#far enough to need the tag. not far enough to visit the tag.
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Nothing I Can't Handle Chapter 3 [Alastor/Reader]
https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/140790502
Lucifer comes to visit and Alastor is totally normal about it- and you decide what you want!
Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, Biting, cunnilingus
Since you asked to be tagged! 💕 @littlecat21 @fairyv-ice and another tag for the lovely @fraugwinska bc she is the literal BEST 💝🔥
Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 2
You should have seen it coming.
Alastor, while still seeming a bit uncomfortable with the idea of showing you attention outside of the periods of time you would spend in your bedrooms, seemed more subdued. Calmer. He no longer stalked around the hotel like a feral beast; he seemed more willing to be part of little activities and such that Charlie planned; he didn’t avoid you like the plague as he had when he first proposed his deal to you. During his ruts he was possessive and almost doting, making sure to keep you fed with homemade meals and snacks and hydrated so you no longer had to provide those things for yourself. He would drape his silk robe over your shoulders the moment you entered his room, always an admiring glance to the monogrammed ‘A’ settled over your heart.
You did occasionally get to leave his room now- his inner animal apparently sated enough with the idea that you were properly mated to allow you out of his sight for short periods of time. God forbid you spoke with anyone though- you ran into Husk one evening on the way back from the kitchen for a snack and honestly thought Alastor might eat him with the volume of his snarl before teleporting you back to his room, to his bed.
Outside of the ruts he was mostly normal. You thought nothing of the faint static feedback you heard speaking with Angel at the bar, a bit tipsy and hanging off the spider’s shoulder while you laughed. Paid no mind to the disappearance of a sinner you were having a conversation with at a party you attended with the group, turning to find him having vanished and assuming that he just wandered away. Gave Alastor a smile any time that he spooned more jambalaya into your bowl at dinner time, laughing at the way he glared at Husk if he commented on it.
You were having a great time though, still ruminating on what exactly you wanted to get out of the deal. He had stopped pestering you about it after the 3rd rut, but there wasn’t much you wanted or needed for yourself- the Hotel offered you protection and friendship, you were sexually sated, you felt no need to try to bargain for power or money. You’d been considering either asking for something small- just a token, a trifle, something to show that you didn’t really need anything in return from the deal- or something grand. Something like asking for Husk to be released, for him to find a way to end Angel’s contract with Valentino. For him to maybe at least try to see you as someone more than just what his body craves, try to see you like you see him. An object of not merely animalistic lust but affection.
You were decent at keeping your personal and business lives separate, and despite your own feelings you knew that the deal with Alastor was business. You did your best not to let your true emotions known during the times you were sequestered in his room, when he gave you that sly, knowing smile before sliding the robe off your shoulders, when he sank his teeth into your shoulder and mumbled that you were his, his mate, perfect and lovely.
You were absolutely not getting lost in that fantasy. You were helping him- that was all he expected to come of it.
That was what you thought, anyway, until the Devil did what he did best and fell right into the middle of things, fucking everything up for everyone.
Lucifer’s visits to the hotel were few and far between, but you should have anticipated some kind of tension between him and Alastor the first time he visited after you made the deal to help him with his ruts.
Charlie’s father was a sweet guy, for being the king of Hell. A little awkward, a little eccentric, a lot handsy. Not in any way that was disrespectful, of course, but he was quite liberal with his hugs and handshakes and placing of hands on a back or shoulder when standing next to someone or guiding them somewhere. For the most part you were perfectly fine with it; perhaps a blush here or there at the proximity of the man sometimes, but you had no reason to brush him off or ask him to stop. You even had some actual conversations once in a while, discussions about books and art and anything else that seemed to strike his fancy. You never thought you would have anything in common with the literal Devil.
He was making his way down the line greeting everyone, pulling you into a tight hug when you offered him your hand. “Always great to see everyone, beautiful, but especially you!” He pulls back to look at you at arms length for a moment, his eyes traveling your face. “Ya know, I’ve been meaning to ask-”
“Ah, his Majesty has seen fit to join us for an evening!” At the sound of Alastor’s voice Lucifer stiffens, pulls away from you- his question forgotten in favor of fucking with the Radio Demon. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Surely you have more pressing matters to attend to.” He gives a pointed glance to the head of a rubber duck that pokes out from the front of Lucifer’s jacket pocket.
“Well, Alastor , I’m the King of Hell and I do what I want.” He sneers the other demon’s name, shoving the duck deeper into his pocket. “If I want to join my daughter and her lovely friends for a night I’m going to do just that.”
Alastor slides an arm behind you, the warmth of his hand making a home on your lower back. “By all means, then, join us! This way, my dear,” and he guides you away from Lucifer with gentle pressure, leaving the monarch behind to greet the rest of the hotel inhabitants as Niffty climbs him like a tree.
You shoot Alastor a sideways look. His last rut had ended weeks ago, the next not meant to happen for another couple months at least. He was testy like he sometimes got right before the rut happened, where the animal instincts and unfamiliar hormones were flooding his body in preparation. Antagonizing, a little possessive.
He leads you to a lobby couch, everyone else filing in behind the two of you and finding their seats. Lucifer sits in one nearest to Charlie and gestures frantically at you to take the cushion next to him- before you can even decide, Alastor has shifted his shadow to fill the vacant seat.
“How thoughtful of you!” He crosses his legs, settling back into the softness of the sofa. “I must say, sire, I never imagined you would wish to be seated beside me but of course-”
“I wasn’t fucking talking to you,” Lucifer snarls, but Alastor has already patted the cushion next to himself for you to occupy. Once you sit, the shorter demon leans forward, trying to catch your eye. “I wanted to ask if ya still wanted to come see the library at the manor!”
“Oh gosh, I totally forgot about that.” One of your more recent conversations, a discussion of literature and lost texts, had led to Lucifer offering to show you his manor sometime, the vast library a mere portal away. “I’m absolutely still interested!”
Alastor stiffens beside you, his neck snapping with the speed he turns to look at you.
Charlie lights up with excitement. “Oh you will absolutely love it,” she exclaims, leaning so far forward in her chair you think she might fall out of it, Vaggie placing a supportive hand on her back to prevent exactly that. “Dad, can we all make a trip of it? I think everyone in the group could benefit- I can’t believe I never thought to invite everybody-”
“Whoa, Char, slow down!” He chuckles, reaching across the space between their seats to clasp her hand. “I’m not opposed to the rest of your little friends coming to visit sometime too! But I was really hoping for a little one on one time with this one here.” He shoots you a wink across the Radio Demon’s lap. “Whaddya think?”
Husk notices before you do, a muttered “ah, fuck” before surreptitiously shifting himself slightly in front of Angel Dust, who poked his head up over the feline’s shoulder to watch anyway.
Actually, everyone notices before you do, even the oblivious King. There’s a whining feedback noise that permeates the air, Vaggie and Charlie are settled back into their seats, and Lucifer is staring in horror at Alastor, who, when you actually turn to look at him, is staring at Lucifer like he means to dismember him. His claws are dug into the fabric of his pants, his smile sharp and dangerous , occult symbols hovering in the air around him.
You feel like you should speak before Alastor does something stupid like trying to murder the king. “I-”
Just like that the moment has ended- the feedback stops, the lights return to normal, occult symbols disappearing in a wisp of smoke. Alastor stands in a fluid movement, turning on his heel and bending at the waist to get eye level with Lucifer. “What a delightful offer. I’m afraid I will be in need of our darling inhabitant’s help at that time.” His smile is tense, words forced between them.
Not one to be put off by a razor tipped grin, Lucifer grimaces at Alastor. “We haven’t even set a date yet!”
“A shame, truly.” He straightens up, holds a hand out to you that you don’t even think about not taking. “I’m afraid we have much to discuss before any other plans are made, dear.”
“There have been no plans made!”
“Farewell, everyone!” He pulls you to stand beside him and with a swirl of darkness you’ve vanished, rematerializing in his bedroom. He crowds you against the door, tall body caging yours with arms on either side of your head and leaning into the space between your shoulder and neck. “You need to choose what you want from our deal,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. “You’ve been putting it off for whatever silly reason you have, and I demand that it ends. Pick something.”
You close your eyes against the sensation of him and feel the hammering of his heart where he’s pressed against you. “It’s not- not time for your rut,” you say. “Why are you bringing this up now?”
“The rut be damned. If your half of the deal is unfulfilled, if I can’t give you something that you want, then the deal is void.” He nearly snarls the words into your shoulder, the frustration apparent in his words. “You can decide to end this at any time and I can do nothing about it.”
Your hands come up to his chest, meaning to push him back, but you pause. “Alastor-”
“I have no power over this deal until your benefit is claimed. Should you have decided to entertain that kingly oaf I would have to sit idly by knowing that you are in his domain instead of mine, where you belong.”
“I didn’t know that,” you tell him, and then your brain catches up with what he’s said. “And what do you mean, ‘where I belong?’ This was just meant to be- you know, your ruts. I wouldn’t just fuck off and leave you messed up if you can’t accept anyone else but I didn’t think you wanted anything more than that.”
“I didn’t.” Alastor hisses the word into your skin, like it’s your fault you’re in this situation. “I was content to simply let these cursed ruts run through with your assistance with none of the pesky interference that feelings would bring. But you’re just so… good.” He laughs and the sound seems painful to him, vibrating against you. “You’ve thrown yourself into it with such gusto and enthusiasm, you offer me no complaints, you indulge my every whim even when we aren’t isolated from the world together, and you aren’t even getting anything out of it.”
Everything clicks into place- for you, at least. His actions towards you, his behavior towards Lucifer this evening, how possessive he’s been during the ruts and between them. Something had changed over the course of your deal; he wanted it set in stone to tie you to him, to make sure that you wouldn’t end your arrangement and run off with someone like Lucifer. To make sure you wouldn’t leave him, that you were bound to him and the deal you had made.
It should have been alarming. It wasn’t- the knowledge that he craved more, as you did, made a pulse of heat run through your body.
“Okay,” you agree. “I see the problem, I understand- and I know what I want.” He raises his head from your shoulder finally, eyes narrowed at how agreeable you seem to be and his grin tense. You give him a sweet smile. “A kiss.”
Alastor says nothing, watching you with his suspicious gaze before he takes a deep breath. “You’ll waste the benefit of such a deal on a mere kiss? Don’t joke with me-”
“Who’s joking? I would ask for nothing if I thought you would let me. If this is what will give you the reassurance that I don’t plan on going anywhere then I’ll give it to you.” You let your eyes trail down his chest, lower your voice to a whisper. “Don’t forget to ask me where I would like my kiss to be.”
His breath catches in his throat and his gaze goes dark, raking down your frame like his claws have done so many times. “Do you know how many sinners in the hordes of Hell would have taken the opportunity to bring me to my knees with the deal that I offered you?” He brings an arm down from its position bracketing you to trail his fingers along your neck, over your breast, down your side and rest possessively on your hip. “Is that what you would ask of me as well?”
“Only temporarily.”
He chuckles low, the sound rumbling in his chest. “As you wish,” he says, and in a flash of movement he is sinking before you to his knees, hands running carefully over your body as he descends. He hooks his fingers in the top of your skirt, drags it to the floor along with your panties and then wraps a hand around your calf to prop your leg over his shoulder, bringing the heat of your wetness closer to his mouth.
He rests his head against your thigh, hooded gaze moving from your desperately slick folds to your face, blushing and nervous despite having asked for exactly this. You had done this before, splayed in his bed with his face buried between your legs, but the angle was different- he could still see you, he wasn’t lost in the throes of his rut and mindless in his hunger for you. What if he didn’t like it when he wasn’t at the mercy of his instincts? What if he-
Alastor’s tongue, long and deft, comes out of his mouth to lick at the skin of your thigh, making you jolt and look back down, not realizing that your gaze had drifted. “You’d best pay attention, darling,” he mutters. “I might take offense should your attention wander.”
Then he’s angling himself, slotting his mouth against you, and you would make a thousand ill-advised deals to feel this forever. His tongue slips in easily with the arousal that drips from you, the strong line of his nose brushing against your clit with every subtle shift of his head to get deeper, taste more. He pulls back enough to press a finger into you gently, sucks at the nub of your clit before sliding his tongue back into you beside his finger. The movement makes you moan, hands finally coming away from where they’ve been scrambling against the wood of the door to twist between the locks of his hair.
Accustomed to what he likes during his ruts, you run a finger up the tines of his antlers and he groans into you, low and sinful and fucking perfect. “ You,” he mumbles against you, between kisses to your slick lips and presses of his tongue to your sensitive spot, “will simply be the death of me. Look at me.”
You hadn’t realized your eyes had closed again, and they fly open; the sight that greets you threatens to be your undoing. His eyes are glazed where he watches you, antlers having branched out beyond his ears, tongue pressed flush to your slick folds. His free hand comes up to lift your other leg onto his unoccupied shoulder, the motion putting you into an awkward lean against the door as he drags you closer to his hungry mouth.
“Wait- Alastor-” You try to use your grip on his antlers to pull him away to reposition but only succeed in making him grip your thigh tighter with the hand that doesn’t have fingers inside you- with the position change he’s added another, tongue still twisting dexterously alongside.
You start to move from the door and you panic a moment, thinking you’re falling, before there’s a firm pressure at your back and hands coming to rest in your hips. When you turn your head to look you’re greeted with the dark wisp of Alastor’s shadow, glowing grin unaffected by the words that follow your sharp intake of breath. “No need to fear, darling,” says Alastor’s voice from the shadow. “It’s merely here to keep you steady.”
You let your head fall back onto the shadow’s shoulder as Alastor continues to take you apart, hands fisted in his hair and on the base of his antlers, thumb gently stroking when you can manage the mental capacity necessary to not just be at his mercy. A particularly harsh suck to your clit has your legs clenching around his head, inner walls spasming on his fingers and tongue as he pulls you towards the edge of orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor-”
The moan that responds comes from the shadow but vibrates through your body starting between your legs. “Let me hear you, my dear,” comes his hot whisper next to your ear. “We don't often focus on you like this, do we? Just that one time during my rut. An egregious error- one I mean to rectify immediately.”
He angles your hips again, pulls his tongue from the clench of your body to focus on your bundle of nerves. “To have you during my periods of need is no longer enough- I wish to have you beneath me, around me, always. The thought of losing you to that regal imbecile drives me to madness that claws at my very soul. I’ll have to be sure to lay my claim in a way that is… indisputable.” His voice rasps next to your ear, the shadow a perfect transmitter of his thoughts and words while his mouth is occupied.
