#cough cough double entendre | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddiehyperfixation · 6 months

Text

don't you forget about me (part four)

(part one)(part two)(part three)

Eddie wakes from a thankfully dreamless sleep, his head on his pillow now, which is somehow far less comfortable than Steve’s solid chest. Speaking of… Eddie looks around; Steve isn’t there at all anymore, and Eddie is alone. He’s disappointed, though not entirely surprised, that Harrington’s left him again despite his promises.

In fact, he’s honestly more surprised when less than two minutes into his wallowing in the empty room, the door is pushed open by none other than Steve Harrington carrying two trays of food, one balanced on each hand like a goddamn waiter. It’s kind of adorable, actually, Eddie thinks, and that thought surprises him a little too.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning.” Steve sets one of the trays on Eddie’s lap. His smile is bright, though there’s a slight, uncertain wobble to it. “Shitty hospital food and shitty hospital TV, right?”

“Right.” Eddie’s face breaks into a grin, something light unfurling in his chest. He glances at the plate of gross food on his lap then back up at Steve, and he admits, “You know, for a second there I thought you’d left again.”

Steve shakes his head as he settles into the chair beside the bed with his own tray. “I promised you I’d hang out today. I’m a man of my word.”

“Good.” Eddie smiles and grabs a remote off the bedside table, turning on the TV. “Now for our mealtime entertainment, let’s see what’s on the shitty TV today.”

The television starts blaring some old black-and-white rerun of I Love Lucy. Eddie’s immediately about to change the channel, but then he notices the way Steve’s eyes have lit up. “Hey, that’s not shitty TV!” Steve says. “I used to watch this with my mom all the time when I was a kid.”

Eddie snorts. “Of course you did.”

Steve gives him an indignant look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Eddie shakes his head evasively, shoveling a forkful of rubbery scrambled eggs into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

Steve just rolls his eyes, almost affectionately, like they’ve had conversations like this before. He chews on a flimsy piece of bacon and makes a face, nose scrunching up. “Ugh, you really weren’t kidding about the shitty food, though.”

“Nope,” Eddie laughs, “I really wasn’t. Thanks for catering it though.” He swallows down another mouthful of food, and then adds with a little less levity, “And, uh, thanks for last night, too - for calming me down. Don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Steve gives a small smile, shrug, slight shake of his head, a tiny pinch between his brows like he doesn't quite get why Eddie even feels the need to thank him for that. “That's what I’m here for. I just hope I didn't cross any boundaries or anything, holding onto you like that.”

Now it's Eddie's turn to give him a confused little smile and a head shake. “No, of course not. That was exactly what I needed.” He attempts to add some humor back into the conversation, jokingly quips, “Although, to be fair, I never did think that King Steve would ever be caught dead in a bed with The Freak.”

Steve had hazarded another bite of his breakfast, trying the eggs this time, only to choke on it at Eddie’s comment. He coughs, hits his fist against his chest, and hurriedly takes a sip from the water bottle on his tray.

“Jesus.” Eddie tries not to take offense, assuming Steve’s reaction to be one of disgust at the double entendre. “That bad of a thought, huh?”

Steve shakes his head and clears his throat, face flushed. “No, no, it’s not that, man. Food just went down the wrong pipe, is all.”

“Uh huh…”

“Seriously.” Steve gulps down some more water, quiet for a moment before adding, “You know I’m not King Steve anymore, right? Haven’t been for a while now, since even long before your memories end.”

“Yeah, I know. You ditched Tommy H. and Carol your junior year, and then Nancy Wheeler dumped you and Billy Hargrove stole your crown and bashed your face in your senior year, I remember,” Eddie recalls. “But for the most part you were still well-known and well-liked, still this popular, pretty, rich boy jock all the girls still drooled over, so.” He shrugs. “Always figured ‘King’ still fit.”

“Right…” Steve raises his eyebrows as Eddie lists off these events of his life, looking at him with a smirk of barely-hidden amusement. “I forgot you were obsessed with me.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in exaggerated offense. “I was not obsessed with you.”

“Were too,” Steve taunts.

“Was not.”

“Were too.”

“Was not.” Eddie chucks a piece of bacon at him.

Steve gasps indignantly as the bacon slaps him in the face and tumbles onto his lap. ��You child!” But he’s laughing, retaliates by flinging a forkful of eggs back at Eddie.

The conversation devolves into a full-on food fight, shrieking and cackling as they pelt each other with flying bits of eggs and bacon. It turns out shitty hospital food serves far better as ammunition than it does as anything actually edible.

A nurse chooses the exact wrong time to decide to come in and check on Eddie, walking into the room at just the right moment to be caught in the crossfire and hit with a stray chunk of egg. Both boys freeze.

“Uh oh…” Eddie mutters under his breath. Just his luck - it’s not the young, nice nurse, Katie, who always laughs at his jokes, but Nurse Margaret, the old, mean one who he’s never once seen crack a smile. She flicks the egg bit off her shoulder, leveling them with a stern frown as she marches over.

Eddie casts a furtive glance at Steve who looks back at him, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh again, and Eddie feels mirth bubbling back up in his own chest too. He has to look away from Steve again before he loses it.

He sucks his lips in, clamping them together between his teeth to hold in his laughter, and he stares up at Margaret with a thin-lipped, guilty, upside down smile as she chides them both for making a mess and scolds Eddie for exerting himself and risking reopening his wounds. Steve mumbles an apology and starts cleaning up the scattered bits of food strewn about the room while Margaret double checks that Eddie hasn’t, in fact, reopened his wounds or gotten worse in any way. Once the nurse is satisfied with both the state of the room and the state of Eddie, she whisks away what’s left of their food trays and stalks out of the room with one last disapproving look over her shoulder.

Then and only then does Eddie risk eye-contact with Steve again, and the two of them immediately burst back into laughter. Steve nearly doubles over with it, leaning against the trash can where he’d just been dusting off his hands. “Oh my god,” he chuckles out. “Her face when I hit her with that egg? I was so sure she was gonna kick me out.”

“Nearly gave mean old Margaret an aneurysm, and that was just from hitting her shoulder,” Eddie snickers. “Imagine if you hit her in the eye or something.”

Steve does his best impression of Margaret’s angry scowl and reproachful huff, and Eddie cackles. He laughs so hard his sides ache and his injuries hurt, wounds aggravated by the movement of his laughter, but he doesn’t care, the pain far too distant beneath the cushion of painkillers and positive emotion he currently feels so high on.

“You’ve still got some egg in your hair,” Steve notices with another amused snort as he pushes himself away from the trash can and approaches Eddie’s bed again. He plucks the offending bit of food out of Eddie’s curls and smooths down the hair where it had been stuck. “There.”

Steve’s fingertips brush ever so lightly against Eddie’s cheek when he fixes his hair. It sends a pleasant sort of shiver down Eddie’s spine, turning his laughter to breathless giggles just for a moment. “Thanks.”

Steve flicks the egg chunk into the trash before sinking back into the bedside chair with a soft sigh and a warm smile. “God, I missed this,” he says, “just laughing with you.”

“Yeah.” Eddie returns the grin. For him, of course, this is the first time they’ve laughed together like this, but he has to admit he’s already rather fond of it. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard.”

Steve’s smile turns nostalgic, like he can remember the last time Eddie laughed like that, like he was there for it. “It’s a good look on you - laughter,” he says, so quietly Eddie almost feels like maybe it wasn’t meant for him to hear. And Eddie can’t help but think that laughter is a pretty good look on Steve too, all rosy cheeks and shining eyes.

“How did we become friends?” Eddie asks, before his previous thought can take any sort of root.

The nostalgia in Steve’s expression only grows. “It was the beginning of June, start of summer, probably only a few weeks after your memories stop. I was working at the Scoops Ahoy in Starcourt, that new mall that had just opened, and you wandered in,” he says, looking at Eddie with a teasing glint to his eyes, “because you were obsessed with me-”

“Was not,” Eddie protests immediately.

“Were too,” Steve laughs. “Anyways, you saw me in my stupid little sailor uniform trying and very obviously failing to chat up a girl at the counter, and you came in just to laugh at me, actually.”

“Okay, that does sound like me,” Eddie concedes with a grin. He probably walked in there just for the sailor costume alone, if he’s being honest with himself. That’s something he’d kill to see - just for a good laugh, of course. “Do you still have that uniform? It might, you know, jog my memory a little if you were to bring it in one day,” he suggests slyly.

“You and that uniform, man,” Steve scoffs and shakes his head like this is something they’ve talked about many, many times before, enough for it to become a predictable sort of annoyance, a longsuffering inside joke. “No, I don’t still have it. Threw it out first chance I had, not to mention it got totally ruined when the- uh, when the mall burned down.”

Eddie’s eyes go slightly wide. “The mall burned down? While you were there?”

“Yeah- well, sort of,” Steve falters, a shadow falling over his expression, and he shakes his head again. “It’s kind of a long story, and not the one I’m telling right now.”

“Right, yeah, shit.” Eddie waves his hand as if to erase everything he’d said before. “Forget I mentioned it.” He, more than anyone, understands not wanting to relive bad memories right now. “Continue the other story. How did we go from me making fun of you to us being besties?”

The shadow lifts as Steve returns to that memory. “Oh, yeah. I told you the show wasn’t free and that you needed to order something or leave. So you bought a milkshake, which I somehow managed to end up completely spilling all over the both of us when I tried to hand it to you. You were livid,” he chuckles, “thought I’d done it on purpose, even though I definitely hadn’t. I felt so bad I insisted on helping you clean up. You were icy about it, but you let me show you to the sink in the backroom and accepted the jacket I lent you so you wouldn’t have to walk around with ice cream stains on your shirt all day.”

“That’s quite the meet-cute,” Eddie jokes. “Are you sure you’re describing our friendship and not some rom-com chick flick you watched last week?”

“Nah, true story, honest. It wasn’t a rom-com,” Steve says, and though he smiles, there’s an odd sadness to it too. He shakes his head and continues, “Anyways, you clearly warmed up to me after that because you came back the next day to return the jacket and apologize for being a bit of a dick before, and then you gave me this whole ‘you’re actually a good dude’ speech and told me to give you a call if I ever wanted to split a joint or something. I took you up on it that same night; it had been a rough day at work and I figured why not, so I came over and we smoked and we talked and we got along like a house on fire - better than either of us expected, I think. And that was our thing, then, after that - smoking and talking. Sometimes weed, sometimes just cigarettes, and sometimes we just smoked and didn’t talk, and then sometimes we just talked and didn’t smoke; until eventually we started doing other things together too besides just talking and smoking, we were just hanging out. At that point we were friends, practically inseparable, and then we-” Steve stops himself, a shade of melancholy reentering his dim smile once more. “We only got closer from there.”

