#OUT HERE COMING FOR MY THROAT AND SANITY
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☆ MY PRETTY DOLL ! ( enhypen hyung line reaction to you in a lingerie )
╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾.
𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen losing their sanity 𖥔 ݁ SMUT MDNI, requested fem!reader LIB? word count ` 1074 PLS REBLOG!!
𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚
"my pretty little slut, you did this on purpose didn't you?" heeseung's fingers thrust in and out of you at an animalistic pace. the wet sounds echoing in the room, adding onto the arousal of watching yourself on the mirror. your back rests against his chest as he holds your legs apart with his own. one hand fingering the fuck out of you and the other grip your throat to force you to keep your eyes at the vulgar image infront.
"falling asleep on my bed with this on, baby you're so dirty and desperate," he grunts at the lewd sight, mentally drooling over the scene of you trying to push your hips forward to meet his fingers when he slows down a bit.
heeseung swears he almost stopped breathing when he came across you passed out on top of his covers, dressed in the prettiest lingerie. more like pretty you making the lingerie look so pretty. the thought of you waiting in his room like that to give him a surprise fueling his inner sex demons. feeling more turned on than ever. grinning sheepishly over his intentions.
"come on now, ride me baby," his arms hook around you as he manhandles you onto his lap. carressing your trembling thighs and slapping your pussy. he rests his palms on the bed, watching you struggle to put his cock inside after all the edging he put you through. cooing at your whiney protests to let you cum, cute and pathetic and hot. so cruel but you loved it and he knew you loved it.
𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚
"fuck baby, i can see your pussy from here," jay groans, feeling his dick twitch hard in his pants. the sleep lolling him from the previous night he spent gaming, immediately vanishing. he is so wide awake right now, orbs bulging out at the sight of you twirling in the middle of his room, showing off the lingerie you just got, for him.
it barely covers your ass, and it barely— wrong it does not cover your pussy at all, he can see it so clearly he thinks he'll grow crazy. frozen in his seat, gulping at every thought that comes to his mind, things he'd do to you right now.
"is it pretty?" you ask, looking at him with doe eyes, he feels he'll bust a nut right then and there. his cock throbbing with anticipation as he gets up from the chair, walking over to where you stand. calloused hands gently brush against everywhere, taking his time to admire your look, trying to imprint the image of it in his brain. "jayyy, do i look pretty? do you like thi—"
"yes baby, so so pretty. so fucking pretty," he's immediately grabbing you by the waist and throwing you on the bed. impatient all of a sudden as he rips the pathetic thread of a panty and shoving down his pants, thrusts his impossibly hard dick so rough into you, it's like he lost control. you drive him batshit crazy and jay doesn't know if it's good or worse that you fucking know it and use it to get what you want.
𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡
"give me a little show, princess," jake's hands twitch with desperation, so restless to touch you. though the need to savour the sight of you in that racy lingerie is strong he can't help but be seated, tense and aroused, eyes locked on your figure.
"shit, you're beautiful," the way the lace hugs your skin with the little sneak peaks of skin showing him exactly what he wants to see but not entirely what he wants to see and it makes him feel feral.
"won't you touch me?" you whine sultrily, and jake feels like a hybrid in rut, his body heating up beyond sane, dick throbbing every other second, feeling hyper aware of his surroundings and possibilities of all that he could do to and with you. he pulls you against him lips landing on yours in an instant, the messiest kiss you have ever shared, rushed and gasping for breath. there's just so much he wants to do right now he can't seem to decide what to start with, malfunctioning poorly.
"fuck, jake," yet he finds it in him to begin with rubbing you over your pretty panties, quick circles with his fingers pressing hard against your sensitive folds,"yes baby, gonna make you feel so good," he pushes you to lay on the edge of the bed before forcing your legs far apart in a snap. getting on his knees and leaving fluttering kisses on you inner thighs. shoving your panties aside and diving in to eat you out at once. from kitten licks to lapping at your slick, from tiny kisses for a tease to lips harshly sucking at your engorged clit. jake was absolutely crazed.
𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡
"sunghoon! what are you doing!" you squeal, squirming in place as sunghoon suddenly grabs you from the corridor into his dark room, and cornering you against his desk roughly pulls your oversized shirt(his shirt) up. door slightly ajar, an open chance for anyone to peak in.
"couldn't help but wonder if you're still wearing it," he whispers, hands fondling your breasts harsh and sloppy over the lace material. just an hour earlier, while he was out with jay you sent him a picture of you dressed in the most gorgeous set of lingerie ever. looking so innocently sexy he felt his breath knocked right out of him, dick hard and leaking in the middle of the mall.
"mhp— they'll h-hear us," but that is least of sunghoon's concern right now, they have heard him fuck you before, multiple times. all he cares about is that you're here, putty in his arms, adorning the hottest thing you have ever worn, fabric barely covering your intimate parts. just touching you like this makes him feel so high on cloud nine, the rush of pleasure in your little whimpers and moans trying to be quiet. nothing is more important than this.
"let them hear, fuck you're so damn pretty i'll cum just from this," his breath is ragged, fast and shuttering as he watches your face contort into the prettiest of expressions while his hand stuffed in your panties, plays with your pussy. fingers switching between flicking and pinching at the little bud and plunging into your slicked hole in slow thrusts.
taglist ( open. ) @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle
#enhypen smut#k-labels#THIS TURNED OUT SURPRISINGLY HOT????#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen reactions#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen heeseung smut#enhypen jay smut#enhypen jake smut#enhypen sunghoon smut#enhypen heeseung imagines#enhypen jay imagines#enhypen jake imagines#enhypen sunghoon imagines
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Aphrodesiacs Pt.2
Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader
You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?
y’all are wild. my wish is your command. i HAVE to make a part 3 now fr.
this is so NSFW and i’m too lazy to do any warnings, just 18+ (i’m being so serious deadass)
The way you said “I don’t care” made Miguel’s chest cave into his insides, he shuddered, gaping at you with a blank and indiscernable look that seemed akin to that of a deer in headlights. You didn’t know what you were talking about. You didn’t know what you were asking from him. He was being coaxed into paradise, lured away from any sort of reason. He stared at you vacantly, eyes wide and wild.
You could see that he was having a prolonged and probably bloody war in his mind over a decision that could effect so many different aspects of your lives. Miguel was a reliable man with many people he had to be worrying about and controlling, he shouldn’t be able to give in like this.
But you made it very clear: you simply didn’t care.
He tried so hard though, to not give in. To put morality in front of his desires that were barking at him like a pack of dogs filled to the brim with rabies. Miguel’s talons ripped through his fingers and his eyes quickly flicked to the sudden emergence, he couldn’t control the way his body was reacting. Your demeanour changed and it was like a switch flipped in your face, instead of blinking up at him like a small dog that had been kicked, your eyes squinted. You flashed him a come-hither look, tilting your chin alongside that meddling sly smile. Inviting him. Challenging him.
Miguel furrowed his eyebrow and you scoffed, taking a few confident strides backwards, your hands fluffing up your hair. He swallowed, a little puzzled at what you were about to do but insatiably curious nontheless. You bit your lip and giggled.
“Come on Miguel…I’m right here…Waiting….Looking like this…” You said completely bemused, teasing him out of any semblance of sanity he had left. Your hands toyed with the zipper or your suit before you yanked it down and slithered out of the constricting material. You were bare and naked in front of him, part of him wanted to rub his bare fists to his eyes. Your body wasn’t even inviting him at this point, it was begging him. The back of your thighs met with the cool glass of his desk, you perched yourself up on it, leaning back on your hands, showing off your assets under your clothing. He groaned at the sight of your tits. Jesus, more than a fucking handful, well, for any other man anyway. Miguel was always a different beast entirely.
“You know you want it. Don’t make me wait for it. We both know you’re not capable of it.” You purred, completely happy with yourself. You shimmied out of your underwear and you spread your legs wider, revealing just how wet and just how aroused you were. “Come on….This was designed to happen. Did you really think you could avoid this for any longer?” You raised an eyebrow. “Is it that easy of you to think of me like this? I know how bad you want to cum all over me and I might even let you.” You bore your fangs and that was it for him.
Miguel’s eyes shot open and gleamed a blood red, crescents forming in his eyes as he glared at you. He really couldn’t stop himself. He tried to hard but it all proved to be pointless. He felt like a man broken down, but all he could be right now was full of lust and rage. Miguel lunged at you, one taloned hand wrapping around your neck and the other spreading your legs wider as he settled between them. He then reached down on the floor to grab your underwear. He pushed you down harshly on his desk, looming over you and then stuffed those barely there panties down your throat.
“I’ll fuck you how I see fit, we clear?” He grunted like a wild animal and you nodded your head, eyes wide and guileless, a little taken aback. He was being unkind and he liked it. He revelled in it.
“Mmmphh…” You struggled out against the fabric that was lodged down your throat.
“I’m going to breed you until you can’t stand up.” He snarled, his breath strained and heavy and he felt your legs tremble as he-
“Miguel? Are you even listening?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face, he was more focused on his zoning out than he was on you and it just made you even more irate. “Hey! Listen to me.” You smacked him across the face and he felt a sharp jolt of pain that teathered him back to reality.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He gritted through clenched teeth, completely and utterly furious that you slapped him and that you pulled him away from his alarmingly lifelike fantasy.
“I’m going to fix this, one way or the other with or without you.” You scowled at him before you walked off in the other direction and out of his eyeline
Miguel was stunned, he lost himself so quickly it was like a compelling force lulled him, his thoughts were becoming more and more realistic, preying on his weakness. He had to fist his hands to make sure he could still feel physical brute pain again, his fangs and talons suddenly emerged and he was losing every possible sense of sanity and good will that was being held hostage inside of him. He was darkened and ashen. He was becoming more and more cruel and unfeeling with every single thought of you.
-
Miguel threw his pillow to the wall in a frenzy, the sheer force of the throw made a crack form on the wall. It was 4 in the morning and he was desperate for some sleep, some peace from these desires and urges to do something normal: like fucking sleep. The side of his head was hanging off the edge of his bed and a frown settled upon his face. You were right. This was not manageable.
Everytime he closed his eyes, he felt you ontop of him, bouncing and creaming on his cock, riding him. He wanted to feel your skin, pull you up and down on him and feel you throw your head back at how big he was as you struggled to even make him fit in and out. Miguel groaned and raked a hand over his face to muffle it, his fangs were dripping venom and his dick was threatening to snap in half. He could fuck his fist and satiate whatever was in him when he wasn’t banging another random girl, but he still felt guility over it. At this point there was nothing else he could do.
Miguel’s hand travelled lower and lower until he reached his rock hard dick. Fucking hell, he felt like a teenager thinking about a naked woman for the first time. He sighed heavily as he let his mind wander.
“You’re all I think about.” You’d whisper in his ear as you grinded on him. “God, you’re all I think about.” You’d whimper. “Too much- Miguel…too much.” You’d drawl, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he felt you tighten and tense up already. “Too big.” He’d make it fit, make you take it, make you cry.
Miguel whispered profanities as his fist pumped faster and faster, his imagination running wild with him. His breathing became more shallow and ragged as he felt himself getting closer. Before he knew it, he came all over his fingers. Fuck. If he came this fast just thinking about you, he winced at the idea of cumming even faster when he was actually in you. No. He pushed the thought away. He wouldn’t let that happen. He shouldn’t.
You on the other hand didn’t feel guilty at all. You fucked yourself with your fingers furiously, trying to fill in for something that another man couldn’t fix, that your own fingers couldn’t fix- but you had to live in delusion and pretend that it helped to some degree. It didn’t at all. You arched your back, feeling nothing bur frustration and heat as only Miguel clouded your mind.
“I’m never going to be finished with you.” He’d promise, eyes wild and glassy. “I’ll pound you until you’re begging for my cum. I’ll make you fucking guzzle it.” He’d stick his fingers down your throar, teasing you with his talons and then plunge his fingers into your sopping pussy. “I’ll make it hurt even more when you’re on your knees.” He’d lick his fangs as he’d watch your body shake and tremble beneath him, laughing at you.
A moan ripped out of your throat as you finished. Nothing changed though. Nothing changed. You weren’t satisfied. You seriously wanted to cry, you were in heat and using other people, using your fingers seemed to make everything worse.
-
AHAHA i felt like i lowkey just blue ballsed you all again LOL
taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows
#spiderman 2099#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara angst#miguel o’hara smut#atsv miguel#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara fluff#miguel o’hara x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara
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Exes who…
Synopsis. Showing up to a party looking like that. What's a man to do when he just can't stay away?
Pairing. Multiple x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, desperate boys, unprotected sex, NSFW, cunnilingus, pet names (my girl, babe), swearing.
Word count. 1.0k
A/N. This was supposed to be shorter, sorry lovelies. Art by @_3aem on Twitter.
Exes who know they should stay away, but one whiff of your perfume at some dingy party and he’s dragging you to the nearest bathroom.
He’s pathetic, he knows, but right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck as he spreads you on that bathroom counter and dives face-first into your dripping cunt.
Greedily lapping at your juices, the taste of your pussy on his tongue was so addictive. Fuck, he missed this so much.
He feels feral. Groaning lowly at the tug of your hand on his hair which hurts so good. He flicks his tongue harshly over your throbbing clit. More. He needs more.
“Hah- Fuck- Feels so good!”
“Yeah, jus’ like that, my girl.”
Making out with your pussy was almost as addictive as fucking you. You were a drug he couldn’t let up - he couldn’t get enough of.
Nose-deep in your cunt, he tastes you over and over the way he imagined when he fucked his fist on those lonely nights.