“Alastor-” You mean to warn him of your impending release, the coil of tension that threatens to snap with the briefest of pressure. “Please, I need-”
“Go on, dearest,” his shadow purrs while his tongue circles your clit in hard, fast swipes. “Come in my mouth, show me how beautiful you are in your pleasure-”
Your body shakes in the hold of Alastor and his shadow, voice leaving you in a strangled cry as you obey, your release making your entire body tensing wherever it can- your hands in Alastor’s hair, legs around his head, cunt around his fingers. He licks you gently through it before he pulls back slowly, expression satisfied looking up at you before he lowers your legs to the ground, standing and making sure he has a solid hold on you when his shadow vanishes. “How are your legs, darling, can you stand?” He walks you over to the bed and lays you on the mattress, an admiring glance cast across your frame. “I’ll never grow tired of seeing you splayed across my sheets.”
“I’ll never be tired of being splayed across them; looks like our interests align, how handy is that?” He meets your smile with his customary one, and you hold a hand out to him and pull him closer, quickly working the buttons of his shirt and letting him slide the garment off his body. “Do you know why I agreed to the deal with you?” You wait for his bemused nod before you undo the button of his trousers. “It wasn’t anything to do with your power or what you could offer me in return. Or even the orgasms, as wonderful as they’ve been. So do you know why?”
“I’m sure you’ll enlighten me,” he murmurs as you shimmy his pants down his legs, hissing when you drag his undergarments down as well and his erection springs free.
“I said yes,” you say, pulling him down so he kneels on the edge of the bed, “because I wanted a chance to be closer to you. That’s what I’ve been getting the whole time- I didn’t need anything else. Though the kiss was great,” you say with a wink, wrapping a hand around him and guiding the head of him into your slick heat.
“Fuck-” Alastor cuts himself off with a hiss as he sinks into you, fucking into your pliant body and grinding down when he’s sunk to the hilt. “Delightful woman- you always surprise me. So wet and tight around my cock every time you take me. So lovely and perfect, my-” He stops himself, burying his face in the space between your neck and shoulder, his favorite place to be.
“Your mate,” you encourage him. “I will be- if you’ll have me. Even without the deal- ahh, fuck -” You interrupt yourself with a moan when he angles his hips, hitting the sweet spot inside your body. “I’m not going anywhere- I would have helped you regardless of the deal, regardless of the favor you asked of me.” You rock your hips up into him, let him reach further inside. “Whatever you will give me I’ll take, Alastor. Let me be yours- always. That’s what I want.”
“It’s yours,” he groans, “I would give you anything , darling. Anything.” He fucks himself into you harder, growling into your skin. “Let me give it to you.”
“Please,” you beg him, your second release a hair trigger away. “Fuck, Alastor please- I’m yours, your mate, please-”
“You’re mine, fucking- mine, always, fuck-” He spends himself with a snarl in the tight heat of your body and you follow shortly behind, a cry of Alastor’s name on your lips as you let yourself fall apart in his embrace. His teeth pierce the skin of your neck where they always do- and really, you should ask him about that, find out if it's a cannibal thing or a deer thing so you can decide if you’re less okay with it, even as hot as it is.
The only sounds for a bit are harsh exhales as you both try to catch your breath, tracing your fingers up and down the exposed skin of his back, pausing every now and then when you come across a scar. “This was… different,” he says quietly. “From the times during the rut, I mean. The ache, the need for you still burning but not through every fiber of my being in a way that cannot be ignored. I feel more in control of myself with you now, without it.”
“Which you like?”
“Very much so. My ruts are enjoyable with you, darling, but the feeling of being so lost in my baser instincts can be overwhelming at times.” He pulls back from your shoulder to watch your face as he speaks. “You being so accommodating to it helped and of course I don’t wish to stop, but I do believe I prefer us like this.”
“I do too. Speaking of baser instincts though, are you going to turn into some jealous beast again if I want to visit Lucifer’s library with everyone else?”
He heaves a deep sigh. “I suppose despite his obvious interest in what belongs to me I won’t stop you. A proper chaperone should get the message across to his royal idiocy, as should my mark on your neck.” He brings a hand up to run his fingers over the pulsing bite he’s left, and you shiver at the feeling.
“You should really be nicer to him.” You tilt your head up to press against his chest and listen to the steady thumping of his heart. “I have no interest in the King of Hell; you demand enough of my time.”
“As it should be- I did tell you I would take offense if your attention wandered.” Silence again for a few minutes until the demon atop you speaks, his voice rumbling pleasantly where he’s pressed against you. “You know, I can feel in our bond that the ‘kiss’ you requested doesn't count for our deal” When you shoot him a confused look he rubs his thumb against your hip bone. “I do believe it needs to be something tangible, as much fun as we had. Have you any other ideas?”
You sigh. “Dammit. Okay, just- something small then. I really don’t need anything else out of this.” You think for a moment, still tracing the scars on his back when an idea comes to you. “What about something like a bracelet? Or a ring or something- a piece of jewelry I can wear that will alert me if you’re hurt somehow.”
Alastor turns his head to watch you with a raised eyebrow. “What would you want with such a thing?”
“The whole point of this deal was to make sure that you were in peak, ‘not-sexually-frustrated’ form to take on the Vees, right? And that hasn’t happened yet so when it does I want to make sure you’re safe,” you tell him, and he hides his face in your neck again. “I meant it, Alastor- I care about you, I want to know that you’re okay. Always. That’s what a good mate does, right? I brushed up on my ‘deer mating habits’ knowledge.”
You can feel his smile. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Consider it done- for real this time.” He snaps his fingers and with a pulse of green magic there’s a silver band on your right pinky finger, an etched design that looks like Alastor’s antlers on them. “Should I ever find myself in danger or injured, the ring will alert you. I’m not sure what you expect to be able to do with that but regardless- our deal is officially set.”
You admire it for a few moments before humming an affirmative and letting your arm wrap back around him, fingers resuming their journey across the expanse of his back muscles.
“This deal could span decades,” Alastor finally mumbles into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. “You truly think that your feelings on the matter- your feelings about me- won’t change in that time?”
You sigh into his chest, allowing him to maneuver the two of you so you lay in the bed normally. “They won’t. And even if they did, the deal is done- I collected on my benefit,” you say in a sing-song tone, with a wink and a wave of your ringed hand. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Yes, well. I’m sure that’s nothing I can’t handle,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you muffle your laughter into his chest, having finally gotten what you wanted all along.
#hazbin hotel#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor the radio demon#x reader#hazbin hotel x reader
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an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee
Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.
Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear
Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.
Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.
No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!
You’d cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwife’s centre.
You hadn’t delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasn’t far from your everyday.
What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldn’t shut up. Truly. You’d never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit.
Thank Kevva for sedatives.
You didn’t even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, he’d need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like he’s memorized a thesaurus wasn’t capable of performing a hex or a curse on you.
After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness.
For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, he’d be hungry.
“To what do… do I owe the pleasure?”, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room.
“Oh good…”, you replied flatly. “You’re awake and talking.”
The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time he’d left, he’d made you aware of his name – Ezra – and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile.
Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again.
*****
The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls.
The second time he returned, he stated that he had been ‘brutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stained’. There wasn’t a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food.
By the third visit – complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of ‘healing’, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle.
Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period – more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit.
“What now?”, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him – something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didn’t see him close your door and lock it behind him.
He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns you’d associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together.
Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you.
“No more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?”
His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than you’d noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse.
His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. He’s held you in his big brown eyes’ gaze before, but you’d been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldn’t help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk.
“You seem at a loss for word, Crick-“
“You’ve been eating well.”, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle.
He didn’t shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him. “You started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isn’t able to easily shake.”
He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that all you noticed?”, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache.
Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, “I saw y-… I see you got a new… limb.”
His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him.
“Looks old.”
If it stung him, he didn’t show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. “I’m not its first owner.”
The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you.
“I’m here to return the favour, Cricket.”
“...Favour?”
“For all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.”, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch.
“It’s nothing... I was just doing my j - “
He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth.
“Doing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.”
You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat who’d chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face.
“Don’t be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.”
His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed.
“Ezra!”, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you.
He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper.
“Oh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.”
His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent.
“This is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?”
All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips.
You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezra’s brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder.
“Oh, for Kevva’s sake.”, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated.
You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin.
“Sweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.”
*****
Once you’d gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him.
“Come on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.”
His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. He’d had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs.
“Curious...”, he mused as he chewed. “… that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.”
Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened.
“Ez – oh fuck!”, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly.
Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. You’d never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva.
The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. “Now, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each other’s vices. You can’t go holding out on me to seek your fruition – that is not fair.”
He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips.
“Uh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.”, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. “Don’t you dare hold out on me.”
Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core.
*****
Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess.
“P-please… Ezra, please!”, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy.
“I am not finished, sweet Cricket.”, he said with a mouthful. “You will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.”
You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. “Ezra please! I - ”.
The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; you’d never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency.
As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem he’d created for you.
“Cricket…”, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. “Sweet Cricket, come back to me.”
When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. “I will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.”
You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort.
You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Suck it in.”
“Now, Cricket, let’s not be hast-“
“I said suck it in.”, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended.
Ezra froze then nodded. “Sweet girl, I will try, but…” You saw his middle pull in slightly. “… the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it on…”
The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. “Sweet Kevva… such relief.”
You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasn’t ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure.
“A change of flavour… is needed, my sweet Cricket.”, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. “Something sweeter, perhaps?”
Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you.
As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didn’t hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You weren’t alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip.
His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed.
“You leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concern…. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage… of your sweet, supple figure…”
You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didn’t feel his brass hand move from your waist.
In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp.
The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter.
“The rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.”, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. “Now, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.”
Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal hand’s vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezra’s ears.
“You… create the most… glorious cricket song…”, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. “Keep chirping, sweet girl…”
You were coming to a point where you weren’t sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicator’s blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry you’d picked up with your shaking hands.
As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tsk’d you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks.
“P-please… I… I can’t!”, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement.
“You can’t what?”, he mocked with a cruel grin. “Can’t what, sweet Cricket?”
A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter.
“Oh, come now, sweet Cricket. Don’t look at me like I won’t give you your due.”, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more.
“I asked you for something sweeter, pet,”, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Something sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. It’s precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.”
Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance he’d put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core.
Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion.
“Good Kevva, sweet girl…”, he groaned, watching your face contort. “As much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.”
As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans.
“Keep chirping, Cricket… sing me your evening song… that’s it….”
As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor he’s just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder.
“EZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!”, you sobbed out in a shriek.
His brass hand’s hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly.
Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you.
You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you.
“P…please…”
“Is it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?”, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes.
You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers.
“Marvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket… The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuring…”, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. “You have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.”
He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.
“I’m af-afraid I’ve pushed too far to allow for… for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet Cricket…”, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible.
“Please move...”, you begged in a strained whine.
“If I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...”
“You’re no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!”
It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red.
“You asshole!”, you screeched, shoving him off you.
He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him.
“Cricket... forgive me! You’re too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - “
The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. “You fucking bastard!”
Ezra’s eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you.
“That was uncalled for, Cricket.”, he snarled. “I will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.”
You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle.
“See, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... “
“Don’t stop... please... don’t stop...”
The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars.
“I plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-”
“Oh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!”
He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, “... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?”
Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully.
His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand.
“You’ve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.”, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. “Next time.”
“N-next time?”
He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window.
He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face.
“There is always a next time, Cricket.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#ezra prospect#fat ezra#chubby!ezra#chubby ezra rights !!!#🥩#900 friendo celebration#900 milestone#900 followers#pedro pascal tummy#you ask beefro answers#thot tank#you asked beefro answered
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#orv#omniscient reader's viewpoint#kim dokja#yoo sangah#lee guilyoung#lee hyunsung#lee sookyung#jung heewon#honorable mention of yoo joonghyuk's head#my art#orv spoilers#far enough to need the tag. not far enough to visit the tag.#scopophobia#just in case#id in alt
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A friend visited us for Easter weekend, and when I hugged her to say goodbye, I realized it was the first time I'd hugged a friend in over 3 months
I need to find a club to join or something. I'm so lonely
#i have my family and husband close but i hardly ever get to see my friends#most of them live far enough away that it's hard for me to travel to see them. and i haven't been invited#and many have been too busy or too sick to come visit me#so i've felt really isolated#there's a community center being built nearby but it could be years before anything is usable...#seriously considering checking if the local baptist church has some kind of club i can join#and i am not religious and not baptist#but i need to do SOMETHING#mod post#loneliness#negative#idk#ask to tag
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I don't know if you've seen the latest iteration of "tumblr is dying" but if you haven't, Automattic (owners of tumblr) have decided they will put the site into maintenance mode. This doesn't mean that tumblr will disappear, it just means that they'll keep the lights on and that's about it. They're taking the staff who have been working hard to try to make the site a success, and they're relocating those folks to other projects. A skeleton crew will remain on tumblr, keeping the site alive.
If we want tumblr to thrive, however, then we need to do something to support it - and that something is financial.
If you're someone who enjoys your time on tumblr and you're someone who has an entertainment budget, then consider visiting the TumblrMart and buying yourself a badge. Go ad-free. Choose the new option that I just discovered which is "Support tumblr" - that's the shiny t badge I now have that will change colour over time for the longer I subscribe.
This doesn't require every single user to pay for tumblr. Far from it. Just look at AO3 as the example. Time after time, they hit their fundraising goals and beyond, and I don't think they've ever had more than 10K individual donors for a userbase of something like 5 million.
I've been on this site for a decade. It's the only social media I actually like. I think the internet would be worse off if tumblr wasn't around. I'm going to pay what I can to keep this community around, and I'm going to encourage others to do the same.
If that's something you don't want to see, then feel free to block the tag subsidize tumblr that I'll use on posts like that. If you're open to the idea, then expect the occasional post from me on the subject.
Fandom has lost enough homes in my lifetime. If I can do anything to keep this one around, I will.
#subsidize tumblr#deliberately not using the word support here#in order to avoid being derailed#if at all possible
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can i go where you go? | kaedehara kazuha
warnings 2.2k words, lots of kissing… like srsly, pure fluff, kazuha is a cutie, not a slick cutie though, friends to lovers!!
or, three times Kazuha keeps kissing you on ‘accident’.
The first time Kazuha kissed you, it was on Beidou’s ship.
You're only partially awake, your eyelids heavy, and you move with a slow, languid pace as Kazuha escorts you towards The Alcor. The wind hums as it caresses the sails, accompanied by the lively shouts and cheers of the crew on board.
“So early,” you mutter, sighing. “Too early. Sun isn’t even out yet.”
“It will be, soon,” Kazuha says, smiling at you in the same way that he always does. Tender, as comforting as the ocean pooling on your feet as you walk by the shore. “You mentioned you wanted to meet the Captain, didn’t you? Tilt your head a little.” Although he says it, his finger comes to your chin and gently directs your gaze himself.