“That sounds nice…” Eddie tries to remember it, really digs deep in his mind for any sort of spark of memory or recognition in Steve’s words, but it’s empty. It all just sounds like a story to him, doesn’t settle anywhere real. It’s a good story, sure, one he’d like to experience, one he aches to connect with, but a story nonetheless, only words, only fiction. “I wish I could remember that.”

“Me too,” Steve says, and Eddie hates how sad he looks, hates even more that he’s the cause of it.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to make new memories, then!” Eddie declares with a theatrical amount of enthusiasm as he flashes Steve a bright grin, all in the hopes of chasing that sadness back off of his face. “Won’t we, my friend?”

Success; Steve seems a little startled by Eddie’s sudden gusto, but he laughs and smiles, the real kind this time that shines in his eyes again. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Eddie does his best to keep the conversation away from their past after that, not only in an attempt to keep the light in Steve’s expression but for his own sake too. It’s a strange thing to be reminded of the fact that he shares a history with someone and has no memory of it, to be around someone who seems to know everything about him while he feels as though they’ve only just met.

For the most part, hanging out with Steve is nice and fun and easy - there’s something so natural, familiar, about the way they talk, the way they banter, the way they sit together even in the silences. But sometimes Eddie will say something that makes a sadness flicker in Steve’s eyes again, or sometimes Steve will say something that makes Eddie wonder just what secrets this guy knows about him and his skin crawls with that old discomfited itch. They’re both quick with a joke, a redirection, whenever the other’s expression falters, though, like Steve is trying to make sure Eddie doesn’t feel uncomfortable just as much as Eddie is trying to make sure Steve doesn’t feel sad.

Other visitors come in and out of Eddie’s room that day too: Dustin stops by with a portable cassette player and some newer heavy metal albums that came out during the period Eddie no longer remembers, which brings more than one source of entertainment as it also incurs Nurse Margaret’s wrath again when they listen to it too loud. Wayne drops in with some actually edible fast food for lunch and a deck of cards, playing a few rounds of a few games. Nurse Katie checks in on him to redress his wounds and she laughs at his stories of annoying Margaret. Even Steve has to leave a couple times, says he has errands to run or needs to pick up Robin from work, but he promises to be back each time and each time he is.

Night has fallen now, and it’s just Eddie and Steve again, Steve sitting, as always, beside Eddie’s bed as they watch whatever cheesy old movie is playing on TV while Eddie fights off sleep. He fears it still; each wave of drowsiness that washes over him is met with a shiver in his heart that breathes ice into his veins and freezes him awake.

After about Eddie’s hundredth attempt to suppress a yawn, Steve turns off the TV and looks at him. “Are you tired?”

“No,” Eddie says, only for his lie to be almost immediately undermined by another traitorous yawn. “Alright, yeah, I am, but- I don’t want to sleep,” he admits. “I don’t want to dream.”

“Oh.” Steve’s gaze softens, sympathetic. For the first time unprompted, not waiting for a nightmare or for Eddie to ask like he always had before, Steve moves closer and takes Eddie’s hand. “I’ve got you, you know,” he says, the statement fierce in its sincerity. “It’ll be alright. I’ll fight off your nightmares with my bare hands if I have to.”

Steve’s hand is warm against the chill in Eddie’s blood, the heat of his skin seeping in to thaw his fear. “I don’t think a nightmare is something you can fight,” Eddie says, cracking a smile, but looking at Steve now, he can almost believe it.

There’s a new sort of spark in Steve’s eyes, protective, devoted, and it burns the way a fire in the hearth of a home burns, like something dangerous made safe just for him. Eddie suddenly doesn’t doubt, somehow, that Steve could fight off anything, even something as intangible as a nightmare, if it was threatening Eddie. With Steve here holding his hand, he somehow doesn’t doubt that not a single thing can hurt him. Not a single thing would even dare try.

And not a single thing does.

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve.

(part five!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies. please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list)

#aww look they're bonding #was gonna include eddie's dream at the end but it was just way too long so. that'll be the next part i guess #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic #<- tag to follow for this story for those who didn't make the taglist but still want to follow along <3

862 notes · View notes

wintaerbaer · 4 months

Text

things we don't say: part 5.5 (interlude) (kth) (m)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 2.1k

chapter warnings: maya and jk are fighting again :( , and also SMUT in the form of: lots of kissing, light/brief breastplay, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), missionary, creampie, a throwback to part 2, they’re so vanilla but it suits them

a/n: a huge thank you to @btsborahaee for beta-ing on extremely short notice! you’re the best! and an extra thank you, too, to everyone who has shown this series love. it truly means the world <3

listening rec: pieces by andrew belle

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

The night is beginning to wind down, thick summer air turning cool and the noise from inside the venue softening with every passing moment. It’s peaceful—the kind of pleasant exhaustion that marks the end of a big day. Jungkook stretches out at the patio table, resting his hands behind his head. As much as he enjoys a party—loves the pounding of music and the press of bodies—he has to admit that this is pretty nice too, the ease that comes with good company and a more intimate setting.

It also helps that Maya and Mingyu have rejoined the group, settling his imagination, which had been running rampant while they were gone.

“Tae and Y/N haven’t come back this way, have they?” Jimin wonders, peering around as if he thinks that saying your names will cause you to appear.

“I haven’t seen them since dinner,” Maya says.

Joshua shifts in his seat, tilting his head out of curiosity. “What’s their deal anyway?”

It’s like a collective sigh passes through half the table. A heavy breath that’s half amusement, half exasperation. “You noticed?” Jimin asks with a smirk.

Wonwoo coughs out a laugh—a loud bark that draws all eyes to him.

He clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“He’s in love with her,” Maya says, ever-direct. “Has been for as long as I’ve known them. Probably longer. But he’s too afraid to make a move.”

Mingyu sighs in understanding at her side. “Ahh, been there.”

“You have?”

He turns his head and regards her warily, like he didn’t quite mean to say that and he’s just remembered that he’s in the presence of a relative stranger. “Uh, yeah. With one of my friends in high school.”

“What happened?”

He hesitates, picking through his words carefully. “I spent freshman year of college gathering up the courage to tell her how I felt once we were both home for summer break.” A shrug flows down his back. “She rejected me.”

“Aw, Mingyu, I’m sorry,” Maya coos, and the enamored look on her face makes Jungkook nauseous.

“It’s fine. I moved on,” Mingyu says (A shame, Jungkook thinks). “But I can understand your friend’s predicament. Maybe it will work out for him though.”

A rush of boldness floods Jungkook’s veins, and he leans forward, looking deliberately at Maya. “It could definitely work out for him,” he insists, “because Y/N has been hurt in the past, and Tae understands that. He wants her to know that things could be different, but she just needs to let him in. That’s the problem.”

Maya’s eyes flash, clearly catching the double entendre of what he’s saying. “The problem,” she spits, “is that people have a pattern. And Tae’s pattern is that he’s far too scared to take a risk. Abandonment issues run deep, but some people don’t understand and respect that.”

“I und—“

“Tae has his reasons,” Jimin jumps in, defending his friend. “He just needs time.”

Maya snorts, and Jungkook can tell he’s hit a nerve as she continues her rant, the rest of the group quietly looking on in a mix of unease or confusion. “Time? Give me a break. He’s had almost twenty years worth of time.” She crosses her arms as she rolls her eyes to the heavens, scoffing a laugh of defeat. “Honestly? If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that people don’t change. People who sleep around will continue to sleep around.” She pierces Jungkook with a look he feels in the marrow of his bones. “And guys like Tae will always have a reason to be afraid.”

Her head shakes, and Jungkook thinks she might be holding back tears.

“At this rate, we’ll all be dead before he makes a move.”

Taehyung’s mouth is relentless.

From the moment you lean forward, his lips chase yours—desperately seeking—and barely even give you the time and space to breathe. Like he no longer sees use for oxygen.

If someone had asked you a week ago what you thought kissing Taehyung would be like, you would've said careful and calculated, just like he usually is during the day-to-day. But instead, you're getting all fire and a hunger you didn't know he was capable of—urgency in the rough pace of his mouth and the frantic ministrations of his hands digging into the nape of your neck, angling you towards him.

For what it's worth, you meet him beat for beat, nipping at his lower lip, sliding your tongue against his, and tangling your fingers into the thick mane of his hair. A groan emanates from someone's throat—you're not even sure whose—and suddenly, he's gripping you around the waist to drag you across his lap with a growl until you're straddling his hips, crowding him against the headboard as he clutches you to him tightly.

You press closer, closer, closer, crushing your lips together for a bruising kiss and savoring the feel of his arms banded across your back, and the only thing you can think is that you can’t believe you didn’t do this sooner. He’s heaven incarnate, the taste of him ambrosia and nectar, and you can’t get enough.

It’s not enough.

You finally pull away for air, and his lips, still seeking skin, trace a path across your jawline and down the column of your neck as your fingers find their way to the buttons on his shirt. You’re frenzied, fumbling as you undo them one-by-one and let out a gasp of relief as the fabric falls open and allows you access to the warm skin underneath. You greedily run your hands over his chest and stomach, desperate for more, more, more, and he responds in kind, slipping his own palms under the cotton of your pajamas as he continues to nibble at your neck and groaning when he finds you bra-less.

Warm palms cup your breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over perked nipples, and you move to push his shirt down his shoulders, immediately leaning in to bite and suck at the protrusion of his collarbone.

His head falls back against the headboard, and for the first time since you kissed him, he rasps out, “Y/N, my God.”

It sets your blood on fire, the guttural, fucked-out sound of his voice. But you miss the feel of his lips. “Don’t stop,” you murmur, stripping yourself of your own top and diving forward to kiss him again.

He moans once more, the vibrations dancing along your tongue, and the thought repeats that you should’ve been kissing this man every damn day. Should’ve been embracing him at every chance like your life depended on it.

From here on out, you think it just might.

You trail your hands down his torso, and he bucks his hips underneath you, drawing your attention to the hardness pressed against your pelvis.

“Tae,” you gasp, breaking away, and he takes the opportunity to arch his back and pull a nipple into his mouth. “Taehyung.”

But he’s not listening, purely focused on the mounds of your breasts, and so you take it upon yourself to torque your body, flipping the two of you until you’re on your back, and his weight is digging you into the mattress.

The change in position causes a temporary slow in movement, affording you new skin to explore as you roam the expanse of his back, Taehyung’s fingers reverently tracing the lines of your ribcage. It’s not long, however, before your motions ramp back up as you work to shimmy off your pants and clumsily free him of his own.

Finally bare to him, you slow down for real this time as his own touches become tentative, the warm air of the hotel room on his skin seeming to sober him up a fraction. He pauses with a hand on your hip, his other arm braced at the side of your head, not seeming to know what to do next.