Fingers digging into your thighs, he moves your legs so that they wrap around his head, bringing him impossibly closer to your hot core. He breathes over it - teasing - mouth watering at the sight of it getting wetter just for him.
He’s pretty sure your sinful moans and the squelching sounds could be heard above the overplayed pop on the other side of the door. Good, let them hear. It’ll teach that scrub outside that was eyeing you a thing or two about what he can’t have.
“Hngh- Baby, I’m gonna-”
Once you cum around his tongue, hips bucking wildly and clit catching on his nose as you ride his face, he thinks he’d be happy to die here if it was in-between your legs.
A final peck to your quivering cunt - not a goodbye, no, he’ll be seeing this pretty pussy again - but a prelude for what was to come.
Amidst heated kisses, he lets you taste yourself on his tongue as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. Fucking trousers - they come with too many fucking buttons. He wants to feel you now. Have your wet cunt pulsing around his painfully hard cock as he gets drunk off of your pretty moans.
So he does.
He only has his flushed tip kissing your folds, but already feels like he’ll fucking pass out. He teases your entrance - willing himself to wait like he did all these past few months. This won’t be the last time - he knows - but he sure as hell is going to treat it like it is.
“Tell me what you want, my sweet girl.” he huffs out, eyes boring into your dazed ones. Beautiful. You were always so beautiful.
“Please. I need you in me so bad.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Please, baby.”
Your lustful whimpers are what makes him snap. You were going to be the death of him.
Fully sheathing himself in you, he fucks your pussy with a merciless cadence that has your nails digging into his shoulder at how painfully good you were stretched. Tight. So tight.
He feels himself losing his sanity as your cunt struggles to adjust to his size, walls clenching down on his throbbing erection. It’s animalistic - the way your pussy tries to suck him back in when he pulls out fully, only to ram inside you again.
“Shit- Pussy made jus’ for me. Only me.” he moans.
One strong arm steadying himself on the counter, and the other with an almost-painful grip on your hip, he keeps up a pace that has his abs burning. Heavy balls stinging as they smack relentlessly against your ass.
He bites down on your exposed neck to muffle the strangled groans ripping from his throat at the ethereal feel of your snug cunt - he needs to better drink in your fucked out yelps at his harsh thrusts.
His dick twitches inside when you start whining out his name as you reach closer and closer to your climax. He could do this forever. You were heaven on Earth.
In his hazy mind, he distinctly registers the jingle of the doorknob. Annoying fuckers can’t take a hint.
“Fuck off.” he barks out, “I’m fuckin’ my future wife in here.”
His heart clenches as you push your face into the crook of his neck in embarrassment. Pulling you closer to him in response - strings of slick and precum connecting you to him - he hopes whoever’s there up above strikes him down if he doesn’t wife you up.
Ah…he’s so close.
There isn’t even a hair’s breadth between your two bodies as he fucks into you mindlessly, not even a trace of thought for the poor soul on the other side of the door. He’s got more important things to do - you.
“Baby- Shit. I’m so close.” your exhausted mewls are music to his ears. His balls tighten and cock aches for release.
Teeth clenched and brows furrowed at how your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly, he grits out “Me too, my girl. Me too.”
Your legs tighten around his toned waist as your cunt clamps down on his thick length - sending both of you over the edge.
He sees stars as he cums. Thick ropes painting your walls white and shaky whimpers of your name leaving his mouth like a prayer. You really were heaven on Earth.
Cum drips down the side when he slows down to shallow grinds of his hips, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into you. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he pulls his sensitive cock out of you.
With a long finger, he gathers the cum now slowly dripping out of you. Pooling it at his fingertips before popping them into his mouth, half-lidded eyes looking right into your fucked out ones. He moans around them as if tasting a delicacy, elated at the way your mouth drops in disbelief at his lewd act.
He feels barely lucid as he snaps your panties back on you with a devilish grin and tucks himself back into his trousers.
Unlocking the door to pointed looks he couldn’t care less about, he can’t keep his eyes off the alluring curve of your hips as you walk away back to the party - pretending like his cum isn’t making a mess of your panties right now.
Dick twitching to life again, he pulls out his phone - unblocking you once more.
– GOJO, Choso, Geto, Suna, ATSUMU, KUROO, Oikawa, Sakusa, JEAN, EREN
A/N. …Gimme a min I’m cooking up something for Suguru…
Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#choso x reader#geto x reader#suna x reader#atsumu x reader#kuroo x reader#oikawa x reader#sakusa x reader#eren x reader#gojo smut#choso smut#geto smut#jean kirstein smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#aot x reader#aot smut#tonywrites#sakusa smut#oikawa smut#kuroo smut#atsumu smut#suna smut#jean kirsten x reader#eren smut
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Return the Favor - JJK (18+)
Pairing: Jungkook X Fem!Reader
Theme: PWP, SMUT, established relationship au, tiny fluff
Wordcount: 0.7k+
Summary: You return Jungkook's favor for fucking you so good.
Warnings: explicit description, nudity, blow job, deep throating, balls fondling, cum eating, mentions of morning boner. NSFW!!
Minors are not allowed in this blog!!
A/N: Could not get this picture out of my head ever since GCF Budapest has dropped. So, here is the byproduct.
Could be read as a standalone, as well as a follow up of Seven Days a week couple.
Morning boners are irritating.
They don’t let Jungkook sleep peacefully, nor do they calm down while he palms them reluctantly. For the love of god, he can’t always wake you up like the needy, horny boyfriend he is. But it would be so pleasing to have you sucking on his cock right now. Ugh- only if he could.
Jungkook palms his cock twice - thrice - a fourth time before your slender fingers wrap around his bulge through the fabric of his boxers.
“Hey” you call out sweetly “need some help?” Your groggy morning voice sounds so good, so needy, so sexy exactly the way you look in your thin sleeping gown.
Jungkook turns his head towards you and nods sheepishly.
You smile.
“Why didn’t you wake me up then?” You question, already settling on your elbows to get up.
“Thought you might be sore from the last few days. We are having a sex marathon.” he smirks, as if to punctuate the sentence.
You chuckle as you slowly take off the covers of Jungkook’s body. Your eyes dip down to his prominent bulge, you palm it once.
“My pussy is sore.. Not my throat.” and then you are releasing his length from the confinement of his Calvin Klein, spitting on your other palm and using the lubrication to pump his length.
Jungkook shudders with the senssesion. He must be very lucky to wake up to his beautiful girlfriend giving him a head.
His eyes start closing with pleasure when he feels the hot wet muscle of your tongue circling around his tip. You kiss the tip once and then run the tip of your tongue through his slit.
Jungkook forces his eyes to stay open, focusing on the way your head is dipping further down his hard cock. The thin straps of your nightgown have started giving up as you set yourself on motion. You tits start spilling out from every possible space the gown has provided.
You shove his dick further down your throat before coming back up and licking the tip. You repeat the action again.
Jungkook sighs. He tries hard to keep himself sane but you… you snatch his sanity away in the most nasty ways.
“T-Take off the gown please.” he whispers briefly, trying not to choke on his saliva because you have started deep throating him already, bobbing your head in a rhythm.
You don’t say anything but you halt your movements for a moment to slip off your gown. You are only wearing your panties now.
Before Jungkook can register your naked form in his mind.. You are taking him in your mouth again. This time you grab his balls and start fondling those as well.
“Fuck baby. You- you are so good at this.” A quiet appreciation leaves Jungkook’s throat.
You saliva rolls down his length as you keep deep throating him like it’s the last meal of your life. Jungkook’s eyes roll back in pleasure. When he looks at you again, he finds you staring at him with hooded eyes while your pretty lips are wrapped around his veiny cock.
He might explode at this rate.
“Gonna c-come” he warns softly but you don’t budge. You keep fondling his balls and bobbing your head to pull out the best ever orgasm out of his body.
So he does. He comes. He comes so hard that you can’t contain all of it in your mouth. His white hot seed spills out of your lips, runs down your throat and flows down the path of your cleavage. Some land on the swell of your breasts as well.
“Holy cow! That was so good, baby.” Jungkook murmurs, coming down from his high. He pulls you towards his chest. He uses his thumb to wipe the remnants of his release from your lips. Jungkook is a little dizzy, a little breathless but he could make out the smile on your lips regardless.
“Don’t overthink before waking me up next time.” You reply, placing a wet kiss on his lips as you cover both of you two with the covers again.
Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie
#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#bts fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#bts jungkook#bts
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While you were both dancing around... whatever kind of relationship you have, you had become intimately familiar with the fact that Wriothesley loved to call you terms of endearment. From anyone else, you'd gag and cringe at the cheesiness of the pet names, but somehow Wriothesley just made them work. Even some of the most cliche ones ever— My Heart. Love. Amour.
You had just been getting used to it, had just been getting used to fighting down the unbidden curl of your lips whenever he calls you by these names, when he decided to change things up a little.
"Hey, mon cœur, come take a look at this for a sec," Wriothesley says easily, barely even looking up from the newspaper in his hand. You, however, stop in your tracks.
Mon cœur. My love. Mine.
You're not entirely sure when Wriothesley started adding 'my' to the beginning of each of his cheesy little pet names, but you can't deny that every time you hear it, it sends you into a flustered little tizzy. You try to beat back the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach, try to fight down the heat that finds itself at your neck and the tips of your ears. Goodness, you have to will yourself not to hide your face in your hands, if only because that would make your predicament that much more obvious to him.
You nearly jump out of your skin when the very object of your embarrassment stands before you, his hand light on your shoulder. His brows are furrowed in concern, the back of his hand already raised to your forehead in a soft touch as if to check for a fever.
"Are you alright?" he asks, other arm holding you steady. You need the support, but not for the reasons he might think.
“Yeah— yeah,” you say, trying to shake yourself out of it. Trying to banish the thought of him calling you my love for the sake of your own sanity. “Yeah, I’m fine, no need to worry.”
“You sure? You’ve been kind of out of it recently.”
You gulp, gaze unsubtly trying to drift away. For a second you debate between being honest and merely shelving the topic for another time, but... something about his concern makes you want to dissuade his worries, even at the cost of your own pride.
Painstakingly, you try to clear your throat. “Yeah, I just…the… the pet names, they…”
Wriothesley raises a brow, blinking for just a second before a smug, pleased little grin finds its way onto his lips. “Oh? You mean, the little additions I added to them?” And when you only nod once, unable to look him in the eye despite how physically close you both are, his grin widens.
For the sake of your dignity, your racing heart and the steady heat crawling up your face, you wish that he’d give the teasing a break, but instead Wriothesley comes closer half a step, wraps both arms around you and leans down close enough that you can see the way the blue in his eyes shifts with the light.
“Does it get you all flustered when I call you mine, mon cœur?” He practically purrs, just to prove a point. It makes you swallow heavily, makes you want to smack him out of sheer embarrassment.
You do, in fact, try to slap him on the chest but he just laughs like it was nothing— curse him and his muscles.
But he manages to catch your hand by the wrist before you can draw it back, placing a sweet kiss on the back of your hand, and you come undone.
He holds your hand tenderly, his arm still wrapped around you, keeping you cradled against his chest
"You know," Wriothesley admits softly, leaning close and keeping his voice low, like it's a secret he wants to share only with you. His smile is boyish. Cute. Filled to the brim with affection and honey. "I'm actually really happy that you like it, because I really like thinking that I'm yours, too."
[ #Taglist registration here !! ]
#「 🐈⬛ 」 catcze.desserts#astronetwrk#genshin impact x reader#wriothesley x reader#cw gn reader#genshin impact#wriothesley
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Little minx.