He’s gesturing to the woman standing at the quarterdeck, her hands resting on her hips and her shoulders remarkably broad. She turns as if hearing Kazuha’s soft voice amidst the boisterous chatter. Your jaw goes slack in awe, excitement washing away the last traces of fatigue tugging your bones as everything you’ve heard about Captain Beidou from Kazuha comes rushing back.
Kazuha steadies you with a hand on the small of your back as your knees falter when climbing the ship.
“Captain Beidou!” You bow deeply, lowering your head to your waist, arms outstretched to offer her the sake and the sakura mochi you made the night before—which cost you sleep, but it is worth more than anything when you get to gift the woman who took care of your best friend when you couldn’t. “Thank you so much for letting me tag along. Please take this.”
Kazuha and Beidou glance at each other in surprise.
Kazuha starts, “You didn’t have—”
“No,” you say, firm. “This is the least I can do. Don’t try, Kazuha.”
Kazuha’s expression eases to a smile. “Alright.”
“I like this one, Kazuha,” Beidou says, ruffling your hair, and leaving stray strands on your head. She grins at you, all wide and wild. “Where’s he been hiding ya, huh, kid?”
“Somewhere in Inazuma.”
She laughs; it sounds like the roaring waves of the ocean. “Thank you. I’ll share it with my crew.” She turns, looking at you over her shoulder. You feel the hair on your arms rise to attention. “Let me know if you need anything, but Kazuha probably will see to it faster than any of us could.”
You’re not exactly sure what she means, though you can pick up on the knowing smirk she throws at your best friend.
“Men, to your posts!” she orders. Kazuha takes it as a cue to take your hand and lead you somewhere far more secluded.
No one’s watching; at least, not to your knowledge. The crew knows well enough they have their own business to attend to, and that no one should be interrupting Kaedehara Kazuha when catching up with his best friend since childhood, you.
Kazuha is a wanderer first and foremost. He does not like to be tied down to one place—he’d itch and wander off if you try to keep him at bay. However, there is one exception; one that has him visiting his homeland whenever he can, even when he is dangerously most sought after. When the wind subsides to a gentle whisper in his ears, the waves are gentle when splashing against the ship, and the crew is fast asleep, Kazuha finds himself stealing glances in the general direction of Inazuma. He knows you’re likely sleeping soundly there, expecting him.
This is what gets him to bring home whatever he may find along the way just to give them to you. If anyone asks, Kazuha would reply with a vague: “For someone special to me, in my land of birth.” Anyone would have guessed that, though, given the assortment of flowers Kazuha never fails to bring home.
You find yourself swaying back and forth along with the ship, your mouth running miles per minute as you talk to him on and on about how you’ve never been to Liyue before and your hands are shaking from excitement—or perhaps nerves, and how is Kazuha looking so calm and why is he smiling at you weirdly?
Kazuha has that fond look in the crinkle of his eyes. “Are you certain you’re not feeling sick? Lightheaded?”
Although the heavy rocking of the ship is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, you only feel the anticipation. Thrill. You’ve seen glimpses of Liyue from the letters Kazuha sends; you’re positive nothing can compare to the real deal, and that is what has you giddy, kicking your legs against the wood.
The early morning air crept beneath your clothes and left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shudder; Kazuha leans against you, the warmth of his body relaxing you immediately.
The world falls completely silent as you gaze at him.
“Kazuha,” you breathe out, eyes round with wonder, “thank you for taking me with you.” Kazuha goes still as you brush a stray of hair away from your face a little shyly. “It probably doesn’t mean much because you’re always traveling, and it’s probably such a hassle to be my tour guide, but I’m—mmph.”
The rest of your words are swallowed by Kazuha’s lips, and you, undoubtedly silenced by the press of his soft lips against yours. You have your eyes wide open, frozen as you watch the sunrise from the horizon over Kazuha’s shoulder, casting him an unreal golden glow.
Kazuha quickly pulls back and looks as startled as you feel. The kiss was about half a second, and it took nearly a minute for the both of you to process what had just happened.
He frowns, though it doesn’t feel directed at you. “Sorry,” he says slowly, as though he’s just been brought back up from underwater. “That was—”
“It’s fine,” you blurt, hoping the sunrise would disguise your stunned expression. “The ship—uh, it’s swaying pretty hard. You probably lost balance or something.” However, speaking it aloud sounds wrong. Kazuha just doesn’t lose balance: he’s the most seasoned samurai you’ve met in your life.
Then again, that would leave an empty room of explanation, one of which you’d rather not set foot in.
“Yes.” The sunrise has Kazuha looking a little pink. Or should it be orange? “Allow me to fetch us a bottle of water. You might get seasick.”
“Sure,” you murmur, though it’s lost to the howl of the wind as Kazuha swiftly jumps down, his Vision glowing on his back. The sensation in your stomach doesn’t seem like seasickness.
He doesn’t talk about it, so you don’t bring it up.
The second time happens in public.
The moment you set foot in Liyue Harbor, Kazuha realizes he must reach for your wrist to prevent you from straying and getting lost. You dart from one corner to the next, exploring every stall, even stray dogs and running children.
“Liyue feels so…warm.”
It could be the orange glow of their lights, painting over the region with an unbeatable shade and atmosphere, perfectly replicating what it would be like sitting across a fireplace. Or it could be Kazuha’s hand intertwined with yours.
“Hearing that relieves me,” Kazuha admits, pulling you to the side as two men pushing crates on wheels rush past. “You are often unpredictable in what you like and dislike.”
You laugh, “Were you worried that you overhyped it? You tend to be descriptive with what you write back to me—what was it? The flavorful aroma coming from street vendors, the squeals of youth whistling past, the seagulls, and the waves of the ocean audible even amidst the bustling crowds… I can see it.”
“You remember all of that?” Kazuha looks adorable when bashful.
The sun is already at its highest peak. Sweat has started to form around your hairline; Kazuha had to buy you popsicles, which you got from the Wanmin Restaurant. The popsicle is entirely blue, nearly translucent, and tastes like eating just ice, but it effectively cools you down. Kazuha doesn’t appear bothered by the heat in the slightest, going as far as to insist on carrying all the souvenirs you’ve been purchasing.
He has only one arm full, though. The other is free and linked with yours.
“You didn’t tell me one important thing, though,” you say.
Kazuha blinks once, then furrows his brows. “What is it?” He looks sincerely worried.
“You didn’t tell me you’re famous,” you tease, nudging a red-faced Kazuha with your elbow. “Oh, it’s Kaedehara, you’re back! And here I thought you were like a celebrity in Inazuma. You might just be well-loved everywhere.” Well, who could blame them? You’re no better than the people of Teyvat.
He shakes his head. “Far from it,” he insists, ever the modest guy. “I just happen to be caught up with The Crux.”
“Those ladies seem to disagree. They were trying to impress you, you know.”
Kazuha shifts uncomfortably, his face a funny shade of pink. “I did not pay close enough attention. I apologize.”
A laugh escapes you, in disbelief. “Why are you apologizing to me?”
“I did not realize you were the jealous type.”
You gawk at his words, spinning around to see that a hint of something smug playing on his lips. “That’s not—You… shut up. I’m not.”
Kazuha opens his mouth to say something stupid to fluster you probably, but you’re quicker. You retrieve a container wrapped in plastic, its surface moist from the steam within. Kazuha falls silent, his watchful gaze fixed on you as you unwrap it, his nose undoubtedly detecting a familiar and enticing aroma.
“This is…” Kazuha picks one stick up and observes it. “Mondstadt Grilled Fish.”
“Yes,” you say, grinning proudly. “One of your favorites. You sent me the recipe last year, remember? Kept practicing it for this moment.”
But Kazuha’s heavy gaze is not on the food, but on you, an unreadable emotion clouding his eyes. The tension disappears when he smiles and takes a bite. You watch him enjoy his food in peace, belatedly deciding to do the same. You know you did good but Kazuha didn’t have to look like he’s in bliss, eyes closed and everything.
“Thank you,” he says. “You keep surprising me. This was meant to be a day for you.”
“You here with me is enough to make all my days,” you say, mouth full of fish grilled to perfection. Embarrassingly enough, there are crumbs that spew out. You take another big bite, crumbs of it sticking to the sides of your mouth.
You must look a little stupid, tucked in some corner of Liyue, standing next to Kazuha and eating grilled fish silently.
Your field of vision is abruptly engulfed by Kazuha's face. You have barely time to react, your body falling still as your attention is swallowed by the red of his eyes, which are focused on your mouth. You feel warmth press against the side of your mouth, your heart leaping to your throat at the sensation.
“Sorry,” he says, not looking at all sorry. “You had crumbs on your face.” Which does not explain why he has to kiss it off, but it was at this moment that you understand. Kazuha doesn’t lose balance and doesn’t do anything by mistake.
The dam crumbles.
The third happens when the night is creeping in on your first day, in some inn you didn’t bother looking at, too caught up in the way Kazuha is grinning at you in his own Kazuha-way: all soft and sweet.
“I can’t… believe—how long?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” he murmurs, closing the door behind you. “It wasn’t a grand revelation that happened one night. It just felt as if it was the only explanation.” His eyes flicker to you, keeping your faces close enough to where your noses are touching. He’s waiting for an answer.
“I had a crush on you the moment we met,” you confess, face hot. “And then it never went away, even when you had to leave. Distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever.”
Kazuha’s smile tips on something a little more sly. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, then.”
Years and years of longing for Kazuha, rereading each and every one of his letters, and cherishing every second of when he comes to visit—all of it’s more than worth it if it led you here, in a secluded room, sharing hushed whispers with the boy you’ve wanted all your life.
“So… what are we—”
You’re rudely interrupted by Kazuha pecking your lips.
You frown. “Hey, wait, I’m—mmph—trying to—Kazuha!”
“I’m sorry,” he says, but he tugs you to his chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry,” he murmurs again, but he’s leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw, smiling against your skin as you shiver.
“It’s okay,” you whisper in the quiet of the night, in the steady silence occasionally broken by the beating of your hearts. “It was an accident.”
“Mm,” he hums, nodding. “An accident.”
You stare at each other for a pregnant pause.
“This one isn’t, though,” Kazuha says and dives in for a kiss that leaves you breathless, years and years of buried feelings pouring over.
this was supposed to be for kazuha’s bday but i couldn't finish it in time :(!!! belated happy birthday to the greenest flag ever <3
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#kazuha x reader#kazuha x you#kazuha x y/n#kaedehara kazuha x reader#kaedehara kazuha x you#kaedehara kazuha fluff#kazuha fluff#genshin fluff
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𝖫𝗎𝖼𝗂𝖽 𝖣𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆
୨୧ pairing: wen junhui x f!reader
୨୧ word count: 4.4k
୨୧ genre: perv!jun x f!reader, smut (mdni 18+)
୨୧ summary: jun had a secret he's been keeping from you, one that could make or break your year long friendship. out of worry, you visit his apartment, only to discover important items that have been missing from your wardrobe.
୨୧ reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!
୨୧ tags: nonidol!au, uni!au, perv!jun, panty stealer!jun, f!reader, friends2fucking.
୨୧ smut tags/warnings: switch!jun/reader, p in v unprotected sex, cowgirl, slapping, oral (f. receiving), fingering, creampie.
୨୧ note: this was purely made to torment @onlyhuis /lovingly heheh ♡ and becasue she is queen of huihui's :D. i also needed to write a shorter story to get out of my writing slump :p. and a big big ty my mother mars for proof-reading this despite her hectic schedule @onlymingyus 💞🎀
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ≽^•⩊•^≼
“Is everything ok, Jun?” you ask your friend, turning to him as he sits so far away from you that you feel like you have to shout for him to hear you.
He tenses up at your question, pausing to think before answering you.
"Uh, y-yeah, why?” He stutters.
“Because every time I come close, you’re always so stiff…” you pout, not liking how far away he is.
You’ve only been friends with Jun for about a year but got along well enough to become closer to each other than the rest of the friend group. He’s shy and a little quiet at first, but once he’s out of his shell, he becomes humorous and very endearing. There was a certain charm that Jun had that made people naturally flock towards him, despite his quiet nature. But even in the year you knew him, he didn’t go on dates or mention anything about a girlfriend.
The curious being you are, it made you wonder why he never tried to spread his wings and mingle a little bit. Always questions why he brushes off people's advances or fully ignores them when girls are trying to get to know more about him. You decided that maybe he wasn’t ready to date or he was trying to focus more on school.
The two of you spent much time at your apartment, not doing anything in particular. It was either scrolling through Tiktok silently in each other's company, studying, or watching a movie. Today is the latter, a little study session with Jun before playing a movie to wind down.
Usually, study sessions and movie nights called for cuddles, but today seems to be different. Jun hadn’t been acting himself the whole day and it confused you.
“No, I think I just got the flu or something, don’t wanna get you sick.” Jun choked out a lame response, not trying to blow his cover.
There’s a layer of sweat that’s beginning to form on his forehead as he tries to quickly gather his school supplies and bag off your floor. If he were to lift his arms any further up, you would catch his bluff, and his large and very hard bulge covering his oversized sweater.
“W-what?” You ask dumbfoundedly.
“I’m gonna go home and rest up, I’ll see you later, bye!”
The door shuts before you can get another word in. Jun’s abrupt exit leaves you even more confused than you were before.
A puff of air leaves Jun’s lips as he leaves your apartment, and he feels a twinge of guilt for leaving like that. But he wasn’t prepared to have you sitting so prettily on your couch, changed into nothing but a tank top and some sleep shorts. The sight of your plump breasts and full thighs caused all the blood from his brain to travel south.
He knows it’s wrong to look at you that way to yearn for your touch, to feel your plump flesh in his hands. And it's especially wrong to want to fuck you till his cock is the only thing you crave, yet he can’t help it. He can’t help the fact that your figure is like a drug and Jun is insatiable.
When it comes to you, it becomes very easy to turn him on. You could be doing the most mundane of things, but it’ll still get him going. He can’t help but stare, and he knows it’s bad, but he can’t tear his eyes off you. Today, for instance, your loungewear left nothing up to his imagination, and he was able to see every curve and crevice in what felt like ultra-HD.
The rise and fall of your breasts through your tank top is what got him, and if it weren’t for his sweater, or the fact the two of you only hang out at your apartment, you would’ve found out about his dirty secret.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ≽^•⩊•^≼
You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t curious as to why Jun left your apartment so fast. His urgency to escape made you feel like maybe you had done something to upset him, which is the last thing you would want to do. You valued your friendship with him and if something was going on, you wanted to know how to fix it.
