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whoreteen · 1 year

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𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 ♥︎ - yoon jeonghan !

◟* ♡ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : not being able to wait until Jeonghan gets off the phone with Joshua, you decide it’d be a good idea to get yourself off on his thigh. He makes sure you pay for that.

◟* ♡ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : thigh riding, begging, oral (f receiving), breastplay, orgasm denial, dirty talk, manhandling, voyeurism, use of pet names, slight use of the words ‘slut’ and ‘daddy’, dom!jeonghan, innocence kink.

◟* ♡ 𝐀𝐔’𝐒 : established relationship, idol!au (ft Joshua)

◟* ♡ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 4,3K.

“Jeonghan,” you whined, a frown curving down to the corners of your lips as you stood in the doorway, subtly trying to push your boyfriend to hang up the phone.

Scratch that, you desperately needed him to give you what you wanted, to fuck you so hard until you couldn’t tell your right from your left, to be so close to you; but yet he wasn’t as close as you wanted. He never was and, to be fair, it wasn’t his fault at all. Between his schedule and your time at work, you never had time to hang out, let alone have sex, hence why you’d be damned if you didn’t spend at least some of today making up for lost time.

“Yeah?” he hummed.

You licked your lips, moving a step closer to him before purring seductively, “Can you please hang up? I need you.”

You hoped your statement would make your boyfriend hang up instantly but to your disappointment, he just shot you a smile, before laughing at something the person on the other end said.

So that didn’t get him…

Jeonghan: 1 - Y/N: 0

You groaned louder than intended, feeling yourself getting more turned on as the seconds went by. You watched the smile on his face widen as he continued to talk animatedly, joking about something that had happened at the end of yesterday’s performance. Your eyes darted down to glance at your boyfriend’s bare chest as you tried to stop yourself from drooling.

You were already soaking through your panties and he hasn’t even touched you yet and seeing him sitting there wearing a pair of well-fitting, perfectly worn jeans and no shirt did nothing to calm your libido.

Shaking off your thoughts, you tried your best to quickly compose yourself as you offered him a smile.

“Baby, come on,” you whine, struggling to get his attention for even a minute. “Wouldn’t you rather have sex?”

“You’re so needy,” he said through a smile. “Let me finish this conversation, and then I promise you’ll have my undivided attention.”

You rolled your eyes before looking at him with curious eyes. “Who’re you on the phone to anyway?” you asked.

“Joshua,” your boyfriend half-smiles before turning to put his phone on loud speaker. You offered him a nod before softly saying, “Hi, Shua.”

“Hey Y/N, I missed you,” he replied back, his response coming out in a low whisper.

You indulged in small talk before giving Jeonghan your best puppy eyes and pouty lips, hoping it would be enough to convince him to hang up. He took Joshua off loud speaker before mouthing, “Five more minutes, okay?”

You groaned before deciding to get up and go to the closet in the foyer, and it didn’t take long to find the shopping bag containing the new lingerie set you had bought a few days earlier. You had intended for it to be a birthday surprise for Jeonghan, but this seemed like an equally good time to use it.

Stripping off your clothes, you replaced it with the brand new lace and pink satin bralette and matching thong. Your tits were practically spilling out, and if that didn’t get his attention, then nothing would.

He had left one of his black dress shirts hanging in the closet, so you pulled it on over your lingerie, buttoning it enough of the way up to cover your panties, but keeping the top half open.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled, knowing that your boyfriend would go crazy upon seeing you like this. You knew him oh to well.

You walked back into the bedroom, where he was happily complementing Joshua’s improvement and hard work over the years. When he saw you standing there in the door frame in nothing but his shirt and very revealing lingerie, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened.

You could hear Joshua’s voice through the phone, but Jeonghan was too busy staring at your exposed chest to pay attention to that. It suddenly hit him how long it had been since he had last seen you naked, and his cock responded immediately to the sight in front of him, exactly how you expected him to react.

Y/N: 1 - Jeonghan: 1

“Hello? Are you there? Jeonghan?!?”

Only when Joshua practically yelled his name, he broke out of his trance.

“What-uhm…sorry, I-uh, I missed what you said,” he stuttered, his voice slightly hoarse and you couldn’t help but have a manic smile on plastered on your face, your eyes glazing over from some lust quirk.

After a brief pause to listen to Joshua’s (predictably inappropriate) comment, he responded again, this time with his voice under control, “Yeah, Y/N took off work today, and apparently she’s horny.”

You rolled your eyes, as his best friend no doubt cackled away on the other side.

Jeonghan snickered at his reply. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take care of her later,” he said, his brown eyes locked with yours. “She already knows nobody can fuck her like I can.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back as you let out a frustrated sigh.

Well, if he didn’t want to be involved, then you’d at least get yourself off.

Usually you would feel rude interrupting his phone call, but the last time you spoke to your parents, Jeonghan’s fingers had suddenly become very busy. After trying to cover your moans with coughing, your mum had called you every other day for a week to make sure you were drinking enough fluids and weren’t coming down with a cold, so this seemed like fitting revenge for having to go through that ordeal.

You took your time removing his shirt from your body, undoing the buttons slowly as you watched his eyes darken with every extra inch of skin that became visible.

Jeonghan couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight.

You dropped the shirt to the floor, doing a small twirl so that he could see your entire body.

“She’s pretty needy today,” he told Joshua as you walked up to him, climbing onto the bed so you were kneeling between his spread legs. You could tell he was intent on making him jealous, especially since he knew he had a crush on you. You, on the other hand, had no idea. “…but then again, that isn’t exactly unusual.”

Leaning forward so that your hands rested on the headboard on either side of his head, you bent your elbows so that you could brush your mouth over his, only briefly, before straddling his firm thigh.

“Hi, baby,” you purred, leaning in so close that your lips were almost touching. His breath hitched a little as he tried not to lose his mind, because you were so close.

He couldn’t help but look at you intensely. God, you were just the hottest person he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Hey,” he raised an eyebrow, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as his eyes fell to your lace-clad breasts, now perfectly at eye-level for him to shamelessly ogle. He could see your nipples through the very thin material and you could feel him twitch in his jeans.

More than anything, he wanted to disconnect the phone and take you right then and there, but he also couldn’t help being curious about how far he could go with this.

“She’s straddling my thigh right now,” he said into the speaker, his lips curving into a smirk. He almost immediately grabbed your hips before massaging the skin there, his brown eyes gazing at your exposed thighs. “My baby girl’s usually not this slutty, I don’t know what has gotten into her.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you bit your lip, not sure how to react to the new side of your boyfriend that you saw in front of you.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Joshua was thinking or saying, you heard a babble of noise from the phone, but couldn’t decipher any of it. The twinkle in Jeonghan’s eyes and the smirk on his face spoke volumes, though. Despite a part of you feeling embarrassed that his best friend knew what you were up to, there was no way that you were going to let your boyfriend win this battle of wills.

Ain’t no way in hell. Mama didn’t raise no bitch, you had to finish what you’ve started.

Setting a slow, rhythmic pace, you slid your hips forward before drawing back.

“Fuck,” you moaned when you pressed yourself down on his thigh and he bucked his hips up against your heat. You made small flicking movements to rub your clothed pussy against him. The pressure only increased your arousal and there was no way you were going to last long.

“Hannie, can you please hang up?” you pleaded, rolling your hips in a circle. You could feel the rush of wetness in your panties, and your skin felt flushed as you sped up your pace slightly.

His eyes travelled to where your cunt was rubbing against him, entranced by the sight of you using his body to pleasure yourself.

“You should see her like this, bro. Panting, begging, her tits bouncing with every move, and her panties fucking soaked. My jeans are going to be damp in a minute.”

A squeak of shock escaped your mouth, and you glanced towards the phone, trying to overhear what Joshua was saying. Your hips kept moving, though, as you grinded your clit against his thigh. You knew he was right, the light wash of his jeans was going to darken with your arousal if they hadn’t already.

“Hannie, please…” you whispered, craving his touch to bring you closer to the edge.

“What do you want, angel?” he quipped and you were ready to snort at him but you refrained, instead taking his free hand in yours and guiding it to your breast.

“Want me to touch you? Is that it?”

You hummed in response.

He squeezed the soft flesh, and even after you moved your hand to settle on his sturdy forearm, he kept you in his grasp. The rough pad of his thumb stroked your nipple through the thin fabric, and you arched your chest into his touch.

You were sure that Joshua could hear your loud noises of pleasure through the phone, but you were past the point of caring.

Jeonghan let out a small chuckle at whatever was said on the other side of the line. He gave your breast one last squeeze before trailing his hand down your body, moving it to grab your ass.

“She’s already left a wet spot on my jeans, I can feel it on my leg. I have no idea what’s got into her today. Maybe she needs two cocks, Shua, what do you think?”

You let out a loud moan, your body subconsciously reacting to his words.

You began riding his thigh harder, feeling your muscles tighten as you rubbed your clit against the rough fabric of his jeans. He adjusted his leg a little to increase the friction, as his hand tightened its grip on your body.

“I think she likes the sound of that,” he sighed into the phone. “I didn’t realize what a dirty girl she was.” He raised his eyebrows at you, a little impressed with the side of you that had come out today.

His hand released your ass for a second before coming back with a quick slap, causing your body to jolt forward as you emitted a small gasp.

“Oh yeah, she likes it rough,” he told him, massaging your ass as he licked his lips, his cock twitching thinking about the red mark he knew was decorating your skin.

Your met his eyes, and silently begged him to hang up the phone and finally give in to you, but he knew that the tide was turning in his favor.

He reached for the pink thong covering your heat before speaking, “Hmm, I think Shua is enjoying finding out just how slutty you can be, don’t you think that it’d be rude to hang up on him now?”

Balancing the phone against his shoulder to free up his second hand, he ripped the flimsy fabric of your panties and tugged them off your body.

Any other day, you would have berated him for destroying yet another pair of perfectly good underwear, but the friction of the rough denim against your bare pussy was the only thing on your mind.

His hand firmly grasped your hip and paused your movements for a second, which allowed him to run a finger across your exposed slit. Bringing it up to his mouth, he swirled his tongue around it, making sure Joshua would be able to hear exactly what he was doing.

“Do I taste good, daddy?” you quipped innocently, voice sickly sweet.

It was as if something snapped in him the second the word left your mouth, you could tell from how tight he was gripping your waist that it was taking all of his will power to not ram right into you and rail you until you couldn’t walk the next day.

“Like heaven,” he groaned. “She tastes so fucking delicious,” he informed his group member.

This time, you could literally hear Joshua’s loud groan through the line, and you knew he was jerking off. The thought made your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t help but let out a whimper.

You let your body grind down hard on your boyfriend’s muscular thigh, one hand wrapped around his bicep, and the other with a death grip on the headboard. “She’s close, Joshua, I can see it all over her face.” He then turned his focus back to you. “Do you want to come for us, baby?”

You vigorously nodded, rolling your hips even faster as your pussy throbbed.

Jeonghan’s cheeks were slightly flushed and you could see the outline of his hard cock straining against his jeans. The knowledge that he was as into this as you were only brought you closer to the edge.

“Shua wants to hear your response, slut,” he gently scolded.

“Yes, yes.. oh fuck, I’m so close,” you moaned out, circling your hips frantically. He landed another harsh slap to your ass, causing you to cry out.

“Can you hear her?” he asked, listening to his response. “Come for us, baby, let Joshua hear how beautiful you sound when you cum.”

With his words, you felt your orgasm rip through you, hard enough to make you see stars for a second. Your body shook with its release, and you were sure that not only Joshua, but probably the whole entire city, could hear you.

As you came down from the high, you slumped against your boyfriend’s chest, slowly catching your breath.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finished, before ending the call and tossing his phone onto the bedside table. He tilted your chin up until you were face to face, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You adjusted your position so that you were straddling both of his thighs. Your hands knotted into his fluffy hair as he pulled you in closer to his body until you were seated right on his still-covered cock.

Jeonghan let out a soft groan when you rolled your hips experimentally against him, causing his cock to twitch. He pulled away before catching your bottom lips between his teeth.

His hands moved from their place on your hips to quickly unhook your bra so that your breasts were exposed to his lustful gaze.

Moving his lips downwards, he took one nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking until you were putty in his hands. He shifted his attention to the other breast, loving the way your fingers ran through his hair, tugging gently whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“Fuck me,” you begged, desperately craving him inside you. “Please, daddy.”

“Since you’ve asked so nicely…” he trailed off, smirking at you before easily lifting you off of his body enough to slide out from underneath so that he could climb off the bed.

Your expression immediately switched from one of concern to one of pure desire when he tugged down his jeans and boxers.

When he didn’t immediately climb back into bed, you crawled over to the edge of the bed, reaching forward to gently stroke his long, hard cock and run your thumb over the prominent vein before reaching his tip, loving the way his breathing quickened.

“Don’t,” he growled through gritted teeth. Finally taking control, he gently pushed you backwards on the bed so that you were left fully exposed to him.

He knelt on the floor between your legs and draped your knees over his shoulders. As his breath hit your sex, you bucked your hips upwards, desperately seeking contact.