Bold and eager—yet sure of your next move—you wrap your fingers around the smooth length of him, relishing the sharp intake of breath you feel at your ear.

“Need you,” you whisper. “Need you, Tae.”

He hesitates only a second longer before his fingers are dipping down between your legs, the two of you sighing in sync at the feeling. You line him up, raising your head to brush a gentle kiss to his mouth, trying to transmit confidence as you fold your legs around his waist.

A stoppage in time as he bumps his nose against yours. Flutters soft breath across your cheeks.

And then he pushes in.

Your lungs cease to function, every cell in your body focused on that single point of connection. You're whole. Full. Complete. Amazed at the ease with which you fit together—two puzzle pieces finding their match. And Taehyung is certainly not unaffected himself as he pulls back to look at you, emotion swimming in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours, his lips still ghosting your skin. And it could be a trick of the light, a haze brought on by the hormones currently coursing through your body, but his eyes look wet. “My angel.”

He kisses you then, slow and deep, taking his time as you both adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. You've never felt this comfortable with anyone before, never trusted someone so fully to see you at your most intimate and vulnerable. And he may have called you an angel, but with him above you like this—hovering, ethereal, and burning against you—you think it might actually be him who's heaven-sent. Your beautiful, beautiful man.

His hand charts a course up your body, guiding your arm upwards until it's resting by your head and he can lace your fingers together with a sigh. One more press of his mouth to yours, a gentle nip at your ear, and then he pulls his hips back—only to gradually ease back in centimeter by centimeter.

The process repeats, the pace slow but not lazy, deliberate intent behind every controlled thrust of his hips. It drives you crazy—the unhurried drag of him, the way he's allowing both of you to savor every nerve and inch of flesh until nothing is taken for granted. Your free hand maps his back, legs wrapping around him even more tightly, and he hitches your thigh to his waist so he can push deeper.

Stars circle through your vision, every sense overwhelmed by him: the press of his hips, the scattered kisses across your neck, the symphony of your mewls and his moans.

It's perfect—he's perfect—and before you even realize it, you're riding the edge of your high, entire body tensing in anticipation.

He notices, dropping his hand low again to rub at your clit and turning the stars you're seeing into constellations.

“Let go. I've got you, baby,” he murmurs. “I've got you.”

It's the low timbre of his voice that ultimately does it, and you fall apart, trembling so forcefully that he releases your hand to wrap his arms around your torso, locking the two of you together. He rides it out with you until he tips over the edge himself, spilling inside with a rumble in his chest like thunder.

One, two, three breaths in.

And it’s over.

Everything stills, the two of you a heaping pile of sweaty skin and heaving chests. And while your head is mostly empty, wiped clean by the experience you just shared with him—perhaps, now, the most important thing you've ever shared with him—a single fact of your new reality persists.

You want him. You need him.

You love him.

He pulls out with a groan and rolls off you, tugging you into his side. You know you should head to the bathroom, should clean up, but the emotional and physical exhaustion and the lure of his skin has you cuddling at his chest.

As your eyelids droop, the promise of sleep looming, he mumbles something, the words blending together in a tangle. You lift your head, heart jolting at the sight of his blissed out face.

“What?”

But he's already fallen asleep, tiny puffs of air slipping through his lips.

You think about nudging him back awake, think about asking him what he just said, where this leaves you, what you’re feeling yourself. But you decide against it, the expression on his face too peaceful to disturb.

It’s been seventeen years leading to this moment, right?

What’s one more day?

a/n: they finally got there :) but there's still a lot of story left! pls consider liking, reblogging, leaving a comment, or sending an ask in the meantime!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung smut #bts smut

306 notes · View notes

elsweetheart · 1 year

Note

Ellie and abby and reader get high together PLS I need more poly content😣😣😣 both of them at once is the sluttiest need plsss

i caved …

three’s a crowd.

🎀 let’s imagine a alt universe where abby + ellie + joel never have beef and everything is sunshine and rainbows 🌈 okay? okay. ⬇️ kinda smutty !

“ohhh, amateur alert.” ellie jeers as abby coughs, having taken a deep inhale from the joint. you sit between your two girlfriends, the two of them passing a blunt between you. you felt hazy, hyper aware of their touch— the weed headed straight for your cunt.

“shut up.” abby rolled her eyes but a lazy smirk stayed put on her lips, her strong hand adjusting itself where it rested on your shoulder. she passed the J towards ellie, who turned to you immediately, the smoking paper pinched between her long fingers.

“y’want another pull, babe?” her eyes darted towards your bottom lip, flushed and swollen from where you’d subconsciously been sucking and biting on it watching your two partners smoke so casually. you weren’t sure why, but something about it was so attractive.

“mm, one more.” you grinned, eyes barely open with how sore and heavy they felt from the high. ellie brought the blunt to your lips, shuffling closer to you and and you leant in, meeting her half way to inhale it. as you leant forward, abby’s eyes drifted down your tank top, your nipples pebbled against the fabric. you squinted as you held the smoke in your mouth before exhaling, ellie grinning almost proudly at you.

“burns so good, huh?” she comment on the way it felt and you nod, relaxing into abby more.

“no more for this one, m’not sure she can take it.” abby instructed, her voice tired and low. you nuzzled your cheek into her chest as she cradled your head, looking down at the way you giggled against her. “yeah i can… can take it really good.” you purred, pushing your face up to be eye level with abby. you were fully aware of the double entendre, and the way your tits were pushed together as you cuddled up to her. she eyed you, before curling a finger beneath your chin and letting your lips press slowly and lightly to hers, the tease of it making your cotton underwear more damp in your shorts.

ellie sat back, manspreading in the chair as she watched you makeout with abby. she finished off the joint, holding it between her fingers as she eyed you.

“hey, you forgotten ‘bout me already? maybe i want a kiss too.” ellie leant off the seat to reach your waist to pinch it with her free hand and you pulled away from abby breathlessly, letting her thumb away the string of spit connecting the two of you. you turned your attention now to ellie as she sat back, who didn’t miss the way the blonde slightly rolled her eyes at this. the freckled girl sat a little further on the long couch, so you ended up on your hands and knees to crawl to where she sat, your back arched a little for abby’s viewing pleasure as the weed had made you bold.

ellie raised her eyebrows with a pleased smirk, her eyes trailing down to your tits before returning to your giggly smile. with determination, she tossed the blunt to the side before grabbing your cheeks with two hands and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. as she did so, abby’s hand almost in a trance slid up the back of your thigh as she admired your position, running up to grope your ass feeling her own skin heat up from arousal. “nice fucking view.” abby’s thumb pressed between your folds through the material of your thin shorts making you jolt and whine against ellie’s mouth. ellie pulled you away for a moment, her hand gently around your neck, thumb stroking your throat distractedly as she peered round to check out what abby was doing. she looked back at you, watching the way you were grinding back against abby’s thumb and smirked.

“we gotta find more weed, makes our girl so fuckin’ horny.”

♡

#ellie x reader x abby #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut #idek how to tag this

946 notes · View notes

slushiepizza · 28 days

Text

Marie and Mother Mary

Relationship : Marie & Milo Greer

Tags : Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Partum Depression, Gender Roles, Catholicism, Motherhood, Italian American Marie Greer

Word Count : 1,510

ao3

Notes and Warnings:

this fic kind of surprised me because I'm not super into the Shaw Pack. But I do find Marie Greer's presence and bits and pieces we know of her character fascinating. I wanted to explore Marie's mind and feelings about being a mother when she's dealing with a gambling husband; and for her to raise someone like Milo Greer- she must've done a great job as a parent.

I took inspiration from my own experiences growing up with Catholicism and specifically in relation to the biblical Mary as a religious figure; and how mothers often find comfort in the thought of a figure who related in their struggles of motherhood and womanhood. It also has a theme of gender roles/ alluding to rigid gender identities because of the circumstances that Marie grew up in.

This fic isn't really... religious per se, and it takes more of a neutral standing while still criticizing how religion could be used to provoke feelings of personal guilt and trauma in someone who grew up in it, while also giving comfort to anyone that needed the universe to say that everything will be okay. If any of the themes may cause distress in you, I do implore you not read this fic, as consuming writing is a vulnerable activity.

The year was 1993. Marie Greer walked into the empty church lot with her baby in her arms. It had been decades since she last stepped on its stone floors. The security guard stationed outside looked at her strangely, but let her in once she asserted that she was there to pray.

She passed the main building for a small garden in the back. There were rows of wooden benches but nobody to be found. Good. Marie didn’t want company at the moment. To call it a garden was an overstatement- it was tiny and cramped, overgrown with vines. In front of the benches, the centerpiece of all the foliage was a statue of the Virgin Mary. Mother Mary, she thought, the double entendre not escaping her.

As soon as she sat down right in front of the statue- Milo wailed inconsolably like he always did.

The baby’s loud cries echoed disturbing whatever peace that was left from the place. Marie sighed, tired and weary, of this. He was an especially sensitive child, smaller than other babies his age. Marie was used to catering to people who’d fuss over the littlest things, Colm had a particular affinity for order and cleanliness whenever he came back from blowing his month’s earnings in a night, after all. The addition of Milo to the family just added more on her plate- she had to catalog every single one of his many allergies, and make sure that the room was never dusty because he’d have a coughing fit otherwise. The replacement of their popcorned ceiling had not been cheap, either, not with Colm leaving barely anything left after his trips to Vegas.

She did this all for love. For him. For her husband. But oftentimes, she felt like there was nothing left of her to give. Dry. Hollow.

She shushed Milo and lightly rocked him in hopes that he’d calm down but to no avail. He thrashed and turned, his nails accidentally scratched her in the arm. Marie winced and tried to soothe him, lightly patting his back. It took thirty minutes of rocking and soothing Milo until the baby went back to sleep.

St. Mary’s weathered ivory-colored face looked down at her, her expression blank and unmoving. Her lips were sculpted into a serene smile. Her pupil-less eyes gazed back at Marie.

Just like any other Italian-American family at the time, church was a routine for Marie growing up. Her mother would dress them in their Sunday’s best and wrangled her and her seven unruly siblings into the building. “Quit fussin’ your pigtails, Marie. I did that real pretty for you,” she’d chide. They’d sit in the back of the church because tardiness ran in that family’s blood like a curse.

Past the twelfth and thirteenth pews, God felt distant.

Marie would follow everything diligently. She stood up when everyone else stood up as the priest lifted the circular white wafer, the body of Christ, above the altar. As a child, her height wouldn’t allow her to catch a single glimpse of it. She’d comfort her younger siblings whenever they’d make a ruckus. But the whole thing- it went one ear out of the other.

She could’ve sworn she tried her best to listen and followed whatever the adults did.