Being the impatient person you are, you didn’t even give him a heads-up before deciding to show up at his apartment unannounced. Although you know it’s a little rude to barge in, it is all for the sake of your friendship with Jun. A friendship that you value a lot more than your other ones.
Knocking on his door, you call out for him, “Jun! Open up, it’s Y/n, I know you’re in there!”
There’s shuffling that can be heard behind the door, indicating that Jun is indeed home. But before you could knock on the door further, he opened it up. His eyes are wide, round glasses adorning his face, cheeks flushed like he’s out of breath.
“Are you ok? You look warm, are you still sick?” You overload him with questions, pushing past the door and placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature.
Jun is startled by your sudden touch, but the fact that you’re in his apartment is what alarms him the most. There were too many things in his room that could incriminate him. He isn’t a murderer or anything like that, just a huge fucking pervert. And as far as he could tell, you didn’t know how much of a perv he was for you.
He had turned into some type of kleptomaniac the moment you were comfortable enough to invite him into your home. Pocketing your stray panties every time you left a pair in the bathroom, just to bring them back to his room. Fucking himself into the cloth as if they were an immediate extension of you. The silk wrapping around his hard length, soiling them with his cum as if it were your body instead.
The worst part of it all was that he didn’t feel bad for stealing them, justifying his actions by telling himself that it was the only thing to keep him in control of his feelings for you. He didn’t feel any guilt for taking a new pair after they lost your scent or when they were dirty with his cum.
But having you in his apartment is like having an ice-cold bucket of water thrown over his head. While you were knocking relentlessly at his door, he was pleasuring himself in a pair he had stolen from your home the last time he visited. Placing the lacey pink thong in his sweater pocket when he excused himself to the bathroom. For some reason, you never noticed or were too embarrassed to bring it up with him. From his point of view, you seemed naive enough to think that you had just misplaced them.
Jun glances behind him to see that he left his room door open by a crack, meaning he just had to make sure you evaded that area entirely.
“I’m fine, Y/n, it’s late and you should go home,” He encourages, trying his best to usher you back to the door.
He curses how stubborn you are because his words have done nothing but make you want to stay even longer. Your two feet planted against the floorboards as if they were glued there. Shaking your head with your arms crossed in front of your chest, you simply refuse his request.
“I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s wrong!” You exasperate, trying to convince Jun to finally tell you why he’s been acting so weird.
The gulp in his throat is evident, his strong Adam’s apple moving up and down as he watches your crossed arms accentuate the fullness of your breasts.
“I-Uh-,” He can’t even get a sentence out when your pretty mounds are right in front of his face.
Jun’s mouth is filling with drool quickly, and his semi-hard member starts to come back to life. Your anger causes your chest to heave up and down and all you can think about is how they would look without all the clothes in the way. Your nipples all perked up and wet from his saliva, he could imagine it all happening now.
“If I did something to upset you, I’m sorry,” you sigh, taking his bicep in your hand and squeezing it.
You look up at him through your lashes with an apologetic look and Jun is practically put into a trance. The way you’re staring at him so innocently, as he can only think of you in a lewd way, causes his dick to pulse in his sweatpants. The long white tee he’s wearing hardly covers his bulge, but thankfully you were still staring at him with a small pout on your plush lips.
“No! You did nothing wrong, trust me, I really wasn’t feeling well,” he assures you. “I just need some rest.”
“I can take care of you, I don’t know why but I feel like it’s my fault that you’re sick,” you insist, your stubbornness causing Jun’s heartbeat to start to pick up.
He watches you grab his arm to bring him back to his room and now he’s getting really scared. The pair of your panties he left on his bed is covered in his cum but somehow nothing is stopping you from leaving his side.
“Please, Y/n, I don’t want you to get sick,” he begs you, but you don’t stop, “And-And my room is a mess right now, please!”
Jun is beyond flustered now, but you protest harder, not letting his persuasive words get to you. You’re worried about him, and as the good friend you are, you just want to nurse him back to health.
“C’mon Jun I know you, it’s probably fine,” you sigh, pushing the door to his room open.
Before you could move a step further, the sight of his room caught you by surprise. Your back bumps into Jun’s chest as you stand there frozen. The pair of pink panties you thought you misplaced sat on top of his comforter, covered in a white and sticky substance.
You can hear Jun trying to explain himself, stuttering, and also calling out your name, but it's no use. It all becomes background noise as you start to connect the dots. All this time, you thought you were going crazy or were just downright forgetful. All this time you thought your panties were disappearing into thin air, but here they are, piled up on your best friend's desk. Using them, cumming into them, and most likely doing so while thinking about you.
A part of you is meant to be disgusted, but you can’t help but feel intrigued. Is this why he’s been acting so weird around you? Is this why he never accepts a girl's advances? Because he’s been jacking off to you and stealing your underwear?
“Jun…” you trail off, the shock is starting to seep in and you’re left just wondering why and how.
“Y/n I’m sorry,” is all he can say, his large hand cupping your waist as your back is still flushed to his front.
There’s something hard poking at your lower back, and it takes you a few seconds to realize what exactly is poking you. This pervert has a boner right now, you say to yourself in your head. It feels huge and the thought of him being secretly aroused by this situation is making your cheeks flush. You would be called a liar if you said that you didn’t think about fucking Jun from time to time. But who wouldn’t come across those thoughts once in a while? He’s attractive, kind, thoughtful, and smart.
You’ve always wondered what would happen if you took your friendship with him to another level, but you didn’t dare risk it. From your perspective, it seemed like he was just too focused on school to date anyone, and that's why he didn’t have a girlfriend. But from the looks of his room, your assumptions were flat-out wrong.
“I can explain myself, I’m sorry, Y/n,” Jun rambles on, his grip on you becoming tighter by the second.
“Jun,” you speak out with a stern tone, turning around to face him.
You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down once more, his cheek flushed knowing he got caught in the act. It makes you wonder how long he’s been doing this and if you’re the only person he’s been like this about. You just had so many questions that are circling in your head it made you dizzy. Dizzy but also buzzing with curiosity and intrigue.
“Are you a pervert?” you ask him, but you already know the answer.
“Oh, um– I–” He continues to stutter and you stare him down, and for some reason, his hand won’t leave your waist
His touch is barely there but it’s sending tingles up your spine, especially with him trying to find words to explain himself.
“This whole time, have you been fucking my panties to the thought of me?” you’re taunting him now, your voice firm.
His mouth opens for a second only to close again and you can’t help but laugh in his face. The fact that he has the gall to steal your underwear, but can’t get confronted without stuttering is somehow laughable to you.
On the other hand, Jun is a mess, he can’t seem to find a way to defend his actions. Although he isn’t sure if he can defend himself right now, there's evidence of him doing the most unspeakable of acts against one of his closest friends.
“If you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” your voice barely above a whisper as you place one of your hands on his chest. “I can be a pervert too, you know.”
“W-what?” Jun is shellshocked, your words are barely wrapping around his scattered brain, but his hard-on is pulsing uncontrollably now.
You’ve barely touched him and he’s already feeling the pre-cum bead at the tip of his cock.
“If you wanna fuck me, just tell me,” you go on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, licking slightly at his ear lobe before going back down.
If Jun is lost in a lucid dream, he doesn’t want to be woken up. The fact that you're standing in his room, offering yourself up to him, already has him losing his mind. The pulse in his cock just grows harder to ignore as you look at him with expectant eyes.
A part of him is scared to touch you like you’d break if he laid so much as a finger on your delicate frame. The other part of him wants to press you into the mattress, fucking you with no mercy, to the point where you feel him inside your stomach.
The darker, more perverted half of him wins. His large hands grab you by the waist while he leans down to capture your lips into a kiss. And God was the feeling of your lips on his heavenly. It’s like he’s licking up clouds, your lips soft and plush, wet and sweet—everything he’s ever dreamed of. He can’t help but groan, enveloping his arms around you and pulling you in by your waist to bring you closer to him. Two arms wrap around his neck and it feels like he's floating on cloud nine.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans against your lips, his breathing becoming laboured with each passing minute.
He stares at you so intensely, you could get lost in his pupils with how blown out there are. Jun’s lips are pink and tender from kissing you, and it makes your knees weak. You can already feel the arousal pooling in your panties.
“Jun, please,” you whimper, placing kisses along his neck, sucking and biting to coax him towards his bed.
Moving backwards, Jun doesn't let go of your waist. Placing you carefully on the bed, your legs dangling off as your back hits the mattress. Your pink pair of panties that were discarded from the hours prior catch your eyes. It makes you chuckle knowing that Jun has been fucking your panties when he could’ve been fucking you instead. Honestly, if he had been honest with you before, you would’ve told him yes.
“You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about this moment,” Jun groans, his hands massaging your curves as he takes in the look of your body.
He’s seen what you look like before, but the context is different now. You’re about to let him fuck you, and he doesn’t know the reason why you’re allowing him, but he’s not about to complain.
“M-me too,” you blush, avoiding his gaze a little.
From the corner of your eye, you can see his own widen a little, surprised to know you’ve felt the same way about him this whole time.
“Wait really? Why didn’t you tell me?” He genuinely asks you.
“The same reason as you, I was afraid,” you shrug.
Jun just laughs, shaking his head, his round brown glasses reflecting light as he moves.
You watch him intently as he smiles, playing with the pieces of hair falling down and into his eyes as he lays on top of you. There's something really attractive about the glasses he’s wearing, they just suit him. The thought of sucking him off while he wears them runs through your mind like crazy. So you kiss him instead.
Pulling him in again, you kiss him hard, letting your tongue lick the insides of his mouth as Jun continues to grope at you. His hands are travelling under your tank top to grip your bra-less mounds. Tweaking and pinching your nipples which causes you to moan breathily between kisses.
“Just take it all off,” you ask of him, your request coming out as a squeak as he continues to play with you.
Jun doesn't need to be told twice, he promptly takes everything off of you, revealing your naked body. A groan bubbles up from his throat as he sees you adjust onto the bed so you're lying against his pillows. Never in a million years did he think he would ever get to see you naked on his bed.
“This is better than anything I could ever imagine,” he mumbles to himself, and you giggle at the fact that he’s talking to himself.
“And what would you imagine exactly,” you tease him, sitting up to remove his shirt.
Your hands are quick, taking off whatever remains of his clothing except for the glasses. The moment you get to his boxers, your voice is lost in your throat. The imprint his hard dick left is huge, and you’re wondering if he could fit it all inside you. Trying not to show how intimidated you are by his size, you pull down his last piece of clothing. The tip slaps against his stomach and you can feel yourself drool inwardly.
“I imagine you just like this, sitting pretty in my bed, begging for me to fuck you, to fill you with my cum,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back down.
His hand supports himself by your head, while the other roams further down your body till his hand teases the apex between your thighs. It makes you gasp, the feeling of his cold fingers, prodding at your folds.
“Is that something you’d like?” Jun continues to talk to you, his voice an octave lower.
You don’t say anything, more like you can’t say anything. The pads of his fingers are rubbing circles lazily against your clit, moans leaving your lips non-stop.
“Yes, I want that, please, Jun,” you beg him, gripping his bicep as he slides his fingers against your pussy lips harder. His fingers rub you but not enough to get you reeling over for him. He’s teasing you and you hate it.
“What do you want?” He taunts you because he already knows, he just wants to hear the words leave your lips.
You gasp, back arching as you feel one finger push past your entrance, going in and out of you at an excruciating pace. It feels so good to finally be full, it makes you feel lightheaded, but you want more.
“I want you to fuck me, please stuff me with your cum,” you whine, kissing up his neck to convince him to pleasure you further.
“Good girl,” he mutters, peppering kisses on your face, “got tired of fucking your panties, I need the real thing now.”
“Hmph, Jun, so good,” you moan, head thrown back as you feel him add another finger.
Your thighs spread even further, wanting him to have full access to your body. He realizes this, picking up the speed of his hands. The sounds of your squelching hole getting fingered fills the room and it’s like music to Jun’s ears.
Jun is lost in a daze, your face scrunched up with pleasure, and your eyebrows furrowed. He admires your beauty and he feels you come closer to your pending orgasm. There was something so intoxicating about your lust-filled gaze, eyes staring deeply into his as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.
“So fucking tight, and wet,” Jun grunts, feeling your walls constrict around his digits.
He wants nothing more than to feel you around his cock, but he wants to taste you first.
“I need to have a taste of that pretty pussy,” he whispers once again, smirking at how your doe eyes follow his frame as he lowers himself between your thighs, “So fucking wet for me, aren’t you, baby?”
You are rendered speechless, just allowing Jun to use your body in whatever way he wants, but you don’t mind. The feeling of his tongue against your swollen bud makes your eyes roll back. It makes you grip his hair as he continues to push his two fingers into your slit. Having both his tongue and fingers on you is like heaven, and you can feel yourself coming close to the edge very soon.
“Close, I’m close, Jun,” you gasp out, watching him stare back at you from between your legs.
You’re mesmerized by how sexy he looks from where he is, the glasses fogging and defogging slightly with each breath he takes. His hair is a mess as you continue to pull at it, and the free hand he places on your thigh keeps you open. It’s a lot to look at and you don’t want to stop.
The familiar band in your stomach becomes so tight that it snaps, leaving you shaking as you ride out your first orgasm of the night.
“Fuck! Jun!” you wail, his tongue still playing with your clit as he begins to overstimulate you.
You practically have to push his head away, the sensitivity sending a prickly feeling all over your body. He just chuckles, the same smirk from earlier reappearing on his face. A sign that he knows he was teasing you after your orgasm, forcing you to grow frustrated with his actions.
“Fine, if that’s how you want to be,” you spit at him before flipping the two of you over.
Jun is left dumbfounded as he realizes that you’ve gained control over the situation. Your wet cunt sat snugly against his hardened length. He lets out a groan as you adjust yourself so your folds envelop the underside of his member.
“Fuck you’re so wet,” he grunts, hands gripping your waist as he drags you back and forth the length of his cock. It feels good for the both of you, your head lolling back as you savour the warmth of his dick rubbing against you.
“I would fuck this pretty cunt all day if I could,” Jun confesses, lost in the feeling of your warmth.
“I want it inside,” your voice is thick with lust.
Before Jun can say anything more, you lift yourself, aligning his tip with your entrance. Fully sinking on his cock, the two of you let out a sigh of relief. The way his length fills you makes your head dizzy with pleasure. You can feel him stretching your walls like no other, and you wonder why you haven’t thought of asking him to fuck you before.
“You’re tighter than I imagined, baby,” He mutters, and you can tell he’s trying hard to fight off his release.
“You’re so big, Junnie, fuck,” you whimper, moving your hips back and forth to adjust to his size a bit more.