;; slut!sub!aether x reader
cw: slutty aether just for you babes! established relationship, teasing, voyeurism, rough sex, nipple play, grinding, mating press, blowjob, deepthroating, facefucking, overstimulation, cumming inside, horny aether that just needs your dick in him 24/7, kinda power!sub aether like a bit, reader has a dick
slut aether is the best!! just for you tho cause we possesive like that lol we just like a man who knows what he wants
i've seen people who liked what i first posted and i am very happy! thank you so much! i will work hard! ^^ so here's a back to back post before i sleep hehe
let me know if i missed anything!
slut!aether tsk tsk tsk, he's such a slut, a whore even. he knows how to work you up. he knows the right buttons to press, just right that by the time then, his body is shaking from pleasure and begging for more.
slut!aether who audibly moans when he stretches, making sure you get an eyeful of his stomach. he smirking to himself as he takes a sneaky glance at you (not really, mf is straight up side eying you to see if you're looking lmao), seeing you looking at his stomach.
slut!aether who subtly not so subtly grinds his ass onto you as he sits on your lap. slut!aether who feigns innocence when you ask what the hell is he doing, "but i'm not doing anything, [name]." all the while wiggling his ass back into you more, giggling as you groan and grab his waist, pulling him closer to your growing hard on.
slut!aether who teases from across the room as you read a book. he comes in the room and takes a seat across you. you pay him no mind, focusing back to your book. then, you hear a slight shuffle of clothes and you look up to see aether with his shirt lifted up and biting down onto it, pretty pink, perky nipples in display for you. slut!aether who directly stares at you, drinking up your attention as he seductively drags his hands from his waist, stomach, and landing to his nipples. slut!aether who lightly flicks his nipples, mewling onto the shirt. he continues flicking and toying with them, watching as your breathe begins to deepen, watching him intently. he then pinches his nipples harshly, making him cry out, drool sliding out the side of his mouth. he's now humping the air, hips writhing around as he continues to play with nipples. "[na-name]!♡♡ sho goood!~~ my nipples feel sho goood! fhuck!", "hahh, hnghh!~~ angghh, sho good..! 'm gonna cum..!! my nipples feelshh tooo good!!♡" it's taking you every bits of your sanity not to jump on him as he toys with his nipples faster. with on final harsh pinch, he lets out a loud moan of your name as he cums.
slut!aether pushes you back in the bathroom wall after you've take a bath, kneeling down and dragging your towel by your hips. "[nameee]... i miss your dick.. why did you bathe without me? i wanted to have you in my mouth while you bathed..." he pouts and tears the towel off of you. he happily licks his lips and eyes your cock hanging by your thigh. "greedy boy," you mutter as you watch him grab your cock and stroke it, licking the tip. he opens his mouth and sinks down your cock, taking you in one go. you hiss as you feel his warm mouth envelope you, grabbing his hair. "fuuck, aether, fuuck.." slut!aether who smiles and looks up at you as he hears your groans, sliding his mouth back and forth on your dick and setting a pace. "[nameee]...♡" the way he spoke sends vibrations down your cock. you grab the back of his head and begin fucking his face, making him choke and gag, grabbing your thigh and dragging his nails as he tries to swallow your cock down his throat,. "ghhk! [name]! aghhk, hghhk!~~♡♡" slut!aether who takes all of your cum in his mouth, opening his mouth as heavy breathes come from him, showing your cum on his tongue then audibly swallowing it. "hehe, thanks for the treat♡♡."
slut!aether who couldn't just take it anymore! why won't you fuck his hole? he's done everything but you just won't do it! he wants your dick in him! he needs it. he needs your hot, heavy cum inside him! slut!aether who drags you by the collar to your shared bedroom and pushing you down the bed. he straddles you and looks down at your confused face before undressing hurriedly. "fuck me.", "what -", "you heard me, fuck me. i need your cock in me, [name]. stop teasing me, i want it now. so you're going shove your fat dick up in me, make me cum, cum everything you have inside me, and make me beg for more." slut!aether who squeals as you keep hitting his prostate, hair in a mess, legs wrapped around you, and nails clawing down your back as your hips thrust roughly into his already sensitive hole. how many times did he cum? three? five? he doesn't know neither does he care, he just wants to keep cumming. "[name]! 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna cum, cummingcummingcumming♡♡-" he cuts himself off as his orgasm hits him, little cum spurting out his pretty dick. "fucking slut." you mutter. you grab his legs and push it back until it reaches his ears, earning a gasp from him as he feels your dick hit his insides deeper. "[n-name]?!" his hands scrambles for purchase on the sheets as you begin to thrust, making him mewl. their so deep in me, so deep.. slut!aether who screams as your thrusts become ruthless, hole swallowing your dick back in as he moans and screams out your name. "haaaaahhh~~! [name], [name], [name]♡♡! fhuck me harderrr!♡ your cock, your cock, hgnhhh♡♡~!". slut!aether who feels your face fasten, you're about to come. he moans out, telling you to cum! cum! cum! "yesyesyes, cum in me! harder~~!! i need your cum in me! fuck your cum in me, [name]♡♡!" slut!aether who's eyes roll back when he finally feels the warmth of your cum, you groaning as your let go inside him. slut!aether who giggles as you stare back down at him, kissing his forehead. "[name].. one more, please♡?"
#ems.writes#ems.nsfw#aether x reader#aether smut#sub aether#sub aether x reader#sub!aether x reader#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#sub genshin#sub genshin impact#dom reader#dom!reader#sub character#sub!character
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— WIP 𐙚 part 4 of wine
pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader
about: the first time jungkook owns oc’s orgasm
word count: 0.417
note: because i started writing part four so late in the week (friday and i barely had time during this weekend to write) due to the fact i struggled hard, here i give you at least a little something on updating day. im really sorry its not the full thing yet, but i promise i'm working hard and i'll post it for you sometime next week. i'm really excited about what i've written and i can't wait to show you. please enjoy the little excerpt && keep your fingers crossed for me. love you all <;3
side note: happy belated birthday to my husband yoongi, the poetry to my words, the sanity to my mind. my anchor, my everything. i miss him terribly and i love him.
warnings: clit rubbing, shyness, riding fingers, jungkook penetrates her mid-climax and has a very tender reason for it
𐙚
He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”
A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.
Jungkook sees you.
“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.
“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.
“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re really not sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.
When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—
“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.
“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.
He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.
And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.
#lunas dark wips#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#bts smut#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fluff#btscreatorscorner#kpop smut#jungkook one shot
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DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 4
Part 3
Aaaah, Tim had missed undercover work! There was just something thrilling about becoming a whole new person by making a few small tweaks here and there. He had combed his hair in a side-part, carefully applied make-up to make his skin look paler and his eyes bigger and put on a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Worn sneakers, baggy jeans, a loose plaid flannel shirt with a hoodie tied around his waist hid his lean, muscular frame. A slight slouch and his old high-school backpack completed the look. Goodbye Tim Drake-Wayne, Gotham socialite. Hello Adam Taylor, college freshman.
Jason took one look at him and practically fell over laughing.
“Oh my God, you look like a total dork! Would you like some braces to go with that?” he heckled, catching himself against the side of the car.
“I’ll have you know that this is the height of broke college student chic,” Tim sniffed in mock offence, “It’s called ‘blending in’ Jason. Maybe you should try it!” He walked past his snickering brother to get in the passenger’s seat of the beat-up Ford they used for travelling incognito.
“No thanks, I’ll leave the theatre performance to you,” Jason drawled, tossing the keys in one hand before getting behind the wheel. “I’ll just hang back and keep an eye out in case things go tits up.”
“I don’t even know why you insisted on coming along. I’m just going to question a civilian!”
Jason gave him a Look before starting the engine. “A civilian raised by mad scientists. The way our lives work, we’ll find her building Kryptonite powered robots in the janitor’s closet or something.”
“And the fact that she’s a cute red-head has nothing to do with it?” Tim teased.
“Nope!”
“Liar.”
The drive to Metropolis passed in a mix of mutual ribbing, arguing over radio stations and discussion of recent cases. They carefully avoided the elephant in the room - the reason for their current investigation. The sullen anger of their youngest brother, the quiet grief in Bruce’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching and the mounting tension within the family. Tim doubted that this excursion would be all that fruitful, but he needed to get out and do something for the sake of his own sanity. The last thing he wanted was to watch Bruce emotionally implode over what may or may not be another dead son.
Getting onto the university campus was no problem. Tim had a fake student ID on him just in case, but it looked like he needn’t have bothered. His hacking had revealed that Jasmine Fenton checked into the university library after her last class almost every day, so it was just a matter of biding his time. He sat at one of the carrel desks, idly flipping through the latest issue of Forbes. I wonder if Luthor’s new tech acquisition means he’s up to something? Hm…
“Heads up, target at your 10,” came Jason’s murmur through Tim’s earpiece. Tim turned another page then sat up and stretched, glancing around casually. He instantly recognized the red-head from his earlier research. Tall and light build, long hair held back by a head-band, wearing skinny jeans and a dark grey sweater. She made her way over to the row of desks, carrying a small stack of books and a pencil case. She walked past Tim, only sparing him a glance and eventually settled down at the table farthest from the entrance and away from the other students. Perfect.
Tim got up and returned his magazine to the periodicals section before meandering over to Jasmine’s desk. He put on his best impression of a nervous smile. Showtime.
“Hey, is this seat taken?”
She only glanced up from her work briefly then went right back to taking notes. “No, knock yourself out,” she said in a bored tone.
Tim pulled out the chair next to hers and turned it slightly to face her. He sat down and cleared his throat.
“Hi, sorry to bother you. I’m Adam. Adam Taylor,” he lied, offering his hand to her. She gave him a tight, polite smile and shook hands with him.
“Jazz Fenton,” Her tone was light, but her body language screamed ‘please go away’. Tim filed the nickname away for later, “Look, it’s really nice to meet you but I have this project I need to work on, so…”
Ah, she probably thinks I’m trying to hit on her, Tim thought.
“Oh, I understand completely! I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, I just… I was just wondering if you could tell me about… you know,” he whispered with affected hesitation, “...ghosts.”
The smile dropped from her face and her gaze sharpened. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry! It’s just… your parents run Fenton Works, right? The ecto-biologists?” Tim rushed out, “I just wanted to hear your opinion on their work…” he trailed off at the look of tightly controlled anger on her face. She turned and scanned the room around them.
“Alright. Where’s the camera?”
Tim was caught completely wrong footed. Was she onto them?
“Camera? What camera?” he hedged. She slammed her notebook shut and glared at him.
“I get it. Lets pretend to interview the girl with the crazy ghost hunter parents and have a good laugh at her on social media later. Very funny, har har,” Jazz stuffed her pen back in its case with sharp movements, “Well I have better things to do than make you TikTok famous, so if you’ll excuse me,” she gathered up her books and stood.
Tim winced. He really needed to salvage this situation and quickly. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“I’m not filming you, honest! I just read some of your parents’ papers and wanted a second opinion on their research! They, ah… they seem pretty biased,” he said apologetically.
Jazz narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Why are you researching ghosts, then?”
The best lies are built on truth.
“Because…” Tim took a deep breath, “I think my brother might be one,” he forced out, then swallowed hard and looked away.
“Oh,” the anger had drained from her voice, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Tim glanced at her as she sat back down. “Thanks,” he croaked and blinked away fake tears. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Adam, what makes you think your brother might have come back as a ghost?” Jazz asked gently.
Tim collected himself for a moment, thinking about how to score the most sympathy points.
“It’s hard to explain. My younger brother… he saw something strange and now my whole family is freaking out. Dad is putting on a brave face but I can tell this is eating him up inside but he refuses to talk about it. I just… I need to know if there’s a scientific explanation to all this. I need to make sense of this whole mess!” he looked up at her through his lashes with his best puppy-dog expression, “Please, can you help me?”
Tim could practically hear her heart melting.
“And the Oscar goes to… Timbird!” Jason teased over the comms.
“Alright. But not here,” Jazz said, standing up again, “This is gonna take some time. And diagrams.”
Oh goodie.
Part 5
#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny phantom#batman#batfamily#jazz fenton#tim drake#red robin#jason todd#red hood#prophecy universe#the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#tim drake loves acting#help how did this get so long
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How jealous are they and how do they show it?
Characters: Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari, Tsu’tey
Warnings: None
Jake Sully
Jealousy level; pretty low. He’s a fairly confident man who knows that you are his, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just let others flirt with you. He’ll put his arm over your shoulder, his back straight as he does his best to appear strong and steadfast. He won’t tell the person off. Jake will inject himself in the conversation, holding you close and putting in a “isn’t that right, sweetheart?” here and there.
He’ll tease you about the situation later, betraying that it does bother him a little bit. “Seems like you made a new friend today,” “You would think you have honey on your ass from the way he was following you,”. When you settle on his lap with a smile, it’s clear that you see through him. He’ll sigh in defeat before shrugging his shoulders and pulling you against him, his jealousy quickly forgotten as he is the one who holds you in his arms at the end of the day.
Miles Quaritch
Jealously level; high. Miles is a possessive man who doesn’t like people ogling what’s his. Fuck, he can’t blame them, you being the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, but that doesn’t matter. He’s not opposed to hitting someone square in the face if they stare at you too long, nor will he apologize for it. “What? That fool should mind where his eyes wander.”
Him constantly hovering around you to make sure you are safe also allows him to see every little thing, which is not good for his sanity. Some days it feels like he’s pulling you aside every few minutes, his ears pinned against the sides of his head as he kissed you angrily. He needs to feel you, needs to assure himself that you want him. Blowing off some steam that way allows him to calm down a bit, and saves others some nasty bruises.
Tonowari
Jealousy level; medium. Tonowari has that quiet but intense type of jealousy. He’ll watch something happen from a distance. A look that crosses your conversation partner’s face, or a touch to your arm or hand that’s just slightly too familiar. He won’t approach, won’t say a word. He’ll watch and wait for the person to come anywhere near him afterwards. When they do, he’ll grab onto their arm, and stare. The normally kind chief can give an angry stare that would shake even the toughest soldier. He doesn’t need to say a word, holding the other’s eyes for a minute before letting go of them with a slight push. The message is clear; don’t come close to my mate.
Tonowari won’t mention it to you, his jealousy only noticeable because of all the extra affection he shows you. He’ll give you a massage, kiss all over your body and give you one compliment after the other.
Tsu’tey
Jealousy level; high. After everything this man has lost he definitely has some abandonment issues. When someone else expresses interest you, Tsu’tey panics and lashes out. He’ll jump the other, pressing a knife to their throat as he makes it clear you are his mate, and the only way they’ll ever get to you is over his dead body. It takes him a long time of laying in your arms afterwards before he can calm down again, his breathing rapid and his muscles tense. His fear is clear to you, and if you do your best to comfort him and give him physical affection, he’ll stare up at you with such intense loving that it makes your heart hurt.
JUST GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK OKAY.
#miles quaritch x reader#jake sully x reader#tonowari x reader#tsu’tey x reader#avatar the way of water#na'vi x reader#miles quaritch#jake sully#tonowari#tsu’tey#atwow#atwow x reader
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𝐒𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘. | luke hughes
꒰ genre: mature ;established!relationship!au | drabble
꒰ word count: 1k
꒰ warnings: 18+ themes !! MDNI ! unprotected sex (stay safe), soft sex, riding, swearing, praising.