I have greatly sinned, escaped past her lips as she did the same thing she had now, rocking her baby sister in her arms. At the time, she hadn’t even lost her milk teeth.

She stopped going when she married Colm. He was the opposite of the man her mother wanted her to marry, and in retrospect, she felt that it was one of the many reasons she liked him. His mind was raucous, his eyes wild and unmoored. Like nothing was holding him back. Colm used to be an ambitious man- the thrill of being an Investigator for DUMP perfect for his unrested soul.

Marie loved that part of him, the fact that he’d question everything, unbelieving in anything unproven.

He said that he wanted to purge the world of assholes- the unjust, those who hurt others for their own sake. As he turned in empowered criminals in the pursuit of it, he became one himself.

Marie met St.Mary’s gaze- almost challenging her hollow stare. Something surged through her, from the ache in her back settling to her tight diaphragm.

After the birth of her boy, Mary couldn’t cook or clean. All she did was stay in bed. Her sister came by to help take care of the house while Colm stepped outside as usual. She said that it was normal, her body had been through hell, after all. But the heavy feeling, the heaviness that settled in her chest persisted for the next two months.

Marie hated feeling helpless- her house a mess, and her baby cried constantly. She was a woman of action, and stagnation shackled her, leaving her trapped. Her visit to the psychiatrist- and the fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual- had told her that it was depression with a postpartum onset. She told the doctor that she refused to accept that she was a ‘bozo who was sick in the head’ and that she will cure herself with a margarita and a sorely needed hair perm alongside a fresh coat of manicure.

And look where that got her. Crying in front of a statue in church.

She still stared at the other Mary, the statue’s size and height caused her to look like she was looking down on whoever prayed in the confined space, guiding them iin a time of need. With that, for once, Marie realized that she was angry.

She wasn’t stuck to her mattress, fatigued, and lacked energy because of sorrow- she was so angry, the weight of her job description as wife, mother, woman, wolf, dog, bitch- Marie weighed down on her like anchors. She was angry, at the fact that Colm was nowhere to be found throughout all this, angry at her mother- for making her a mother to her own siblings when she was barely a child, angry at the fact that she couldn’t even love her child properly because she no longer had any love left in the hollow of her heart.

The emotions had clawed the insides of her ribs and caused her to let out heavy breaths- she was a dog panting for air when there was none.

“When does it get easier,” she demanded to the Mother of all Mothers through gritted teeth. “Tell me, Mary,” she begged, desperate, as tears started to roll down her face. “Tell me!”

“When does being a mother ever get any easier?”

Her voice was a whisper, barely audible, as she started to sob and heave quietly.

A soft breeze blew past the branches of the trees that surrounded her. It moved the leaves and allowed them to move gently back and forth. The statue still looked down at her, hand slightly outstretched in a supposed kind, helpful gesture. Ants crawled from the crack in the marble, they moved past Mary’s dress down to the hem, circling around her exposed foot, past the head of the sneak that was crushed triumphantly under her toes.

Marie sank into her seat, tired. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffling. Unbecoming of her, she thought. She’d rather die than let anyone see her like this. But there was a comfort between women, she supposed. Damage from rain stained Mary’s cheek like tears- not unlike the thick mascara that currently ran down her own. The air was comfortable, easy, and Marie felt light. It reminded her of the 80s. Of girls in the bathroom of the disco, talking someone out of calling their past lovers as they applied lipstick and passed cigarettes between one another.

“I guess,” she sniffed. “I guess you know better, right?” she stared into a picture that hung on a distant wall. In it, St. Mary cried as she held Jesus' dying body. “He didn’t give you a hell of a good time either,” her voice cracked pathetically.

Girl, tell me about it, Marie imagined the statue said. The Virgin Mary had the voice of her best friend in college. Is that not what being a mother is? The pain so bad, it feels like you’re splitting in two? Going through all seven hells for your baby’s sake?

“Why do we even put ourselves through this,” she chuckled sardonically. “If I wanted to go through pain, I’d rather just listen to Colm talk about whatever fish he caught on the weekend.”

Mary didn’t answer, and Marie understood. Milo opened his big eyes in her arms and reached up to her with tiny hands. He giggled, light and oblivious to the puffiness of Mary’s face and the swell of her eyes. She cooed at him and held up a finger. Milo wrapped his hand around it, gentle.

St. Mary’s serene smile was still plastered on her face, her hand outstretched in the air between them.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #marie greer #milo greer #redacted milo #redacted marie #slushiewrites

57 notes · View notes

randonauticrap · 5 months

Text

Say Yes

Pairing ~ Jin Grandet x Reader

Word Count ~ 2.5k

Synopsis ~ Based on Jin's 18th Level Bond Story: Jin proposes a game to you in which no matter what question he asks you, you have to say "yes"... and you have to mean it. Appearances from the domestic affairs faction!

Author's Note ~ I've been absent for awhile, but it felt SO good to get back into writing for my favorite man. This is my first entry into @aquagirl1978's "A Series of Firsts" event, with my darling Jin and the prompt "First Kiss"! SO excited about my love finally getting his own feature in a fanfic writing event! <3

“Man! What a meal.” Leon whooped as he settled into one of the plush chairs around the fireplace with a hand over his swollen stomach.

“It was amazing, thank you Leon.” you said earnestly, moving inside the door to the sitting room after Yves and Licht.

“Sure was.” a silken baritone voice rumbled from behind you and two large, firm hands settled on each of your shoulders, giving them a squeeze as he spoke. “It was so good that I got to hear this pretty little thing moan, and I’ve always wanted to hear that.”

“Jin, god.” you muttered softly, the palm of your hand finding your forehead to hopefully hide the heat that had risen painfully to both of your cheeks.

“Ooh, say that again, sweetheart, I liked the sound of it.” he chuckled deeply into your ear and your whole body shivered before you decidedly pulled away from him to avoid further embarrassment. You liked Jin, it was no secret; not to you, nor to the other princes of the domestic affairs faction. You were pretty sure that even Jin himself knew, which didn’t bode well for your little crush. After all, wouldn’t he have said something at this point if the feeling was mutual? But he kept on teasing you as usual, pulling you along on his little string, then letting you go. Internally you had groaned when you’d realized the irony of the beast and prey analogy, but if that wasn’t the best way to describe your situation, you had yet to discover it.

“Jin!” Yves fumed, glaring at the 1st prince over the tray of sweets he carried in his arms. “Must you be so vile everywhere you go?” He set the tray down on the short table in front of the fireplace and dusted his hands off before plopping down next to Licht on the long, velvet couch.

“Vile? Yves, you wound your older brother.” Jin feigned hurt, making a show of placing his palm over his heart. You giggled at their antics before you could stop yourself, and Jin sent a wink your way. With the giddy feeling that pooled in your lower belly at his small gesture, you decided that perhaps you needed a little something to drink. At this point, it couldn’t hurt; at least alcohol would help explain the near permanent blush coloring your face.

"Anyone else want some?" You called out as you popped the champagne bottle open.

"I'll take some!" Leon replied. "I'm not usually a champagne guy, but we're celebrating tonight, so count me in." You chuckled, pulling another glass from the stand that Yves had brought in from the kitchen and pouring two glasses.

"You know what I prefer." Jin's sensual voice was so close to your ear that you jumped, spilling a little of the champagne on the table in front of you. He chuckled, sending sparks through you as the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck raised. The double entendre was not lost on you, even as he reached over you to get to the whiskey bottle; the defined muscles on his arm nearly close enough to your face to touch. You couldn't help but stare at the protruding veins on his forearm that snaked up and around to his bicep like a trail on a map, just begging to be followed. Even as he pulled his arm back to his own body, whiskey bottle in hand, your eyes followed the rippling muscles underneath his smooth skin. Nothing else in the room could possibly be as fascinating.

Behind you, Leon coughed forcibly and thankfully awoke you from your hypnosis. You blinked, at last tearing your eyes away from the first prince to focus on salvaging yours and Leon's drinks. You had always been a master at nonchalance, so your inability to act composed around Jin was very new, and wholly unwelcome. It made you feel like a fish out of water: floundering on the hard ground and pitifully attempting to breathe in air that wasn't meant for you.

Finally, you were able to take Leon his glass, and you perched next to Licht on the couch with your own, following Jin's motions in the chair next to you from the corner of your eye. He was so relaxed, his posture open and yet commanding all at once. A low simmering power radiated from him; a power he often disguised with seductive nuance. But you knew that the moment he decided to take charge, every other prince in the room would willingly fall in line behind him. He was the eldest, and though he did his best to disregard his position, the authority was there.

Even so, he preferred to take the backseat, to work from the shadows, to let the other princes take the credit that was owed him, and you both admired and disfavored that. You wished he thought more of himself; like you do. You thought the world of Jin Grandet, in too many ways to count. It's why you'd fallen in love with him to begin with. He was kind, fiercely kind beneath his mask of indifference. He was loyal to a fault, and so intent on making a positive difference in the world without even rising to claim the glory that accompanied it.

However, in that darkness is also where he hid. He hid his pain and his suffering, and buried his worth under years of guilt. The darkness befit him, but it also betrayed him. You saw it in his eyes sometimes; flashes of something he'd never allow his brothers to see… something only you had been given access to. It haunted him, and you wanted nothing more than to infiltrate his darkness with moonlight and stars. Sunlight was too bright for the likes of you and Jin; too blinding, too intimidating. But the moon shone light enough; light enough to expose the truth and still bring peace to his wounded heart.

You brooded quietly over your drink while the princes chatted, slipping further and further into a warm, murky daze as the champagne filled your senses. You didn't even notice the eyes of the first prince on you until he broke through your silence. "Let's play a game." He clapped his hands together and you jumped, your focus pulling back to your current reality with a snap. "Belle, you first. No matter what I say, you have to answer "yes". If you say "no", you lose."

"That's a terrible game." Licht muttered beside you, but you weren't paying attention. The room had a nice, fuzzy glow surrounding it, and Jin was looking at you so earnestly. How could you ever say no to him?

"Do I have to mean it every time I say yes?" You giggled, wriggling in your seat a little.

"Yes." Jin said, setting his glass of whiskey down on the coffee table in front of him.

"I thought it was my turn, Jin. Hehe" You teased, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded.

"It is, sweetheart. That was just an example." He smirked, leaning towards you. He was still several feet away from you, but it suddenly felt like he was invading your space; taking the air you needed for himself. But it was pleasant, heady, and you leaned closer, happy to lose yourself in him.

"Okay then," you challenged. "Hit me."

"I'll start you off easy. Do you like Yves's sweets?"

A laugh bubbled forth from your lips. "Yes, of course! Anyone who doesn't just doesn't have taste buds."