You lower yourself to kiss his chest, moving up towards his Adam’s apple, leaving trails of love bites. The movement of your hips begins to speed up, grinding against him to satiate that inherent need inside you. The need to have his cum fill you to the brim, to mark you with his seed.
Moving back up, you push your hands against his chest to stabilize yourself, bouncing up and down his cock like a woman depraved. Your skin slapped against his torso with every thrust down. Jun can only moan below you, gripping your hips as one hand slaps your ass repeatedly. Mixing your pleasure with a little bit of pain, and your walls constrict around his cock with every hit he lands.
Looking down at him, his face contorted as you fuck yourself on his length, Jun knows he won’t last any longer. The sight of you bouncing on his dick is making him weak, especially with the view of your tits bouncing in front of his face.
“This pussy’s fucking perfect, so fucking good,” His voice strained, “Wanna fill you with my cum baby.”
“Please, Jun, I wanna feel it,” you moan.
That’s all he needed to hear because a second later you feel the spurt of warm cum fill your hole. A shiver goes down your spine as you wait till Jun finishes emptying his seed into you, your orgasm follows quickly after. Juices coating his length as you let out a little moan of relief.
You collapse on his chest, lying there, Jun wraps his arms around you as his cock still sits snugly inside your warm cunt. Letting out a hum of satisfaction, you feel yourself start to get drowsy from how much energy you exerted.
“Can’t believe my best friend is a pervert,” you giggle, your fingers doodling nonsense on his bare chest.
“I can’t believe my best friend is attracted to perverts,” He argues back, rubbing the length of your back to calm you down.
You just roll your eyes in response, “You better give me my panties back.”
© wonustars
୨୧ a/n: ty for reading! i hope you liked it, please kindly leave a comment or reblog :3 or send an ask! ik i want to do a pt.2 of this so lmk what u all think!!! if theres any typos or warning tags missing pls comment or send an ask :) ty again and see you next time ♡
୨୧ taglist: @christinewithluv @todorokiskitten @peachescreamandcrumble @minwonfairy @oneandonlyluvv @ihrtmingyu @tigerhoshii @sleepzyy @luveveryonewoo @thepoopdokyeomtouched @chan-s-laptop @aksweet7 @leah-rose03 @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @gyuguys @crystal-rhyming @jenoxygen @hoshhhiiiii @babigriin @bouclesdefeu @mingyuecstacy @iluvseokmin @odevote118 @wonvsmile @suga-bitch @chickpea-jimin @lar3ine @bias-recs @hanniebub @iluvmingi @vapidlynn @aaniag @yogurttea @blurr3db3rry @lovejoshua @woozixo @drunk-on-dk @noiceoofed @angelfeverdream @leahhhher @hanniebwii @yuyunhoo @whowantshota @hannniiiiiehae @afslme @writingbarnes @cheolism
#svthub#wen junhui#jun#seventeen smut#jun smut#seventeen fic#jun x reader#jun fic#seventeen imagines#seventeen hard hours#seventeen hard thoughts#svt smut#svt fic#seventeen x reader#junhui x reader#junhui smut
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WINNER TAKES IT ALL ★ CS55
PAIRING ✦ carlos sainz x fem!singer!reader
SUMMARY ✦ you and your boyfriend both seem to be very lucky recently: you in opening for taylor swift, and him in winning the australian grand prix [ SMAU ]
WARNINGS ✦ cursing
REQUESTED ✦ here!
NOTES ✦ for the purpose of this fic, taylor has added an extra date in melbourne for the friday before the australian grand prix. as per request, the fc i've used is sabrina carpenter, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)
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yourusername and with that we have one show left: back to melbourne in a couple of weeks! thank you all so much for the support, love you all like crazy 🫶
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user1 you're such a disney princess i can't
user2 DON'T MESS W ME RN IM SO SAD UR NO LONGER OPENING.
user3 FR what will we do without all of her content???
user4 ☹️☹️
carlossainz55 so proud of you!!
yourusername im way prouder of you 💘
user5 PARENTS WOOHOO
taylorswift i'll miss you, my angel! ❤️
yourusername love you sm 😢💘💘
yourusername
( caption one: just woke up and my boyfriend's got appendicitis hellooo?? wtf have i missed while i've been in singapore. | caption two: never mind guys all is well ❤️ ( i am a photographer and i took THIS photo ) )
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yourusername impromptu visit to jeddah after SOMEONE'S appendix was removed...thanks for giving me an excuse to see you carlos 😘💘💘
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user6 THE WAY HE STILL WENT TO SEE THE GP IS CRAZY ur boyfriend is hella strong
yourusername ur telling me 🤷♀️
user6 OMG YOU REPLIED??? I LOVE YOU
user7 nah carlos acc has to be some sort of super human because how THE FUCK did he walk after that surgery.
user8 literally convinced he is atp.
carlossainz55 the appendix wasn't my fault...
charles_leclerc or was it 🤷♂️
yourusername hmmm...
user9 i'm acc their biggest fan you don't understand
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yourusername from the bottom of my heart, thank you thank you thank you for all of the love and support i've received over the past couple of weeks. they've honestly been such a fever dream for me: like you're telling me that i was opening for THE taylor swift?? twelve year old me would be screaming right about now, let me tell you that much. i've loved every minute of this experience, and i can't wait to see what era is next for me 🫶
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user13 i still remember watching you when you were eighteen, just releasing music on youtube 🥺
user14 she's come sooo far since then im so proud of her
taylorswift loved having you with me!! couldn't think of anyone else better to keep me company during these times ❤️
yourusername thank you sm tay, im going to miss youuu 💘💘
user15 why am i acc tearing up this is so sad
carlossainz55 now i have you all to myself ❤️
yourusername yeah well you have ur cars AND charles so i guess it's not just me is it.
charles_leclerc why am i being mentioned
yourusername ur just like collateral damage in this argument
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carlossainz55 back from my surgery and into P2 👊 looking forward to the race!
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user16 SMOOTH OPERATOR IS BACKKK
user17 the surgery did NOT hold him back
user18 NO REAL THE GUY WAS FLYINGGG
user19 the extra weight is gone and now he's in first row THIS IS WHAT WE NEEDED
yourusername do you ever actually rest like. ur appendix was just taken out when i get colds i stay in bed longer.
carlossainz55 yeah i know from firsthand experience 😘
user20 SHE'S SO REAL FOR THIS THOUGH
yourusername either way i'm so proud of you! smash it tomorrow 💘
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user21 the way y/n is literally so supportive of him is my fav thing
user22 all whilst telling him off for not resting enough 🤣🤣 she's too iconic for us, i fear
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yourusername me and kika are truly THOSE BITCHES 😘
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user23 SPEAK ON ITTTT 🗣️🗣️🗣️
user24 my fav wags fr 🫶
fransisca.cgomes my girlll 😍😍
yourusername foreverrr 💘
fransisca.cgomes that second pic is soooo yum
yourusername leave pierre for me RIGHT NOW.
fransisca.cgomes gladlyyy! 😍
pierregasly HUH??
yourusername got ur girl tripod how does it feel 🤣
carlossainz55 ❤️❤️
yourusername love youuu!!
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carlossainz55 P1 babyyy!! Onto Japan we go 🎢❤️
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user28 THE SMOOTHEST OPERATOR AROUND
user29 staying up until 2am to watch it was SOOO WORTH IT
user30 SO PROUD!!
yourusername YESSS I KNOW THAT'S RIGHTTT!!
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yourusername MY FUCKING MANNN LET'S GOOO!! P1 BABY 💘💘
carlossainz55 ❤️
user31 the way she supports him will never not warm my heart
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yourusername he only went and did it!! after his appendix got removed and all. couldn't be fucking prouder 💘
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yourusername proud of @/charles_leclerc as well!! what a way to end the weekend 😘
charles_leclerc thank you y/n!! 😍
yourusername FORZA FERRARI 👊
user31 the way they support each other >>>
user32 actual power couple idc
user33 i need to find myself a y/n asap.
user34 WHY ARE YOU SO PERFECT
carlossainz55 te amo siempre ❤️
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carlossainz55 it was the lack of an appendix that did it 🤣
yourusername @/charles_leclerc are you taking notes??
charles_leclerc already scheduling an appointment for the winter, don't worry 📝
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#f1 x reader#f1#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 imagines#f1 x you#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 x female reader#f1 social media au#carlos sainz#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x you#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#formula one x reader#mclqren
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pawns in your game
pairing: cassian x fem!reader
summary: when you get injured working a job with rhys, your mate - worried for your safety - loses it and finally lets go of his pent up anger
warnings: angst, injury towards reader, cass getting angry at rhys and also rhys kinda being a dick (look I have a lot of thoughts of conversations that never happened in acosf lol - I just hope this isn't horribly ooc)
words: 1.3k
a/n: first cassian fic! honestly, I know I said I'm in love with rhys, but it's the same for cass and az - so this one is for my fellow cassian people! wasn't sure how to wrap this up, so I left it open for a part 2. let me know if anyone is interested and/or has any ideas? but either way, please enjoy!! (also, if you could let me know what you think because I'm so nervous about posting this!)
tagging @captainsophiestark as requested! (hope you're having a lovely day!)
oOoOo
"Cassian, I need you to visit Windhaven and deal with Devlon. I'm getting reports of unrest, and I want this handled before it becomes a problem." Rhys commanded, not looking up from the papers on his desk.
Standing at attention, Cass nodded his head once, sharply. "Of course. I will go and pack, so that y/n and I may leave before the sun sets." He moved to exit the room, holding his hand out for you, but was quickly stopped before either of you got too far.
"Actually, y/n, I need you to accompany me." Rhys interrupted, directing his attention to you.
Your jaw dropped, caught off guard, and you hurried to school your features. It was not that you had to be paired with Cassian for all missions, but it had been that way for at least a century now since your mating ceremony. It served as peace of mind to you and Cass, and usually meant your missions were more successful compared to when you were separated. Surely, Rhys understood that.
"We will be leaving for the Spring Court in the morning, and I need my most trusted courtier with me."
Shock ran through your body, but you nodded your head regardless. It must be a serious matter, for you had not visited the Spring Court in many months. However, you instantly felt a sharp tug of your mating bond followed by waves of anger that poured off of Cassian.
"Spring Court?" he ground out, fists clenched at his side. "Why must you travel to the Spring Court? I thought we put that behind us?"
"Because I have official business to conduct with Tamlin that supersedes our personal desires. And I need the Night Court's courtier present for." Rhys snapped back.
You sent a soothing message down the bond, trying to calm Cass' anger you felt growing with each second that passed. "Cass, it's alright. Both of us will be fine."
"No. Rhys, you know what happened the last time any of us stepped foot there. You really want to risk it? Can't you send anyone else to go? Lucien, Mor, Feyre?"
Now it was Rhys' turn to growl. "Watch it, Cassian. I've told y/n she will accompany to Spring and that's enough."
"But can't you just-"
"I said that's enough!" Rhys shouted, his eyes darkened dangerously as the thread of his patience snapped. "I am your High Lord, and you will not push back against what I command."
A tension so thick that it threatened to choke you immediately filled the room. You kept your eyes locked on the ground, but you didn't have to look to know Cass wore a mask of despair on his face. It had been decades since Rhys had lost his temper like that.
Cassian merely bowed his head in mock respect before dragging you from the room. He did not speak for the next hour, only doing so to whisper his love and goodbye to you, before flying to Windhaven, not saying another word to Rhys.
oOoOo
The next day found yourself in the ruins of the Spring Court. What once was a beautiful court that thrived for all its citizens now lay dilapidated and lonely, a reflection of the court's high lord's own feelings. It had rattled your nerves to set foot on Tamlin's territory considering the rocky history between the Spring and Night courts, but you would not leave Rhys' side.
Now, you were utterly exhausted from mediating with two, stubborn males all day; only for no new development to transpire, meaning you simply wasted a day away from your own court and your mate. Your only relief came from the swift exit Rhys insisted on, making sure you would arrive home before the sun set.
Yet, the tension from the previous day lingered as you and Rhys traveled to the border to be able to winnow out. But as you both walked in silence, you couldn't help but feel uneasy. Like someone, or something was watching you. Before you could communicate any of this to Rhys, you caught a solider out of the corner of your eye with an arrow notched and aimed at your high lord.
"Look out!" you shouted. With such little warning, you knew Rhys wouldn't be able to deflect the arrow on his own. And with a rush of adrenaline, you pushed your body to reach Rhys.
Mere seconds before the arrow could lodge itself in its initial target, your body collided with Rhys', knocking him out of the way and safely to the ground. Instead, the arrow lodged itself deep in your shoulder, burning like a thousand fires. You let out a guttural scream, immediately dropping to the ground.
Being part of the Inner Circle - the Court of Dreams - meant you were no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything you ever thought existed. Very briefly, you recognized that Rhys had neutralized the threat and now hovered over your body.
His face was contorted in pain and tears clouded his eyes. He moved to pull the arrow from your body, but halted the moment he touched it. Your scream reverberated in the stone courtyard.
"y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." he cried, never seeing you like this. Quickly, Rhys gathered you in his arms and winnowed back to Velaris and directly into the med wing. He prayed Madja could mend the wounds, and he blanched at the thought of Cassian discovering the events that had played out.
oOoOo
Meanwhile, in the Windhaven camp, Cassian was meeting with a handful of males, attempting to negotiate peace. His focus wavered, however, as a blinding wave of agony struck his heart through his bond. He froze on the spot, his heart stopped pumping blood. While on a mission, the two of you had agreed to keep the bond closed - for safety reasons. The fact that he could feel this immense pain, meant something very wrong had occurred.
"I-I have to go." Cassian mumbled, not bothering to offer any more explanation to the Illyrians - consequences be damned.
Immediately, he took to the skies and started the flight back to Velaris. The already long flight felt like it took an eternity. The wind strung at Cassian's cheeks as he soared, but the pain didn't register like the way the bond sung in pain.
Finally, Cass could see River House in his site, and when he finally entered the house, he was met with the site of his family huddled together in the sitting room. All eyes turned his way, a mixture of pity and concern as they looked at him.
"What happened? Where is y/n?" he demanded, fully stepping into his role as Lord of Bloodshed, eyes darkened and wings drawn out menacingly.
Before anyone could answer, another scream could be heard from the halls. Cassian's knees buckled, and he would have fallen to the floor if Azriel hadn't been standing by. Rhys blocked his path, unable to meet his brother's eye.
"She was attacked, brother. We were ambushed while visiting the Spring Court." Rhys whispered.
"And they attacked her?" Cass questioned, though he knew deep down that wasn't the case. When Rhys, or anyone else for that matter, refused to speak, Cassian growled. "What happened?"