One of Jeonghan’s fingers traced your core, causing a shiver to run up and down your spine as he looked at you with obvious lust. You were already wide open for him, but his fingers spread you further, baring your clit.

Hooking both of his arms around each of your thighs, he dove straight in, knowing exactly what to do to turn you into a writhing, moaning mess.

You were too lost in pleasure at this point to notice your hips mindlessly rolling up against his face.

“You taste so fucking good,” he mumbled against your skin as he continued to suck and lick your cunt. God, he was so fucking close and it drove you insane… You could feel his touch, his mouth everywhere.

“And you’re so good at this,” you cry out.

His mouth was already doing so much and he was only just starting. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

You craned your neck up slightly, admiring the way his head looked between your legs, his dark hair bouncing as he nuzzled and licked, sucked and licked.

It wasn’t long until Jeonghan could feel your thighs shaking, your body beginning to tense up. You were far too lost in current bliss to even notice how fast your hips were rutting against his face, you were too busy drooling and moaning like a whore to notice how close you already were.

But your boyfriend knew you too well.

Just before you could come, he pulled away from you, causing you to let out a plaintive whine.

“No no no, what the fuck,” you sobbed, sounding like a pathetic, cock-obsessed whore but you didn’t even care at this point. “Why did you stop?”

“This is what you get for distracting me during my phone call,” he smirked, licking your juices off his lips.

Standing up, he gripped your thigh in one hand, his cock in the other, notching the head of himself at your entrance. As he gently thrust forward, just the head slipped in.

You groaned in frustration, trying to rock your hips downwards, but Jeonghan moved his hands to your hips, holding you still.

“It’s my turn now, you already had your fun, remember?” he teased, but internally he was running through every breathing exercise his vocal coaches had ever taught him, trying to get his body to calm down enough to not come at the slightest feel of your warmth enveloping his cock.

He continued to tease you with a few shallow thrusts, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to feel more of him inside you.

You began to whimper, desperately needing him to fuck you properly.

“I bet Joshua is thinking of you right now, don’t you? He’s probably getting off as we speak, to the thought of you like this, begging for a cock inside you,” he purred. With that, he thrusted forwards, loosening his grip on your waist until his cock was fully sheathed inside you.

“Hannie- ah, fuck!”

His deep groan echoed throughout your body, as he leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of your head and leaning down to kiss you deeply. Your moans against his mouth gave him incentive to thrust harder, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach as your tight cunt slowly pushed him closer to the edge.

“You like that thought, don’t you?”

His face now inches from yours, he continued his dirty talk, watching your eyes close as you visualized everything he said.

“You like the idea of Joshua with his hands around his cock while he thinks about fucking you? Would you like to have him here with us right now? With his head buried between your legs until you came? What about having two cocks inside you?” he whispered, loving the way your entire body reacted to the thought of you being shared with his friend.

You tried desperately to stifle your whimpers, but he knew you too well.

“You can’t lie to me, Y/N. I can feel the way your pussy clenches around me every time you think of having Shua here,” he punctuated his words with hard thrusts, bringing both of you closer to the brink of climax.

You let out a moan that would make even a porn star blush, and wrapped your arms around his lanky torso, digging your nails into his back.

“So wet and tight for me, Y/N. He has no idea what he’s missing,” he cooed, his voice dripping with desire. “You feel so fuckin’ good, princess.” He set a punishing pace, turning you into a barely coherent mess of groans and curses.

You tried to respond with your own dirty words, something about how big his cock felt inside you, but you couldn’t.

The angle at which he had you meant that the tip of his cock was consistently rubbing your g-spot, rendering you incapable of forming full sentences. The only noise coming from your mouth was a high pitched whimper, forced from you with every thrust.

Jeonghan, however, was talking enough for the both of you, continuing to murmur about what Joshua would be doing if he was here with you, enjoying the way your body belied your true feelings about those thoughts despite your best efforts to appear unaffected.

He hit that sweet spot inside you and you let out a loud gasp, “Oh my god, that feels so good. Fuck, right there, Hannie- just like that. Please.”

You we’re rambling, not able to control the words that fell from your lips. You didnt know if any of it was coherent, and to be fair, you didn’t care at all. All you could focus on was Jeonghan and the way you’ve never felt this good before.

“Yeah?” he rasps, his throaty tone sending a shiver down your spine. “Like this, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you cried out as you fucked yourself on him. Jeonghan gulped at the sight and feeling. You were so damn fucking sexy and it was killing him. You were killing him.

“Fuck- I’m so full.”

He groaned loudly when he felt you clench around him before pushing deep into you and staying there. Your pussy felt so full, so stuffed that you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back when Jeonghan began moving his hips again. He slammed himself once again, causing you to jerk forward but your boyfriend quickly caught you. One thing was for certain, you definitely wouldn’t be able to walk after this.

“God, baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight, I- fuck,” he grunted, panting into your mouth, lips meeting in messy kiss but it was hard to kiss properly now.

“Need you to cum inside me, please, daddy. W-want you to fill me up,” you sobbed, feeling his thick cock twitch inside you. “Please.”

Jeonghan moved two fingers to your mouth and of course you eagerly accepted them. “You sound like a filthy little slut, do you know that?”

You nodded vigorously, eyes wide as your tongue swirled around his long fingers. You knew exactly what to say to turn him on and get him going.

“My filthy little slut, ain’t that right hmm? Show me how much of a desperate slut you are for me.”

You felt your brain get fuzzy as you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his fingers in your mouth. You looked up at him with doe eyes, knowing you looked pathetic as you drooled all over his fingers and eventually, it just felt so good that you couldn’t make any noise outside of muffled whimpers but Jeonghan still didn’t remove his fingers. You didn’t mind though, you loved it - the feeling of being stuffed full of him on both ends was almost enough to make you cum on the spot.

He added another finger in your mouth, stretching your lips wide. Your body arched as you clenched his full length in your walls, your eyes slipping closed and loud muffled cries resonating from your throat.

Jeonghan could tell you were about to cum, the way you were fucking yourself down onto his cock, meeting each of his thrusts.

Removing his wet fingers from your mouth between your bodies before they found your clit and began to make fast circles.

“Cum,” he commanded. “There you go, that’s my good girl, go ahead and let go for me.”

As soon as he felt the telltale signs of your orgasm, he increased the pressure, and you came hard, screaming his name, which you could barely hear over the sound of your own pulse pounding in your ears.

Your body felt limp as he thrust once, twice more before coming with a “fuck” and a loud groan.

He rolled off of you, and the two of you lay there for a while, trying to catch your breath.

After a few moments of silence, you burst into a fit of laughter, turning onto your side to face your boyfriend.

“There’s no fucking way I can look Joshua in the eye ever again.”

Jeonghan snorted in amusement. “You sure you don’t want to come to the concert tomorrow? Stand right in the front row with a sign that says ‘Shua, will you marry me?’”

“Better idea: why don’t I just write ‘Joshua Hong, will you fuck me?’” you joked, winking at him.

With a cheeky grin, he responded, “Best idea: why don’t we spend the rest of today and tonight naked in this bed?” he raised his eyebrows suggestively, and your eyes instinctively darted to his cock, already beginning to get hard again at the suggestion of round two. “So how does that sound?”

“Sounds like the perfect day off.”

#seventeen smut #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan smut #joshua smut #seventeen x reader #svt smut #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #seventeen scenarios #joshua scenarios #jeonghan fluff #seventeen fluff #writing for other fandoms made me realize #being multi isn’t my cup of tea 😂#enjoy this self indulgent fic!!

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softmangoes · 9 months

Text

night visits | brahms heelshire x reader

18+ only

summary: you've been having trouble sleeping a month after you started working at the heelshire manor. it's time to figure out why.

includes: fem domme! reader, face sitting, teasing, a very subby and needy brahms

You felt it again. The hands. In the dream, they roamed over your body, tracing the curve of your shoulder, gliding over the smooth expanse of your abdomen, slowing only once they came to your inner thighs. You shuddered as icy fingers crept closer to the warmth there as if they wanted to gently pry you apart, make you pliable. What would happen, you wondered, if you were to spread your legs?

Before you could get an answer, your eyes snapped open to the emptiness of your room - which was quiet save for the usual rustling within the walls. In your groggy stupor, you realize that your blanket had been cast aside, leaving your legs bare to the cold winter air. Was the heater acting up again? You wondered, slightly annoyed. Sooner or later, you'd have to ask Malcom to find a way to get it checked.

But for now, you brought the covers over yourself and fell back asleep.

The dreams had started at the end of your first month at the manor. The Heelshires had just left for their vacation, telling you that they would be back soon once they had enough of the coastal air. By that time, you had just started to get used to the strange routine they had set for you, so your days would be spent lounging on the divan with a book in your hands as the sound of a piano floated from the record player across the room.

But on that first night, you could have sworn you felt someone touching your hair. It started out as a gentle prod, a delicate brush over the stray strands that had stuck to your cheek that soon turned into what felt like someone slowing running their fingers through your hair.

In the morning, you simply dismissed it as a dream. You were alone in the house, after all. Still, you squinted at yourself as you brushed your locks in front of the mirror.

It's an old house, you told yourself. Strange things happened all the time in old houses.

You looked at the doll sitting on the chair across the room. And this house was certainly no stranger to the unusual.

"Maybe it's sleep paralysis," your friend said, her voice crackly over the bad reception. "I used to get it all the time in college. I'd feel breathing on my neck and things trying to grab me."

Your eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. "You think so? I guess it makes sense - it's a little creepy being along without the old folks around," you said, tapping the spatula against your mouth. Malcom was due to stop by at any time with the weekly delivery of groceries and you still had to plan for dinner. "Well, what do I do, then?"

"You try to open your eyes," she said. "Or move your feet. It's your body that's asleep, so shifting yourself should wake you up."

Later that night, you kiss the doll to end your daily ritual.

"Good night, Brahms," you murmured, wrapping the blanket around him. "You better not be up to any trouble."

Maybe you were going crazy. Maybe it was sleep paralysis. Maybe it was all because you hadn't slept well in a while.

Whatever it was, sleep found you nestled in your blanket and took you easily.

Sometime, somewhere amid the realm that separated consciousness and slumber, you felt a hand slip between your thighs.

You stirred at the sensation of a palm sliding over your vulva and what felt like a thumb pressing against your clit.

Something strange was happening.

You opened your eyes slightly and saw the shape of a man outlined in the moonlight.

It's a dream, you thought, shutting your eyes. It's only a dream.

After a minute, the hand removed itself from your shorts and you heard a faint creaking and then the familiar rustling within the walls.

In the morning, you slid your hand under your panties and found yourself sticky with wetness.

"I don't know what's going on," you lamented, leaning back against the pillow. "For fuck's sake."

Your thoughts wandered to the man from your dream. His broad shoulders. The curls in his hair. His large hand grasping you, his cool fingertips pressing against your seam.

You had no idea if what you were going through was just a dream, but perhaps it could be your fantasy.

Slowly, your fingers moved through the slick and your core embered as you made gentle circles around your clit.

Perhaps moving for this job had been stressing you. Perhaps you weren't prepared for how weird this position turned out to be. Perhaps you were just in need of some sort of release.

"Fuck," you gasped as your hips bucked against your fingers. Your other hand fisted the sheets as your climax shuddered through you, sending little shocks from your clit to your thighs.

Satisfied, you rolled over and sighed, chest heaving from the exertion. Your eyes fell to a crack in the wall. In the back of your mind, you wondered whether or not you were truly alone.

Curious, you slipped your shorts back on and walked to the wall. You pressed your ear against the old plaster and heard the familiar creak of wood along with an exhalation that sounded a lot like breathing.

Smiling, you decided that you were going to try something new that night.

After you capped off your daily routine of taking care of the doll, you brought the covers over your chest and closed your eyes.

Instead of drifting off to sleep, you waited.

After a while, you heard a rustling sound come from near the dresser across the room and the creak of footsteps padding against the wooden floor.

There was a man in your room.

Fear would have been the expected emotion to come over you in such a situation, but you could only feel the static of anticipation dance across your skin.

His breathing was soft, as if muffled by something. Within just a few moments, you felt goosebumps prickle your arms as your blanket was moved aside, exposing you to the cool air.

You felt a weight shift the bed. He was trying to come closer to you - perhaps he was testing how bold he could be. Fingers tentatively slid beneath your shirt, feeling the expanse of your abdomen before settling to cup your bare breast.

You fought against an inhale at his touch and instead, you wrapped a hand around his wrist and opened your eyes to find yourself face to face with a porcelain mask.

Surprised, his eyes went wide and he let out a muffled yelp. You thought he would have fallen back to rush to whatever hole he had crawled out if you hadn't tightened your grip on his wrist and pulled him closer.

"More," you demanded. "I want you to touch me more."

You watched as his eyes flicked from your hand to your face as if nervous. A gulp resounded from his mask as he nodded quickly, squeezing your breast as you worked to unbutton your shirt.

"There," you said, the sides of your silk shirt draped haphazardly over your chest. "You like what you see?"

