Rowan refused to answer this question. “This is so sexist I can barely believe it’s coming out of a queer person’s mouth.”
“It’s Sex and the City wisdom, man. Those four chicks just know things.”
“So, basically…” Rowan sighed, weighing the absurdity of it all. “You’re telling me that being a slut will make me feel better about Aelin looking for a new family.”
“That’s the quick fix, yes. You should really talk to Lorcan too, though.” Fenrys glanced at him, smirking like the devil. “But in the meanwhile, I can even help you with a Tinder profile.”
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lessons | michonne hawthorne x fem!reader
summary: your longtime crush Michonne decides to teach you how to correctly use her katana. you can’t help but get nervous whenever she’s close to you.
warnings: kinda suggestive? not sure but there’s a LOT of tension.
A/N: my first Michonne story! reminder that requests for her and everyone in my pinned are OPEN! just read rules before requesting 🫶🏻
the sun was blistering hot. summers in Alexandria had to be on your list of top ten least favorite things. sweat dripped down your face as you aimed your handgun at the makeshift target.
you closed one eye, keeping your hand steady as you tried to keep it on the the target. you shot the gun, watching the bullet go through the head of the target. you smiled proudly at yourself.
“practicing again?” a voice said from behind you. you automatically recognized that voice, how could you not? you turned around, eyes landing on Michonne.
Michonne, possibly the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met. the girl that completely stole your heart a year ago. she doesn’t know that though, and she shouldn’t. she can’t.
if it was possible, your face burned even more just at the sight of her. you looked down, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “yeah. just thought i could use a bit of it.”
she shook her head, “i don’t think you do. you’re really good with a gun.” the compliment almost made you weak the knees.
the effect Michonne had on you was embarrassing almost. no one was ever able make you feel the way Michonne did. it was a feeling you couldn’t describe.
you shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “but,” Michonne dragged out, a hint of mischief in her voice. “i could teach you how to use my sword.” she smiled.
“you’re joking.” you said. “that’s like- your prized possession. you’re really gonna let me use it?” you questioned, laughing.
“you’re an exception.” she said casually, pulling the sword off her back. she walked closer to you, grabbing your hand and taking you over to one of the targets. your hand burned under her touched and you prayed she wouldn’t notice.
“stand here.” she instructed, pointing to the ground. you stood where she pointed, looking at her for the next instruction. Michonne placed the sword in your hands as she stood behind you now.
she placed her hands on yours when you positioned the sword. your hands went stiff under her touch. her body was pressed right against yours, and the heat wasn’t making the situation any better.
“hold it like this.” she said softly, controlling your hands to put it in the correct position. you found yourself breathing slightly harder than before. your heart was racing.
once it was in the correct position, she spoke again. “swing,” you swung the sword across the target, the wooden head slicing off with ease. you smiled in disbelief and turned back to her, she mirrored your smile. “you did it!” she exclaimed. “and you did so good,”
your throat felt tight. why the hell was she doing this to you?
“one more time.” she said, clapping her hands lightly. she stood behind you once more, helping you reposition the sword. “stand like this,” she mumbled, placing her hands on your waist. you inhaled sharply at the contact.
Michonne stopped her movements. she peered her head over your shoulder, “you’re nervous.” she commented. you looked down, avoiding her eyes.
she moved from her spot behind her, now standing in front of you so you couldn’t avoid her. “why are you nervous?” she questioned you.
you looked up at her but didn’t respond. your words hesitated, your mouth opening but no words coming out.
one glance at her lips gave it all away, but you couldn’t help yourself. she took another step closer to you. “because of you.” you whispered with the small amount of boldness you had.
she didn’t say anything. for a moment, you were sure you fucked up by saying that. the thought was pushed away when Michonne suddenly captured your lips in hers.
the katana fell out of your hands as they wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer to you. the heat was no longer a problem, all you could focus on was the way her lips felt on yours.
she pulled away first, but she still kept a grip on your waist to hold you against her. you smiled, “can you teach me again?”
#michonne hawthorne#michonne#michonne twd#michonne hawthorne x reader#michonne x reader#michonne x fem!reader#michonne hawthorne x fem!reader#twd x reader#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead
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