꒰ author’s note: here is part 2 of my 3 part smut series for my 1k celly !! if you couldn’t tell already, obviously this series is all just soft stuff with the boys :3
<< previous drabble || next drabble >>
“stop s-staring, lu.”
you mutter quietly, eyes watching slowly at the path luke’s fingers smooth themselves along your thighs from where he is laid underneath you. his now much darker green eyes gaze over you as he soakes in every dip and curve of your figure and he breathes out a low chuckle at your words, followed by a slow and languid upward roll of his hips. his cock starting to throb as he plunges deeper, easing further into your warm walls as you straddle his lap.
"can’t help it.. y’re just looking so pretty from down here." he mumbles in response, voice low and slightly shakey, but there's still the small hint of a smile laced within it. a light pink blush rises high on his cheeks, his unruly curls a mess on his head from where he's sinking into the pillows beneath him.
you always knew that when he spoke those words, he was being honest. luke was completely weak for you at all times, at least that much was obvious to you. it almost made you proud for how intoxicating the boy found you—how utterly enamoured he was by you and you're entire body. just how quickly he could feel his sanity fade away into existence at how good you made him feel every single time you sank down on him.
his pace was a slow grind against you, withdrawing at the same pace every time with a hum leaving his throat before he's rolling forward and sinking straight back into your pussy with a wet sound that has your head lulling back, your palm resting against his chest to keep yourself as steady as you can while a breathless whimper of his name falls from your soft lips.
"you're s-so cheesy l-luke." you gasp out, feeling his hand tremble where it gropes at your hips after he feels your pussy throb and clench around him. he groans deep, taking a handful of your breast with his free hand. his hips press deep up against you and yours meet them with the desperate little rolls you make.
"so pretty." he groans, a croaky sound that's accompanied with a wet clap of his body against yours and his words burn in your chest—in the best way possible—when they curl down your spine, sizzling and adding to the warmth that you feel growing underneath your flesh.
"fuck, don’t need to repeat it." you hiccup lightly, feeling his pelvis grind along your puffy clit and your voice twists up a higher pitch when you feel his fingers lead up and press into the small of your back, guiding you lower until your chest is pressed up tightly against his own and he starts pressing kisses along your jaw and cheeks as he grinds into you.
“just speaking the truth, baby." luke pants in your ear, his voice like a dripping whine when his slender fingers squish into the skin of your waist, curling into you when his cock nudges against the sweet spot inside of you that has you melting wholey into him. he groans into each kiss that he places to your face, his pace stuttering when you start to twitch around him and he draws his hips back before they jut forward again.
"fuck—feel’s so good." he grunts, the way you are making him feel shows evidently in the way he clenches his jaw before the force of his hips pick up and he's sinking himself even deeper. gasps and moans come from the both of you, a drawn out sigh sounds from luke below you, followed by hushed praises between soft pants and groans of your name.
the way his cock continues to push right against the spongy spots inside of you has your vision beginning to turn blurry. turning your head and looking up the slight amount you need to to meet luke’s gaze from where you feel his breath fanning along your neck, and he turns to meet your eyes as well.
his lovely lips are parted before the corners stretch into a soft grin, his eyes heavily lidded and still just as dark as before and the sight of him looking so lost in the pleasure has you pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. whines come from the back of your throat when you immediately feel his tongue drag itself along your own and his hand curls around the back of your neck to pull you closer, eagerly drinking in your ragged breaths and needy whispers of his name.
"d-doing so good for me. shit—s-so fucking perfect.” he groans against your lips, his voice an almost whine as he keeps you pinned tight against his chest while his thrusts picks up even faster. the new pace makes you feel like you can't form even the smallest of sentences that aren’t just the simple pleads and whimpers of his name as you feel nothing but bliss hurtling throughout you with every rock of his hips.
"g-gonna cum." you finally manage to speak and the sweet, ragged moan that the confession pulls from luke is what has a familiar rush of warmth curling to your core. your pussy twitches and creams around him as you slowly start to release and he stills beneath you before he's giving all of himself into the needy coaxing of your walls—spilling into you with a wordless but satisfied groan as he allows your pussy to milk him of everything he has.
you feel his hips finally come to a halt, the aftermath of your orgasm causing your thighs to tremble slightly before they're tightening over his slim waist and you feel sleepy wrapped around luke. but you still pull away to blink down at the boy, his eyes fluttering open to send you a sleepy sort of look through a drowsy grin. you feel his palm rest itself on your cheek before he's guiding you back to press another soft kiss against your lips.
"see sweetheart, so pretty all for me."
#⋆·˚ ༘ *—rowdyslove’s 1k follower celly !!#—ness writes#luke hughes#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes smut#luke hughes fluff#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes oneshot#luke hughes x reader#nj devils#new jersey devils#nhl x y/n#nhl fluff#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl blurb#nhl imagine#nhl fic
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Fever
Summary: During your post-game adventures, you get sick and Astarion takes care of you.
Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav
Tags: hurt/comfort, f!tav, established relationship, post-game
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Thanks @tragedybunny for being an amazing beta!
It's bone-chilling cold. So close to the Spine of the World, the snow and winds prove as merciless as demons from the Abyss. Tears freeze on your cheeks. Even Astarion, wrapped in his fur cape, shivers; the cold seeping into his undead body. He starves. The dark forest is silent, with no animals around to prey on.
"Astarion," you muffle through the thick scarf, "take a small sip, I beg you."
"No," he refuses yet again, unwilling to risk your life. Hunger and cold torment him, but he stands on his feet. Meanwhile, you, a fragile mortal, teeter on the verge of death in this frozen forest. Your back aches despite Astarion carrying most of the load. Your feet are numb as if submerged in icy water, and your throat burns with pain.
Astarion grabs your hand and lets you lean back on him. The nearest village is still miles away, and there's no chance you'll make it till sunrise. Nights are long, dark, and unforgiving. You need to set up the camp; it might be warmer in daylight.
But Astarion desperately holds on to his sanity, which he might lose if he doesn't feed soon.
"Astarion, please. We need to put up the tent. Sunrise is soon. I will just lay by the fire, and you can eat."
"We still have time, darling, and save your energy," he grits his teeth. The starving monster within him looks at you through Astarion's kind crimson eyes.
"Astarion, take my blood!"
He doesn't reply, leading the way through dark woods. If only there was an animal, even a rat. Looking up, you see the dark skies filled with prickly stars.
"What is it, my sweet?"
Suddenly, you realize you haven't been cold because of the snow and winds. You are cold from within. Your heart, lungs, and bones are freezing, much like what Astarion feels every moment since he died.
"Oh, fuck!"
You realize you now lie in the snow, unable to move, as the air in your throat burns with ice.
"Wake up, gods damn you!" Astarion's voice is desperate, betraying that he' is scared to death.
You hear the loud thump when his travel sack drops in the snow. Then he works on your belts, releasing your burden. A moment later, and you rest in his hands.
"Love, I need you to stay awake. You hear me?"
But you can't say anything. The cold rips through your muscles, turning into ice, and you lose consciousness, drowning in cold, dark waters.
So cold, so cold. It's a freezing grip of death on your heart, killing you. You think of Astarion, imagining him beside your lifeless body.
… You hear muffled talking and open your eyes. You aren't dead, that's for sure, but there is complete darkness around you.
And you lie under something weighty.
You try to move but can't, your. whole body shivers. You are almost naked, tucked in animal fur like some barbarian child.
The smell wood and herbs comes to you. And fire.
Then you remember the sun. And how Astarion carried you in his hands. Horror pierces your mind along with cold.
He is dead. He didn't make it till sunrise. It burnt him; he is gone. And the village people probably found you alone in the snow and brought you here.
While you think, you realize there are people in the room. Two people, to be precise.
"It's a freezing fever," the female voice says. "You two would have been complete idiots if you'd decided to put up a camp. She would have been dead by now."
"But now—is she ok?"
Astarion.
You have never felt so much joy in your life. He is alive and here, beside you. You can't comprehend how much strength he had to pull to make it with you in his hands by sunrise.
"She needs to take the potion. And then sleep in warmth."
You feel the familiar weight beside you. Then, two hands get you out of the blankets and make you sit up. Your head is spinning, and you shiver, though you notice sweat on the healer's face.
Astarion smiles at you and brings the bottle with the potion to your lips.
"Drink, love," he says.
"The taste is nasty," the healer shrugs. "Make her drink every last drop."
The potion is genuinely awful, burning your mouth. You start slipping away again, and Astarion tucks you in thick blankets.
"And people say vampires are soulless creatures. They should meet you two.”
When the healer leaves, Astarion lies beside you over the blanket. You wish to hug him but are afraid of his cold skin.
"Are you hungry?" you ask.
You hear a chuckle. "You are at death's door, and you ask about me?
"Take mine," you insist.
"Tav, darling, I ain't taking a tiny drop from you until you fully recover. There is prey in the woods. I will find it."
You want to say something else, but the freezing hand of the sickness grips your throat. You feel like you’re naked on ice, in the howling wind.
"Love?"
"It's still… cold…"
Astarion sighs and stands up. You want to cry, to beg him to stay, but you can't say anything as he leaves the room, closing the thick wooden door.
You feel like crying, alone, and freezing. The healer curses, "You, idiot, stay inside!"
You hide under the blanket in the fetal position, trying to save warmth. However, it's difficult since the core of your suffering is still within. What if you are dying? And you are dying all alone in this village without a name in the middle of nowhere.
It's been years since you left Baldur's Gate together, and you can't fall asleep without him by your side. Astarion is safety. Astarion is protection. Whatever enemy is out there to threaten your life and freedom, Astarion is always there with his fangs and daggers. He doesn't sleep—only meditates a bit—and he is your guardian when you are most vulnerable.
But now you are alone. Your mind grasps consciousness with the last bits of strength you have. The thick blankets don't let you move, and you lie like you’re in your very own coffin of ice. It's been a long time since you were left alone, but you know it's still dark outside.
And then you realize you aren't alone anymore.
Astarion crawls under the blankets and covers your body with himself, placing his head on your chest. He smells like blood, the hunt, and forest. He has already pulled off all his clothes, and you feel his skin against yours, unexpectedly flaming hot.
You can only wonder how much blood he has drunk. Sure, his body gets warm after feeding, and the more living blood he takes, the more alive he seems. But this is different. You can't see him, but you are somehow sure his skin has temporarily returned to its natural living color.
You wrap your hands around him and stroke the scars. Astarion groans and adjusts himself a bit.
"I've been hunting," he says, sounding drunk. "The healer told me there is a bear attacking villagers, starved and angry. I found and drained it."
"You shouldn't have risked it."
"I wanted you to be warm. I know how it feels to have a freezing grip on the heart. It hurts. All the time."
You press him tighter and kiss his forehead.
With him in your hands, you finally fall asleep. You have a strange dream—a summer day in the beautiful mountains.
And there is Astarion beside you. He smiles, exposing his face to the sunshine. You want to tell him to hide, to run away. But he opens his eyes, and you stare at him in disbelief.
They are green, not red.
… When you wake up, you feel hot. Sweat runs down your back, and the blankets suffocate you. You get out of them like a kitten squeezed by its mother.
"Hello, my sweet. You are so adorable with this bed hair," Astarion sits on the floor with a needle and a thread. You recognize his own shirt in his hands.
"How awful do I look?"
"You look like someone who finally got better. But I suppose you could scare away some kids in that village. Maybe I should tell them you are also a vampire. Food or bath?" he asks.
"Food. I am dying of hunger."
"My sweet, don't tell me about hunger." He mockingly kisses you.
He returns soon with a soup bowl. You try to take the plate in your trembling hands, but Astarion forces you to sit still like a baby and starts spoon-feeding you.
"Good girl," he chuckles. "The healer said it would take you weeks to recover, and you made it in three days."
"And you have been here?"
"Don't offend me with such questions."
"Oh, don't be angry."
With a full stomach, you feel much better and lie back on the bed, letting your body fully recover. Astarion studies your face as if seeing it for the first time. Then he lies beside you, allowing you to place your head on his chest. His skin is cold again, but it feels more like him.
"What is on your mind, Astarion?" you ask.
"I want to stay," he says. "Not exactly here, but I can't live like that anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"Living on the road. I can't do that anymore. You obviously can't either. I... listen… I've never had a home. Never had a place to call my own. I want one. I want one with you."
"Didn't you tell me it would be tediously boring?" you inquire.
"I wanted to see what life has to offer beyond the city walls."
"Astarion, it will be dangerous. No one would want a—"
You bite your tongue. "Sorry."
"Dealing with a nosey neighbor doesn't sound more dangerous than getting some weird sickness in the middle of nowhere. Besides, we can prove to people it's better to have a vampire of their own rather than be threatened by some unhinged vampire lord.”
"Astarion, I am afraid for you. People hate vampires!"
"And I am afraid for you."
You are both silent. You turn to him and nuzzle his collarbone. He wraps his hands around you. Vague memories return, and you suddenly realize you heard the voices while in fever.
"Don't die. Please, don't die. I need you."
A scared voice of a healer. "You are a vampire!"
"Please help her. I won't come inside. I will stay in the woods. Please, please, help her! She is mortal; she is dying!"
You remember being carried to the bed and a strong smell of herbs.
"How did you two end up together?", asked the healer.
"She saved me. From myself. Showed me I have a chance to be something different from what I was turned into. Tell me what I can do. Do you need herbs? Ingredients? I will bring you anything."
And then the face of the healer standing above you. She came to check on you in Astarion's absence, and the feverish mind remembered that.
"You are a lucky to have him, girl."
You caress Astarion's cheek. "Would staying in one place make you happy?"
He nods.
"Then, me too."