As if in reply to you, he moved closer to you. He was tall and strongly built, the fibers of his work shirt clinging to lean muscle. You figured that he could easily overpower you.

Maybe he would, if you told him to.

"Good boy," you said, shivering at his thumb grazing your nipple.

So this...must have been Brahms. The real Brahms. Somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to feel shocked. All you could feel was the hunger for him to lay his hands on you.

"Can I touch you?" You asked, looking at the soft curls that fell over his mask.

He paused before giving you another nod. You raised your hand and ran your fingers through his unruly curls, causing him to pant.

"Mmm," he rumbled, his eyes rolling back at the pleasure of your touch.

"You poor thing," you cooed, dragging your fingernails down the length of his nape. "How long have you been wanting this?"

With a swift motion, you wrapped your legs around him and flipped him onto his back. He gasped in surprise, his hands holding your thighs to steady him.

"How long, Brahms?" You pressed, raking a hand across his chest, eliciting another delicious groan from him. "Tell me."

"Ev-every night," he croaked, his voice hoarse with underuse. "Aft...after the first month."

With your palms pressed against his chest, you lowered yourself so that your face hovered just above his. His eyes, wild with shock, scanned you nervously.

"Every night," you said slowly, giving weight to each word. "I tucked you into bed. And for a month, you kept me from having a good night's sleep."

You moved to the shell of his left ear and whispered, "I'm going to take back everything you took from me. Do you understand?"

He nodded, this time even more quickly.

"Please," he said quietly, his eyes squeezed shut.

"First things first," you said, tucking your fingers underneath the edge of his mask. "I want to see more of you."

His hand curled around your wrist as he shook his head.

"Bad," he said, almost panicked. "Very bad."

"Don't you want to be good for me?" You teased, sliding a thumb across his smooth porcelain cheek. "A good little boy - just for me?"

"Mm," he said, his voice high with excitement. "Good," he continued, hooking his thumbs beneath his mask to lift it from his face. "Yes, good."

Malcom had told you that years ago, that there was a fire at the Heelshire house.

You saw the flames in the rippled scar tissue that was spread across the right half of Brahms' face.

"Bad?" He shook beneath you, eyes welling with tears. "I look...bad?"

"No," you said, cupping his scarred cheek. The silvery skin was smooth. Even with the burn, he was handsome. The soft curls. His bright eyes. The strong jawline. You brushed your mouth against his, feeling his warm breath on your face. "You've been a very good boy."

At your praise, he crushed his lips to yours - the action hungry and desperate as his wet tongue probed your mouth.

"Been," he panted in between breaths, bunching his hand in your hair. "I've been wanting to taste you."

You rocked your hips against his groin, causing him to moan against your mouth.

"Well?" You said, sinking your teeth at the hollow of his neck. "What do you think?"

"More," he gasped, his hands moving to the waistband of your shorts. "I want, ah, I want more of you."

Quickly, you slipped your shorts and underwear, tossing it aside.

Once you finally discarded your shirt, he marveled at the sight of your naked form.

"Please," he begged, his fingers pressing into your hips. His eyes were glazed with desire. "I want to...taste you."

Not wanting to deny him, you lifted yourself so that your thighs hovered above his face.

"Thank you," he said, his strong arms wrapping around you before pulling your pussy to his mouth.

You grabbed the headboard for stability as his cold tongue desperately lapped at your clit. When you tried to pull away, shuddering at the intensity of his hunger, Brahms only tightened his hold on you.

"I want," he stammered against your wetness. "I want you to, ah, say...say my name."

"Fuck," you grabbed his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth.

He groaned, his tongue exploring your slit. Thighs shaking, you had his name pressed against your teeth.

"Brahms," you whined, fucking yourself against his tongue. "I need more."

"Mm," he nodded as he traced small circles around your clit, your core tightening as the climax shuddered through you.

You moaned his name, thighs twitching with aftershocks until you leaned back and fell over beside him.

Next to you, he wiped at the slick on his face and licked it off his fingers, relishing the taste of you.

After a moment, he rolled to face you.

"The sounds you made," he murmured, hands roaming to your thighs. "So pretty," he continued, making the pads of his fingers wet with your honey. "Let me hear them."

You gasped as he slid two fingers into your warmth, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate him. It had been a long time since you had been touched like this, and all you could do was rock against him, your body still sensitive from the orgasm you had a few minutes earlier.

"Brahms," you clawed at his shirt, panting. "I want to make you feel good."

"Okay," he said softly, leaning back against the bed.

"Take off your shirt," you directed. Obediently, he slipped off his cardigan and top, revealing a lean chest covered in dark, curly hair.

"Cute," you said, straddling him, feeling the length of his excitement against your thigh.

"You think...I'm cute?" He blushed, raising a hand to cover his face.

It was so strange to think that he was almost frightening earlier this night, but so pliable for you now.

"So cute," you took his hand away from his face so you could kiss him deeply, your hips rocking slowly against his.

Against your mouth, he whimpered at the friction.

"It feels good," he groaned. The sound of it was almost guttural, like a growl. "More," he begged. "Please." He dug his fingers into your hips, grinding you against his cock.

"Brahms," you took his hands in yours. "Be a good boy and take the rest off."

With a nod, he slipped off his pants, revealing a rock-hard erection.

"Oh," you said, marveling at the size of it. "What a pretty thing." You teased, rubbing the tip along your seam. "Can you feel how wet I am for you?"

"Please," he panted, almost whining. "I'll be good. Just...let me take you."

You groaned as his head met your slick clit. "But you're being so good for me right now," you told him, bracing yourself against his chest as you teased him near your entrance.

"Please!" He cried, taking your hips and slamming you against his cock.

You gasped at the length of him, but you could barely brace yourself as he started bucking into you hard.

"I've been bad," he said, wrapping an arm around you to secure you to his body. His breath was hot against your chest as he bounced you.

"But I can be good for you," he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking on it gently as he worked at it with his tongue.

"Brahms," you moaned, grabbing his curls as he fucked you relentlessly.

"I want you," he licked. "I want you all to myself." His arms tightened around you.

You couldn't help but churn your hips against his. Fuck, it felt good.

You bit your lip as your core tightened. You were about to come.

"Kiss me," he growled, and you brought your mouth to his as the climax rocked through the both of you. Thighs shaking, you could feel him twitch inside of you.

With a sigh, he loosened his hold on you and you leaned against his chest.

"Was I...good?" He asked once his breathing began to slow, his voice quiet.

"Did I do good for you?"

You gave him a peck on the cheek - although from the look on his face, it seemed like he wanted more.

"It was amazing," you told him.

Eyes wet with tears, he wrapped his arms around you. "D-don't ever l-leave me," he said. "I don't...ever want you to leave me."

"Shush," you pressed a finger to his lips. "I don't know where you got that idea," you said, bringing your mouth to his neck. "I think I'd like to have you to myself for a long time."

#brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire x you #the boy 2016 fanfic #slasher fic #this is my first smut ever so i hope it's ok??#also i absolutely adore this needy creepy boy ugh i just want to ruin him #anyway pls enjoy this very self indulgent piece #no beta we die like men #my writing

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spicyet · 3 months

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What are you looking for here? Scroll back up.

Just kidding, here’s a treat:

#laishuro #laios touden #nakamoto toshiro #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #Fic writing takes time but at least my wife is helping m #e proof read #for now.. i can at least draw the possible scenes that i wANT TO WRITE SO BAD but don't know how to go about em yet lol #STILL!!! As you can see i refuse not to let these dudes feel themselves a lil bit :)#Laios wants to feel all of those textures and toshiro's heart will explode with all the intimacy #also Laios' getting into the intricacies of the East culture that he starts to notice and enjoy things about Toshiro #also both of these guys have dad issues #that alone gives me TOO MUCH to work with >:)#But I must admit 70% of these are self-indulgent and I will not stop <3 #Sam's doodles of the day #shuro

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thefrogdalorian · 4 months

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Always

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1588 Rating: General Summary: You wake up from an incredibly distressing nightmare in which Din and Grogu had suddenly vanished from your life without a trace. Fortunately, Din is there to console you with his comforting embrace and soothing words. He leaves you feeling optimistic about the future, rather than dreading what lies ahead for the pair of you. Content Warnings: Reader has a nightmare and panic attack! Author's Note: I opened up Google Docs and started churning this baby out minutes after the movie announcement yesterday. Until I see confirmation season 4 is in production I'll be spiralling that the show as we know it has ended, despite how excited I am to see Clan Mudhorn on the big screen!! I just needed to write this for some comfort for myself, but I really hope you enjoyed it too.

My Masterlist

Read on AO3

The presence of a large hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you, awakened you from the torturous visions that had overtaken your consciousness while you were sleeping. The nightmare had rocked you to your core, but the warm touch of Din’s hand on your shoulder brought you back from that terrible place that your mind had taken you to. Only seconds ago, you had been experiencing a hauntingly realistic nightmare where Din had disappeared from your life without a trace.

In the terrifying scene your mind had created, you arrived back – after running some errands in the centre of town – at the small cabin the two of you shared with Grogu on Nevarro to find it empty. The cabin was achingly quiet and still as you approached. There was no light, laughter or love; you had felt the bile rise in your throat at the realisation that all evidence of Din and Grogu’s existence had been inexplicably wiped from your life.

The numerous colourful drawings Grogu had created of your Clan of Three, usually pinned to the door of the cooling chamber with magnets, had vanished. As had the toys that were carelessly strewn across the rug in the main living area of the cabin – despite how frequently Din nagged the cheeky little boy to pick them up.

The ghosts of memories danced around you, haunting as you searched every inch of the desolate cabin for any explanation for their absence. The couch where you had often cuddled up with Din, feeling so warm and safe in his arms, was now heartbreakingly empty. But nothing had prepared you for the devastation you felt when you walked into the room you shared together with Din to find the assortment of shelves that he carefully stacked his Beskar armour and helmet on every night, after meticulously polishing them, lay completely empty.

At the sight of that, you knew something was seriously wrong. The armour was a second skin to Din, a part of his body; an extension of his person even when he was not wearing it. Without that it was as though he had somehow been erased, as though he had never existed in the first place. Din Djarin appeared to be nothing more than a figment of your imagination. You had shouted and screamed their names at the top of your lungs as you paced through the cabin, your voice growing more frantic with each passing second. But it was to no avail; it was as though Din and Grogu were never a part of your life. Their presence had abruptly vanished without warning or explanation.

Fortunately, Din's gentle, careful touch on your shoulder had roused you from the terrifying visions that had haunted you in slumber. As you lay there, a sheen of sweat growing cold across your forehead, your eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness. When they eventually did, the first thing that came into focus in your vision was the sight of Din peering down at you, his warm brown eyes full of concern.

It was a sight that instantly soothed your soul, but the rich, gravelly baritone of his voice reverberating through the night to console you calmed your shaken body and mind even further.

“It was just a dream, I’m here,” Din said calmly as he held your chin gently in one hand. “You’re safe, cyare. It was only a dream. I’m right here with you.”

“Din?” You murmured, feeling as hot tears scorched a path down your cheeks as you sat up to face him.

“I’ve got you,” Din said as he gathered you to him, his strong arms encircling your body protectively, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I thought… I thought you’d left,” You forced out between sobs. “I came back to the cabin and you’d… you were gone, Din…”

“I would never leave you,” Din asserted. He snapped his head up where it rested on your scalp and held you away from him, shaking his head as though disgusted by the notion. “I’ve got you, I’m right here by your side, always. I’m never leaving you, cyare, You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly. “It was so real, though,” You choked, “It really felt as though you had left me forever, without even saying goodbye.”

“I would never leave you like that," Din said earnestly. "There is no reality where I would ever do such a thing."

Despite the conviction in Din’s voice, you remained unconvinced. The nightmare you had just woken up from had sewn seeds of doubt in your mind. Din led a dangerous life, after all. You had been under no illusions about that fact when you had met him. You knew that there were multiple reasons he might end up injured, or worse, during the course of one of his various jobs with the New Republic.

“But what if something happens to you one day and you’re taken away from me. Oh, Din, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” You whispered, feeling utterly shattered by the emotions you were currently experiencing.

“That’s not going to happen, cyare. I’ve made it this far, even after all the binds I’ve found myself in over the years. I think I’m pretty good at making it out alive, don’t you?” Din said, his tone light in an attempt to cheer you up, before he placed an achingly soft kiss on your forehead. But despite his gentle gesture, your anguished mind continued its journey to the worst possible conclusions.

“It’s not about how skilled you are, Din!” You exclaimed, a little harsher than you intended. You were spiralling now, frantically gulping air into your lungs to get the words out as your mind raced. “We don’t know what’s out there… the galaxy, there are so many threats. What about Thrawn and–”

“Shhh, shhhh, cyare. Please… that dark place in your mind with all of your worst fears… don’t go there,” Din said as his arms squeezed your waist tightly, before he reached for the back of your head and brought you against his warm, firm chest.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, regaining your composure as your shaky sobs grew more infrequent and then eventually stopped. Then you drew your head back, looking up into the handsome, sympathetic face of the man you loved so deeply.