Unable to speak, Rhysand gently scraped against Cassian's mental shields and projected to him the whole truth of what had happened at the Spring Court; the ambush, you pushing yourself into harm's way for the sake of Rhys, and the pain you felt from the moment the arrow struck your body.
As Rhys withdrew himself from his brother's mind, Cass drew, deep rugged breaths. The silence in the room was so thick it felt suffocating, but no one dared to move or speak first. However, instead of speaking, Cass pushed past everyone and demanded his way into your room to be by your side.
One look at your crumpled form, sent Cassian to his knees by your bedside. He reached out, hesitantly, to grasp your hand in his and allowed the tears to fall. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." he mumbled.
Madja made herself known from the corner, approaching Cass the way one would a frightened animal. "The arrow she was shot with was laced with a terrible poison - much worse than faebane. I've done my best, but some of the poison already made it to her system."
"When will she wake up?" Cass asked, not allowing the possibility of you never waking to cross his lips.
The healer sighed deeply, looking over the famed general, now brought to his knees at the sight of his mate fighting for her life. "Only the Cauldron and Mother know. It will be up to y/n to bring herself back from the brink." Madja spoke slowly.
With a final, soothing touch to Cass's shoulder, Madja made her exit. Now off to deliver the same news to the rest of your waiting family.
"Please don't leave me. Y-you can't leave me." Cass whispered, clutching your hand. "I'm here with you every step of the way." he vowed.
oOoOo
And that was how it continued for the next four days as your body continued to try and heal itself from the inside out. Cass refused to move from the chair he had dragged to sit by your bed. Unwilling to leave your side for even a moment.
The rest of his family took turns sitting with you and Cass, bringing him meals, forcing him to at least take a bite. He knew that everyone else was suffering as well from your situation, but it felt like his heart was being torn apart, bit by bit, with each hour that passed and you still remained asleep.
He wasn't stupid. He knew the longer you went without improvement, the less likely it became you would heal. Cass heard the hushed conversations Mor and Azriel held outside your door, discussing what to do should the worst happen, Cauldron forbid.
It was on that fourth day that Cassian reached a tipping point. He heard the door creak open behind him, imagining it was Amren who would be sitting with him, based on the previous days' schedule.
What Cass had not anticipated was to see his High Lord approach the bed and pull a chair up on the opposite side of your bed. It was obvious to see the prominent dark circles that overtook Rhys's normally bright face, and the way his body and seemingly sunk into itself. But Cass could not bring himself to care for his brother's guilt or be the first to utter a word.
With a wave of his hand, Rhys summoned a tray of food for Cassian, and only sighed when he rejected the peace offering. Finally, Rhys found a sliver of courage and was the first to break the silence.
"Madja has yet to make headway on identifying the poison y/n was hit with, but she is not giving up. None of us are." he offered, unsure of how to breach the subject.
Rhysand could only imagine what Cassian was experiencing. The pain of losing Feyre had been so immense, but in a twisted sense, at least it had been quick. A blink of an eye and she was gone. Rhys didn't think he would have been strong enough to sit vigil, feeling her fade through the bond with each passing minute.
"Stop looking at me like she's already gone." Cass growled, eyes darkening towards Rhys.
"Brother, I only want to help her, and to support you."
"I think you've done quite enough. It's your fault she's even in this position to begin with." he spat, enjoying the way that Rhys flinched at his words.
"Now that's not fair, Cassian." Rhys tried to counter. "I never asked her to that for me."
Cass could only scoff at the High Lord's response. "Of course, you didn't have to ask. You're the fucking High Lord, of course she was going to risk her life for you. Isn't that we all do here?"
"All of you, y/n including, knew what you were getting into, what the dangers were, when you swore allegiance to my court. You don't get to throw that back on me. You think this doesn't hurt me just as it hurts you?"
"No, it fucking doesn't!" Cassian screamed, his blood boiling at this point. "Because you use us like your puppets to protect you and your mate-"
"Careful how you continue, Cassian." Rhysand warned, not caring for slander against his mate, even in Cass's state of grief.
"Ever since this "death bargain" you and Feyre struck, it's like the rest of us don't matter. All we do is making sure your asses aren't killed because Cauldron forbid the saviors of Prythian are stolen from us." Cassian blazed on. "Yes, you've lost your mate before, Rhys, but she came back to you, and you to her.
"Who will remake y/n if she can't fight this? You and your High Lady are so far up on your pedestal that you don't know what it's like for the rest of us. Yes, we understood what our duties would entail, but that doesn't mean we have to continue to stand for this." Cassian spat, finally allowing years of pent-up fear and anger to spill over.
With one last, murderous, glare, Cassian turned his back on Rhysand, letting his words ring out for all in the House to hear. His wings stretched out behind him, hiding both you and he from Rhys, the Night Court, and the rest of the world. If it was to only be the two of you against everyone else from that point on, so be it.
part 2
oOoOo
a/n: part 2?
#cassian x reader#cassian imagine#actoar cassian x reader#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#rita writes
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Safekeeping
Your brother's best friend learns you don't want to leave for college a virgin, and he thinks he might be able to lend you a hand.
✧ content: ~9.2k word count. 20 y/o eren jaeger x 18 y/o female reader. shameless porn without plot, older brother's friend trope, inexperienced reader/virginity loss, praise, spit, corruption themes, dry humping, guided masturbation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, reader's brother has a name, pet name ('baby'), passing mentions of alcohol/marijuana, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only.
✧ a/n: virginity is a social construct but this is smut so i’m gonna play into it. enjoy ♡
✧ part two
You planned to move away to college at the end of the summer, finally. Your school of choice was a three-hour drive from home. To you, it was the perfect distance. Just far enough to give you some much-needed space, but still within reason for a weekend visit if needed. You wouldn’t know anyone there, but that was what you were looking forward to the most, actually. It would be a fresh start.
You never did get the ‘fresh start’ that everyone talked about. You know, the new beginnings that came with every school year. You always tried to be optimistic about it but each time, without fail, your teachers scowled when they saw your last name on their rosters. They all knew your older brother Collin—very well, unfortunately.
His reputation preceded you as a punk who was sent to the principal’s office for acting out in class time and time again. Out of the classroom, too—in the hallways, on the football field after hours. Even in the parking lot when he got into a fender bender with his English teacher his senior year. You were cursed with the same teacher last semester and learned the hard way that she had a habit of holding grudges.
But that was beside the point. What you were trying to say was: you were ready for college. More than ready. Giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, marking the days off on your calendar until move-in week. Until you could finally quit your lousy summer job at the ice cream shop, waiting on old folk that never knew what they wanted and didn’t bother tipping.
Still, there was just one teensy little thing you were hoping to get out of the way before freshman year. But now that it was only a few weeks away—twenty-three days, but who’s counting?—it was starting to feel more like a pipe dream.
At the end of the day, there was no point throwing a tizzy over going to college a virgin. Surely, you wouldn’t be the only one.
Right?
Your parents had left for their annual end-of-summer trip down to the beach to visit your grandparents for a week. It used to be a family event, but now that you and Collin were deemed old enough, you had more say in whether you tagged along or not.
Collin had skipped out the last two summers, but this was the first year you were allowed to stay home, too, now that you were eighteen. But what you didn’t expect was that his three best friends would be there with the two of you—for the better half of the week, at that. Apparently, since they had done it the last two years, it had become a tradition, as they put it. Honestly, you were just impressed Collin was able to pull it off without your parents catching on, considering he was never one to clean the house when you were kids.
No matter, though; it didn’t bother you much. They had been your brother’s friends since they were in the eighth grade. Having them around was nothing new to you. Of course, it was more fun when you were younger—back when you could play Mario Party together and force Collin to sit out. Now, there wasn’t nearly as much in common besides the occasional tormenting of your brother.
So, the four of them did their thing, and you did yours.
But therein lies the problem. Even while you minded your business, someone just couldn’t seem to mind theirs. He couldn’t prevent his thoughts from wandering back to you—couldn’t prevent his eyes from lingering longer than they should.
It wasn’t Armin. He would never dare to look at you that way, the girl he tutored in algebra. Nor was it Jean, hopelessly consumed with texting his classmate, still determined as ever to win her over.
No, it was Eren. 'The cute one,’ as coined by you and your friends once he hit his growth spurt and grew out his hair. Though Eren was unaware of the epithet, this would be the year he’d unknowingly return the sentiment, thinking of you as Collin's very cute sister.
Eren was gone last summer, away at an internship, so it had been a couple of years since he’d last seen you. And you appeared to have—ahem—really grown into yourself, to put it delicately.
Listen, it was harmless. It wasn’t like Eren planned on feeling this way toward you. He didn’t think twice about it when Collin said you’d be at his place, too. And there was no way in hell he’d act on it. He wouldn’t even dare to let the thoughts hang around in his mind, consistently shoving them aside before they could permeate. You were Collin’s—his best friend’s—sister. More than that, you were his little sister!
He thought he was being discreet about it, but man, did you have to make it so tough? Did you really need to lay out by your parents’ pool every single day? Jeez. As a matter of fact, when was the last time it rained? This had to be the longest they’d been without it, now that Eren was thinking about it.
Back to the point here: Eren was, in fact, not remotely discreet. Armin brought it to his attention as they went to grab another beer. You happened to pop into the kitchen at the same time, just to grab a snack, and damn it, why did you have next to nothing on? Like, yeah, the place was a little warm tonight, and it was your house and all, but seriously—tiny shorts rolled high on your waist and a tank top that looked extra clingy as you reached for a cup on the top shelf? Really?
“You can’t be serious,” Armin grumbled to Eren. Once you were gone, obviously.
Eren should have known what Armin was referencing, but he was dumb to it, wholly convinced he had been treading carefully. “What do you—”
“You can’t bang Collin’s sister!”
Who even says ‘bang’ anymore?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second.” Eren innocently held his palms up, waving them as if he could shake off the wicked accusation. “That’s a little far now, isn’t it?”
Armin was getting ahead of himself again; even Eren hadn’t let his mind wander past that boundary… yet.
Armin gave him a look, like he knew better than to take Eren’s word at face value. “Well, it sure looks like you’re trying to bang his sister.”
“Who’s trying to bang who’s sister?”
Both Eren and Armin jumped at the voice, heads spinning like they were on a swivel to find Collin. He emerged from the basement, Jean trailing behind with a suspicious, low-browed expression.
“Oh,” Eren stammered. He had to come up with something fast because he wasn’t about to leave it to Armin, the notoriously awful liar. “Armin was just telling me about some porn he watched the other night.” Eren shrugged. “You know, where the guy tries to bang someone’s sister.”
Armin glared at Eren for throwing him under the bus but reluctantly went along with the lie. “Yeah, and then he, uh… bangs the sister?”
Idiot, Eren couldn’t help but think. Whatever, it seemed to work well enough. Collin stared back at them like they were no better than a couple of horny morons. Jean dismissed it, too. Or at least, it didn’t bother him enough to let it interfere with him going for another beer.
With the crisis only half-averted, the four returned to the basement with freshly-cracked cans of beer in tow, where they would spend the rest of the night playing video games until they eventually passed out.
Well, at least three of them did.
Eren couldn’t sleep, but that wasn’t anything new. He battled with insomnia from time to time. Tossing and turning on a wobbly air mattress didn’t make it any easier to fall asleep, and with the basement only marginally cooler than the rest of the house, he thought he might as well get a glass of water.
Unluckily (luckily?) for him, he was interrupted before he could do just that. The sight of you, simply existing, lounged up on the couch, startled him.
Someone’s jumpy tonight. You giggled when he cursed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What are you doing here?” Eren asked.
You lightheartedly taunted, “Last time I checked, I live here, don’t I?”
He made a face at you, lacking the amusement your voice carried. “You know what I meant. Why are you still awake?”
It was the first time Eren had bumped into you. Not the first time ever, obviously; you had been alone together on countless occasions. But this was different, never this late at night before, and it was the only time it’d been just the two of you since he’d thought about you like that.
“Do I need a reason?” you airly replied, almost on a yawn as you stretched. “It’s summer break, and I don’t have work tomorrow.”
He didn’t offer more than a nod of acknowledgment before moseying across the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. Unsure of where this was going, you reached for the remote and paused your show.
“What are you guys doing down there?”
“They’re all asleep,” Eren answered. He stood idly in the middle of the room because, like you, he was curious as to where this was heading.
“And you’re not asleep because…?”
No, he couldn’t think like that. This was going nowhere.
“I came to grab some water,” he hurried to say—or at least, you thought it sounded hurried—and disappeared into the kitchen right after.
You listened for a moment, fingers dancing on the button of the remote as you debated starting your show again. But when the faucet flicked off, he didn’t return to the basement in the apparent rush he was in. Instead, he stayed there, with you.
Eren sipped his water, thinking of what to say next. It was an uphill battle because there wasn’t anything to say. There was no reason he needed to start a conversation with you. And yet, there he was, leaned up against the wall, dumbly scratching at his midriff as he racked—
Wait. Were you checking him out?
If there was one thing Eren had learned at college—let’s be real here, he had a nasty habit of skipping class—it was that he did pretty well for himself when it came to girls. Decent enough, he’d say. He at least had enough sense to know when a chick was interested in him. And now that you had creaked that door open, ogled at where his hand had lifted his shirt to reveal his stomach, he didn’t really have another choice but to step inside and explore around. Just a bit.
Armin’s warning blared in the back of Eren’s head. As luck would have it, his conscience tended to have Armin’s voice. But there wasn’t anything wrong with casual conversation, was there? After all, he had known you for years.
“So, are you excited to leave for college soon?”
Nope. There was no turning back now.
You perked up in your seat. “Yeah, for sure. It’ll be nice to go somewhere new. Meet new people, make new friends—”
“Maybe you’ll finally find your Fabio.”
There was a joke there, unfortunately. One you hadn’t heard in so long that you cringed at the memory.
As Collin’s sister, his friends were first-hand witnesses to your boy crazy phase, all your dating flops. Perhaps they had even learned you were quite the hopeless romantic. And by that, you meant Jean had found a smutty novel you had stolen from your mom—yes, it even had the signature Fabio-esque cover, hence the joke. Anyway, he read it aloud in front of your brother and the rest of their friends until Armin snatched the book from him, which somehow made the whole ordeal even worse.
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” you offhandedly chuckled. “I was sort of hoping that would happen before college, but you know—I’m sure plenty of people go to college inexperienced.”
Your voice trailed off there at the end, almost like the notion really bothered you. Eren scrutinized it, this thing you handed him. It was a conversational game of hot potato—something you had shoved his way and forced him to hold onto. Why were you bringing this up? Were you looking for his advice?