--
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it’s steddie yearning hours
🤍 also on ao3
It’s a little fucked up, maybe, the way Eddie can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Steve‘s sleeping form. He’s a sight to behold — curled up on his side, making himself as small as he can; his hair is a mess, hiding his face from the world but not from Eddie, not quite. The room is dark except for the light of the lamps outside that comes in through the blinds, landing right on Steve, and Eddie thinks how fitting it is that Steve would be found by the light even in total darkness. He would be found and unaware of it.
And Eddie Munson is left to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest like that would save his heart, keep it where it is, keep it for himself. He shouldn’t be looking at Steve like that. Not when they’re hardly even friends, not when what they have is only remnant of a world ending. A world saved. A world forever changed.
He sighs, leaning his whole weight against the frame, clenching his fists in his t-shirt, doing everything to stop himself from stepping closer to the bed, running fingers through Steve‘s mess of hair, brushing lips to his forehead and climbing in bed with him.
The doorframe holds his weight, his sanity, his heart, and Eddie slides down with another heart sigh that the poets would have called wistful. Yearning. Longing and belonging.
He hits the ground and hopes that it would break the haze. But nothing can. There’s a heaviness inside him that makes it hard to breathe and leaves him wishing that Steve weren’t in his bed, in his heart, in his life. Not like this.
He wants to be friends with Steve. Real, actual friends. People who don’t have to hold each other through nightmares, people who go to the arcade together and make fun of each other. Who exchange their favourite tapes and go on trips together.
He doesn’t want to be bonded to him by trauma and horrors unimaginable alone. He wants to fall in love slowly, gently, wants the secret smiles and the fluttering inside his chest that he overheard the girls at school talking about.
He wants another chance with Steve. Another try. Without monsters, without death and dying, without saving and being saved. He wants Steve Harrington to choose Eddie Munson for who he is, not for what they went through.
He wants Steve to choose. To have a choice.
Breathing through a lump in his throat has become second nature to him lately, and he finally looks away from this boy that has yet to drop the other shoe on Eddie.
After who knows how long, Steve stirs, stretching with an adorable little groan until he stills, his eyes on Eddie. He can feel them. He doesn’t look up to meet them, can’t be responsible for whatever Steve would find in his eyes.
“Hey,” he hears, Steve’s voice incredibly soft despite the rasp of disuse that’s marking it.
Eddie shivers a little and finally looks up. “Hi.” A beat. You’re beautiful. “Sleep well?”
“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, yawns again, then curls up some more on his side, scooting over to the edge of the bed so he can better see Eddie. “How long was I out for?”
Two hours, forty-eight minutes. “‘Bout two and a half hours,” Eddie says, smiling when Steve’s eyes widen. “There’s dinner. If you’re hungry.”
He’s holding his breath, shallow as it is, because his lungs cannot be trusted around Steve anymore. Not with the way he smiles every time Eddie makes dinner. Not with the way he hides said smile behind the blanket a little bit, like he doesn’t want Eddie to see, like he can’t believe he’s smiling in the first place.
Eddie wants to get up and hold him. Trace that smile with his fingers. Make it stay.
What are we doing, Steve? What are you still doing in my life? Why did you make yourself a home like it’s worth staying here?
Slowly, still a little clumsy from his prolonged nap, Steve gets up with the blanket in his hands and drops it on Eddie’s lap. Must have mistaken his shivers for being cold. Then Steve steps over him, ruffles his hair as he does, and Eddie wants to cry a little bit at the way Steve snickers at it. He’s ridiculous. Eddie is ridiculously gone for him. It hurts more than it should.
“You hungry, too?” Steve asks, fingers finding Eddie’s hair to comb through the curls he just messed up. Eddie doesn’t have it in himself to move his head, to put a distance between them, to confront Steve about what this is, what they’re doing, what it all means.
All he does is nod — slowly, so Steve’s fingers stay where they are. They do. Eddie pinches his own fingers to stop from reaching out and snatching Steve’s hand, bringing it to his lips, making him stay. Stay here. Stay in his life forever. Stay and never realise that there’s no reason for him to do that.
He meets Steve’s eyes even though that’s dangerous business. “Starving.“
Steve’s face does this thing again. That thing where he softens so visibly, his eyes shining a little, his lips twitching into both a smile and a frown. It’s mortifying. It’s liberating. It’s being seen by Steve.
“You didn’t have to wait, Eddie.” His voice is soft. Chiding and grateful all at once, and Eddie’s heart flutters.
“I know,” he shrugs, and that’s that because he bites his tongue. I wanted to. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait.
Steve huffs and then he’s gone, rummaging around in the kitchen before he reappears with two plates of lasagna in his hands. Instead of asking Eddie to come join him at the table or settling back in bed, Steve hands one plate to Eddie and then slides down the other side of the doorframe so they’re face to face, their thighs pressed together. It’s a tight fit, but their bodies are angled just so, making this as comfortable as it gets.
It’s one of the first things they figured out together, sitting in the door like this. Wayne comes home sometimes to find them like this, even joined them on some occasions. Just to talk, just to be there.
Steve reaches over to grab the blanket again, draping it over both their laps, and Eddie shoves a large forkful of lasagna into his mouth to stop himself from saying something stupid.
What are we doing? When does it end? When is the last time I get to sit with you, share my blanket with you, get you to eat my lasagna? Tell me; just tell me so I can prepare. Tell me you won’t stay so I can stop dreaming.
They eat in silence and Steve’s eyes are on him for most of it, but Eddie doesn’t look up. It’s heavier tonight, heavier than usual. Heavier because Steve’s cheeks are streaked with the imprint of Eddie’s pillow, heavier because his hair is a wild mess, heavier because Eddie wants to breathe him in and hold him forever.
But Steve is awake, and they only hold each other when they have a nightmare. Because that’s why they are in each other’s lives. There is no room for feelings, for romance, for yearning when their smiles only exist to keep each other alive.
“Are you okay, Eddie?” Steve whispers, his plate empty while Eddie barely touched his own, too busy not looking at Steve that he forgot to be a person in the process. It’s nothing new, really, but he’s gotta get a grip.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
See, that’s the thing about Steve. He always gives you two chances to say something. The first try for all those impulse answers, the things you wish for yourself, the hand wave of dismissal. And then the second chance without judgment.
And Eddie loves him. Can’t lie to him again, so he just shrugs. His second chance not yet taken. Steve bumps their knees and Eddie’s eyes water. He eats his lasagna with stinging eyes and slightly shaking hands, because Steve can’t know. But Eddie might explode if he doesn’t.
“Wanna go for a walk?”
And, see, that’s another thing about Steve Harrington and the way he sees you. He knows Eddie hates being still, can’t talk when he’s sitting down. Can’t talk about anything meaningful when the world is quiet and dark and still.
Steve knows what Eddie needs. And it’s a little fucked up, maybe, but Eddie knows that Steve secretly needs it, too.
And he should say no. Should swallow his emotions, his thoughts, his fears, his aching and yearning and longing and belonging, should swallow it all and smile it away, bump his knee into Steve’s and propose they watch a movie together.
But he doesn’t. He can’t swallow tonight, not when there’s a lump in his throat, not when Steve is so warm against him, not when—
“Okay,” Steve smiles, climbing to his feet. “Let me go get ready, you finish your lasagna. Can I, uh. Can I borrow a sweater?”
“You know you don’t gotta ask.”
Another smile and he ruffles Eddie’s hair again. It makes his heart jump. “Thanks, man.”
“Of course,” Eddie whispers, barely audible, and not for Steve’s ears, just for his own need to say something. Anything. To make this real.
Ten minutes later, Eddie closes and locks the trailer door beside him and they start walking. The night is quiet even though it’s only just past eleven, and it’s a tad colder than Eddie expected. Beside him, Steve sticks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, fluffing up the hood of Eddie’s sweater so it covers his neck from the light breeze. Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him, Steve smiles and cocks his head down the street.
“Shall we?”
Eddie only hums but sets the pace. They’re both looking down at the ground, neither of them really caring where it is they’re going. It’s not about getting anywhere, it’s just about moving. Walking. Talking without looking at each other, finding excuses and answers in the night sky and the swaying treetops.
They walk in silence for a good half hour before Eddie finds his courage, his words, his peace with the possible answers. The night can cover for him and convince the daylight of little white lies that sound a lot like, I’ll be fine.
“You know you don’t have to do all this, right?”
Beside him, Steve’s steps falter a little. Maybe he didn’t expect Eddie to talk after all. “Do what?”
“This, I don’t know,” Eddie sighs, opening his arms to indicate the entirety of his life, really. “Sticking around. Staying.”
Steve frowns a little but he keeps his steps in sync with Eddie’s. That’s the whole point of their little nightly walks. No stopping, no looking, no seeing.
“Do you not want me to?”
God, how he wants Steve to stay! But also… Not like this. Not like he thinks Eddie might break if he leaves. Which Eddie will. But it shouldn’t be what makes Steve stay.
And there’s no way to say that. So all he does is shrug.
There’s a little pained noise from Steve, and Eddie scrambles for words that evade him, truths that make him too vulnerable, too real, too much.
“Okay,” Steve says after a while, and he sounds so small when he does. Eddie looks over and sees him pinching the bridge of his nose, nodding slowly, his mouth opening and closing with words unsaid. “Do you… Should I go home?”
Maybe you should, Eddie thinks. Get back to people you can be friends with; real friends.
“Maybe,” he says, slowing to a stop, looking away from Steve. “But I don’t want you to.”
“I… Okay? I don’t—“ Steve sighs and stops as well. “If it bothers you that we’re friends, then you can just—“
“Are we?” Eddie interrupts him, wincing at the way his own voice sounds. “Are we?” he repeats, quieter this time, opening up the question to honesty and vulnerability rather than disbelief and challenge.
Steve frowns again, confused, and Eddie remembers why they don’t do this in the quiet of his room; why they don’t do this while looking at each other. He can’t look at Steve and ask these questions. It’s too much.
So he turns and keeps walking, following the familiar road they’re on. Steve follows, a bit behind, and it leaves Eddie feeling horribly alone.
“You know,” Steve says after a while, scoffing, sighing, breathing until he tries again. Eddie waits. Here comes the other shoe. It’s finally there. “You know, I should be used to it by now, but it doesn’t really stop hurting when people keep questioning your intentions. With the kids, I kinda get it. There’s, like, years separating us. I get it when they’re hesitant to call me their friend.
“And with Robin, you know, she spent weeks after Starcourt just waiting for me to drop her. To be like, ‘Alright, thanks, it was good while it lasted but you’re an actual nerd and I don’t care for that shit at all.’”
Steve laughs and Eddie frowns, No laugh should sound so hollow.
“I had no idea she was so obsessed with the idea of me leaving her. She didn’t trust that I would stick around, that I actually loved her, that she’s my best friend and— God, she… I just, I don’t get it, y’know?”
Steve turns around because Eddie’s steps had slowed while Steve sped up, and Steve is walking backwards with his hands in his pocket, looking at Eddie with a hurt, confused expression.
“And now you’re telling me you don’t want me to stay and that I should go home, but that you don’t want me to do that either? You’re asking me if we’re friends, Eddie? What the hell else would we be? I’m…” He shakes his head and spreads his arms. “What do I have to do for anyone to believe me I just wanna spend time with them because they’re cool and I feel really fucking good being around them?”
Eddie doesn’t wanna look at Steve, but he can’t look away either. They’ve stopped again, a few feet apart, and Steve looks so open, ready for Eddie to answer, to tell him, to talk, when all Eddie wants to do is run away. Run to him. And he can’t do either. Can’t tell him.
“It’s not that,” he says lamely.
He gets to watch as Steve’s face scrunches up, crumbles, and then falls until there’s nothing left. His expression empty.
“I’m going home now, Eddie.”
“Why?”
Steve shakes his head and swallows. “Because I’m hurt. And confused. And I don’t wanna talk anymore, not when you don’t.”
And with that, Steve turns around. Walks down the road, disappearing into darkness until the next street light catches him. Attracting light even in darkness.
And Eddie breaks finally. He runs down the street, halfway catching up with Steve until he’s close enough to make sure the other boy can hear him.
“I’m terrified,” he says, making Steve stop. He doesn’t turn around yet, but it’s enough for Eddie to keep going. “I’m so fucking terrified that you only think you have to be my friend because we nearly died together. Terrified that you’ll leave because this thing between us is so heavy, loaded with trauma and memories. I’m terrified that you won’t come over anymore one day, that you’ll be done, that you’ll find friends that are not bonded to you like I am. Or like the kids and Robin and the rest are. I’m… Stevie.”
His voice breaks a little and he approaches Steve’s form, the light catching in his hair, making Eddie feel like a moth on his way to the flame.
“I wonder if we’re friends not because I doubt you. It’s because I know I have nothing to offer you. Nothing but, like, an open ear for your memories or open arms for your nightmares. Nothing but shared memories, which I know are only a fraction of what you’ve been through. That’s not how friendship works, Stevie, that’s not what will be enough in the long run.”
He sighs, rounding Steve until he’s in front of him, but Steve’s looking down at the pavement.
“I want to be your friend, Stevie. But I have this gnawing feeling that that ship has sailed.”
Steve shakes his head when Eddie is done. Says something he can’t quite catch.
“What was that?” Eddie asks, his voice tender, his eyes watery, his breath heaving. He hates being so vulnerable, but he hates even more the thought that Steve would just leave and think Eddie never cared for him.
“You make me dinner,” Steve says then.
He sniffles. Reaches for Eddie’s hand until he seems to think better of it. Eddie feels the emptiness, the cold air on his skin, and longs to be brave enough to take Steve’s hand now. He isn’t. But he thinks about it. He thinks about it all the time.