“I’m sorry, Din,” You whispered, shaking your head in frustration at how you had let your emotions get the better of you.

“You don’t need to apologise to me,” Din whispered, cupping your jaw and smiling softly at you, relieved that you had finally stopped sobbing and could manage making eye contact with him.

“I just can’t imagine my life without you,” You sighed.

“Well, don’t imagine that, cyare,” Din pleaded, his voice firm but quiet, as he added: “Don’t borrow grief from the future.”

You felt your eyes water at such beautiful words. It was a poignant way to relate to the uncertainty about what lay ahead in yours and Din’s lives. The Mandalorian you loved occasionally delivered such profound quotes that you felt almost overwhelmed by the depth and weight that his words carried. You just stared at him, completely awestruck.

Din’s perceptiveness of the world around him, with his analytical mind and how well he managed to articulate himself, filled you with such a deep sense of wonder that it was difficult to suppress the tears you had only just managed to halt.

“I won’t, Din,” You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “I promise.”

“You know I will never truly leave you,” Din whispered. “Even if something terrible were ever to happen, I’d find a way to be with you again. Wherever we go after all this ends, I’ll be with you. Do you believe that?”

“Of course, I do, Din,” You nodded, hoping you managed to convey the certainty with which you believed his vow.

You knew that once Din Djarin set his mind to something, anyone who threatened to drive a wedge between him and that objective would curse the day they made such an unwise decision.

"Good. I'm not going anywhere, cyare. I'll be with you, always,” Din said as he stroked your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, before leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. You closed your eyes and sighed at the contact, the emotion of the moment took your breath away. “Are you ready to get comfortable and try to get some more rest? I expect we’ll be able to manage a few more hours before the little womp rat bursts his way in here to wake us up.”

“Yes, Din,” You giggled at the affectionate nickname Din had for his son. The love you both held for that little boy was boundless.

Din lay back down on the cot and you rested your cheek on his bare chest, feeling instantly soothed at the skin-to-skin contact and the rhythmic beats of his heart.

In the harrowing nightmare that had left you so devastated, Din had left you all alone. He had been taken from you abruptly by forces unknown. But as you lay there, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you listened to the faint thundering emanating from deep below in his chest… Din was very much by your side. You sighed, a small smile ghosting across your features.

You knew with absolute certainty that despite whatever forces conspired against you, in this galaxy or any, Din Djarin would be with you… always.

#my fics #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian fanfiction #when people say fanfic is self indulgent YEAH they're talking about this sjhg wrote this for me but i hope others enjoy #save me din djarin...... din djarin save me..... save me din djarin...#din djarin fluff

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blaithnne · 1 month

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ok i forgot that goldie isnt canonically 5'1 on a good day so i have to restructure this ask

1) thoughts on short goldie

2) is heron short also

3) (contingent on answers 1 and 2) thoughts on scrooge and beakley both falling for tiny evil women

1) & 2)

I think the toxic yuri polycule height chart is something like this—!

They all wear heels so it’s not exact (also I whipped this up in like 5 minutes lol)

Huifen is tall, she’s a black heron after all, and though they’re not the tallest birds ever they’re still pretty long! But she looks short standing next to Beakley, because everyone does (also I undersized her a little bit in my first human drawing by accident, whoops). Goldie is a short queen LMAO, she’s not minuscule, only slightly shorter than the average person, but she looks tiny next to these two (she might be slightly shorter than I drew her here, idk, I struggled to scale her LOL). Scrooge, for the record, is around the same height as Goldie!

In terms of their builds btw, Beakley is, obviously, very muscular! Though she might seem like a tank, she’s actually very soft — big ol squishy teddy bear! Heron on the other hand is a gangly mf, long, skinny, and sharp. Goldie is sort of in between them, an hourglass build like Huifen, but with more muscle on her (not half as much as Beakley, though).

Heron might not be tiny but Beakley treats her like she is, picks her up like a feral cat when she’s being too much 😌 Scrooge and Goldie only have a very slight height difference, but I think he’s very smug about it lol

Also, my funniest headcanon ever is that Beakley has a thing for bad girls, and she HATES IT. She’s so embarrassed about it and fully intends to take it to her grave. This also leads to her hating the aforementioned bad girls even more, bc she’s so frustrated with herself for liking the in the first place. So Beakley can spend 24 hours a day ranting about how much she hates someone, and be blushing the entire time. All this to say, Beakley might not technically have a leg to stand on when it comes to criticising Scrooge’s relationship, but that doesn’t stop her.

I think they’re both massive hypocrites about it, bc they wanna protect eachother despite the other really not needing the help. They’re also endlessly frustrated with eachother’s toxic Yuri partners. Beakley to a much bigger degree because she definitely has a thing for Goldie, which only makes her hate her even more. Scrooge is more annoyed by Beakley and Heron than anything else bc he just does not understand what the hell is going on there, but he’ll also occasionally be all,

In conclusion, Beakley and Scrooge being a disaster sibling duo is my favourite thing ever. Scrooge is practically immortal, nothing can take him down. Beakley is a walking tank, she could walk off a bullet. They looked at eachother and went “that idiot needs me to protect them from their own love life” and they were kind of right??

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happi-tree · 6 months

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⚔️👑 shield and scepter 👑⚔️

Howdy, y'all! So my wonderful mutual @raemeh did this really cool fanart of my royalty Swiftli au (the fic for which can be found here), and I had some little design ideas about them in my wips, so I thought I'd post the two of them here! Thank you so much to everyone who's enjoyed it <333

#i also have a silly little au playlist that cookies and sei helped out with if folks are interested!#anyway. absolutely FLOORED that people enjoyed this silly little fic i impulse-wrote. it was so very highly self indulgent sdkjbkjadbfs #but good news! i think i'm probably going to write more of it :D my silly little knight and my silly little prince <333 #also hope you don't mind the tag stingrae!!!#also also. ik there's a lot of fantasy/storybook dndads stuff going on #so if u like this kind of concept but also prefer other ships like say... marloakworthy... lovesong... gun control... nudges u to eah au #<- by the lovely kaseykat llumimoon and rindomness on here btw!!! feat. rin and nyx's kickass writing and cal and rin's kickass designs!!!#okokok enough blabbing i just. LOVE all the fucking storybook shenanigans this fandom has going on rn 🥰🥰🥰#dndads #swiftli #shield and scepter #<- yeah i caved. made an au tag. what of it #happi doodles #happi rambles

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ascendingtostardust · 4 months

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Help You Remember

(Sam Kiszka x f!reader)

wc: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of food/eating, mentions of poor memory - let me know if I missed anything!

When it came down to it, Sam was a creature of habit. Of course he liked to be spontaneous and off-the-cuff on occasion, but he found himself in falling into a familiar rhythm day-to-day when he had some time off from working. That meant that you also stepped into those routines that comprised your daily life together.

You don’t know when exactly it happened, but at some point over the last few months you and Sam had become regulars at a little bakery down the street from your home. Every Monday and Friday mornings before the morning rush, the employees at Snookums came to expect the two of you just as they finished putting the last tray of morning muffins in the case. It had become customary for you and Sam to always choose something different than you had picked out the previous visit “to keep life exciting,” Sam had said.

Their flavors of muffins, danishes, rolls, and loaves rotated weekly, which only highlighted your indecisiveness and poor memory as you stood peering through the glass case to figure out what treat you were going to choose for the day. Ever the patient partner, Sam would wait as long as you needed to come to a decision with nothing more than a simple “you did say you were in the mood for lemon last night and look! Lemon muffins today!”

After your first few trips to the bakery, you couldn’t help but be apologetic about how long it took you to decide what you wanted when Sam made a choice less than 30 seconds after glancing at his options. He wasn’t like previous partners or friends who got frustrated with your struggle to make decisions for yourself or your memory issues on occasion. He waited by your side, thumb brushing over the top of your hand as he asked the employees how their morning was going.

Today was no different than previous trips to Snookums, however you knew that the two of you would have to hurry home to meet one of Sam’s friends who was dropping off seedlings for his garden. The smell of warm baked goods filled your lungs and brought a sense of calm to your busy mind as you stepped into the bakery and immediately took in your muffin options.

Chocolate chip hazelnut, blueberry crumb, banana nut, and triple chocolate.

Greeting the two employees with a smile and a quick hello, you mulled over your decision and felt Sam come to stand slightly behind you, wrapping an arm around your lower back as he hummed softly.

“What can I grab for you, Sam?” one of the regular Friday morning workers, Jenna, asked, knowing that Sam always made his mind up rather quickly.

“Hmmmm….” After another look at the glass case, Sam’s gaze turned to you. “You know what, Jenna, I’m going to let my girl pick hers out first today.”

It was hard not to crack a smile in response to the goofy grin he gave you, silently encouraging you. You had to make a decision, and fast.

“I’ll have a hazelnut chocolate chip, please.” Smiling at Jenna and thanking her as she put your muffin in a light pink box, you turn to Sam.

“I’ve never tried that one before but it sounds good, right?” You say quietly, leaning into his side.

“Sounds delicious, actually!” He responds, giving you a quick peck on the forehead before ordering a banana nut muffin for himself.

“Ooo banana nut, one of my favorites!” You say to him as the two of you follow Jenna down the counter to the register. Sam responded with a sweet smile and squeeze of your hand before letting go to grab his wallet from his back pocket.

On the walk home, it didn’t take long for you to reach into the small box containing your treats and pull a small piece of your muffin from the side of the rounded top. The excitement of trying something new quickly faded the more you chewed and realized that the flavor wasn’t exactly what you expected. With a hum, you close the box and continue walking, though you can feel Sam studying your face without being too obvious.

“Was it good, lovey?” He said finally, reaching to take the box from your hand and cradle it in one of his own arms.

“Um,” you started, trying not to sound too disappointed, “it was okay! Everything they make is good, so…” You let your voice trail off and the sight of your shared home came into view.

Walking up the few steps to the front door, you began mentally going through what ingredients you had to possibly make your own muffins to make up for the one that wasn’t quite your taste.

Once inside, you began looking through your cabinets for the typical baking essentials, feeling Sam lean up against the counter next to you a moment later.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He said, quickly looking around jokingly to make sure no one else would hear his confession, though it was just the two of you in your home.

Onto his antics, you giggle and decide to play along, turning your head to face your ear towards him and leaning in close. He bent slightly and leaned in so close that you could feel his lips ghost over the shell of your ear.

“You tried the hazelnut chocolate chip muffin a few weeks ago and didn’t like it,” he whispered. You turn your head to look at him, eyes wide with the realization that you had, in fact, tried that flavor at the end of last month. It was all coming back to you.

“I finished it for you and found it quite delicious, so when you picked that one again I knew we needed a backup!” He grabbed the pink box from its resting place on the counter and opened it, taking the untouched banana nut muffin out and placing it on a small plate he had set out. Sliding it towards you, he reached his hand out to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

“Now…what are we thinking drink-wise? Coffee? Milk? Tea?” He moved around you to open the fridge, peering at any other potential options.

“I love you.” You said, turning to face him as he stands in front of the open fridge, already grinning when he meets your gaze.

“Oh yeah? Well I love you more, lovey.” He lets the refrigerator door swing shut quietly as he reaches out to pull you close to his chest, moving his palm in circular motions between your shoulder blades.

“As much as I would love to hold you all day, we do need to decide on what to drink with our breakfast so we can take this party outside and enjoy the sun a little before the day really starts!”

You let your head fall back, “umm okay, let me think for a minute…”

“Take all the time you need.”

#this is completely self indulgent but I hope you enjoy anywayssss #I hope this makes sense pls be nice to me thank you #sam kiszka #sam kiszka fic #gvf

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nightmarevore · 7 months

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a switch flips in Rowan's head. where he was standing and talking to luke, his expression falters. his eyes are distant as he looks up from his beloved and where they are. when did they get in public? where are they? he knows luke is in front of him. he can see him and smell him. he’s right in front of him. but who are all these people that surround them? the smell is overwhelming. his stomach churns as dread over takes the predator. this isn’t home. this place isn’t safe. luke needs to be inside him. luke is safe inside him. wouldn’t it be easy to swallow him down now and take him some place they can be safe, where rowan can protect him from the pain of the world? from all these strangers who stare at the two like they’re freaks….

“rowan? are you okay?” luke’s voice chimes through rowan’s panic. the predator’s eyes shoot towards his boyfriend. his face flushes, and he grabs luke’s arm tightly. rowan’s stomach growls in quiet desperation to keep its prey safe. “what’s happening, love?”

without much thought, rowan’s mouth opens wide, and all luke sees is the back of rowan’s throat before he’s shoved into the darkness of his maw. he’s desperate, almost as if eating luke is a requirement to staying alive. as if he didn’t have his beloved boyfriend within him, the two of them would cease to be. luke’s left dazed and confused, his body tensing up as rowan stuffs him into his gullet.