Yves squeaked and you turned your head to find his face red. "Thank you." He murmured, a soft, embarrassed smile on his face.

"You're welcome, Yves." You chuckled, then turned back to Jin, whose gaze had never left you. "Easy peasy, next."

"Alright, how about… do you enjoy Sariel's lessons?"

You grimaced, recalling the particularly difficult one you'd had earlier this afternoon. "You're not playing fair, I told you about my day." You muttered under your breath and forced yourself to think back to last week when you did well on several of the assignments he'd given you, and the perfume Sariel had treated you to in return. "But yes, I enjoy them for the most part. Sariel is always nice enough to reward me with things when I do exceptionally well, and he doesn't have to do that."

Surprise as well as something you couldn't quite pin down colored Jin's features momentarily. "Sariel gets you gifts?" You nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm wearing the perfume he got me right now!" You stuck your arm out to him, no longer shy as the alcohol blurred some of your senses.

"Such a lightweight." Jin murmured softly, but there was no malice in it. He and Leon shared a look you didn't understand before Jin accepted your outstretched arm, wrapping his long fingers around your forearm, and leaned his face down to nuzzle his nose into your wrist. The gasp that escaped your lips was completely involuntary, but the sound mingled with Jin's quiet groan as he took in your scent mixed with the scent of the perfume, and you felt your face fully flush at the barely concealed eroticism of the moment you were sharing.

"Smells good." He murmured, his eyes falling closed for only a few seconds before they pulled back open and trained on you. "But I could do better. I know some scents that would suit you perfectly." His voice was almost low enough to be a growl and a hot shiver ran through you, settling in your lower belly as he let your arm go and sat back in his chair. "Last question." His voice was quiet and measured, but you felt the emotion behind it, and you were suddenly nervous.

"Okay…"

"Do you have feelings for me?"

All motion in the room ceased - even the flames in the fireplace seemed to halt their dance - and every eye fell on you. You gulped, knowing that what came next could either make you the happiest woman alive, or shatter your heart into a million unsavable pieces. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your panicked eyes met his focused ones. You had never seen him looking so intently at anything before, let alone you, and you fought to keep from squirming under his gaze.

I guess it's now or never…

"Yes." You breathed softly, then before anyone had time to respond, you added quickly. "Your turn!" Jin's eyes widened in surprise at the turn of events, but you didn't give him any time to question it. "Will you ever admit your feelings for me?"

The silence in the room stretched on, the air becoming even more tense now that Jin's question had been thrown back in his face. You sucked in a breath that didn't have nearly enough air in it as you waited for his answer, your eyes locked on each other with no indication of either party giving up. But after several torturous moments of silence, Jin's chest deflated, and his quiet murmur of "Yes" filled all of your senses like the oxygen you had been momentarily deprived of.

"Well, I think it's time for us to wrap up here. Licht, Yves." Leon clapped his hands and ushered his brothers out of the room, throwing Jin another pointed look before closing the door behind himself. You never took your eyes off of him, not while Leon, Yves, and Licht had gotten up, and not when they left. You were too afraid that the mirage in front of you would disappear and you'd wake up in your cold bed after another beautiful dream. You also couldn't be too sure that what Jin was saying was what you wanted him to be saying, so you waited, anxious and yearning all at one time, for him to explain.

"You know how I feel about falling in love…" Jin murmured quietly and your heart dropped.

"Yes." You whispered, breaking eye contact in favor of staring at your feet. It already hurt. Your poor heart already hurt.

"My simple plan to not fall in love, especially not with a commoner, has worked well for me for a really long time." He explained, and you nodded, still not looking at him. "It's always been easier to spend a night of fun with a woman and see her off the next morning with a satisfied smile on her face." Despite the fact that you knew this already, your gut twisted into jealous knots and tears sprang to your eyes. You blinked them away as best you could. Jin heaved a large sigh and rubbed his palm over his eyes. "But this plan sort of fell apart when I met you, see."

For the first time since you both were alone, your eyes snapped up to his face. He was smiling sort of sadly, emotions dancing across his face in a distorted line as he measured his next words. "You're understanding, caring, sweet, fun, funny… you're incredible. I wanted to protect you from somebody like me, but I went and fell for you like the selfish ass I am." He buried his face in his hands and shook his head, and before you could stop yourself, you were standing up and taking the few steps that would erase all space between you.

You cupped your hands over his and lifted his face to meet his eyes. "I don't want protection from you, Jin. I want you." You whispered, thumbing his cheeks gently as he stared up at you. It happened quickly after that. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling his muscular body, and leaned up to press his lips to yours, urgently deepening the kiss like he had been starving for you for ages and now that he had tasted you, would never be letting you go again. Your fingers twisted into his short chestnut locks and tugged as you moaned softly into his mouth, savoring him just as much. He pressed the tip of his tongue to your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them willingly, allowing the newfound heat to overtake you. He grunted and squeezed your bottom with his large hands; only then did you realize you had been grinding onto his lap in your frenzy.

You pulled away to catch your breath, pleased to find Jin as breathless as you. Stroking his hair, you bumped his nose with your own. "You know what my next question is, don't you, Jin?" You murmured teasingly onto his lips, and he smirked in response, his grip tightening on your ass. "Yes." He purred, lifting you up in his arms as he stood. You yelped, then laughed, wrapping your legs around his middle and your arms firmly around his shoulders as he carried you out of the drawing room and back towards his own. "Good thing I like carrying you, sweetheart. Cause you won't be walkin' anywhere for awhile after tonight."

Tags for the Lovelies: @aquagirl1978 @rhodolitesroseforclavis @ikehoe @queengiuliettafirstlady @maries-gallery @nightghoul381 @judejazza @xbalayage @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @alvieeru @aria-chikage @tele86

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen series #jin grandet #ikepri jin #leon dompteur #ikepri leon #yves kloss #ikepri yves #licht klein #ikepri licht #ikemen prince jin #ikemen prince leon #ikemen prince yves #ikemen prince licht #a series of firsts #a series of firsts ccc

56 notes · View notes

clintbartoncore · 8 months

Text

it can be really fun to play with the guard dog/(un)trained puppy metaphors for ClintCoulson

Like, people misconstruing Clint’s trust of/willingness to work with Coulson as doglike obedience. Clint wasn’t socialized or trained properly before Coulson got ahold of him (*cough* his potential and skills were being wasted *cough*). Clint looks out for Phil before he looks out for anyone else other than himself. Coulson is the only senior agent who knows how to command Clint (ough. double entendres).

but I also love when we play with the reciprocal idea of possession. Coulson is Hawkeye’s handler. Coulson belongs to him more than he belongs to other assets because he’s the one holding Clint’s metaphorical leash, and nobody else is allowed to do that (or good enough to do that) and that means a deeper sense of obligation and connection (in Clint’s mind (and also in reality bc this is my scenario)).

#.txt #clintcoulson #Phlint #i feel like that second point isn't conveying as much as I want it to convey. Like. obviously he was raised in a circus but also #nobody helped properly integrate Clint. or his actions that help save lives on missions are seen as rebellion. and him trying to give input #on operational plans is seen as defiance etc etc

29 notes · View notes

mermaidsirennikita · 4 months

Note

Sorry if I missed it, but do you have any recs for diverse body types? Like either the hero, heroine, or both who are fat or chubby? Thank you!

Yes!

Historical:

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake by Sarah MacLean. A classic! Callie is canonically fat, ends up pursuing the nine things she's always wanted to do before committing to spinsterhood, and the local rake ends up getting entangled in her adventures. One of my favorite moments in this book is when she tries to disguise herself as a man by wearing trousers during a fencing moment, and he sees her ass and is like "that is NOT a man".

A Rogue By Any Other Name by Sarah MacLean. It isn't as obvious in this book, but I think it's pretty clear that Penelope is more full-figured, and boy is Bourne about it.

Brazen and the Beast by Sarah MacLean. Hattie is fat, and this is one of the only historicals that actually has a plus-size model on the cover and the stepback. She's gorgeous, yay! (And it's such a great stepback.)

Knockout by Sarah MacLean. Another one where the model actually is a legit plus-size model, and a lot of the book is kind of like... big girl wish fulfillment in a great way, imo? It's very touching in a manner I don't think people will get if they haven't been there. Imogen doesn't have all this "I'm fat" angst, she's confident, but her sore point is being made to feel that she's too much in every way? Like, she's too brash, she's too bold, and her big personality on top of a bigger body just makes her too much. Like she should shrink in some way to balance it out. And Tommy is like, carrying her around, protecting her, adoring her. Ugh, it's a lOT.

The Truth About Cads and Dukes by Elisa Braden. Jane is fat, and she considers herself plain. What she doesn't realize, after she enters into a marriage of convenience with local icy duke Harrison, is that he is like. Physically. OBSESSED. He doesn't know much about her personality lmao, but he is BARELY holding it together whenever she does one of her innocent double entendres. (In like, the scene where he's trying to propose a fix it marriage, she's all "and you wouldn't know what's inside my mind unless you'd been inside ME" and he's like, desperately coughing to keep himself together while she has noooo idea why he's so upset lmao.)

Contemporary:

The Brown Sisters trilogy by Talia Hibbert. All three heroines are plus size. There are other cool aspects of rep Talia addresses as well--Chloe Brown has chronic pain, Dani Brown is bi, Eve Brown is autistic (and so is her hero). These are really fun, really good, really sexy books. I think Act Your Age, Eve Brown may be my favorite, though.

The Princess Trap by Talia Hibbert. This is another Talia book with a fat Black heroine who is totally aware of her own appeal and confident as hell. She ends up in a fake engagement situation with a prince (who is, I should add, in trouble because a tape leaked of him and his previous girlfriend getting up to Certain Things That Some Unjustly Consider Abnormal, and also mentioning his bisexuality) and it all goes from there. He has an oral fixation, btw.

Tastes Like Shakkar by Nisha Sharma. This is recent and so cute! It's a Much Ado About Nothing retelling wherein the hero and heroine, of course, hate each other, but have to work together because she's planning her bestie's wedding and he is the chef (and also best friends with the groom). And someone's trying to sabotage the wedding, so that's also an issue. He ALSO has a particular interest that I really appreciate seeing in books with fat heroines, personally.

A Merry Little Meet Cute by Sierra Simone and Julie Murphy. Christmasy, but works all year round imo. The heroine is a plus sized adult film star with a super popular OF-style account, but she wants to break into mainstream. So she gets this opportunity to fill in for an actress on a Hallmark-style Christmas movie, and jumps in. Except oops, the hero, who's a fallen boy bander, is VERY familiar with her work... Super body positive and hot, love it.