“You make me dinner and let me sleep in your bed. You make me smile and when I’m at work, I think about you sometimes, just to think nice thoughts. I don’t… There’s nothing you have to do, Eddie. You don’t have to do or be anything to be my friend. And I don’t want you around me just because you know what it’s like to drift off in your head, or just because you don’t question it when I can’t talk. I want you around because you make me laugh and you make me happy and if I could get paid for spending my days with you and with Robin, I would do nothing else in life. Because you, Eddie Munson, are good. And you’re enough. You’re a dork and a nerd and a fucking menace, and you’re kind and good with the kids and you’re a great friend. A great friend, Eddie, fuck!”
Steve is crying, but that’s okay because so is Eddie. Sincerity is scary, scarier than facing down the demo-bats, scarier than telling Wayne he’s queer, scarier than just about anything he’s ever done. But it also allows him to take Steve’s hand and pull him against his chest.
It makes him laugh when Steve sounds so frustrated when he says, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
It makes him pull back and wipe away the tears from Steve’s cheeks, ignoring the ones on his own.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
He hums in surprise when that makes Steve lean in again, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck.
“I’m… I don’t know what to say,” he whispers into Steve’s hair.
“‘S okay,” Steve says. “That was, uh, a lot.”
Eddie laughs, feeling light and elated and a little hazy, the words still catching up with him, his limbs tingling with sensation just thinking about Steve thinking about him at work.
It does nothing to dissuade him from yearning and aching and longing to brush a kiss to Steve’s hair that is so close to him now. His hand comes up to the back of Steve’s neck, and the world slows down. Steve’s breath hitches, and Eddie’s heart jumps.
“I’m… I’m gonna say something, too, okay? Gonna try, at least. Stop me whenever, okay?”
Steve doesn’t react, but his hands begin to move in slow, minute movements along Eddie’s back. It gives him courage. Makes him dream.
He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. “I make you dinner because I like to take care of you. I let you sleep in my bed because… because it’s gonna smell like you. I like the way you smell. I make you smile because that makes me stupidly happy. Stupid, really. You make me a little stupid sometimes, Stevie. Because I want to be your friend more than anything in the world, but lately I also… I wanna climb into bed with you and hold you even when there’s not a nightmare. Just to hold you. I wanna tuck that rebellious strand of hair behind your ear just to touch you. I wanna touch you all the time, Steve. It’s a little crazy. Drives me crazy.“
He sighs and goes for the kill because they’re in too deep now, he can’t stop. Steve knows anyway, Eddie is sure, but he wants Steve to hear, too. He wants to say it. Wants to make it real.
“I wanna kiss you,” he breathes, and it’s too real for even the night to disguise it later. “All the time. And you should know that. You should know that maybe we can’t be friends after all.“
The words leave his mouth and he’s ready for Steve to push him away, to let him down gently with regret in his face and repeat his words from earlier, let go and go home like that would solve Eddie’s predicament.
But Steve doesn’t move from the tight embrace. Or, the doesn’t move away.
His hands on Eddie‘s back begin to wander more, leaving goosebumps along the way from his shoulder blades to his hips. His face where it’s tucked against Eddie‘s neck turns slightly until his nose connects with his collarbone. Steve straightens and his nose is replaced by his lips, connecting with Eddie‘s throat, his neck, his jaw.
And then Steve pulls back. Looks at Eddie with hooded eyes, hands moving from his shoulders to his jaw. Cradling Eddie‘s face like he’s something precious.
Eddie is holding his breath, tracking Steve’s every motion, not daring to move or even breathe too deeply lest he scares him off, breaks the spell, bursts the bubble.
Steve swallows and looks down at Eddie‘s lips. “What if I told you that I wanna kiss you all the time, too?”
“Then I would call you crazy.”
Steve smiles and leans in to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, breathing into the night, “Call me crazy, then.”
“You’re crazy.”
It’s the last thing Eddie says for a while before he tilts his head forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. Steve hums and smiles into the kiss, opening his mouth to let Eddie in deeper, holding him so close there’s no room for doubts or regrets.
#steddie#steddie fic#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#idk what this is i was in the mood for yearning and a little bit of pain that comes with learning to be vulnerable#dio words#this is so long omg shut up dio
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yall this is my first time requesting something from someone so im a bit nervous but
imagine overstimulating venti until he cries 🤭
also can i be 🌊 anon ? PLEASE tell me if anything i asked made you uncomfortable!!
♡︎ 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙤 𝙜𝙤𝙙’𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 ♡︎
characters: sub!venti x nb!dom!reader
warnings: overstimulation, size kink, dacryphillia, reader’s genitals/pronouns are never mentioned so the cock can be interpreted as a strap on
notes: of course you can be 🌊anon! and yes, i’m slowly coming back to life. man author’s block is hard to beat. also, if this get’s flagged by tumblr when i wake up tmrw, i’ll delete it and post it again so don’t get too scared if it’s suddenly gone bbies
venti, or better yet known as barbatos to his people, was never really much of an archon.
he never plays by the rules, governs over his people nor even tries to abide by celestia’s rules. often, the wind spirit simply prefers to lay back and watch as his people takes care of any problems. they’re strong after all, his children always has been. of course, the windborn bard slurs out words of being the anemo archon in his drunk dazed self but no one ever takes it seriously.
and another thing was that, venti never worships the celestia. the floating island in the sky is full of nothing but liars, manipulators and cowards. besides… why would he worship those pathetic things when you’re right here?
why kneel before them when he can kneel before you?
why worship those who spat venom everytime they open their mouth when ballads and praises, songs of life flow from yours?
why chase after meaningless praises when your words sting like the strongest alcohol, burning his throat, making his eyes water as he becomes more and more addicted to you?
that’s exactly why the anemo archon prefers to worship you instead. when you braid his hair and comb out the knots as he nuzzles against your form, dazed and sleepy.
when you’re there to console him, help him through his darkest days when those wretches of celestia has done nothing.
when you’re kissing away the tears that spill from his eyes, shushing his slurred speeches and sobs of pleasure as you continue to ram into that one spot inside him, making him shriek and spill over his stomach again and again.
the windborn bard could worship you for eternity.
spilling another load into his stomach, the god in your arms spasms and twitches as his legs weakly wrap around your waist to at least try and calm the twitching of his small body.
dear stars above, you felt so big he could almost feel your tip in his stomach in his sex drunken haze. slurred whines of what seems to be your name flowing out of his mouth as he tries to keep his last threads of sanity together but how can he do so when he can just feel your previous loads slipping out of his rim and down to the sheets.
it all felt so hot, the room was so hot, everything was spinning. the warmth of your cum seeping out of his hole, the slight bulge in his stomach, the feeling of your finger wiggling in next to his already stuffed hole and pushing the cum back inside while your cock stays in — venti lets out a weak sound.
“look at you, little bird. you’re leaking out my cum that i worked so hard to put in you. can’t have my hard work being spent, right?” you coo out teasingly, a grin bit too sadistic tugging on your lips as venti writhes under you when you add in another finger. stars above, were you trying to break him?
venti couldn’t respond. he couldn’t even fully understand and register your words. brain too fried from the previous rounds of your just absolutely handling his small body around, pinching, teasing, smacking, leaving marks and hickeys but he loved it all.
as a response, the bard only weakly bucks his hips back into your strap again seemingly wanting more. my, what an insatiable little bird.
throwing his leg over your shoulder, you take out your fingers from his hole and squeeze his tiny waist once in a warning before fucking back into him again. small whines, weak noises and slurred whorish moans spill out from under you, the anemo archon far too fucked stupid to even try to properly say your name anymore.
making a grabby motion with his hands — a silent ask to hold you close while you fuck him full of your cum again — you decide to be nice and lean down, the absolutely filthy wet noises of your cock easily entering him causing venti to dig his blunt nails into your back, pulling you closer to himself.
feeling another orgasm building up embarrassingly quickly, the archon chases after your lips with weak whines, a sob following as you deny him of a proper kiss. instead teasing him by kissing his soft cheek. he didn’t even realize he was crying.
but soon those soft and weak whimpers and slurred words turn into a sharp scream as he feels himself cumming into both of your stomachs again, a sob of your name following along as you chase your high, getting more frantic with your movements.
the archon feels himself getting filled up again when your hips stutter, causing the short man under you to whimper a quiet “[n-nameee…❤︎︎]” in your ears.
after having caught your breath, you pull away from him slightly. pushing his hair away from his face, you couldn’t help but laugh as you wipe away his tears. but that laugh is cut off short as the archon bucks his hips against yours again, a cheeky grin pulling on his lips.
#nobu.writes#sub genshin impact#sub genshin#sub!genshin impact#sub!genshin#sub venti#sub!venti#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader smut#genshin x reader smut#genshin smut#venti x reader smut#venti smut#🌊 anon#new anon!!!#gender neutral reader
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here you are, standing there
prompt: bakery au (@steddieholidaydrabbles)
rated: t
word count: 880
tags: flirting, meet cute at the farmer's market, baker steve, writer eddie
There’s a farmer’s market in the park at the end of Eddie’s block which turns into a Christmas market as the weather gets cold.
He likes to bring his coffee there on Saturday mornings and find a seat on his favorite bench, just out of the way enough to be perfect for people watching but still close enough that he feels like part of the action. He brings a notebook with him when he does this, to scribble little thoughts to himself or sketch out an idea if he’s working on a new book, but mostly he just takes in the crowd and the air and the way people talk to each other as they shuffle past.
Like the bakery stall right across from his bench, with the stupid hot booth guy.
Eddie doesn’t know if he’s the owner or a baker or just some college kid they hired to swipe people’s cards on his little iPad thing, but holy shit. Half the sketches in his book are of this guy's eyes or his hands or the special changing way the sun hits his face in the earlier parts of the morning, when it’s just coming up over the tops of the trees in the park.
It’s not creepy; he’s doing character research. He’s… observing the world around him. He’s a writer. Shut up.
He’s doing exactly this one Saturday morning in mid-November about a week before Thanksgiving when a shadow falls over his book. He glances up slowly, eyes trailing up from Hot Booth Guy’s hands to the sunny pattern of flowers embroidered on his apron and all the way up to his face where he’s standing two paces out of reach and staring down at Eddie with an amused little smile on his face.
And – fuck, he’s even hotter up close; Eddie had sort of hoped, for his own sanity if nothing else, that he’d be one of those people who looked weird on closer inspection, but nope. Here he is in all his square-jawed, golden-tanned Hot Booth Guy glory.
He raises his eyebrows and Eddie clears his throat.
“Um,” he says intelligently. “Hi.”
Hot Booth Guy’s smile widens, and he lets out a little laugh.
“Hi.” He holds out a crinkly paper bag, and Eddie blinks down at it. “Thought you might want some breakfast.”
Eddie tilts his head to the side. “But I didn’t buy anything?”
Hot Booth Guy nods. “That’s correct.”
He holds the bag out again and wiggles it at him until Eddie accepts it, narrowing his eyes as he peeks inside at the perfect crackly flaky croissant nestled inside. He rips off a piece of it and pops it in his mouth, and Hot Booth Guy smiles as he watches him eat.
“Thank you,” Eddie says. He takes a breath. “This is… really good. Just – why?”
Hot Booth Guy shrugs a little, shoving his hands in his apron pockets.
“You’re here every weekend and you never stop by,” he says. “Thought I might lure you in with one of my croissants since nothing else was working.”
Eddie lets out a surprised laugh as he takes another bite of croissant. It really is a fucking great croissant. He squints into the sun as he looks up.
“Lure me in?”
“Yeah, gotta –” Hot Booth Guy mimes a lasso, throwing it in Eddie’s direction and using it to pull himself a step closer. “One of us has to make the first move. You obviously weren’t going to, so.”
And Eddie feels his cheeks heat in spite of the slight chill in the air. He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize there were moves to be made.”
Hot Booth Guy just smiles. “What’s your name?”
“Eddie,” Eddie says. “Not – I mean, I am, and… you are, just –” He takes a breath. “I’m a writer. I just like to people watch sometimes? It helps me get dialogue down in my head. The rhythm of the way people talk? Things like that.”
Hot Booth Guy smiles. “So you’re not interested in getting lunch after one of the Saturday markets?”
Eddie raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. “You haven’t even told me your name yet.”
Hot Booth Guy taps his apron, just above the flowers, where Steve is embroidered in sloping pink cursive.
“Oh,” Eddie says.
“Oh,” Steve repeats. “I’m just saying, if you’d bought a muffin or a cookie or even a bagel at any point this summer, you would have –”
“Okay,” Eddie says, smiling in spite of himself even as he flushes. “I get it.”
“You would’ve gotten my name weeks ago. Probably even my number.”
“Oh, was that embroidered on your hat?”
Steve laughs, and he’s so, so lovely when he laughs, big smile and crinkled eyes, and Eddie feels something fizzy and sweet curl in his chest. He finishes the croissant as Steve’s laugh quiets down, and Eddie smiles up at him as he wads the bag into a ball and tosses it into the trash next to them.
“So?” Steve asks. “Lunch? Preferably today so I can start the wooing process before the Christmas rush really kicks in.”
Eddie nods a little, folding his notebook shut against his knees. “I’d like that,” he says. “The wooing, and also the number.”
[also on ao3]
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Slip of the Tongue
A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers
Chapter two
Eddie Munson x neighbor! reader
Reader and Eddie are the same age - she's in College and he's repeating his senior year once again.
Chapter Summary: Eddie invites you back to his room for a one on one demonstration of his skills.