“rowan?!” he calls out, pressing his hands up against his partner. he attempts to push him away. they’re in public, why would he do this now?! his words are left on deaf ears as a loud swallow pulls luke into the predator’s throat.

loud gasps. a few people in the crowd watch what happens before them. a man, out of nowhere, began swallowing the person next to him. predators exist, it’s not a shock that they have to eat another in order to sate their appetite. in public, in such a crowded space, though? people couldn’t help but look on in some kind of shocked horror.

rowan holds luke in place as aggressive, panicked, and desperate swallows pull his head and body deeper within him. luke hears how fast and panicked the predator’s heart is beating. something is wrong, and it’s too tight for luke to call out to him and ask what’s going on. even if he could, he didn’t think he’s getting an answer. it… feels like a fugue, but something tells him it’s not. he wouldn’t be in such a panic.

luke’s flavor blesses rowan’s senses. his scent fills his nose as he swallows him down in an act of love and protection. in an act of pure desperation. he thinks he’s hungry, or maybe he isn’t, and this is just what his mind is demanding he do. it’s tight as his cherry slips down further his gullet. his body squeezes him from all sides and holds him in place. each swallow leaves luke more and more immobile. his arms are pressed up against his own body, constricting him.

love luke. crave luke. devour luke.

protect him from everything and everyone.

another swallow squeezes and massages luke’s being further down, his head forcefully being shoved into his stomach. his middle visibly expands as the shifter begins to be deposited inside.

“rowan, what’s going on?” luke finally takes a breath and speaks. it’s a relief that it’s easier to speak in his stomach. “what happened?”

the predator purrs, continuing to swallow his partner down. he lifts him up, one hand reaching for his middle. he feels it grow as more of luke is forced inside.

right where he’s safe. right where he belongs. right where he needs him.

his stomach expands more and more. luke’s entire being is forced into the chamber, quickly and desperately. he attempts to shift amidst all of this, trying to figure out what to do and how to sit. rowan would never just suddenly eat him in public like this. rowan hates doing any of this in public. something is terribly wrong.

aggressive and hard swallows send luke’s legs down the predator’s throat, his shirt rising over his middle and growing at a fast pace. both of his hands reach down to his middle and hold tightly onto his skin. he needs to feel the weight of luke inside him, whether it’s the shape his stomach takes, the sensation of luke entering him. of the weight inside his expanding middle. his hands hold a tight grip as his fingers sink harshly into his skin. his nails dig into the layers of skin as he attempts to support the weight of his middle.

one final swallow sends the rest of luke down, and his head remains tilted upwards until he feels the love of his life finally and fully slide down to his center. it’s marked with a rumble and luke’s muffled voice, but he can’t make out the words. even if he wasn’t muffled, would rowan be able to pay attention to what he’s saying in the first place?

rowan’s eyes shoot open. they’re wide yet glossy. rowan himself isn’t all there. he growls, keeping his hands glued to his middle as the scent of every living person that surrounds them fills his nostrils. it’s overwhelming. it makes him sick.

people are staring. they look on to the predator, some in horror. some people back away. rowan begins to walk, forcing his way through the crowd. a woman, someone he doesn’t know, someone so unfamiliar to him he doesn’t know her name, gets TOO close to him. too close to his middle. his stomach. his luke. his world, his everything.

the pressure of his hands sink deeper into his belly as the low growl in the bottom of rowan’s throat turns into a snarl, and sharp teeth snap at the strange woman. she sees a monster who swallowed a man whole not just a moment before, and the predator wants to keep it that way. she screams, fearful that this man was going to bite her and strike her down. drool drips from his lips as the rage in his eyes burn deep like a fire.

“rowan! what the hell is going on?” luke calls out.

rowan can't hear him. he squeezes his middle with teeth out for the world to see. nobody will hurt him, or his cherry.

#soft vore #safe vore #v0re #male pred #male prey #same size vore #my love language to medli is writing and drawing stuff for luke and rowan #super self indulgent drabble again.#craving and other fics will be worked on i promise i promise #the closer it gets away from vore day the more i scream at myself to finish pred appreciation day #anyway enjoy i am so fucking gay #protective pred #fugue pred #kinda #it's like #he's overstimulated #luke and rowan #size on the side #sots

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gilly-moon · 1 month

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black Characters: Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood), Pitch Black (Guardians of Childhood) Additional Tags: Howl’s Moving Castle AU, Sort Of, Smut, monster fucking, using jack’s fears as kinks (of course), Rough Sex, Curses!AU, BlackIce Series: Part 2 of Curses AU Summary:

"Tell me," Pitch growled as he parted from the kiss. The points of his teeth were still bared, a tinge of blood left on them. "What are you afraid of?"

He carried Jack over to the nest of blankets and pillows that served as his bed, leaning over to lay Jack out across its center without forcing them to separate.

Where the hell do I even start? Jack thought, exasperated. He just wanted Pitch to touch him properly, but from the way he was bracing himself over Jack, watching him with those glowing golden eyes…

"Teeth," Jack gasped out, jerking his hips up to seek any sort of friction. "You…your teeth could tear through my throat."

#finally part 2 of the curses AU fic!#enjoy almost 5k words of completely self indulgent smut #blackice #ao3 #fanfic #curses!AU #rotg

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noxemma · 3 days

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Me (rereading a forgotten WIP): wait omg I actually love those lines. Did I actually write that? Wait what do you mean it’s not done? Where is the rest?!?

Me (barging into my brain): where is it?! Where’s the brain cell that wrote this?

Me (hides handcuffs behind back): I just want to chat, i’m not going hold it hostage or anything

Anyway here are the lines:

1. “You’ve never been in love, Cas. You might find a more profound bond.”

Cas doesn’t correct Dean. Because how do you tell the man you remade, the man you pulled from hell, the man you rebelled for, the man you’ve fought with and for, the man you died for that you’ve been in love with him the whole time. That every action and reaction, every angry word and bad decision, every misguided attempt to help, every death and necessary evil, every good thing you’ve done since you met him (even before you knew what it was) was tainted with your love for him.

2. But he knows that Cas needs this right now, needs to feel helpful more than Dean needs one less ghost of what could have been.

#writblr #spn #destiel #I’m gonna find that brain cell because I need to know how this fic ends #rereading my own writing like was that actually me or does my sleep demon have serious talent #the brainrot is always rotting #deancas #supernatural #fanfiction #current wip #self indulgent writing #destiel fic #fanfic #sometimes I forget that I enjoy writing #writing things shipping characters the family business #writing #writing things

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ask-ursa-tonypeter · 21 days

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Oh man, okay so that Peter snatching ask, I feel like I neeeed more of that. How would Tony even explain Pyrite!Peter’s new situation to him? Would he even tell Pyrite Peter about DB!Peter? Aksdkfniend I don’t know if you want to go more into detail about this because it’s technically not a fic of yours so feel free to ignore this ask if this isn’t the direction you want to go with these, I’m just infinitely curious about the scenario written in that ask and figured it didn’t hurt to shoot my shot here, so to speak.

[[in reference to this ask and then this ask-- not only did it not hurt to shoot your shot, I wrote a whole-ass fic about it, lmao. CWs for abduction/long-term captivity, gentle noncon and general very 💖loving and tender💖 emotional abuse, and all of the psychological trauma that goes with it-- but there's a hopeful ending! (Also, daddykink, which I can apparently only tolerate if one of the characters in question hates it, lmao.)]]

This older Tony told him that he was picked because he's special, but Peter isn't stupid. In the brief glimpse he was allowed to see of the other Peters out there on that monitor, he noticed that most of them were older. Stronger. Actually special.

And he sees the way that this Tony looks at him. Peter wouldn't have noticed it before, probably, but it was the same expression that his brother wore when they were… together. Dark, heated, focused. Peter had loved the attention from his brother, but it scares him from this man. He's constantly on edge, waiting for the moment that petting hands or a tender kiss might slip somewhere unbearable, like being prepared will somehow give him a way to stop it.

He knows it won't, of course. He knows he can't.

He can't stop anything.

This Tony wants Peter to call him 'Dad.' Peter tries to protest, tries to say that he already has a dad, that it's strange when his own Tony is his brother instead. But Tony insists– says that he'll be a better father to Peter than Howard Stark ever was, that Peter doesn't need a brother when he has a father like Tony instead, that his brother was never any good to him anyway.

It makes Peter regret every single time he's ever complained about his dad and every single time he ever felt ignored by his brother, and he tells Tony that, that he loves his family even if they're not perfect and he misses his mom and that he wants to go home.

But this Tony doesn't care about his tears, and Peter is afraid of him, so Tony gets his way.

That's always how it goes. Peter cries, he begs, he asks to go home. When he's at his most desperate and selfish and awful, he asks for Tony to take someone else instead. And Tony holds him and pets him and coos and hums and murmurs that everything will be okay, and he just needs time to adjust, and that he's perfect. That Tony could never let him go.

Peter knows that he means it, and Tony never seems to realize that it only makes him cry harder. But in the end Peter always ends up leaning heavily into his arms, sniffling and exhausted and cried-out, so maybe it's his fault for sending mixed messages.

He does try to make the best of it, after all. He knows it makes him a coward, and that he should fight and scream and try to make this Tony's life hell until he does give Peter up, like rehoming a bad dog. But he can't, because he's not brave, so instead he sets the table and makes suggestions for dinner and smiles at Tony's jokes and picks out movies to watch from under the arm of this man who is not his father and not his brother but who he still calls 'Dad.'

"Good choice, baby," Tony says with a smile when Peter picks out Die Hard for movie night, and Peter hates the warm, pathetic glow of satisfaction that swells in his chest at the praise. But it's better than being scared, so Peter will take it, even if it makes him feel just as cheap and slimy as the actual sex.

It doesn't take long for that to start, though it's longer than Peter expects. A few weeks, maybe, though Peter's sense of time isn't great anymore. Tony had already slipped into his bed even as early as that first night, with the excuse of comforting Peter while he cried– "oh, sweetheart, don't cry, you'll be okay," he'd crooned, pressing kisses to Peter's hair while he flinched, "you'll love it here, you'll see,"– but then he never stopped, even once Peter stopped crying himself to sleep.

So one morning it happens, inevitable. Tony's wrist brushes too low when he's untangling himself from Peter as they wake, and Peter can't bite back his gasp at the pressure against his morning wood, and before he knows it there's a hand around him and lips against his neck and a warm, morning-rough voice muttering, "Let me take care of that for you, sweetheart."

Peter tries to stop it. He does. He does.

But when he gasps, "Dad, wait, please stop," Tony only murmurs, "Shh, relax, honey," and in the end it's like everything else.

Tony is always gentle with him. It's a strange contrast to his brother, who called him filthy things and teased him until he was so red he thought he might pass out and could be rough with him when Peter asked for it. Peter liked that, yeah, but he had always wished that his brother would kiss him sweetly and tell him he loved him, too.

It's disorienting to have those daydreams come to life in the form of this other, twisted version of his brother. Peter tries to close his eyes as Tony moves inside him and take what comfort he can in the soft touches and endless praise, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it puts a pit in his stomach to think he ever wanted this from his brother at all.

Even outside of bed, it messes with Peter's head the way that Tony's so nice. It makes it too easy to sink into the lie sometimes, when he's allowed to wander the familiar penthouse suite of Stark Tower instead of being locked in some basement, when Tony remembers all of his favorite treats and movies, when Tony spoils him rotten and tells him he's perfect and never, ever loses his patience.

(Even when Peter does. Even when Peter has one of his embarrassing episodes where he loses his mind and beats his fists against Tony's chest and scratches and bites until he tastes blood, Tony just holds him and sighs "I know, baby, I know," until Peter is spent. He never even raises his voice.

But he does cry sometimes. It makes Peter feel guilty, and then mad at himself for feeling guilty, and then he gets so confused that he just lets Tony bundle him away for a nap like he really is a tantruming five-year-old. Every time he wakes up he's mortified, but Tony never scolds him like he deserves. He's just sweet and gentle and forgiving, and he lets Peter sink right back into the comfort of the lie.)

Peter wonders if Tony was kind to the other Peter. He resents him sometimes, even though he knows it's not fair. It's not the other Peter's fault that he died, or that his dad is… like this. It's not the other Peter's fault that Tony picked Peter out of all the options. But even still, sometimes he thinks 'if you were still here, then I wouldn't be,' and there's some satisfaction in having someone to blame who he doesn't have to share a bed with.

But mostly– mostly he wonders about the other Peter's life. Sometimes Tony will cling to him and apologize over and over again like he can't hear Peter at all, and Peter wonders if he was mean to the other Peter while he was alive, or if he was sleeping with his actual son, too, or if he blames himself somehow for the way that he died. JARVIS won't tell him what happened, and he's too afraid to ask Tony.

But it wasn't a secret, he knows. Even if he can't find any mention of the original Peter Stark's death online, other people have to know about it, because none of Tony's employees can stand to look at him.

He wonders what they know. Do they think he's some kind of Frankenstein's monster? Do they know he's been kidnapped? Do they think he's just an uncanny lookalike, or do they know about the machine in Tony's personal lab?

(Or do they just know exactly how close their boss is to his son, Peter thinks sometimes, and it makes him want to never come out of his room.)

Or maybe they're just afraid that if they look, Tony will see something on their faces that he doesn't like, because–

He may always be gentle with Peter, but Tony is not a kind man.