Possession by Adriana Anders. Omg love this book. The heroine is a rising actress, and she's in a totally platonic, PR marriage of convenience with this A-list, "sexiest man alive" type star. Then he gets caught on tape doing Stuff and Things with a woman who looks super similar to her. Obviously, they're not really together, but it looks like cheating, so he rans off to a camp to... be himself. She chases him down, and it's super super hot and emotional and there's consensual kidnapping!

Gothic-y Paranormal-y:

The Thornchapel Series by Sierra Simone has six leads (five of whom have POVs). One of the POV characters is a plus size model who's just acknowledged as like, the hottest person around. TW for a million things, but this heroine does have a strong recovery from a past sexual assault ARC.

There are romance novels with fat heroes, obviously, but they are much fewer and further between, and if I'm super real, I've yet to read one wherein the focus wasn't like "the hero and heroine are both fat and the main thing they talk about is being fat", which is not something I personally like to read. It's not that I don't want to read about two fat people falling in love--I do. But I don't like it when that's like... the main point of the story aside from the romance.

#romance novel blogging #book recs #romance novels

17 notes · View notes

kiatheinsomniac · 2 years

Note

Hi.🙂 I know you're probably busy with requests again, but can you write a continuation of the Feeling Good smut? I'm painting Ezio (Brotherhood ver.) currently and I need a little *cough* motivation.🤫🤗

Pairing: Ezio x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: NSFW, cockwarming

Feeling good II | Part One

“You’re taking awfully long.” You commented, sighing as you rested your chin on one of the assassin’s strong shoulders, his skin bare beneath yours. You had a book in your hands, eyes skimming across the familiar pages. “You’d think that you hadn’t, in fact, paid for this information.”

“Forgive me if I’m distracted.” His voice came back strained, shifting slightly in the seat with you on his lap, causing you to tap the back of his head with the book in a warning ‘sit still’, knowing he had done it to slightly thrust his cock into where it was buried in your cunt with how you were sitting on him. The two of you had been sitting like this for what felt like hours by now, testing each other, neither wanting to be the first to give in but it seemed that Ezio’s patience was wearing thinner than yours.

“Well, perhaps you should take a break to clear your head.” You hummed, reaching back to place your book on the desk while your other hand came up to gently untangle any knots in his dark hair that had been let down earlier. “What would you like to do?” He relaxed a little, leaning back into the chair more and wrapping his arms around your bare waist. You fought the urge to press down harder against him, to feel those muscular and scarred thighs under your own. You wouldn’t though, you wanted him to be the one to break.

“I’d take you against a wall if they weren’t all covered in your trinkets.” He let out a low laugh and you frowned.

“Are you calling me a hoarder, Auditore?” Your hand tangled in his hair to keep his head in place as you pulled back, lips teasingly brushing against his, your grip not allowing him to close the distance.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, bellezza.” That charming grin of his cracked your facade, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you leaned in for a messy kiss, feeling how his body tensed up, doing his utmost to stay still.

“Well,” You started, peppering the corner of his mouth to his jaw in kisses, “there’s the bed…” His neck, feeling his head fall back as you loosened your grip in his hair, “we could clear the desk…” The moment you suggested it, his arms removed from your waist and you could hear all the notes and books being pushed to the corner of the desk that met the corner of the walls, all of your little stolen trinkets being pushed with them.

Strong hands grabbed your thighs and you lifted too quickly to mourn the loss of him being inside you, now perched on the edge of the desk as he rose to his feet.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You quipped.

“Your games are cruel, woman.” He shook his head and you loved seeing his hair fall in front of his shoulders with the movement.

“Oh but you love my games, if not then you would not agree to them.” Stunted for an answer, he kissed you instead, tongue making its way past your lips and pressing against your own. You stood to your feet, not breaking the kiss as you did so, hands roaming over his toned chest. “But I like to think I’m fair and patience is rewarded.” Your eyes were lidded as you looked at his which burned with desire. Your hands on his chest pushed him back just enough to give you room to turn around, leaning over the desk and looking over your shoulder at him as you slowly spread your legs apart.

“Never have I met such a tease.” Ezio sighed as he pressed his hips to the softness of your ass, feeling his cock pressing to your skin as his hands kneaded your hips.

“Then it would appear you’ve met your match, Auditore.” You pushed your hips backwards to encourage him, wanting this just as much as he did even if you didn’t quite verbalise that. There was a double entendre to your words that you hoped he would pick up on. You had set yourself on stealing his heart to add to your collection of stolen things. It would be your prized piece.

You let out a soft moan at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressing into you and curled your hands into fists when he thrusted in all of the way, burying your face in your arms at feeling so full of him again. He leaned down over you to brush your hair from your shoulders, pressing kisses across your skin as it was revealed to his eyes. “Don’t test my patience now.” You warned.

“So needy.” He remarked back and before you had the chance to retort, he set up a firm rhythm, your skin meeting in loud slaps and you pushed yourself up onto your forearms as your legs faltered for a moment. Ezio used this chance to reach down with one hand and cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple and making you moan at the simple pleasure it provided. He quickly fell into a harsh pace that reflected just how long you had made him wait for this today, the desk beginning to slam against the wall but the two of you cared very little for that. You reached a hand down to rub against your clit but Ezio grabbed your wrist, pinning it back down to the table firmly before letting go, silently telling you to keep it there. His own hand reached under you and you keened when his fingers pressed down against your clit, rubbing in tandem with his thrusts.

“Close… Close…” You panted out, head falling against your arms once more, legs trembling at the release which had been hung over you for hours now.

“Then cum for me.” He groaned out, nipping your shoulder with his teeth as he leaned over you, body pressing yours down, “Come on the cock that you wouldn’t even let yourself move on.” With a hot kiss to the crook of your neck to muffle his own groans, you came around him and, in your high, felt how his hips faltered for a moment before becoming relentless, without rhythm. You fell, boneless, to the desk with a satisfied sigh as hot ropes of his cum painted your back. You were pulled back into his lap, you being more than content enough to curl up into him on the plush chair, both of your hearts hammering as you let your breathing steady out.

“The information isn't going anywhere. We can rest for a while.” You suggested, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder, your thumb caressing his tanned skin.

“In a moment.” His arms held you just slightly closer, “I’ll clean us up first.”

“Such a gentleman.” You teased with a smile, knowing he would be rolling those beautiful eyes at you.

“You never shut up, do you?” He laughed as he picked you up bridal style, intent on setting you on the corner of the bed so that he could wipe you down with a damp cloth.

“You like hearing me.” You boasted as he pushed some of your damp hair away from your face tenderly, not missing how his face utterly softened as he looked at you.

“I do.” The two of you would sleep in your bed until evening when he would need to leave once more but you were certain of one thing by now: he would always be back.

#ezio x reader #ezio auditore #ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore fanfic #ezio auditore fanfiction #ezio auditore x you #ezio auditore/ reader #ezio auditore smut #assassins creed smut #assassins creed x reader

216 notes · View notes

noodyl-blasstal · 1 year

Text

AU - Blupjeans Week day 4

My @blupjeansweek prompts are part of a story find the others here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | or on Ao3 -

Barry stood in the shower, grateful for the water pounding his shoulder blades. He let the steam curl around him and had to suds himself twice before he no longer felt gritty from getting wind blasted with sand on various roadsides. Finally clean, he changed into his pyjama bottoms and a soft tshirt, then opened the bathroom door.

Lup sat cross legged in the middle of the huge heart shaped bed, still damp from her own shower. She had drawn the canopies back to fully show off the ruffled red silk pillows and fluffy red throw. “Hey Bear! You can be super angry with me in a minute, but look what I found!” Lup brandished a remote dramatically and jabbed a button with a flourish. “Tadah!” The lights immediately dimmed and a lopsided disco ball lowered creakily from a hidden panel in the ceiling. Red tinged motes of light were sent spinning across the walls of the room and there was no way this was real. Surely Lup had just taken him to a nice normal motel, they had two shitty rooms with two shitty beds and Barry was going to wake up from his post-drive nap any minute. When tinny slap bass started piping out of speakers hidden somewhere in the wall Barry started laughing and wasn’t sure he was ever going to stop.

Lup scrambled towards the edge of the bed. “Oh fuck, did I break you?”

Barry stumbled across the room and just about managed to perch on the edge of the bed beside her. The music looped horribly, cutting itself off mid beat, and Barry’s giggles renewed themselves. He leaned his elbows on his knees and fought to stay upright. This was spectacular. Lup was a genius. “No… it’s… it’s perfect.” Barry managed to choke. “10/10, excellent.”

“Really sets the mood, doesn’t it?” Lup smirked. “I guess it did get you into bed with me.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

Barry was definitely going to need his inhaler if he kept laughing like this. “Stop… Lup… you’re going to kill me. I’m going to die in this stupid big bed and I won’t even get to find out if it vibrates or not.” Barry wheezed and coughed.

Lup immediately grabbed the remote again. “Barry, you genius! I didn’t even think to check for that. It’d be great for your back.”

“Always looking out for my old man bones.” Barry regretted it as soon as he said it. Lup looked positively gleeful and opened her mouth to make what was no doubt a horrifying double entendre. “No, absolutely not, you criminal! I’m not old enough to hear whatever you were about to say.” He couldn’t get distracted or run back to the bathroom for safety. When the owner had finally left them alone in the room Barry had insisted they both shower before Lup explained. Thankfully she had understood that he needed a bit of time to absorb, adjust, and scrub off a layer of skin before he tried to comprehend their apparent marriage. It had definitely given him time to think, and the more he had, the more he wasn’t actually bothered by it. Nothing had to be different. “I think we should just go with it.”

“I’m really sorry Barry, it was…” Lup stopped. “Wait, what?”

“It’ll be a good story.” Barry shrugged. “How was your trip home, Barry? Oh, well Lup and I accidentally got married, don’t worry about it, sorry we didn’t invite you!” Lup continued to stare. Oh no, was this creepy? He thought she’d find it funny. “Oh, oh no, I’m so sorry Lup, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I can go and explain? I mean, you’ll have to explain to me first, but then I can explain!”

Lup shook her head slightly and replied. “No no, cha’girl’s good. I just thought you’d be upset.”

“At the thought of being married to you? Never!” Barry winked. He could be normal about this, he could be calm and cool and joke about it as if the thought had never even crossed his mind before.

Lup blushed violently. “Charmer, I knew there was a reason I married you.” She knocked her head gently against his shoulder and stood up. “As long as you don’t mind I don’t mind. Sure you’re good?” Barry nodded. “Shall we go grab something to eat then, husband of mine?”

Barry swallowed drily and felt his face flame in response. He hadn’t considered how nice that would sound. Maybe Lup wouldn’t notice? He could style this out. “I’ll just get… clothes… dressed.” He grabbed his bag and fled back to the bathroom, naturally, calm and cool, Lup probably didn’t notice anything. A few quick breathing exercises, a change of clothes, and he’d be fine. It didn’t have to be weird. His phone buzzed loudly on the sink.