A/N: Sorry for edging y'all last chapter. This one's pure smut start to finish. Enjoy💛
Chapter warnings: Oral sex (f), fingering, squirting
Tag list rules:
New additions: Make sure to both reblog the chapter and comment to let me know if you'd like to be added to the list and PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE CLEARLY LISTED IN YOUR BIO IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED. AGELESS BLOGS/BLANK BLOGS/MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.
Current tag list: Make sure to reblog the chapter if you'd like to remain on the list for future updates.
The stress had taken its toll on you.
Juggling two part time jobs while studying for your college midterms had you running on fumes, unable to unwind no matter what you tried. The little time you had to yourself was usually spent catching up on sleep but that wasn't ever enough to reinvigorate you, not when you had other needs that went unmet in the meantime.
You were desperate for some real stress relief, bordering on delirious. You had to be because how the hell else could you explain ending up in Eddie Munson's bedroom? Lying in his bed, your panties amongst the litter of cassettes and fantasy magazines strewn across his bedroom floor, and said boy's head between your thighs.
"You better not be wasting my time, Munson", you tried your best to sound tough, a near impossible task when his lips are brushing against your inner thigh, so very close to your slit. He had your skirt pushed out of the way to bunch at your waist, large, rough hands wrapped around your thighs which bracket his face.
"So feisty", he cooed back in reply, breath puffing warm against your core.
It's all so painfully surreal, being here like this, but you try your hardest not to think about it too hard for the sake of keeping your sanity intact. About how Eddie's got you laid out and completely exposed, your bare pussy mere inches away from the boy you'd come over to yell at, the same boy who'd caused a fair amount of the tension he's now offering to help relieve with his tongue.
"Don't worry. I'm going to take real good care of you", he breaks you out of your internal spiral, a teasing but lighthearted lilt to his voice as if somehow, he'd sensed your nerves.
And then he says, "You ready?"
It's a simple yes or no question, much easier than the ones you've been pouring over for days in your practice tests but you find this one the hardest to answer. Not because you're unsure of what to say – you had your answer ready and tucked at the back of your throat ever since his fingers climbed up your thighs to tug at the waistband of your panties.
No, it's because you’re certain that when you answer him, everything’s going to change.
"Yeah...go ahead", you manage to wring the words from your throat, fingers clenching his sheets, eyes trained up at the ceiling because watching him somehow feels like too much.
The few seconds that elapse before his mouth descends on you feels like you’re freefalling, a sharp, plunging descent with no way to prepare yourself for the impact of his tongue gently licking at your folds, thighs jerking as he lapped at the slick which had gathered when you watched him play through the window.
"Y' know, for someone who's always in a sour mood you taste pretty fucking sweet", he smirked, knowing it would set you off, thumb momentarily skimming your folds in place of his tongue.
Ordinarily, a comment like that would have earned him a knee to the groin but now, in this maddeningly bizarre situation you've find yourself in the middle of, your body reacts against its usual instincts, hips shifting off the bed to chase his mouth for more.
"Don't stop", you mutter loud enough for him to hear, tone somewhere between commanding and imploring, eyes slipping shut.
You've never felt a warmth like the kind that seeps into your veins like sunlight when Eddie's broad tongue parts your folds, licking his way up to your clit to lightly swirl the pointed tip over your sensitive bud, hands bringing your hips back down to bed to hold them firmly in place.
"Shit, Eddie that's...nice", you sigh out, perhaps the most civil thing you've said to him in weeks.
Everything smelled like him – the sheets, the pillows, even you, you realize as you turned to press your cheek against his mattress, your hair now carrying the same woodsy, smoky scent, inhaling a little deeper to take in that undertone of boyish musk you find yourself strangely drawn to.
His scent.
Another soft swipe of his tongue along your folds has your toes curling but what's makes the fluttering sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach grow stronger is knowing that he's carrying your scent too.
"Oh fuck..."
The way his tongue roams you is slow and lingering, not at all like what you'd watched him do with his guitar but fuck does it feel good, having his fingers press into the meat of your thighs like he’s afraid you might slip through them at any moment, teasing your clit with soft kitten licks, plush lips occasionally trapping the bud to suck lightly before releasing it again.
He's building you up for what's to come, taking his time to find out what makes your breath stutter and your spine curve in an effort to press yourself closer to him, getting you to loosen up and give yourself to him.
Minutes go by like this though you’re not sure how many. Ten? fifteen? maybe longer, of him lazily laving and sucking gently and it's amazing but it’s also only nearly enough, steadily stoking the fire inside you. It’s enough to draw out a soft pants and muffled moans out of you, enough to make all the tension that had wound you so tight begin to unravel but not enough to grant you the release you're seeking.
Chest heaving, you can’t bring yourself to beg, afraid of what you might sound like if you did, a choked whine of Eddie’s name so close to spilling from your lips already. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing it.
Angling your right foot, you’re able to reach down and press your heel into his waist, not forceful, just enough to make him pull away from cunt, lips sheened with your slick and chin brushing the soft curls on your mound when he peeks up from between your legs.
“Need more already huh?”, he beats you to it, knowing and smug.
As much as you wanted to deny it, you already missed having his mouth on you. Lips pressing into a thin line to show your annoyance, you try to grasp at the right words from the jumble of them knocking around inside your head, hoping to pick the ones that might help you seem less needy than you actually feel, not wanting to boost his ego more than you probably already have.
“What you did earlier when you were playing… that was different”, you point out carefully.
“I know, I’m just getting you ready”, he explains matter-of-factly, eyes dropping back down to your cunt, gently spreading your folds apart with his thumbs with rapt attention.
“I am ready”, you try to argue, a little breathless but firm.
Eddie meets your stern gaze again and gives you a skeptical look in return, holding your stare for a few more seconds as if assessing you before he ultimately yields.
"Alright alright. Listen, uh - this might get a little intense so just um… pinch my hand if it gets too much for you and I'll stop, okay?", he winds one arm around your hip, holding out his hand for you to take.
The shift in demeanor has you slightly taken aback. He’d been so cocky for most this, showing shades of something softer at times but this was the most blatant display of that side of him so far – no sass, no crude remarks, no teasing jab. It was a side you’d seen glimpses of back when you were in school with him, that considerate streak he was sometimes partial to like when he’d taken in those freshmen who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere else. You never thought he’d show you the same kindness, no matter how veiled. Part of you even thought you didn’t deserve it after all the squabbling you’d initiated over the years.
Tentatively, you stare at the hand he offers you, his words echoing in your head loud enough to override your temporary and uncharacteristic bout of guilt.
Intense? Too much for you? Fuck, it's so hard to keep from wanting to grind your core against his face when he says things like that.
"You're pretty confident, aren't you?", you say instead, stalling so that you could discreetly wipe your palm against his sheets before you place your hand in his, afraid yours might be sweaty.
"Yeah, I am. And for good reason", he grinned, curling his much longer fingers around yours as you rest your joined hands close to your belly button, hoping he couldn't feel the storm of butterflies flapping their wings wildly inside your stomach.
“Oh, but first–”
Despite your best efforts, you can’t contain the pathetic yelp he rips from you when he pulls you closer by his free hand, picking your legs up abruptly to get them over his shoulders, spreading you even wider and getting you so close that you’re practically locked in place.
"Eddie-shit", you try to scold but it’s no use.
There’s no more soft, gentle licking when he dives in, tongue moving boldly to pulse against your clit with enough pressure to make your whole chest feel like its crackling with pops of electricity. He’d warned you it would be intense and you learned he was a man of his word, thighs twitching and quivering around his cheeks and curtain of curls. You squeeze his hand instantly, not pinching, he notices, a sign that it’s okay to continue as you throw your head back.
Spiraling again, you’re at a complete loss as to how good this feels. It never felt this good with the other boys and it definitely didn’t feel like this even when you touched yourself. How could someone who’s never touched you until today be able to get you like this so quickly and so easily?
Well, the position certainly helped. You’re entirely at his mercy like this, pinned in place from the waist down, suddenly very aware of how strong Eddie really is, not what you’d expected of someone who spent most of his time occupied with fantasy games. He groans, deep and rumbling, the vibration of it travelling through you while you fight to keep your teeth firmly set in your bottom lip, starting to writhe as he alternates between flicking your clit with his tongue and sucking on it, sloppy, wet, filthy sounds echoing plentiful in his bedroom.
It’s a riot inside your head – two thoughts competing and clashing fiercely; one part of you screams for him to slow down, that it’s all so much so fast despite having asked for it and the other roars back a resounding keep going, oh god, keep fucking going, overtaking the first.
But Eddie isn’t privy to any of this – you don’t want to let him know because even with the way he’s making it harder and harder for you to not just cry out for more, you’re much too stubborn to actually do so – knowing full well that if you were to let on just how much you’re enjoying his ministrations, he’d never let you hear the end of it.
Easier said than done.
Your resolve is withering at an alarming rate, not sure how long you can keep true to your vow of silence when he slips his tongue into your opening, pleasure and relief melding into one now that you have somethinginside you, curtailing the ache of being empty for this long. He fucks you with it, driving it in and out, lavishing you from the inside with every stroke and drag of the slippery muscle against your walls.
“Oh Ed– oh fuck”, you blabber, hips bucking up against his face. You clench around it, clit throbbing in the absence of his tongue swiping over it but the way his nose bumps the tender pearl with every sloppy thrust of your hips more than makes up for it.
He lets you rut against his face like that, only pulling back and away minutes later but you’re not left wanting for long.
A sharp gasp is pulled from you when a finger plunges into you, another joining not too long after. You feel stupid for forgetting how well those fingers moved on his guitar when he curls them inside you, long and thick, reaching deeper than your own, filling you better than his tongue did.
“Shit, listen to you”, he tutted, cunt sopping and squelching loud enough for your whole face to flare up. “Got this worked up just for me, huh?”
He wants to hear you beg; you know it. Rather than replying you whine between ragged breaths, containing the rest that threatened to spill out in moans and cries for more. But it’s nowhere near enough to satiate him now. Eddie frowns, face clouding with irritation. He wasn’t going to let you get away with stifling yourself any longer.
“Tell me how good I make you feel”, he says, tone losing its playful lilt and gaining a firm edge instead, eyes darkening.
“I’ve been real generous with you today – even after all your fucking attitude”, he punctuates with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers into your cunt, another gasp tapering into a whimper falling from your lips.
“Not g-gonna say it…” you tremor, so clearly affected by what he’s doing to you.
He laughs but there’s no amusement there, only something foreboding glinting in his eyes. “Can feel you, honey – trying so hard to hold back but you’re soaked and you’re squeezing me so tight”, sinking his fingers in up to the knuckles.
“C’mon, I’m not asking for a lot, am I? just say the words and I’ll let you cum,” he murmured, amber eyes hooded and locked on yours.
“Eddie-”, you start, hating how it came out all pitchy and wavering, hating it even more when you see how much he liked hearing his name leave your lips like that. “You said you would- this isn’t what we agreed- “
“Do it or I’ll stop”, he cuts you off, unsmiling. You can tell he isn’t joking when his pace falters and his fingers still inside you.
The fear of him stopping when you’re already so close rushes in with torrential urgency, no time to feel embarrassed by how quickly or how hard you squeeze his hand when you feel him begin to unweave his fingers from yours to make good on his threat, your steely grip preventing him from slipping away, begging him to stay.
“Please...”, you begin to crumble, breathy and desperate and aching for him to finish what he started.
The smile pulling at his slick lips tells you he’s appeased, pumping his fingers inside you again, slow but deep, stretching you well.
“Go on…” he encourages, speeding up when you let loose an unrestrained moan that comes out all high and pretty for him, helpless to his touch, your building arousal making you grow compliant.
“Fuck -Eddie, I’ve- I’ve never felt this good before”, you relent with a sob.
“Yeah? Poor baby – always working so hard… got no one else to take care of you. Needed it so bad, didn’t you? Couldn’t even control yourself when you saw me today, huh? Climbed in my bed and spread your legs even though you say you can't stand me”, he grins wickedly, tone thick with condescension.
He was right. For years, you were gasoline and him, the match, all of that smoldering friction between the two of you culminating in the most surprising way.
“But now you can’t get enough of me.”, he finished with a sneer.
Something new blossoms beneath your ribs – humiliation.
But instead of trying to shy away from it you find yourself welcoming the way it sprouts up like tendrils, winding around you all slow and creeping, all because you’ve been put in your place, rendered a mewling, gasping, desperate thing by the boy you’ve spent far too much time despising.
“Wanna feel your mouth on me again”, you blurt between pants, a broken, pitiful sound.
“Need you to make me cum – please”
He watches you struggle under the weight of your own desire, willing to debase yourself if it meant he’d grant you your release and it makes him chuckle, satisfied.
“Was that so hard?”, he flashed you one of those impish, shit eating grins before his mouth is on your clit again, fingers driving inside you in tandem. Your free hand shoots out to weave into his hair, clutching it like a lifeline.
The combination sends you careening towards the edge, the feeling starting to become too much when he sucks hard on your bundle of nerves but there’s no way to pull yourself away from him – not that you wanted to. Not really.
Your whole body tenses and ripples when it crests, something white hot barreling its way out of you – too fast and too intense to warn him, cunt fluttering around his moving fingers, thighs squeezing, throat growing hoarse from your cries.
It runs through you in crashing, gushing waves, leaving you shaking and keening, lungs burning for air until breath returns to you slowly, roiling intensity settling down into pulsing aftershocks. They subside when the afterglow comes next and you relish the way it drapes over your quivering body, lips trembling and chanting whispered exclamations of ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god’ up at the ceiling, still reeling from it all. It’s only when the sensation of weightlessness that had cradled you for those moments following your orgasm begins to recede that you spring up, elbows pressing into the mattress to support you, heart shooting up into your throat when you catch sight of Eddie.