Eren set down his glass and moved to sit by you on the couch. The far side of it. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
“No,” you blurted out, embarrassed and kicking yourself for having said anything in the first place. But your abruptness sounded just as bad, so with a sigh, you said, “I mean, I guess. I don’t want people to think I’m a loser for being a virgin.”
Again, why were you mentioning this to him? Eren felt like he was playing with fire. He knew he was going to wind up burnt the longer he stayed, maybe even scorching everything around him, even you, in the process.
Still, he poked it, added some kindling because he was unwilling to let it die out. “I think there’s a fairly simple solution to that.”
“What, getting laid? I think I know that,” you scoffed. “And it’s easy for you to say that, looking like—” You loosely waved your hand over the length of him. “You. Believe it or not, I don’t exactly have suitors lining up outside my door.”
Okay, so he was picking up on something here. He wasn’t crazy. You said it then: you found him attractive. And he found you attractive. Extremely so, if that wasn’t obvious already. The answer was easy enough; he might as well go on say it outright then.
“What if I did it?” Eren suggested.
You didn’t know what he meant by it, his casualness throwing you for a loop. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about that.
“You know, took your virginity.”
Oh. There was no mistaking it now. He was, without a doubt, talking about that.
And why were you considering it?
Your brother’s friends, Eren included, had taught you all sorts of things before, things they probably shouldn’t have. They told you to flush the toilet to mask your squeaky front door if you planned on sneaking out. Taught you how to roll a joint, and how to take a proper hit after you confessed you had never ‘felt high’ when you smoked. So, would this be any different?
While you mulled it over, Eren took the far-away look behind your eyes as a horrible sign. He realized how insane the proposition sounded once he spoke it into existence. Before he could take it back, play it off as a joke—he had one too many beers, that’s all—you piped up.
“Really?”
He certainly didn’t expect that, stammering, “I—yeah. Why not?”
Another lengthy pause passed before you accused, “Are you just fucking with me?”
“No, no! I wouldn’t.” He started rambling then, a jumbled mix of ‘I just—’ and ‘I shouldn’t have—’ until you decidedly cut him off.
“Okay.”
“Huh?”
“I said okay. You can… take my virginity.” It felt like a strange way to say it, too formal. And to say it to Eren of all people, who would have guessed it?
Then again, maybe this was the most logical outcome. It wasn’t like you needed to make a big deal of losing your virginity. You weren’t looking for something romantic, with rose petals or a waterbed or any of that corny-porny crap. You were just looking to get it out of the way. That way, when you inevitably meet the love of your life in college (okay, so maybe you were a hopeless romantic), you wouldn’t embarrass yourself the first time you hooked up.
“Okay,” Eren replied on his inhale, a breath sucked through his teeth, like it was a sin to say aloud.
He scooted closer, sitting on the cushion that once separated you. You expected him to kiss you, even leaning into him with closed eyes, but your lips barely brushed into his. He didn’t come any closer than that.
Lowly, he asked you, “Do you trust me?”
You nodded. Your noses bumped.
“I need to hear it.”
“I trust you,” you said, even quieter than him. You could barely hear it over the sound of your heart, thumping so hard you swore it might burst into your throat.
Eren kissed you then, tentatively, with his hand cradling the side of your face. He didn’t move until you did, and when you returned the kiss, he followed while letting you take lead.
It didn’t last long, though. You jumped away from each other, back to the opposite sides of the couch, when the basement door squeaked open. The panic subsided when you caught the bright eyes of your family’s cat, her little head poking out from the shadows.
You held a hand to your chest, steadying your breath and trying to settle your rapid heartbeat, as if both were possible. When you met Eren’s gaze, he was already staring at you with a brittle sort of look. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Did he regret what he had done with you? You didn’t, and you prayed he didn’t either.
Before you had the chance to ask, he finally said, “Should we go to your room?”
“Good idea.”
He knew where your room was, but still, he followed right behind you anyway. At the top of the staircase, just before your bedroom door, you split. You turned to see Eren sneaking into Collin’s room. A minute passed while you listened to his rustling, but when he returned, held between his two fingers was that infamous, shiny foil.
You frowned, hard. “I’m not going to use one of my brother’s condoms.”
“Do you have one then?” Eren asked, already well aware of your answer.
“Fine.”
Eren had never been in your bedroom before. It felt foreign, and weirdly wrong, to have him in there. He looked out of place for it, too big, too mature, especially as you looked at all your girlish knick-knacks and old photos. You wished you could tuck everything away into some lonely drawer.
You avoided Eren’s eyes and fixed your attention on adjusting the lights. Your bright ceiling light was far too unforgiving for this, so you switched it out for your bedside lamp. The drone of the old bulb buzzed in the back of your ears, its light a fizzy yellow.
You were nervous. Eren didn’t need to see your face to know it was written all across it. Not that it surprised him, considering this was about to be your first time having sex, and it would be with him.
He felt his heart drop into his stomach, the sick feeling you get on a rollercoaster, but somehow you want to ride again. Maybe he was just as nervous as you. You had put your trust in him, enough to take your virginity. Handing it to him as if it were some sentimental treasure he could watch over, for safekeeping.
Sure, he knew the optics were bad. Not just bad but horrendous, actually. He was about to sleep with his best friend’s younger sister, a recently eighteen-year-old virgin. The whole situation sounded no better than a second-rate porno—like the one he had made up with Armin in the kitchen, ha!
This was as much a blessing straight from heaven as it was a curse. But he couldn’t care about the optics now, not with you taking a seat on the bed, looking over at him with these come-and-get-me eyes that may or may not have been intentional.
No, this wasn’t a curse at all. If it were so wrong of him, then why was it that he already felt his cock straining against his sweats at the mere thought? The thought of how delicate he’d be with you. He needed to be, for the last thing he wanted was to ruin your first time. He’d be the first to show you what pleasure could be with another person—what you were deserving of before going off and letting other boys touch you.
He set the condom on the nightstand and joined you at the edge of your bed, his knee barely grazing yours. He was about to ask if he could kiss you again, but you entirely side-skipped any conversation by picking up right where the two of you had left off.
Again, Eren relinquished control to you, but he did take the initiative to swipe his tongue into your mouth. You tasted him, the bittersweet flavor of light beer. He was nothing like the last boy you kissed. He didn’t ram his tongue down your throat but kissed you as though he wanted to taste you, to muse over and memorize you. And you let him, lips languidly caressing one another with little point or purpose, solely running on instinct.
You balled his shirt in your fist, twisted the fabric of it between your hands to have him close—closer. He hoisted you onto his lap with his hands at your waist, and you went along with him more than willing. You draped your hands over his shoulders, crossing them at the wrist, and didn’t let your lips break from his once.
He smoothed his palms up and down the small of your back until he eventually ventured lower. He gripped at your ass, pulling you down to grind over him. Just once, so you could feel him, how achingly hard he was for you. Then, you did it again all on your own. Lightheaded and teeming with desire, the pressure against your clit, even through your layers of clothing, was an addicting relief. You moved against him, again and again, until you were dragging yourself over him, practically about get off from that alone.
But Eren didn’t let that happen. Before you get there, Eren used his hold on your hips to stall you. His voice was a mumble against your mouth as he asked you, “How far have you gone?”
“This,” you professed. “This is the farthest I’ve gone.”
Fuck.
“Okay.” It was the word of the night. Eren breathed it out like he was talking to himself. The type of sigh you’d give yourself in the mirror when trying to calm down, which was precisely his goal.
He lifted you with little effort, had you lie back into the pillows before he crawled on top of you. He kissed at your jawline, then placed another on the side of your neck. He left a few of them there. It was all lip, all wispy, like he could break you. Still, you felt each of them like a spark at the base of your spine.
His fingers trailed lower, tickling over your collarbone but stopping short of the neckline of your tank top.
“Is it all right if I touch you here?” he asked, punctuating it by running a hand down your breast, over your shirt.
“Yes,” you whispered with a shudder.
With the confirmation, he massaged lightly, his thumb caressing over your perked nipple.
He kissed you again, his tongue meeting yours while he rolled your nipple between his fingers. Your back arched instinctively, wanting more—needing more. He listened to your body, learning as he went, and tugged down your tank top. With nothing between you, he lightly pinched at your nipple, pulling a whine from you, one that didn’t get the chance to meet the air.
Eren kissed the side of your face. “Can I kiss you there?” he muttered, referencing your tits as he gave another squeeze. He pressed another kiss, lower, against your throat.
“Mhm,” was all you managed with a voice that was long gone, lost somewhere in the opened-mouth kisses he left along the dip between your chest.
It tickled a bit when he flicked over your nipple with his tongue—even more when he latched onto it with his mouth. You were wiggly beneath him, driving him wild, and you didn’t even know it. It was sweet how sensitive you were, his mouth being the first to kiss you there, to learn the taste of your skin. So soft. And warm, too, heating up the longer he sucked at your tits, anywhere he pleased.
Eren kept his hand at your waist, palming over your stomach but never risking any lower than that. His touch was heated, urgent, yet he only showed restraint.
He pulled back from you, letting his face hover inches above yours when he asked, “Have you ever touched yourself before?”
He was strangely calm for asking such a personal question, setting your face ablaze. Too rushed, you replied, “Of course I have.”
What did he think? That because you were a virgin, you hadn’t thought about sex before? Hadn’t ever watched porn? Yes, you hadn’t actually done it, but it wasn’t as though you were heading into the situation blind.
“Then—” You, the sight of you wriggling out of your sleep shorts, interrupted him. You caught the bob of his throat when he swallowed, but you weren’t sure he was trying that hard to hide it. “Show me how you do it.”
Eren sat back on his knees, just shy of sitting between your legs as you rested against the pillows. The only thing separating him from you was a thin pair of panties. You hoped he didn’t notice your jittery fingers as you slipped them beneath the band.
You started, “This is—”
“It’s not embarrassing,” he interrupted. It only made you more anxious, like he could read your mind or something. But he was genuine as he said it, assuring you even while struggling to maintain eye contact, his attention flitting from your face to between your legs. “Show me how I can make you come.”
How could he possibly be so open about this? There wasn’t even a shred of hesitation or shame in his voice. You wondered how many people he’d been with—how many times he’d rehearsed before he could speak with such confidence? Enough confidence to have you listening loyally and plunging your hand beneath your underwear.
You pressed the pads of your fingers against your clit and started to rub. Slowly at first, but already, just that smidgen of relief was enough to pull a flimsy sound from you. You were sensitive, throbbing, and so incredibly turned on that you didn’t hide even as he unabashedly stared at you with pure infatuation.
Eren rested a hand on your leg, sliding higher and reaching for your panties. “Can I take these off?”
You stopped only to help him work them down your leg, shimmying until he had them thrown to the foot of the bed. You were hesitant to spread your legs again, but he did it for you, placing one at each of his sides. He took your hand and returned it between your thighs, eager for you to continue. So you did just that.
There wasn’t any doubt he could see everything now—how wet you were, how it coated your fingers the longer you rubbed, the tighter your little circles became. But you were too wrapped up in it to care, playing with yourself just as indecently as you would if you were alone. You couldn’t even be bothered to stifle the chant of gasps spilling from you.
“Can you put a finger inside for me?” Eren requested.
You nodded and pushed one inside, felt how you pulsed around it. You moved it in and out, the same way you had done many times before.
“Yeah, like that,” he murmured. You heard the ‘fuck’ he cursed under his breath. “How’s that feel?”
“Good,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.
“Try a little faster.”
You did just that and bit back a whimper.
“Add another.”
He needed you stretched. He needed you ready for him.
You took your second finger well; you had done that before, too.
“You’re doing so good,” he told you. He leaned into you, closing in. “Can I help you now?”
“Please,” you breathed. You slipped your fingers from you, giving Eren access to do with you as he wished.
But he didn’t reach for you. Not there, at least. He held his fingers before your mouth.
“Open up.”
You weren’t sure what he was after, but you obeyed, lusty enough that you found you were trusting him implicitly. He placed his middle and index fingers against your tongue, telling you, “Get them nice and wet for me.”
You sucked on them lightly. Saliva pooled on the back of your tongue as he pressed down. He pulled them from your mouth with a lewd sound and smiled at you. It made your chest swell a bit.
Eren returned to your side. His presence was engulfing as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. It surprised you, the intimacy of it, but you didn’t have any time for second-guessing before he urged, “Keep going.”
You returned to circling your clit as his hand met yours. He traced his pointer finger through you, and every muscle in your body tensed.
“Can I?”
“Yes,” you said, practically a moan.
He slipped it inside you, taking his time with it. His finger was much larger than your own, thicker, reaching deeper than yours had ever gone. Your stomach tightened at the intrusion, trying to adjust.
“That okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” It was better than okay. “More. Please.”
Eren chuckled warmly. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curving it just right to have you squirming in his arms. You were beginning to understand why he was holding you now. He wanted to keep you still so that, once he figured out what you liked, he could maintain his pace through your needy bucking.
He had a hand on your head, petting over you as he asked, “You close?” You couldn’t respond because he added a second finger. A hiss left you, but it melted into a satisfied whine. “Yeah?”
“Y-yeah,” you whispered against him, his body dizzyingly hot even through his T-shirt.
It was becoming quite the task to keep your fingers moving, what with Eren’s fingers hitting a spot that you didn’t even know existed, over and over again. It had you—fuck—it had you coming. So hard that you thoughtlessly rode his hand, eyes screwing shut as you fucked yourself deeper on his fingers, prolonging the bliss however you could until you turned to goo in his arms.
You were panting against his chest, your body still twitchy, when he started to ask, “Did you—”
“Yes,” you said on a drawn-out exhale.
He pecked your forehead. You still felt the stamp of it as he moved to get back on top. He held himself above you with hands planted on either side of you, kissing you full on the mouth. Still hazy, you didn’t move much, letting him make out with you all he wanted until his lips traveled down to the dip behind your ear, then the delicate crook of your neck.
He bunched your tank higher up your chest until you both tore it over your head. With it out of his way, Eren continued kissing lower—even lower than before. His breath tickled over your nipples, leaving you a needy, rutting mess—for what exactly, you didn’t know, just more.
“Too much?” Eren asked, looking up at you with his big, green eyes.
“No,” you assured, your mouth agape and in awe of him. “I like it.”
He pressed his smile against your skin, kissing and licking his way down your sternum.
When he reached your navel, you asked, “What are you—”
“Making sure you’re ready.” He kissed your hipbone.
“It’s really okay,” you said, slightly wary. “We should just get this over with, right?”
“What if I don’t want to get this over with?” Eren kissed just above your slit. “What if I want to take my time?”