Taako [20:03] Married to my sister are we Barold? [20:03] Can’t believe you didn’t invite me. [20:03] I’m your brother in law, Barold, your own flesh and blood. [20:04] Why aren’t you answering? Did you finally tell Lup? [20:05] You’d better not be boning down. [20:05] WHY DID YOU MAKE ME THINK ABOUT THAT BAROLD? [20:05] You’re my least favourite brother in law.

Barry grimaced, Lup had definitely messaged Taako, which meant she either felt bad or uncomfortable and needed advice about how to get out of it, either way it was bad.

Barry [20:05] I’m your only brother in law, Taako. [20:05] Is Lup okay?

Taako [20:06] Wait, did you idiots actually get married?

Barry [20:06] Is Lup okay?

Taako [20:07] Answer mine first. If someone else made the cake I’m never speaking to either of you again.

Barry [20:07] No Taako, I didn’t secretly marry your sister, why would she agree to that? Is Lup okay?

Taako [20:08] She’s fine, my guy, worrying about you. [20:08] You could just tell her you know?

Barry [20:09] Goodnight Taako.

Okay, so Lup wasn’t grossed out. Barry didn’t have to tell her anything and everything was going to be fine.

– “So how did we meet?” Lup asked as they walked arm in arm down the corridor towards the restaurant.

“Orientation? I can’t believe you forgot. You yelled ‘nerd alert!’ super loudly, everyone laughed at me and I still carry the trauma to this very day.” Barry fell easily into their old joke, placing his free hand dramatically on his forehead.

Lup elbowed him gently. “No, we’re not doing the greatest hits, Barold, we’re thinking outside the box. How did we meet? World’s our oyster!”

“Tinder? That’s how most people do it now right?” Barry asked tentatively. Even the thought of Lup swiping… whichever direction the good way was on him was ridiculous.

Lup snorted. “Absolutely not. We’re better than that, Barold. What have you got, throw me some piping hot spaghetti? Think big! Think funky!”

“Bank heist gone wrong?”

“Now we’re talking, I was the robber, right?”

“Obviously.”

“What else? Cha’girl likes options.”

“Ballroom dance class enemies.”

“Intriguing, I like it, sexy energy. We had to dance together to save the community centre and sparks flew. We tried to fight it, but it was impossible. Keep going.”

“Astronaut training. I failed out, you’ve been to the moon twice.”

“Which one?”

“You’re contractually not allowed to talk about the second moon, you know that NASA’ll get you if you do.”

“Fine, I’ll avoid space jail, just for you.”

“You know I couldn’t bear to be without you, and it’d be hard to visit after I failed my space exams and all.”

“Good point. I was heartbroken when you got the double F-2. Okay, how about we ran away from the circus together?”

Barry considered it. “I think you can do better, but we can keep it as long as I was a tightrope guy.”

“Rude.” Lup huffed, then added, “...but thanks for always pushing me to be my best self. You’re right… Okay, serious business, you developed the flamethrower for my combustion based magic show… I kidnapped you and your family wouldn’t pay up but I decided to keep you in a super non-creepy way? Yeah. Okay. Not that. Errrrm… dog agility? No wait… fuck. Catalogue models? Race car drivers… dinosaur animatronic operators?”

“Why don’t we just take it in turns if anyone asks? No one knows us here.”

–

Once they arrived at the CryptoNOMicon they were promptly settled in a mothman backed booth with glasses full of slushy sweetness and assured that a complimentary appetiser tower was on the way.

“I put that we were celebrating a special occasion on the form.” Said Lup.

It was a few moments before Barry worked out what she was talking about. “Oh! The booking form? Well, we are.”

“... and I said we’d had a title change.”

“We did, you weren’t wrong.”

“... and that it was a surprise for you, and then I might have written a few paragraphs about how great you were and how much I wanted you to have the best time and how excited I was to meet your Mum in person finally… but I booked two rooms! He said he thought it was a mistake and that he’d already issued the refund.” Barry snorted. Lup glared at him. “Shut up, it could have happened to anyone.”

“Definitely, easy mistake to make! Happens all the time I’m sure.”

“I should have told him… he just got so excited talking about the special suite and our honeymoon and I didn’t know how to stop him…”

“Hey, Lup, look at that appet-ower and tell me this was a mistake?” Barry pointed to a monstrosity of fried things that mostly obscured the server wobbling towards them. Lup’s eyes widened in delight. “Exactly, I’m glad you didn’t tell them because there’s no way we’d have sprung for this.” The server stopped to light the sparkler shoved in the top layer of the serving tower and Barry took a happy sip of his drink as sparkles exploded. “Being married to you is amazing.”

#blupjeansweek2023 #Noodyl Writes #Blupjeans #Barry Bluejeans #Lup Tacco #Lup #Taz Fic #Balance spoilers

27 notes · View notes

pertinasities · 4 months

Text

"you must be the hydro dragon, 'cause you make me so wet." {not even rizz, it's just lyney telling neuv about how horny he makes him asfdsfs} | @aeviare

Neuvillette stares for a moment. He blinks a few times, chin canting to the side. "Why would that make me the hydro dragon..?"

Slowly, though, the double entendre dawns on him. Soon the soft pink of his cheeks has spread to a bright red flush covering his whole face up to the tips of his ears.

"N-never mind." He clears his throat, coughing into his hand. "I understand, now."

Still, a hand comes out to cup Lyney's chin, tilting it up to peck a kiss to his lips. He dips until his lips brush Lyney's ear. "If I'm only making you wet, perhaps I need to do more to demonstrate the full power of a dragon sovereign, hm?"

#embarrassed to catching his stride #go grandpa go #writing | neuvillette #aeviare

4 notes · View notes

themadknightuniverse · 1 year

Note

what about lalo teasing nacho to make him horny at work

Oh Nacho would be so irritated! It would start the very next day they finally act on their lust for each other, and it would make Nacho regret everything even more. Lalo wouldn't really make any teasing when it's just the two of them. He would be touchy and make double-entendre that makes Nacho's eyes roll, but that's manageable when it's just them. But when he starts doing it when it's more than just the two of them, Nacho as to grit his teeth and do his "hands-clench-unclench" exercice to keep his cool. Lalo would start easy and nothing very obvious. Like a hand lingering on Nacho's shoulder, but what the people seeing them don't know is how freaking hot Lalo's hands are, how good it feels when he move it around even just a bit, and Lalo knows how Nacho likes to feel his hands on his shoulders, they're somehow pretty sensitive to touch. Especially around the scars. Lalo would also wink his stupid failed wink at Nacho, which wouldn't be such a problem if he wasn't doing it when Nacho is sitting at El Mich', behind Domingo, and Lalo was winking at him with a smirk charged with mischief when their eyes met whenever Nacho looked his way. Nacho would just stare back, unblinking, silently staring back as if to say "are you even freaking serious right now?" and Lalo would just wriggle his eyebrows in return. At some point Lalo would go to stand beside Domingo, pretending he wants to check on some bills that "looks suspicious from where I was sitting", and just that would already make Nacho curse mentally. But then Lalo would make sure he's turning his back to him, and stand with his hips tilted to the side, in that way that make his butt looks real good and already Nacho has a hard time not to look. But he has to keep his face blank and try not to look because the dealer who brought the money is still there, and Domingo may look back at him at any given moment in search of reassurance. But then Lalo freaking leans over the table, and Nacho just can't stop himself from looking, and he strokes a hand over his forehead beading with a bit of sweat, and he brush his fingers over his eyes to avoid looking, pinch the edge of his nose, anything to try not to lash out at Lalo out of frustration because what would it look like if he did? And then Lalo is straightening back up - thank god- and he says there is "nothing wrong with these bills" because of course there is no problem, there never was any, but what's the most unnerving part is when he looks back at Nacho over his shoulder with a smile that reaches his eyes and freaking wink again. When he prepares food for them at noon, he always comes to sit beside Nacho, while Domingo keeps taking care of the dealers coming in. Lalo would mostly let Nacho eat in peace, even if he's staring a bit much, that Nacho is used to by now. But Lalo would always finish first, he just filled Nacho's plate more than his own so he would always finish first, and he'd place a hand on his thigh at some point, while he went through some pages of his damn newspaper. His hand would run up and down Nacho's pants, squeezing here and there, or just rest on the very top of it until his hand felt like a burning mark with how hot they are and how hot they always make Nacho's body feel. One day Lalo goes further and actually palms Nacho through his jeans and Nacho almost chokes on his food but Lalo just plays it off when Domingo and the dealer present look at them, Lalo tapping Nacho's back to help him get the coughing to stop. Nacho would always drive Lalo back to his house afterwards to jump on him like a jungle cat about to slaughter its prey. Lalo would always be the absolute most annoying when he wants Nacho to take the lead.

#that one was super fun too!#thank you 💖#ask #lacho asks #lacho fanfic #text post

12 notes · View notes

doevademe · 2 years

Note

Everything has been so fluffy, but let’s add a pinch of angst, you know that scene at the end of Enchanted where Robert’s girlfriend Nancy tell him to kiss Giselle with true love’s kiss because she can tell he loves her? Well what if that was Percy Nico and Annebeth? What if Nico spelled to sleep and only true love’s kiss can wake him but Percy and Annebeth are still together? Bonus points if Will tries and fails to wake Nico

After a certain age, demigods know better than to expect the gods to act decently.

There were no acts of selflessness among gods, just endless oportunities for praise or entertainment. If the god was clever, (like in this case) it was both.

The worst part is, they are essentially all-powerful manchildren, so it's not like they can refuse a "Half a Year until Valentine's" party from Aphrodite herself without being severely cursed.

The goddess had invited every couple who had formed or broken up since the Second Titan War, and the invitation had added enough threats about ruining relationships (present or future) that everyone had attended.

The only thought running through Percy's mind was "Pink."

The room was pink. The decor was pink. Even the fruit punch and the hors d'oeuvre were pink.

He had already danced with Annabeth, had stilted talks with a lot of couples (Calypso took the prize), and expectated at least six pairs trying to get some distance because of the old relationship switcheroo.

At least Aphrodite looked pleased on her throne.

He was going stir-crazy trying to find something to do when he found Nico di Angelo by the refreshment table.

"Nico!" He called, running up to him. Nico lifted his paper cup (still full) and called him over. "How have you been?" He asked, smiling.

(If he had been more aware of his surroundings, he might have noticed Aphrodite zeroing in on them)

"Good," Nico said lazily, finally taking a sip of his drink. "Hiding from Will."

Now that was a surprise.

"Why? Are you one of the broken up couples?" He asked with some concern. Nico sighed.