He still rarely raises his voice. When he's angry with someone, his voice goes flat and ice-cold and the room gets so quiet it feels like even breathing would be too loud.

He always sends Peter out of the room before he kills someone. It's the only time anyone will look at him, their eyes wild and pleading for Peter to stay like that would save them, but by then it's Peter who can't bear to look.

Peter hates himself for the way that he shakes for hours afterward instead of doing something. He hates himself for the way that he crawls into Tony's lap once they get home, the way he tips his face up for a kiss, all so he can hear Tony say–

"I'm sorry, baby." Rough stubble prickling at Peter's temple, his cheek, his chin. "You know I would never hurt you, don't you? Never."

"I know," Peter whispers, and by the time they're done and Tony has made him come at least twice and told him again and again that he loves him, that he's perfect, that he's the only thing that matters, it will almost feel true.

(Peter thinks about the other Peters on that monitor, and how so many of them were strong and brave and stood up to people just like Tony, and he wonders how the other Peter died.)

He does save someone though, he thinks. Just once. He can't know for sure, because it's not one of the men that regularly comes to meet Tony at the tower, but he thinks maybe he helped.

The man is making excuses. He's in charge of one of Tony's projects, and he says that Tony gave him permission to take time off to take care of his mother after a surgery, and that's why the project is behind schedule. Tony doesn't remember and doesn't care and he gets angrier with every word out of the man's mouth, and eventually he stands, those silver tendrils exploding out of his suit to grapple the man down over his desk while he wails and pleads.

Tony takes a breath, and Peter knows he's going to tell Peter to leave the room, and he abruptly can't stand it.

"Daddy, don't," he says, the babyish word coming out in his desperate horror without him meaning to say it, and he hugs Tony around the waist like that means anything, like he can stop anything, like he's a version of himself that's actually strong.

Tony freezes, and for the length of what feels like a hundred rabbiting heartbeats Peter is terrified. He's never stood up to Tony in front of his men. He's barely stood up to him at all, and it never leads to anything anyway, and he suddenly doesn't know why he stuck himself out for this stranger who Tony is probably just going to kill anyway but this man has a family and Peter misses his mom so much he can barely breathe and he can't keep doing nothing he can't he can't he can't–

Tony turns gently in his grip, because Peter can't stop him, and Peter keeps his face buried against Tony's shoulder. He can still hear the sound of the man whimpering quietly from where he's pinned to the desk by Tony's tendrils, and he flinches when the weight of Tony's hand settles on his hair, gentle.

"Oh, sweetheart," Tony breathes, his voice strange– revelatory, tender, almost delighted. "Did Daddy scare you?"

The room is quiet. Peter is painfully aware of every other person listening– the guards by the door, the man on the desk, gasping in shaky breaths now instead of whimpering.

He can feel the weight of something important shifting, shifting, shifting when he nods his head, and the finality of something new settling into place when Tony wraps his arms around him.

"Get out," Tony says over his shoulder, and there's a clatter of noise as the man scrambles to the door. Tony adds, "You too," to the guards, and when the door clicks closed they're alone.

Peter shudders in Tony's arms, his body not able to reconcile the combination of relief and deep, primal fear coursing through his veins, and Tony clicks his tongue, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"You really don't like coming to work with me, do you," he sighs, rubbing Peter's back. "I'm sorry, baby. You told me that, and I didn't listen."

He reaches to cup both sides of Peter's face, so Peter finally has to look up at him. He looks perfectly sweet, warm and fond and apologetic, and the contrast from his anger moments earlier is dizzying.

Tony strokes his thumbs tenderly over Peter's cheeks, and sighs one more time before he says, "All right, sweetie. If you promise that you'll be good, I'll let you stay in your room while I'm gone, okay? If that's really what you want."

It's so unexpected that it takes Peter a moment to understand that this is a compromise. Tony has never offered one before, and Peter had learned to stop asking a long time ago.

He rushes to gasp, "Yes– yes, please," and then, spontaneous and uncertain and thinking, adds, "Thank you, Daddy."

Tony smiles, and the chill it sends through Peter is anticipation just as much as disgust. Tony takes him upstairs to the penthouse then, and takes the entire rest of the day off work to make up for scaring him. It's almost nice, really, and if Peter doesn't like it when Tony tells him 'Daddy's got you' and 'that's right, let Daddy take care of you' in bed, it's still worth it, because–

The next day Peter gets to have four whole hours to himself until lunchtime, and then another four whole hours after that, and he can't remember the last time he didn't spend the whole day with Tony.

Things change after that.

Before, any protests Peter made would get shushed and brushed aside, Tony always gentle but never permissive. He would say that he knew best, that Peter would be okay, that Peter's way wouldn't work, and he would go on like Peter hadn't said anything at all. Requests were usually easier, Tony happy to bury Peter in gifts, but as for experiences– Tony's sense of what was too risky for Peter was broad and paranoid and stifling, and now–

It's shocking having a way to get Tony to listen to him, and Peter tries not to let it go to his head. He's careful. He doesn't ask for too much. He sprinkles in petty requests to throw off the scent of when he really, really wants something so it can't be used against him.

He acts like he really is all those dirty things his brother used to call him, and he bats his eyelashes and pouts and fawns, and he says "Daddy, please?" and "Can I, Daddy?" and "Daddy, I don't want to," and he gets what he wants.

But he knows just that won't be enough for what he really wants. Not by itself. He can't just stick out his bottom lip and simper his way into where he wants to go, so he'll need to add something else.

And Peter will give Tony this: for all that his obsession with his "son" is twisted and wrong, he really does seem to care more about making Peter come than himself. He always takes Peter in his mouth like it's a treat, but the first time Peter slides to his knees in front of him, he looks so shocked that it honestly seems like he hasn't even thought about it before.

"Petey," he says, ghosting his fingers over Peter's hair while Peter draws him out of his pants. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to, sweetie."

Peter knows it's part of why Tony is so sweet to him, but it irritates him sometimes when Tony acts like he actually buys the whole innocent lamb act, like he doesn't fuck Peter at least twice a day himself. Tony knows about Peter's brother, he knows Peter's done this before; Peter's even pretty sure it's part of why Tony picked him.

Peter takes a breath and pushes it all down, down, down, and he reaches for the part of himself that means it when he says, "I want to, Daddy."

He leans in, and if it's more bitter than he remembers– well, the aftermath is what's sweet.

It's hard to keep the request behind his teeth while Tony fawns over him after, showering him in kisses and praise and making him come so many times that Peter finally has to protest, "Daddy, no more," sluggish and sensitive and overheated.

But he wants Tony to think it's his idea, so he waits until finally, finally–

Tony chuckles and nuzzles in to kiss Peter's cheek, and he murmurs, "Okay, okay, baby. I just want to make you feel good after you were so good to me. What else can I do for you, hmm?"

Peter bites his lip and looks away, and it's not all playing shy. He's nervous, and he's really not sure how Tony is going to react, and if Tony squashes his hopes here– he can't think about that.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tony croons, pushing back Peter's sweaty curls and kissing his forehead. "You can tell me, Petey; I know you've got something in mind."

"Can I–" Peter hesitates, and he'd like to say he's playing it up, but the way his eyes go wide and desperate and shiny is all real. "Daddy, can I… can I please see the monitor again? Please? I want… I want to see Grandma."

He doesn't know if it's a step too far and too false to call her that. Maria Stark would be his grandmother if he was actually Tony's son, and he's trying to– give a show of good faith, that even if he's still thinking about his real family he's accepted the false reality that Tony's made for them. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits to find out, and–

Tony sucks in a breath, staring at Peter in shock for the second time that night, but this time his expression resolves into regret and apology.

"Honey," he says softly, and Peter wants to scream, "I don't know if that would be the best thing for you. I think it'll make you sad, sweetheart."

No, Peter wants to say, but contradicting Tony will just make him dig in his heels, so instead he says, "I-I know, I know it will, but that's okay. It'll make me happy, too. Like getting older, right?"

He throws it in, a last-minute ad-lib; Tony jokes all the time about how sad it makes him to see Peter get older even though he's glad that Peter's growing up so sweet. It's a hit– Tony smiles, rueful, and Peter presses his advantage. He links his arms behind Tony's neck, cuddling close, all entirely-real doe eyes and quivering lips when he asks, "Daddy, please let me. Please?"

Tony sighs, and he leans in to scatter kisses over Peter's face when he murmurs, "You're getting too sweet for me, baby. All right, if you're sure that's what you want."

Peter's heart soars, and when he pulls Tony into a kiss he doesn't even have to fake enjoying it.

They go the next day. Tony is still reluctant about it, but he doesn't try to back out, and so they make their way to his private lab after breakfast.

It hits Peter harder than he expected. He knew it would make him sad, but he was imagining his mother bright and vibrant and happy. He barely recognizes the haggard woman on the screen, grayer than he left her and exhausted with grief, and it makes him cry so hard he can barely breathe.

"I told you, sweetheart," Tony sighs, rubbing Peter's back and stroking his hair, but he doesn't try to rush him out of the room early. "This is too hard for you, baby."

"I'm okay," Peter forces out between tears, because he can't lose access to this. "I w-wanted this. I'm s-so happy to see her. Thank you, Daddy."

It's going to be hard to play at being cheerful the rest of the day, he knows, but he'll have to if he wants Tony to ever let him come back to this room. Because even despite his tears, he did get what he was actually after: he watched how Tony selected a universe from the massive, awe-inspiring constellation of choices, and he memorized the coordinates that Tony punched in to pull up his true home.

And if he's ever going to get an opportunity to use them, he needs to get back in that room.

He makes it work. He's extra-sweet all day long, enough to curb Tony's concerns about the effect of their field trip on his mood, and he keeps it up after that. He pulls Tony into kisses and buttons his shirts for him in the morning. He pushes Tony back to ride him after work, their hands clasped together between them. He gets on his knees, he wakes Tony in the morning with a warm hand or slick mouth, he waits for Tony at lunchtime wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else.

He's afraid at first that Tony might be put off by his new boldness, or at least suspicious, but Tony swallows the bait whole. He seems delighted that Peter is finally settling into his new life, eager to believe that Peter really has just grown more comfortable and mature in their relationship over time, and he even starts to trust Peter more. It's not even something that Peter asks for, but a week or two into his change of attitude, Tony gives him permission to access the rest of the suite while Tony's at work.

And that's not Peter's goal, but it does have some potential.

He does get to go back to the private lab. Peter doesn't ask for it every time, or even every other time, but Tony doesn't even hesitate to say yes, now. Peter plays up his excitement of the idea of the multiverse and of Tony's genius for making the machine; he plays up his interest in the other Peters; he checks in on his family.

And he watches the way Tony uses the monitor. He examines the construction of the machine. He pays attention to what features Tony uses when he navigates the 'verse map, and more than that, he pays attention to what features Tony avoids ever using in front of him.

He figures out slowly that his first plan won't work. As far as he can glean, the machine isn't built to have a way to send people back, and he knows he's not smart enough to figure out how to build that feature. He's smart, but even though the year on the calendar isn't even a full two decades ahead of Peter's actual universe, the technology may as well be a century more advanced– if the machine can only pull people to this universe, he isn't going to fool himself that he can change that by himself.

But still, every time he's in that room, he watches, and he thinks. He watches how Tony grows less attentive to his every move, more complacent in the idea that Peter is happy with their life. He watches how every day Tony gets closer to giving him permission to go to the lab by himself– it's not like he can use the machine to leave, after all. He watches how JARVIS sometimes lets him get away with things for a beat longer than he should, if Peter can make it look enough like an accident.

And he still watches the other Peters on the monitor. The ones that are older. The ones that are geniuses. The ones that save their cities from men like Tony. The ones that save the world.

Peter's not strong. He's not brave. He's not special.

He can't stop anything.

But he thinks he knows who can.

#fic: double blind #fic: pyrite #pyrite: peter #double blind: tony #prompt: multiverse #multiverse: kidnapping au #fic response #ursa interlude:#this is quite possibly the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written #we are truly getting to CLAMP levels of masturbatory multiverse drama here but I love it #ANYWAY. UM. ENJOY?!

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lavenoon · 7 months

Text

Asterisms (~5.6K)

*An asterism is an observed pattern or group of stars in the sky. Asterisms can be any identified pattern or group of stars, and therefore are a more general concept than the 88 formally defined constellations.

Bloodstain Fool by @naffeclipse, og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic

menace4menace one-shots in order: Falling into Orbit, Conjunction, [You are here]

A bit of a disclaimer/ context: There is another drabble that will be referenced in this one, but I wrote it as a vent when I was in a very bad spot mentally and never cleaned it up, so it's now unfortunately in the "canon to the menace4menace storyline but too raw to share" limbo. You don't need to know the details to understand though (I hope). It does end with another sleepover, so that's where we start off here!

“So, are we friends now?”

You take another bite from your breakfast apple, legs crossed on the couch. Eclipse at his desk tenses, his shoulders rising, and the scratch of his pen coming to an abrupt halt. But he doesn’t turn back, doesn’t spare you his standard glare.