And it’s worse than you thought.
His cheeks, mouth, jaw and neck are soaked, as is the collar of his shirt now clinging wetly to the dip between his clavicles. Oh shit it’s in his hair too, noticing a few dampened ends which stick to the fabric near his shoulders.
In the thick fog of your afterglow your mind turns sluggish – too slow to piece together what exactly had happened as your eyes lowered in search of what caused Eddie’s current state. Realization sets in after a few seconds of delay in the form of a swooping, twisting flurry in your belly, worsening when you find the same wetness coating your inner thighs and pooling on his sheets, your ass resting in a little puddle of well, yourself.
You've squirted all over his face and his bed.
"I've never done that before”, you breathe out, both stunned and mortified at what you’ve done. Though your worry lessens somewhat when you dare to look at Eddie again, the look on his drenched face telling you that he’s anything but upset about it.
“I’ve never made anyone do that before”, he utters back, sharing your surprise.
Your hand which somehow had managed to stay clasped in his throughout the whole thing is finally returned to you when you both loosen your hold on each other, awkwardly pulling away enough for you to scoot off the damp spot on his bed and for Eddie to ease up onto his knees, which he realizes a little too late was probably a mistake.
Your eyes dart to it when you hear his sharp inhale, widening at the sight.
There's a new elephant in the room to address now – the massive erection straining against his sweatpants.
Silence shrouds the room, both of you speechless, panting and sweaty. He makes no move to cover himself and you don’t think to set your gaze anywhere else.
You’re not sure why you did what you did next, only that you felt compelled to do so.
Easing up on to your knees, you come face to face with Eddie, skirt falling back down to conceal you. Your fingers move seemingly on their own accord, curling into the waistband of his sweats, fingertips grazing the hot skin that lies underneath and for some reason he lets you, watching you closely albeit a little disbelieving. This wasn’t part of your ‘agreement’. He’d offered to get you off and you had accepted but that was the extent of it, neither of you giving much thought as to what would happen after but here you are, chasing after more.
Inches away from his lips, you can smell yourself on his skin. That tangy, earthy essence he'd lapped at and drunk down so eagerly for the past hour. What made him like it so much? What made him want to do this all in the first place? You wanted to ask him but more than that, fingers tightening on the cotton waistband, daring to dip inside and skim the course trail of hair above his pelvis, you wanted to find out what he tasted like too.
You draw a little closer and so does he, nose brushing his, chin tipping up, eyes slipping shut…
But your lips don’t meet.
Whatever was about to happen is cut short then, the both of you whipping your heads in the direction Eddie’s bedroom door, on the other side of which comes the sound of the front door unlatching and a set of boots stepping through the entryway.
Wayne’s home.
“Fuck”, you exclaim in unison.
Sharing a panicked look with Eddie the two of you begin to scramble quietly off the bed, not wanting to risk alerting Wayne to your presence in their trailer.
You liked Wayne. Despite his gruff exterior he’d always been fair to you and your family but the last thing you wanted was to get caught out in his nephew's room. Like this.
"Shit – I can't believe I'm saying this now but...you have to go", Eddie winced as he whispered to you, looking increasingly more regretful with every word he’s forced to let out in reference to your departure.
"No– It's okay. I get it, I really should leave", you hush back in agreement, looking all kinds of frazzled and just as sympathetic given you bare as much of the responsibility for how things escalated the way they did.
You get your shoes back on as quickly and quietly as you can manage, panic rising when Wayne calls out something from the kitchen about dinner.
“Be right there!”, Eddie yells back, swooping down to pick your panties up off the floor, sheepishly handing them to you and you ball the underwear in your fist, suddenly too embarrassed to let him look at them despite everything that’s transpired.
And with that brief brush of his fingers against yours, a moment hangs over the two of you as you stare at one another, a moment that begs for something more to be said about the situation.
But what could you say?
"Thanks for the head?"
"Sorry about the mess. I hope it doesn't leave a stain?"
Nothing feels right no matter what you try to scrounge up and scrape together from the recesses of your mind so reluctantly, you don’t say anything at all, turning towards the window and letting him help you out through it, a faint sense of something sour washing over you when his fingers slip away from yours.
The walk back to your trailer is a short one but it’s made all the more difficult on unsteady, wobbling legs. Casting your gaze at every neighboring window in search of anyone happening to look outside, you try your best to look as inconspicuous as possible despite your ungainly stride and your disheveled state, scrambling up and through your front door.
Back in your room, slumping against your bedroom door, your thighs are wet and sticky, breath coming out in short, hurried puffs, heart thudding a mile a minute and you have just one thought ballooning in your mind.
How the hell were you ever going to look Eddie in the eye after this?
-
Tag list: @sadlittlesquish @honey-flustered @cryingglightningg @cadence73
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duos silices ad ignem
Just a Rollo fic I wrote based off of this post
I write Reader/Yuu as female
Also my writing may be a bit biased but I refuse to write Deuce as nothing but a sweetheart even in an angst fic
“You’re ‘used to it’?” Rollo repeats incredulously, looking at you as though you’ve gone barmy, “Oh you poor thing. I can’t blame you for becoming numb to the absurdity after spending every day swimming in it.”
You open your mouth, ready to dismiss his words and defend yourself, but you find the words clogging up at your throat, refusing to leave. The stoic Student Council President continued to look at you, concern overcasting his features, so you swallow thickly as you feel your heartbeat in your ears and mutter that you think you hear Professor Trein calling you before making a much too hasty exit.
You’ll admit that initially, yes, the concept of magic terrified you. Why wouldn’t it? After spending a lifetime without it and then being thrown into the both metaphorical and literal lions’ den with no support whatsoever was the stuff of nightmares. Especially when you consider your first overblot, where everyday was the physical representation of out of the frying pan and into the fire.
But you learned to see the beauty of magic, learned to see how it can help and heal, how it can mend broken bones in seconds instead of months, how it can protect you and make you soar.
Though why do you feel resentful? Why do you feel that tang of bitterness when you’d see someone wave their pens and have an entire room spotless in a blink of an eye? Why does it cause such discomfort to witness a meal magically prepped to perfection? Why does watching your classmates using spells to play around in class and make their life easier fill you up with so much dread?
You love magic so why do you still flinch?
‘Maybe,” your mind supplies, “it’s because they’re so used to it. They’re so lackadaisical about throwing around spells because it comes to them without a thought. To them it’s mundane. To you - well, it’s proof that you don’t belong here, that you’re not yet home.”
Later on you find yourself sitting in isolation on a bench, far removed from the festivities of your peers, as you watch them produce fireworks with seamless flicks of their wrists, laughing gaily with every spark and flicker.
Why was it that a complete stranger could see you, hear your unspoken thoughts, much better than an entire castle full of people that you’ve spent months with? Why was it that this wiry, unfeeling, looming presence was able to piece together what was laid out in front of him much better than the people you brushed with death with to save?
Was it pity? The thought should have filled you with offense, that this person you just met is treating you with such infantilising condescension. How dare he patronise you without even knowing what you’ve done, what you’ve lived through, how you’re barely holding on to the tattered shreds of your sanity before it slips through your fingers-
How dare he be so right.
Maybe it is pity, maybe his patronising words were warranted. Maybe, just maybe, you’re so desperate that you’ll take it, that you’ll take anything if it meant someone would look close enough to see that you’re not okay, that you want out.
You’re left alone with your thoughts now, as you watch your schoolmates with a blank look, your eyes fixated on their high spirits but not quite seeing them. Your thoughts that liked to remind you of how small you are, how insignificant against the might that was magic, how easy it was for you to sign away your life to Azul with a simple signature, how eye contact or a few words was all it took for Jamil and Ruggie to own your mind and body, how Vil cursed your food without a word to you nor a care in the world.
How completely breakable you are in this twisted world of vices and villains.
Even the other first years, who are considered the least powerful in regards to magical capability, could end you as fast as lightning flashes.
You think back on the scars that coiled and burned along your skin, how the foreign slivers of jagged discolouration were littered along your body, a sadistically twisted storybook that mapped out your past, present and future torment. The deep reddish-purple lesions and inky black cracks that spiderwebbed your once young, innocent and untouched complexion were nothing more than a perpetual reminder of all that you’ve lost, all that’s been taken from you in this world. That you weren’t who you once were and you can never go back to being her.
(“Deuce,” you whispered to your friend late into the night. Ace and Grim were contentedly dozing away on the mattress you’d placed on the floor of Ramshackle’s living room, leaving you and Deuce the only ones awake on your couch, the dim light of the television bathing you in opalescence and and the tinny sounds it played turning into white noise.
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice just barely a mutter but you heard it loud and clear.
“Have,” you took a breath and looked down at your twiddling fingers, “have you ever looked at a mirror and saw a stranger?”
“Yeah, I have,” Deuce replied. Your head cants upwards and you see his blue eyes piercing through the darkness, “it was right after I heard my mum crying on the phone to my grandma. I didn’t know who I was. I just knew I didn’t want to be who I saw.”)
But it’s okay now because they are your friends.
That’s the mantra you chanted as you surveyed everyone in front of you.
Riddle who called you pathetic who didn’t hesitate to make a mockery of you who attacked you with both his words and his thorny rage, diligently listening to an NBC student explain the history of Fleur City.
They are your friends
Deuce who was your best friend who you trusted with your life who you can’t tell any of this to and Epel who’s a victim like you who wants out like you who’s still destined to hurt you like everyone else, talking animatedly about their magical wheels as they eat their candy apples.
They are your friends
Ruggie who can control you with one word who still has the fangs and claws of a predator who you still don’t know if you can trust, munching on as many baked goods as he could.
They are your friends
Azul who’s sadistic and manipulative and uses and takes for his own benefit who happily made you homeless and still has everything despite all that he’s done who’s predatory eyes burn you whenever he’s near, looking for your next weakness to exploit and Jamil who used and kidnapped and manipulated you who hypnotised you and ripped away what little control you had whilst playing pretend as your friend who took pleasure in your suffering were surveying the stalls, asking the vendors questions about their wares. For some reason, the thought of joining them felt like acid crawling up your throat.
They are your friends
Rook who’s an enabler just like everyone else who watched on as his housewarden cursed your food and tried to poison and kill someone who can easily hunt you down and find you no matter where you are or how well you hide, laughing along with everyone’s merriment and spouting out verbose french poetry that you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.
They are your friends
Idia who took Grim from you who unlike everyone else was an actual genuine friend before he overblotted who played his part just like everyone else did, looking like he found Nirvana as he was surrounded by stray cats and kittens.
They are your friends
Silver who you don’t even know yet who could still be part of this twisted ploy to cause your downfall who could hide a person as sadistically corrupted like everyone else, napping on a bench near Sebek who hates your existence who hates that a human would dare to breathe the same air as his liege who doesn’t even hide his contempt for you who was watching Malleus who’s never there who never helps who just does what he wants and you can’t say anything because who are you compared to him with his usual starry-eyed worship.
They are your friends. They’ve changed. It’s alright now, You easily washed away the red of their sins so everything’s all good. You’ve moved on - forgive and forget, right? Sure they hurt you but it’s all water under the bridge. They won’t hurt you again. So why, why-
Then why does your stomach feel like lead now. Why do your eyes sting so badly, pinpricks dotting the edges of them as you feel the telltale drip of water run down your cheek.
All you want is to survive
But how do you survive in a world that wants you dead?
Apart from Ace, Deuce, Grim and the ghosts that haunt your dorm, not one person looked at you and saw you as someone other than the magicless prefect who stops overblots and cleans up messes that they had nothing to do with. Not one person who’s hurt you had stopped to think that you were someone who could feel hurt, that your feelings matter, that you don’t fight death every other second because you want to but because it’s the only way you could survive in a place where you have been abandoned.
Shakespeare was right. There are daggers in men’s smiles. In every predatory grin, in every saccharine leer, in every simper that coiled and tightened around you like a serpent, with its poison-laced fangs prodding at your carotid, just waiting to strike.
You feel him before you see him, his lanky figure joining you in your shadowed refuge. Without a word, he sits down beside you.
“Do you believe in fate?” you ask idly, your stare never once wavering from where you watched Professor Trein who’s in on it who, just like every other adult, has failed you who never once punished anyone except you and your fellow students, “that things happen and there’s nothing we can do about it because that’s just how things are meant to be? That the people who do bad things just get to do those things and everyone’s supposed to live with it because that’s how the story is written?”
He regards you for a second and then turns and looks straight ahead with a gaze like steel, “I believe in justice. That without it, humanity is doomed to live in a delusion of peace. I believe that the only way to be truly free from the sins that swarm and bite us, that follow us around like a plague, is to take the reins ourselves and use our power to free us from them. The past is just a tragic history but the future has several names: for the weak, it is impossible; for the fainthearted, it is unknown; but for the valiant, it is ideal. And once the gavel of justice has done its duty in punishing the wicked and freeing the innocent, even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”
You feel a cold, thin hand placed over yours and you let it rest there. It was grounding, comforting.
Maybe, it’s about time you stop being a victim of the narrative and take control of your own story. You’ll rid yourself of your tragic ending and fashion a new happily ever after.
In NRC, you found horrors beyond your comprehension.
In Rollo, you think you’ve found your guardian angel.
#twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#rollo flamm#rollo flamme#rollo flamme x reader#rollo flamm x reader#fem reader
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