"No, but he doesn't get it," Nico said. "He thinks of this as our chance to have a proper prom date and not, you know..." he motioned with his head towards the center of the room, where the garish pink throne stood.

"A show," Percy finished for him. Any romance that happened here would feel phony with the goddess of Love's eyes on you, drinking in your reactions. Nico nodded and took another sip. "How did you get rid of him?"

"Asked him to find me something not pink to eat, Haven't seen him for 20 minutes" he said. Percy laughed.

"Dude, I bet he left to go to the grocery store or something," he said seriously. Nico smirked.

"Good, maybe the party will be over by the time he gets back." Nico stretched and took a big gulp of his drink. "What about you, college boy, how's life treating you?"

"Nothing like the movies," Percy said easily. "six months in, and still not a single wild college party."

"Poor you," Nico replied, still smirking. "I have been to a few of those myself. You're not losing much, but I can get you in if you want the experience."

Percy coughed. Both his and Nico's tone was almost flirty. It happened often whenever they talked, and for some reason Nico's words always ended filled with double-entendres.

They kept talking for a while, not noticing the time go by or that their respective partners were still missing. It was the only fun he had had the whole night.

"Nico!" Will Solace's voice sounded. He had with him a doggy bag with some fast food logo on it.

Nico sighed. He stood straight and waved at his boyfriend.

"Well, it was fun," he said, smiling at Percy. "I'll spend the rest of the night dodging Will's romantic gestures."

"Good luck," he said. Nico finished his drink and gave a step towards Will, only to collapse on the floor the next moment. "Nico!"

Percy managed to catch him before his face hit the ground. Everyone in the hall gathered around them, as Aphrodite cooed in delight.

"Finally!" She said. "You know how long I was waiting for one of you dears to finish a drink?"

"Nico!" Will cried, running towards him. He shoved Percy away and started checking his vitals. "What did you do to him?"

Aphrodite giggled, her throne spinning around like a heavily ornated office chair.

"Each cup of punch contains a powerful Love potion," she explained delighted. Most demigods dropped theirs immediately. "It only takes effect when you drink the last drop, and puts you in a deep sleep until your true love kisses you."

"With all due respect, Lady Aphrodite," a familiar voice said. Percy turned to see Annabeth looking at they goddess as she held her hand out to him. Percy took it and stood up. "That is seriously messed up."

"I did invite you with your couples here for a reason, you know," Aphrodite said. "A kiss from your beloved breaks the spell. You'll be sleeping for five minutes, tops. Perfect Ice Breaker."

No one pointed out that the party had been going on for hours before anyone even finished their drink.

Percy couldn't keep his eyes away from Nico's sleeping face. Will looked determined at him before lowering his face and presiing his lips against his boyfriend's.

"Ow!" Annabeth said, elbowing him. Percy blinked and realized he had clenched his fist, which still held his girlfriend's hand.

"Sorry," Percy said quickly, without looking at her. He was unable to look away from the scene before him. "Just... tired of being used as entertainment."

Will pulled away and looked at Nico, but the teen remained sleeping peacefully. The son of Apollo frowned and tried again and again, but Nico didn't rouse.

"Oh will you look at that," Aphrodite said, delighted. "It seems our dashing ray of sunshine is not the Son of Hades's true love!"

Will's eyes widened and he took a step back. Percy let go of Annabeth and rushed to catch Nico again.

"Careful you idiot," he snarled. "Don't let his head hit the floor. Aren't you a doctor?"

Will said nothing. He just looked between Percy and Nico before frowning.

"After everything?" He asked the sleeping demigod. "After all we said, all we have lived through? It's still him?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Percy asked, getting madder. "Solve your issues with Nico after he wakes up!"

Will growled. As he was younger and shorter than Percy, it didn't have much effect on the son of Poseidon.

"If you want him to wake up that badly, do it yourself," he said. "I'm out of here!"

Aphrodite didn't stop him. If anything she looked even more radiant as she observed him walking away.

"What is he talking about?" Percy asked. Annabeth's lips were pressed tightly. She looked like she had eaten the sourest thing in the world.

"Nico lied," she said. "There's one other person he likes... someone he never stopped liking despite saying otherwise."

Percy blinked, bemused as Aphrodite's high-pitched sounds breached the supersonic barrier.

Someone else he liked... the only person Percy knew that Nico had liked was...

"No way!" Percy said. "He said it was just a crush! I... I can't wake him up! It must be someone else!"

"Only one way to find out!" Aphrodite said. her gaze alternating between him, Nico, and Annabeth.

"He's unconscious!" He protested, immediately knowing how stupid it sounded. The next time he saved the world, his wish would be for every god to attend a consent workshop.

"And you may be the one to wake him!" The goddess insisted. Percy glanced at Annabeth. She looked resigned.

"Go ahead," she said. "You'll do anything to wake him up, won't you?"

Because you love him her tone seemed to accuse him.

Percy gulped before nodding. He lightly pressed his lips against Nico's.

The first second, Nico didn't wake up. Before Percy could discern if he felt relief or disappointment, Nico started stirring.

He started kissing back.

It was as if fireworks were going off in Percy's head. His heartbeat accelerated and his stomach made somersaults. Everything was as it should be.

Then Nico opened his eyes and pushed him away.

"Wha... Percy?!" He said looking around and seeing everyone looking at them. His eyes stayed on Annabeth, who, now that Percy looked, was on the verge of tears.

Nico scrambled towards the corner, where the shadows gathered and swallowed him up. Percy just looked at him go.

Now his only thoughts were of Nico, and of how screwed they were.

#ask #heroichalfblood #thanks for the prompt #I was itching for some angst too #things will end up fine #eventually #but it will take a while #Percico #my writing #writing prompt

41 notes · View notes

samanthahirr · 1 year

Note

Oooh, 7 or 20 for the writer meta asks, please! 💜

Thank you so much for this ask, Ani! Fun Meta Asks for Writers

#7 - What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Oooo, this is a tough one! I did quite a bit of thinking about this topic at the turn of the year. After a lot of soul-searching, I’ve determined what I think my strengths are as a writer: I know what makes a satisfying story/plot, I can deliver strong pacing and structure and parallels and themes. I bring the unreliable narrators and surprises, and all the side characters in my stories have their own motivations. I work hard to develop tension and conflict and believable characterizations.

But what’s probably most-distinctive about my writing “style” is economy. I sketch an environment with a couple adjectives and then move on. I drizzle in exposition only when it’s needed/relevant. I don’t stray down side-alley tangents or linger in descriptions and introspection; I keep the story moving. And my writing is (deceptively) straight-forward: similes are rare, and my prose is direct as opposed to poetic. But just because it’s direct doesn’t mean the narrator is impartial in his observations, or being honest with himself (cough * Off the Books * cough).

Also, my spelling & grammar are always ON POINT.

Would others agree? Fuck, I have no idea. Some yes, some no. Shout-out to all the readers who have commented on my believable characterizations and intense planning/plotting! Shout-out to all the readers who were swayed by my unreliable narrators’ opinionated perception of their world and ended up hating characters I didn’t mean to be hated! Shout-out to all the readers who missed my foreshadowing or didn’t understand the theme! All of these comments inspire me to try harder with the next story.

#20 - Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I love this meta question so much! What a great opportunity to peek behind the curtain of the fics I’ve most-loved to write! A few months ago I posted a 30k hurt/comfort-and-pining story called Please Ask (for Help), and I’m really proud of the choice I made for the romance arc and the late additions I made to the story outline to develop it.

The story is set over 10 days, in which Q gets struck by an SUV on his cycling commute, and Bond cuts a mission short so he can support Q during his first week of post-surgery convalescence. Bond is already in love with Q since well-before the fic starts, and he spends those 10 days of intimate care-taking secretly pining for Q, determined to conceal his feelings from his injured coworker.

I started writing the fic with a brisk, shallow approach to the pining, sticking solely to the present-day, taking it for granted that James Bond was simply in love. (I thought it would be a 15k story. Hah!) I wrote the opening scene of the fic, and Bond thinks to himself, “Four months ago, James would have voiced every filthy double entendre that crossed his mind.” And when I wrote that line, I knew it was a keeper…and also that I would have to eventually produce an answer for what happened “four months ago,” which meant another phase of brainstorming!

Clearly, four months ago was the moment Bond realized he was in love with Q, but what spurred Bond’s realization? Was it something dramatic—an action scene or a kidnapping or a brilliant rescue? Did Bond get jealous of Q dating someone else? Did he catch Q naked, or did Q put another agent in their place with devastating sarcasm, or did Q do something that reminded Bond of Vesper? So many classic tropes I considered. But this was going to be a quiet, soft story about building trust and embracing vulnerability, so I didn’t want anything dramatic or sudden or violent fueling the romance.

Instead, I chose to base Bond’s love on Q’s fallibility; Q’s characterization changed to that of a man too young for his promotion, who puts up an arrogant front of unimpeachable competence around his coworkers as a defense mechanism—an aloof act so convincing that Bond didn’t even consider Q a friend for the first months of their acquaintance. Not until Bond glimpsed Q’s weaknesses, a few rare moments of embarrassment that made Q feel like a real person to Bond. Over the course of the story, I interjected four short memories, each building the backstory of what it was about Q that made Bond fall for him: Q laughing at himself over a wrong answer at a pub quiz; Q asleep and drooling at his desk; Q distractedly pouring salt into his tea instead of sugar; and Q so engrossed in his work that he doesn’t realize he’s wearing his jumper inside-out. All moments when Bond got to see the real Q behind his proud work facade, made Bond want to shield Q from embarrassment, and made Bond recognize Q as someone human and worth adoring.

So I wanted to highlight those four memories in this meta post because they add a rich history to Bond’s feelings, and it’s easy to miss some of them amid the stresses of Bond’s present-day care-taking and Q’s physical challenges. And Q’s fallibility as the source of Bond’s love juxtaposes really nicely with Q’s initial resentment and humiliation at being so helpless and vulnerable in front of 007 post-accident—a delicious irony I used to torture Bond repeatedly! But over the course of Q’s convalescence, Q grows comfortable being vulnerable in front of Bond (as Q never would have been at work), illustrating how Q’s feelings for Bond are developing. And I really love how that soft emotional story line plays out in the fic, supporting the convalescence arc and building to the inevitable get-together.

#ask meme answers #00q #00q off the books #the key to decoding Off the Books #is that POV-narrator James Bond views everyone as a THREAT #even Mallory & Tanner & Moneypenny #he's suspicious of everyone and ascribes them selfish motives #pushing away potential friends and allies #because that's how M programmed him to function #she wanted Bond insecure and isolated and dependent on her approval #and his new hyper-vigilance makes him even more paranoid #don't trust this narrator y'all

8 notes · View notes