After a moment, he continues writing, as if you never said anything. That’s just fine — you’re too stubborn to stop now.

“Because comforting someone during a breakdown is kind of friend behavior.”

Impossibly, he tenses further. From the way his writing sounds he’ll soon tear through the paper and just start carving onto the desk.

“You were talking nonsense and I simply corrected you. If you interpret that as comfort, that is not my problem.”

You hope he feels how scathing your disdain is through vibes alone as you direct a deadpan stare at his back.

He probably doesn’t know what “vibes” are.

“You invited me over too.”

“And you owe me for that.”

Fine, then. If he insists on framing it as more debt that he’ll hardly be able to collect you can let it go. Otherwise you’ll just back him into a corner of stubbornness, and something tells you he’s the type to double down.

It does mean you spare him the mention of the blanket. A soft red throw currently protecting you from sticking to the leather of the couch. Eclipse refused to acknowledge its existence, much less elaborate on the reason for the new addition to his couch yesterday, and you weren’t in the mood to ask either. The afternoon was stressful enough.

You sigh.

“Okay, sure. You can start a little tally on the back of the I.O.U. note I already gave you.”

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and you almost want to sigh again. How exhausting to see everything as transactional.

“No need. I remember.”

The question about animatronic memory dies a quiet death on the tip of your tongue — at the last second you decide it’s not a good idea to imply doubt right now. Instead you take another bite from your apple, and chew. Hopefully you can drop this conversation after. It didn’t really go the way you wanted it to.

Just to make sure it sticks you decide to change the topic entirely.

“What are you writing?”

There’s the softest huff as his shoulders drop further. The defeat is evident, and you press your lips together to keep a grin down. Friends or not, he’s learned his lesson about your stubbornness.

You’ll get him on the friendship, too, sooner or later.

“A report.”

Oh, he wants to be like that. Fine. You’ll play.

“On what?”

The pen stops for a moment, then continues.

“The latest bounty I apprehended.”

“You have to write reports on that?”

In a way, it makes sense — you just didn’t think about it before. But you’re no stranger to writing reports, and detailing the events of how a certain bounty was caught seems reasonable.

Eclipse turns to look at you for the first time, and his expression is about as tired as an animatronic could manage to look.

“Yes. It’s not like the movies.”

You take another bite from your apple as you keep up the eye contact, and then he turns back. Seems like your silence was enough of a concession for him.

Leaning back against the couch, you’re just thinking that you don’t miss writing reports one bit.

“Reports suck. My condolences.”

Eclipse doesn’t stop writing to look back, but you do hear the soft static sound of a laugh.

“Speaking from experience?”

You chuckle softly, matching him. Writing reports and bills - the worst part of your chosen career.

“Yup.”

He hums.

“Is that why you haven’t made any efforts to work again?”

Well, not quite — looking for work hasn’t been on your list of priorities without the immediate pressure of paying for your lodging. An oversight, you’ll admit, given that you can’t rely on your boarded room forever. But without any credentials, without your degree or even an ID you don’t really know where to start, hypothetically.

Besides, even if you wanted to, you know that research has to go through a few more necessary steps before you can consider picking up your former work again.

So you shrug, even though he can’t see.

“Eh, mostly I don’t think my job field exists yet. Caring about kids with learning disabilities was a pretty recent development even in my time.”

This time, the pause feels heavier than before.

“... You worked with children?”

You have no idea how to read his tone. Not angry, you don’t think, but there’s something that you just cannot make sense of. It sparks something defensive in you, even though you can’t tell if it’s judgement coloring his voice. You chose your job for a reason, and you know it’s a good one.

“Yeah, I mean. No one gave a fuck about my problems in school growing up. I didn’t want that for other kids.”

“Hm.”

That’s… It’s not acknowledgement, but it’s also not a rebuke. You don’t know what to make of it.

You’ll poke the bear just one more time.

“You don’t like children?”

That poke went through. Eclipse carefully sets his pen down, and turns his head your way. Just his head - it’s unsettling, and you flinch at the suddenness. You wonder if that was exactly his intention when he narrows his darkened eyes at you.

“Continue this line of questioning and you’ll find that I absolutely will kick you out.”

There isn’t a hint of humor in his voice, nor even a crumb of softness. This time you decide not to bet on that being a bluff. Not with those eyes. You shrink back, hunched on the couch and pondering the nearly finished apple in your hand. Eclipse turns back, you think. You only hear the click of his neck and then the scratch of his pen again.

The lump in your throat grows at the renewed tension that you don’t know how to alleviate. Maybe just a straightforward approach — you did push him too far.

“I’m sorry, I won’t ask again. I just care about them.”

This time, the scratch of his pen only stutters, but doesn’t stop. You’ll take that as progress, even if his tone is still hard.

“You got to be a child.”

You think back to your childhood, and the responsibilities you had to take on much too early. A huff of air escapes as a sigh before you can stop it. There’s nothing you really process as you stare off into space. The smile you manage twitches pathetically before you let it fall again.

“I guess, for a while.”

Still longer than Eclipse got to be one though, to be fair.

This time you sigh on purpose, and extract yourself from the blanket. Folding it is a bit hard with only one free hand available, but you at least don’t leave it as a scrunched up mess. You ramble on a bit, just to put out any metaphorical fires you might have set.

“I’m filing this away as another thing I shouldn’t ask about. I won’t pry, and I get that you probably have complicated feelings about it. I have my own, different ones. We can both be justified. I’ll drop it now. Gonna wash up a bit.”

Without giving him any opportunity to reply you slink into the kitchen, disposing of the apple core before escaping further into the bathroom.

Not a lot you can do in here without your toiletries, and you don’t think Eclipse has a habit of expecting human visitors, much less preparing for their needs. The blanket already was a surprise, after all. You’ll just have to deal with a bit of discomfort until you make it back to your room.

Maybe Eclipse is right. You are awfully curious, and there are a lot of lines you don’t know you’re crossing until you’ve waltzed right over them. He has every right to set those boundaries, and maybe you could learn a little tact. At least you can try. After the unexpected kindness he showed you, no matter how much he denies it, you really do owe him that.

For now you’ll just not mention kids again, and definitely change the topic once you’re back out.

Carefully you reemerge, and assess the situation from the entrance to the living room. Eclipse is still writing his report, focused and quiet, but his shoulders are relaxed. Well, as much as you’ve ever seen him relaxed. There is of course the pure physical difference — maybe he doesn’t have to relax as much as humans do to really feel the effect.

You’ve seen him tense for sure. More often than not, which only exacerbates the thought that he doesn’t know how to truly relax.

Not that you do, either. It’s not rest if you feel guilty for resting, occupying your thoughts with more anxiety, and that’s unfortunately what you keep doing, again and again.

Yesterday, in the park — that was the latest botched attempt to relax for once. And that didn’t do jack shit for your mind until Eclipse came by and poked you until you spilled it all. Kinder than he gives himself credit for, but just as blunt as you needed. Hard to argue that self deprecation is deserved with nearly ten foot of all that glaring down at you and calling you out on your bullshit.

Not that he did in so many words, but his threats were convincing in the moment. Now you’re just left wondering.

Apparently you stare just a little too long.

“What?”

The question is curt and somewhat grumpy — the familiar grumpy, and thus leagues better than the hostile tone from before.

You don’t think. It’s a bad habit.

“Could you throw me?”

Eclipse straightens in his chair, pausing his writing again. You don’t know what to make of that, even with his pointed follow up.

“Excuse you?”

Any other person might agree that you’ve made some very unwise decisions, and this is barrelling towards yet another added to the ever growing tally. However, you’re you, and as long as he doesn’t sound outright hostile you don’t see the harm in elaborating.

“Yesterday, you said you’d throw me in the pond if I don’t shut up. I’m not asking you to, just if you actually could.”

You watch as he sets the pen down, this time turning on the chair to face you. His stare is so deadpan, you’ll need a graveyard for kitchenware stat. Slowly, and without looking away he rises.

That doesn’t bode well for you. On instinct you wave your hands through the air, though you don’t have much hope.

“I said you don’t need to prove it!”

While Eclipse is deceptively calm in his approach, you’re not oblivious enough to believe him. You duck, not quite a crouch, but you’re keyed up already. Your options are limited and you don’t have time to think - and then he’s past the coffee table, and you make a break for it down the hallway.

Hearing him laugh definitely isn’t reassuring.

You’re just reaching for the bathroom door when his hands wrap around your middle, and you screech. Or laugh, you aren’t quite sure. Unceremoniously you’re whipped back, your safe haven back out of reach. Eclipse lets go only for a moment, and only to turn you into a position facing him.

That grin is not reassuring. It might be the happiest you’ve seen him yet.

Before you can even begin to process that contradiction his hands are on you again, and then you’re up.

You blink. Rare enough you get to look him in the eyes on face level.

“Does this answer your question?”

And still he sounds so happy. In a strange way, it makes sense. Maybe. If you think about it — a playful, if extremely short chase that lets him show off how big and scary he is, without any of the risks his job usually involves. It’s not even like he’s holding you particularly tightly. The pressure from his hold is mostly under your arms, and that’s gravity from dangling, not him grabbing too hard.

Just as you think about it, his fingers loosen around you even more. Just a hint, and you are still held securely, but a noticeable change. Before, he felt bad about the bruises he left on accident, and now he’s trying to adjust? Is that it?

And yet, all that combined with his unbearably smug attitude.

You suppress a grin, just barely, and decide to deflect. This morning has had enough realizations and tense conversations.

“... Do I even weigh anything to you?”

The bubble of happiness bursts, and he narrows his eyes again with a scoff. Seamlessly he turns, back towards the living room, and just for a moment you brush your fingers against the ceiling. Also rare enough you get to do that, even in places that aren’t housing a ridiculously tall animatronic.

He ducks under the doorway, and for a second you hope to touch ground again. None of that.

“At worst you’re a burden on my mind.”

The dissonance between the way he’s still holding you and the venom in his voice is too great, so you promptly decide to disregard the latter. Actions over words, or something. And sure, there are nicer ways to tell someone you think about them a lot, but this is the guy who doesn’t believe in friendship.

You pat his shoulder, and close your eyes for posterity.

“I’m flattered. You should have said ‘No, it’s like holding a couple of grapes.’”

When you open your eyes again you’re met with a narrow-eyed glare, radiating suspicion. Also, you have to look up again. If you weigh so little to him, the only explanation is that he wants to be taller. You file that hypothesis away for another time, when you have access to walls to climb on.

For now, Eclipse has caught onto the fact that you continue sprinkling memes into your conversations.

“I’m not saying that.”

He dips you a little lower, and then many things happen at once. Air breezing past you, and his hands no longer holding you up — but you’re not just falling.

No, the bastard did throw you.

The springs of the couch creak as you land on it butt first, and your back hits the armrest at an angle.

“Oof.”

Unaffected by your suffering, Eclipse brushes past you to settle back at his desk.

“Now let me finish my report, or I’m kicking you out.”

His shoulders are lower, again. You smile.

Then, with a soft chuckle, you right yourself, twisting to face him even as he doesn’t face you.

“Actually, can we do it the other way round? I wanna ask one more thing -”

Before you get to finish he’s already turning back, eyes narrow in warning. You throw your hands up placatingly and continue without pause.

“Nothing about you, stop looking at me like that. After that I’ll leave and you have the entire rest of this beautiful day to engage in boring as fuck work stuff.”

Because he did remind you of that issue creeping closer and closer, and you have not the slightest idea how to go about fixing it before it all goes south.

For a sigh, he slumps. A bit theatrically, you want to say, especially when he starts rubbing his forehead in exasperation, too — well, notably, the little swirl, just above his eye. Reminds you of when you did the same, just gentler.

“I feel like that will be a welcome reprieve after your exciting presence.”

Right, back to the conversation. You click your tongue and flutter your eyelashes innocently.

“Ahw, you just keep flattering me.”

If you ever decide to measure how narrow his eyes go, you’d need to pinch your fingers together, and he’d definitely take offense. You’re tempted all the more.

“Ask your question before I change my mind, you menace.”

So he doesn’t mind the question. Could have said so in a few more words, but you’ll take it. After another little dig — you have your dignity to defend. You straighten and level your own haughty scowl at him.

“Says the guy who just threw me on the couch.”

His hand still set on the table tightens into a fist.

“Star.”

Right, the question. You lean back, bouncing slightly on the couch.

“Fine, fine. Where could I work? Without any proof of my existence or education?”

Right now, you’re boarding for free, but your conscience is starting to weigh on you. As ideal as it is, that’s not how things work, and you’ll need a source of income if you don’t want to be dependent on other people’s goodwill.

Eclipse’s expression sours, and his shoulders droop with an overly exaggerated sigh.

“I suppose it’s in my favor too if you get some faked documents. I’ll just need some additional information.”

He really just jumped past a few steps you didn’t expect to be that easy of a hurdle. Then again, his legs are a lot longer, sure it’s easier for him. You can roll with that.

There is no way you’re going to bring your name into this though. If you already get to reinvent yourself…

Or, even better -

“Sure. Can I have the last name Smith?”

“Smith?”

The suspicion is palpable, though he doesn’t seem to get the joke. That’s no problem, you’ll gladly help him out. No ulterior motives at all.

“Yeah! Like the ‘I’m here undercover so I’m picking the most obvious fake name ever’ name.”

His expression tells you everything you need to know about what he thinks of that idea.

You smile, and remain silent. The proof that you can shut up. And if the timing just so happens to also make it prove that you can be a menace even without opening your mouth, well, that’s between you and your steadily growing grin. The moment stretches as Eclipse’s eyes narrow further, and his next sigh bursts with frustrated static as he turns away.

“Why did I ever think you just being quiet would be enough?”

Mumbling to himself he rummages through a drawer, and you sit up on your knees to catch a glimpse of loose pens and papers and paperclips.

“Silence is golden, after all. I didn’t have to say anything to annoy you.”

Words are one thing, actions another. You take the notepad and pencil he holds out to you, and settle back on the couch.

“You’re a walking headache. And here I thought I was immune.”

“You keep saying that, and yet you keep inviting me back. I don’t think I’m that bad, or you’re a masochist.”

Oh, oh and you thought you knew his bad glares. But this one is just a tad too disbelieving — did you really have the audacity to say that? — and rather than doing the proper self preserving thing and apologize, or something, you just snort.

Eclipse has had enough of you.

“Just write down the information you want. If it’s ridiculous, I’m not getting it. If anything’s missing, I’m making up the least flattering filler possible.”

Again he turns back, and you dutifully write down all the info he could need. Your desired name (including the Smith), age, and height - and then stop at the gender. After a moment of deliberation you doodle a little mischievous cat face and carry on. You think your birth town already exists, so you note it down too. What else, what else…

For a minute or two, the room is silent except for the scratch of two pens.

Once you’re done (at least as done as you can be without knowing what information exactly is necessary) you stand up, dusting yourself off just to stall for time. By the time you step next to Eclipse at the desk and hold out the notepad again he too has put down his pen. You shake the pad once before he takes it.

“All done.”

“Good. Now get out of here.”

He stashes the pencil back in the drawer, but the notepad he leaves on the desk. Doesn’t even spare you a last glance before he picks up his pen again. There’s no fight to be won here, so you just snort and step away. Overstaying your welcome is not something you’re particularly interested in, and you’ve already teetered the edge for a while now.

Except you stop at the entrance to the living room, one hand on the doorframe. There’s a lot left unsaid, both because you’re embarrassed still about your little breakdown, and because Eclipse is about as emotionally aware as a rock and pricklier than a cactus. But if you’re leaving now anyway…

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn back. Eclipse is still writing.

“Hey, Eclipse?”

“Yes?”

He draws out the sound, clearly annoyed. Woe is him, you haven’t actually left his apartment yet.

“Thank you, again.”

Just like any time before, he stiffens at the expression of gratitude. At least he doesn’t notice your smile in response, given that you manage to suppress the amused huff.

You’re undeterred.

“You’re a better person than you give yourself credit for. Though if I may recommend a different succulent to emulate, aloe would be a much more pleasant alternative.”

He turns on his chair after just a moment of processing your barb, a growl already building up. But before he catches you with his glare you’re laughing, and dipping into the hallway.

“See you soon!”

“Don’t you dare!”

But for all his posturing, he doesn’t chase you again — doesn’t chase you out. After just demonstrating how easy it would be for him, that speaks volumes.

Oh, you’ll definitely see him again soon. Life would be much too boring otherwise.

—

It’s a few days before you see Eclipse again, and by pure chance, too. For once, you’re out and about with a purpose, and seeing a bounty hunter isn’t it.

No one will fault you for a detour, though.

Especially not when you see that he’s talking to someone - a man, wearing nondescript worker’s clothes, and not the kind of work Eclipse engages in. No, this is someone your eyes would simply pass over in a vintage photograph of a street scene, or some sort of group shot.

So Mr. No Friends has other reasons to communicate with people — and you’re just dying to know about what.

Your current position puts you at Eclipse’s back, and that’s where you prefer to be for now. Means he won’t see you until it’s too late, and you’re already close enough to listen in. So you step closer, carefully and quietly, though you make no secret out of your curiosity. With your eyes on Eclipse you creep closer, arms crossed behind your back. You lean forward just slightly, like that will put you closer to the conversation.

And then you get spotted.

“I saw him last around — Sorry, who’s your friend?”

Your automatic smile stiffens as you drop your gaze to the speaker. Those narrow eyes are nothing compared to what Eclipse will look like when he sees you’ve been eavesdropping.

“My -”

Eclipse turns, a wide eyed glare finding you quickly. Think of the devil. Rage simmers just below the surface, and you remember the last time you announced yourself as his friend. Your smile twitches, and you direct a wave at Eclipse’s not-friend. An informant, maybe? That would fit into his broody bounty hunter reputation.

The impulsive part of your brain supplies a feathery Eclipse as a chicken-puddle as he clucks offendedly, and you decide to talk before you start laughing.

“Oh, no, I just owe him.”

Somehow, you feel like his glare is worse now.

Maybe-Informant scowls, then turns back to Eclipse.

“You’re branching out, huh? Anyways, I last saw him lurking around the industrial area, hiding out in different warehouses. Lots of people on his tail these days, might be a hassle finding him in that maze.”

Definitely an informant then. Your curiosity is officially sated, even at the cost of Eclipse once again being mad at you.

“I’ll find him. Keep an eye out.”

He turns so suddenly that you end up taking a step back, to no avail. His hand wraps around your upper arm, though the grip isn’t tight — but his fingertips touch. Just so, and no tighter, and then he’s dragging you after him.

For a second, you contemplate making a show of it. Back of the hand to your forehead, pretend despair at being dragged away. You decide against it, because you don’t actually want to make Eclipse’s reputation worse, and you also remember why he started helping you out in the first place.

So instead, you opt for a wave. It reaches nothing but air. You don’t even see the informant anymore, and don’t get the chance to look around either before Eclipse drags you off into an alley.

At least he starts talking before you get to voice your comment about risqué behavior during daylight hours. You’re in deep enough trouble as is.

“What are you doing here?”

You shrug, the motion pulling his hand up before he lets go of your arm. Not that he looks any happier, but also not like you aren’t used to that by now. You’ve seen him really angry, and this isn’t it.

“Job hunting.”

Nonchalant as the response is, his reaction is the opposite. You’re pretty sure you see his eyelid twitch.

“Job - I haven’t even gotten you your papers yet!”

Alright, maybe you’re just a little impatient. Indignance pulls up your shoulders again, and you pace down the alleyway to gesture at nothing.

“I know, but I got bored! So I came up with a story that will keep most people from asking questions - saying you left Germany as fast as possible at the cost of documentation is apparently very easy to believe. We’re not exactly popular. Now everyone pities me instead of focusing on the everything else, which does play into my hand.”

Eclipse stays and watches you, deceptively calm where you are restless. You trail to a stop and look at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

It comes out almost impressed.

“... You’re more devious than I thought.”

Uh oh, can’t give him standards. You wave off the questionable compliment and step closer again, even if it means you have crane up your neck higher. The distance between your faces is big enough even if you don’t stand half an alley away.

“Don’t give me too much credit. I didn’t think of that lie any sooner, and I had to prepare contingency plans for multiple possible lines of questioning before I felt safe enough to even attempt telling it to anyone.”

A static rumble of a sigh as he briefly hides his eyes behind a hand.

“This is who I…”

Wait, what? You barely understand the mumble before he trails off, but immediately perk up.

“You what?”

But just as quickly he drops his hand, instead glaring down at you.

“Nothing. Did you have to prepare the other lie too?”

He’s lost you.

“What lie?”

You’re not exactly in the habit of lying, don’t even enjoy this one you came up with.

There’s a twitch to his expression, and when he elaborates, his voice is strained. Considering he’s technically always gritting his teeth this is the first time he sounds like it too.

“That you ‘just’ owe me.”

Oh.

You blink.

Break eye contact to look down.

Hide the manic grin growing on your face.

He’s mad because you denied being his friend.

That’s the only explanation that makes sense to you, the only reason he’d be mad about this. At some point within the past few weeks he’s changed his mind from being allergic to friends to wanting to be yours. Sure, he hasn’t admitted it in so many words. He doesn’t need to. Not with this reaction — and that glare earlier that now makes sense, too.

Maybe he hasn’t even realized it himself.

“Don’t come up with a lie now.”

Oh, stars, if he gets any grumpier about this you absolutely will lose it.

“I’m not. I’m trying not to laugh.”

“What?”

You look back up. The grin is undeniable, and your cheeks are starting to hurt.

Eclipse does not look amused.

“You’re mad because I affirmed your broody loner reputation? I assumed that’s what you want, but I’ll gladly call you my bestie next time.”

He physically flinches back. This look you know, and remember well despite only having seen it once - disgust. But you no longer believe you’re a very squishy bug to him. You really, really want to laugh.

“Do not insinuate we are friends.”

“Why is it an issue then if I ‘just’ owe you?”

“That’s -”

You watch him struggle for a moment, shoulders a tense line as he breaks eye contact to scowl off into space. But only for a moment. After all, there’s giving him time to sort out his thoughts, and torturing him by putting him on the spot.

… Though you’re probably doing that already. All the more reason to intercept.

“You want to be friends.”

Now if only you could reign in the smugness radiating off of you.

Eclipse meanwhile looks terribly offended.

“I do not.”

He’s a better liar than you are, but unfortunately for him, he already gave himself away. You chuckle softly, and lean back against the dingy brick wall behind you to cross your arms. The satisfaction still drips from your tone.

"Wasch mir den Pelz, aber mach mich nicht nass."

His eyes narrow. The tone may be undeniable, but still he doesn’t know what exactly you said, and it only irritates him more. You should talk German to him more often.

When you don’t elaborate after a moment, he growls.

"What?"

Your cheeks really hurt now.

"Wash my fur but don't make me wet. I prefer it over 'you can't have your cake and eat it' because I have it to eat it."

The glare drops into something resigned. He’s gotten used to your bullshit then, and is already tired of it. To be fair, you are doing it on purpose, at least partially. Or maybe more accurately, you are simply embracing being a natural menace.

Eclipse grumbles. Somehow, the sound reminds you of a pissed off cat.

"So now you're insulting me in German."

You close your eyes, though that does nothing to diminish your grin. With a chiding waggle of your finger you continue.

"No, I described the situation. If you interpreted that as an insult that's not my problem."

Oh, yeah, you love being a menace. A glimpse back up shows Eclipse’s hands balled into fists and his eyes closed — maybe counting to ten in his head. You hear it’s supposed to calm you down. You wonder if it works.

His eyes are golden and blazing when he narrows them at you again.

"I detest you."

And you’re much too elated to take him seriously.

"You want to be my friend."

Still allergic to the word, his shoulders rise in defense. If he narrows his eyes any further, they’ll be closed.

"I experienced a momentary lapse in judgement. I'm cured now."

And yet, he hasn’t left. Is “shit-eating grin” an expression yet?

It takes enormous effort to tamper it down into something good natured, and shrug innocently. Bat your eyes just to really sell the act.

"Sure. Whenever you want another sleepover just hit me up."

Eclipse’s expression jerks. You drop your gaze to watch his hands, and catch them on the tail-end of unfurling. Instead, he crosses them, and apparently decides to just ignore your offer.

“I have work to do. And you, little Star, want to get out of this part of town.”

You click your tongue and lift one hand up to your heart, fluttering your lashes in adoration.

“Ahw, you care about me!”

There’s that lemon face you love!

“Leave before I lose the rest of my sanity!”

He’s all coiled tension, ready to go off as he extracts one arm to point towards the main road. If you tease him any more, he might just start steaming like a cartoon. … Probably less than ideal as an animatronic.

Better to call it a day here. Placatingly you wave your hands, though you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes with your words.

“Yes, yes. You take your non-breather breather.”

Rather than acknowledge your parting comment he just turns, walking further down the alley. There are other little backstreets, so maybe he plans on leaving that way.

Your cue to go then, too. You’ll take the main road, not because he told you, but because even you have enough self preservation skills to realize that traversing an unfamiliar network of seedy alleys in the late afternoon rapidly turning evening is a bad idea.

But still you hesitate at the crossroads. You didn’t really say goodbye, and somehow that doesn’t sit right with you. Though getting mushy on Eclipse is probably worse than being a menace, so you turn for one last tease.

The narrow walls carry your voice, and all the delight in it too.

“Bye, bestie!”

You laugh at his frustrated roar from deeper in the alley, and dip around the corner. There, gave him enough to chew on.

Let him stew in those thoughts.

#post let luce #dcamv #bloodstain fool #menace4menace #my fic #i am also already 2k plus into the next one so.#self indulgence go brr #im okay btw no one worry bc of that vent #sometimes u cant be nice to yourself but can filter reason through blorbo and call yourself out #i also keep getting distracted from tagging bc i have to do on mobile bc tumblr decided to be a little BITCH <3 #yknow what i can just shut up i do not NEED to tag ramble lmao fsgbj #enjoy <3

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