Eren wanted you as comfortable—as relaxed—as possible. And since he was already about to fuck his friend’s younger sister, with one of his condoms nonetheless, he certainly wasn’t going to dig around for his friend’s lube next. Luckily, there was another, more fun, way that he could ensure you were properly lubricated so as to avoid any pain that may arise from him splitting you on his—
Focus.
“I need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t,” Eren said, a reminder more to himself than for you.
You gasped, almost choked, when he kissed the top of your thigh, then the inner part of it.
“Can you do that for me?”
“Eren, I—”
“Please.” He licked a broad stripe up the crease of your thigh. That alone had your head thrown back against your pillow, a tiny ‘oh’ escaping you. “Let me. I want to.”
“You do?” you timidly asked.
“So badly,” he replied, but it sounded more like an admission. A white flag of surrender, like he was letting himself fully give in to his desires because, yes, he had thought about this before. There was no use in lying about it now.
“O-okay.”
On that, he returned to teasing his way between your legs, kissing from the delicate flesh of your inner thighs to—
“Wait!” you interjected. Eren immediately looked to you like he had done something wrong, but you quelled his worry with, “Can you get undressed, too? Like, at least your shirt.”
Your request didn’t sound nearly as self-assured as his, but he listened to you nonetheless. He sat back to peel off his shirt. He smiled at you softly. “Better?”
You scanned over his toned torso, sun-kissed and tanned from summer. Definitely better. “Thanks.”
He leaned over you, his mouth inches from your pussy as he murmured, “It’ll feel good.” Then he kissed your entrance, and the sensation of it jolted through your body like lightning. “Promise.”
Eren parted you with his fingers before licking through you, letting the newfound feeling sink in deep. His tongue was warm, wet, and exceedingly gentle—nothing like his fingers or even your own. You couldn’t begin to describe it, but that might be because, after a second lap of his tongue, you were already losing any and all coherency.
You made a few strained sounds, flowery and pathetic, but supported yourself on trembling elbows to watch. When you met Eren’s eyes, he only stopped licking at you to say, “Tell me what feels good.”
“Everything.” The word tumbled out of your mouth desperately. “Everything feels good.”
You felt his laugh just before he closed his mouth back over you. He continued having his way with you, sucking and licking at you, saliva and slick making a mess of his pretty face as he staggered kisses between his laps. Whenever his lips brushed against your clit, your legs would flex tight. He hooked his arms around them, laying them over his strong shoulders. You felt the way his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, locking them in place while he circled his lips around your clit with more pressure than before.
“Ah—oh,” you moaned, your back leaving the bed to press your pussy further into his face, as if you could have him any closer—you know, until you’d have him inside you. But that would come soon enough.
Eren didn’t ask this time; he knew exactly how he was making you feel. And you were thankful for it because you couldn’t dream of him stopping. You needed more, lacing a hand through his locks and pulling lightly, encouraging him. He groaned against you, clearly liking it, so you did it again.
He was sloppy with it while still… thoughtful? That didn’t feel like the correct word for it, but even as he made out with the most intimate part of you, he did it with intention, doing that thing again, whatever it was, with his tongue pointed, because he had quickly learned you liked it. No, he showed you that you liked it. Loved it, actually; it was excruciatingly evident by the breathless sounds you made.
And when Eren paired his tongue with his sucking lips, swirling it against your clit, you came with your own hand clamped over your mouth. Your entire body gained a pulse of its own. It was much stronger than your first orgasm and longer-lasting, too. The muscles of your stomach wound and released while you rode out your high, Eren groaning against you just as pleasedly.
Only once you were no longer propped on your elbows but flopped against the bed did Eren let up. Your thighs were still trembling as he kissed a pathway back to your side. You both sat with heaving chests, though yours much heavier than his, and you were beginning to question how you were supposed to go for another round. You hadn’t even reached the—for lack of a better word—main event yet. Truthfully, you expected Eren to throw you to your bed, pop your metaphorical cherry, and be done with it. But now you had already orgasmed twice and he still had his sweatpants on.
You should probably do something about that, shouldn’t you?
“I wanna touch you, too.”
While innocent, it was the most you had communicated with him this far, so he didn’t stop you when you reached for him. He was more than ready for it.
You explored him a bit, tracing over his length and discovering what touches made him twitch beneath your touch, still as chaste as ever.
“Show me,” you purred.
It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do—a hand job was far from rocket science. It was more like if you had to show him yours, then you wanted to see his. You wanted to watch.
Eren tugged his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. His cock sprung out, nearly slapping against the low part of his abs. Already, his tip was wetted, needy for anything after going untouched this long, even if it was his own hand.
He wrapped his fingers around his shaft, working his fist over his cock, faster, until he was jerking himself off for you. His breath, fanning just above your head, went from steady to ragged, his chest tight.
You watched him for a moment, already needing to touch him. You pushed yourself upright, perched so that your knees brushed against his thigh, ready to take him with both hands.
“Hold on.”
You glanced at him. He fidgeted, like he was about to say something but retracted it immediately. He sounded hesitant, looked even more hesitant, when he asked, “Can you—can you spit in your hand first?”
“Oh, um.” You looked at your open palm and tried your best to collect some saliva in your mouth. It was a little daunting, knowing he was watching as you did it, but he didn’t seem to mind.
No, he definitely didn’t mind. Not in the slightest. But he wouldn’t admit that to you right now.
You took him in your hand, mimicking how he did it, with a loose wrist and your grasp slightly firm. When you squeezed over his tip, you heard the sharp inhale it pulled from him, noted how his pelvis flexed. Eren’s hand closed over yours. He was going to show you exactly how he liked it.
Eren moved your hand for you, gripping it whenever you reached the head of his cock. His pinched breaths turned into groans, his brows hanging low over his keen eyes. That was when he started thrusting, fucking your hand, and nearly forgot where he was—forgot whose hand he was using like his own personal toy.
“Spit on it,” he grunted, that temperate side of him growing unrestrained.
He didn’t mean to come off so crass, not in front of you, not this soon. It was just that Eren couldn’t remember the last time he came from a handjob, but he was nearly there, with your hands so dainty and velvety around him. Not to mention the spit dribbling from your pretty lips before you spread it down his cock—he was about to lose his last smidgen of composure.
Thankfully, he remembered the reason why he was here. He had a much bigger agenda than fucking your hand. How could he have forgotten already that he was here for you?
“That’s—ah, shit.” Selfishly, Eren waited for another second before releasing your hand. You continued stroking him eagerly, and it felt wrong to stop you, but he did just that with his hand around your forearm. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep going.”
“Sorry,” you said, your hands now politely to yourself and folded on your lap.
With a short, huffing laugh, he told you, “You do not have to apologize for that. Believe me.”
His chuckle had you smiling again. That closed-mouth, coy smile that he was quickly learning might become the death of him. He straightened out, taking your chin between his fingers to kiss you again.
“Lay back for me,” he whispered.
You fell into the mess of pillows and tangled sheets, making yourself comfortable while Eren fetched the condom. You didn’t know what the feeling was—trepidation, anticipation, excitement, perhaps all three—but it bubbled in your stomach as you watched him rip the wrapper before rolling on the latex.
He pumped himself a few times as he reminded, “We can stop at any time if you need.”
Eyes wide and fixed onto him—specifically on his cock, which he’d soon gape you on—you asked, “Do we need a safe word?”
He laughed again, through his nose like earlier, but only because you were so agonizingly cute about it. “I think ‘stop’ will work just fine.”
You did that smile again, winding the knot in his stomach more than he even thought possible. Eren was so close to snapping—not like that! Not hurting you, never. More like coming undone, turning into a puddle of himself, finishing humiliatingly early—that sort of snapping. He didn’t know what had him feeling this way, but something about you made him feel like the virgin here.
He didn’t dare push inside yet, not only for your sake but for his. His eyes, now brazen and alert, scanned over you, staring you straight in the face like a silent check-in. And when you gave him the go-ahead, nothing more than a bobble of your head, slowly, he tilted his hips into yours.
With you unbelievably tight around him, he stilled with only his tip inside you. Even so, his breath had already hitched in his throat. He couldn’t hold back, he simply couldn’t. And when he gave you a little more, between his eyes flittering shut, he caught the scrunch of your nose.
There was a stretch, a certain fullness. It didn’t necessarily hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel like he belonged in there, either. It was considerate of him to take his time with you, prep you with his fingers and tongue. But even so, with his cock only halfway inside, you had your nails dug deep into his biceps.
“How’re you doing?” Eren asked.
“I’m—” You glanced at where your bodies were connecting. There was still more of him to take. “Okay.”
It didn’t appear like he believed you, which was fair because it was a shaky statement at best. “It’s too much?”
“A little,” you sheepishly admitted.
He pulled out of you, and even that made you wince. Your shoulders dropped back to the mattress, every muscle in your body easing up now that he wasn’t bullying inside you.
"Here.” Eren rolled onto his back. He guided you on top of him, set you so your knees straddled his waist, his cock resting between your legs. Somehow, it looked even longer like that, laid upon his abs. “Let’s try it like this.”
Like this? It felt incredibly vulnerable from up here, where he could see you—in all your glory—bouncy above him. Plus, you hardly knew what you were doing; you had just given your first handjob! If you were being honest, you thought you’d just sort of lay there and take it from him, and now he was expecting you to ride him? It was intimidating, to say the least, even if Eren tried to assure you it wasn’t.
“You have total control this way.”
That was the exact thing you feared. You didn’t want any control. What if you did something wrong?
Apparently, you didn’t do a great job at masking your worry because Eren immediately placed his hands on your hips, not taking them in his grasp but rubbing his thumbs encouragingly against your skin.
The entire point of this was to trust him. That was why you were doing this—losing it to Eren, someone who wouldn’t make fun of you. That way, when it really mattered, you wouldn’t royally fuck up. And after getting this far, there was no chance in hell you would end the night a virgin. Well, half-virgin.
Ready to try again, you drew a deep breath, lifting yourself to your knees. Before you reached for him, like the new sexpert that you were, you spat in the palm of your hand, not minding Eren’s eyes this time. You stroked over the condom, mixing its lube with your saliva, then lined his cock up with you.
Carefully, you sat down. He only reached as deep as before, but the pressure was nowhere near what it once was. You rolled your hips, testing different angles to see what worked best—how you could get more of him, all of him, inside you.
Eren curved a hand around the nape of your neck, cooing, “Come here.”
He brought you in for a kiss—more than a kiss—his tongue immediately licking into your mouth the second your lips crashed into his, tasting every one of your contented, little hums.
He snaked a hand between your legs, lazily thumbing over your clit until your lips were unable to match his fervency. It was more like you were moaning against his mouth, right into it, sharing each of his breaths until your cheeks sweltered. He melted you from the inside out, softening you up like butter until you were flush against his pelvis—as easy as that. Cautiously, you started rocking your hips.
“That’s it,” Eren whispered into the corner of your mouth.
With quivering arms, you held yourself up with your palms pressed into his chest. Perched proudly atop him, the tip of his cock reached deeper, filling you deeper than anything else had before. It stole your breath, almost like you felt him in your throat.
Eren admired how your mouth fell into an adorable ‘o’ before you started moving. As though a switch had flipped, you were suddenly rolling your hips against him—slowly, of course—repeatedly having him hit that delicious spot again as you indulgently chased after your third orgasm.
“You’re doing so good, taking me well for—for your first time.”
Shit. Eren remembered he was taking your virginity.
He inhaled sharply, hoping you wouldn’t notice how his voice gave way, or how his cock jolted inside you when he realized he was the first to have you like this. His cock was the first to fill you, stretch you, mold you to accommodate him. Only him.
“Do what feels good for you, baby.”
The pet name slipped past him before he could wrangle it back, but you didn’t seem to catch it. Or, at least, you didn’t mind.
No, you were too busy to hear him, more occupied with getting a feel for what you liked best. Eren let you use his cock freely because—what, was he supposed to stop you? Fuck no. He would let you continue forever if you desired it, so long as you’d continue gifting him with such lovely and lewd expressions—the sweet curl of your lip, the knit of your determined brows as your thighs had surely started to burn.
But, boy, it was quite the challenge, letting you have your way with him. You could only keep your pace for a moment or two before you’d take a break. Such a fucking tease, and you didn’t even know it. It was endearing how worn out you were from everything that came before this, and all Eren wanted was to dig his heels into your bed, pound away at that tight pussy of yours, and show you just how wonderful he could make you feel.
It was a test of strength for him, whether he could hold back or not, because finally, you looked like you were enjoying yourself on his cock. You took him with short strokes, a simple tilt of your hips back and forth once you realized you could grind your clit into his pelvis.
He could tell you were close, from the way you fluttered around him to the gasps getting caught in your throat from the added, and absolutely euphoric, pressure.
“Just like that. Keep going. Make yourself come for me.”
The gravel in Eren’s voice pushed you closer to the edge. There was a growl to it, and you could feel it vibrate through you. You tossed your head back with a cry loud enough to wake a neighbor as you shoved a hand between your legs, desperate to come.
Eren shushed you dotingly, but there was a grin on his face as he placed his sticky palm against your mouth. “Can’t let them hear us now, can we?”
He felt your heady breath as you panted, trying to reach your peak. When you couldn’t ride him any longer, your hips an erratic sputter, he beamed up at you, slack-jawed smile and all, and said, “Feel good? Need some help?”
Too overwhelmed, you couldn’t even nod your head. You babbled uselessly.
“Want me to fuck you, just a little? Get you coming on my cock?”
“Yes, please—oh, God, Eren.”
When he started to move, thrusting into you ever so slightly, you were already scratching your nails down his chest. It was no bother to him, though. He only wanted you to do it again.
When you came, you squeezed him so perfectly that he thought he might explode. It was taking his last bit of self-control to fuck you at such a steady and slow pace when, in reality, he only wanted to hammer into you. Eren felt like he was moments away from boiling over. His face was burning, and he could feel the sweat beading in his hairline from this aching, pent-up desire within him. After fingering you, going down on you—no, after days of fantasizing about you—he needed release.
Even you could see it—the unmistakable flush of his face now spreading to the base of his neck and spanning his chest. As blissed out as you were, limply collapsed on top of him, you mumbled against his skin, “Eren, I want you to come, too.”
And how could he turn that down? Now that you had come three times, he figured he could finally have his turn.
“I’m gonna go a bit faster now. You tell me if that’s okay or not.”
Before he could even flinch, you assured him, “It’s okay. I want you to.”
The soft laziness of your voice, the dreaminess seeping through it like syrup—it was too much.
Eren took you by the hips first, holding your body pliant for him to thrust into. He started with long drags of his cock, letting his tip kiss your entrance before stuffing himself back inside you. Each time he bottomed out, he bit back every vulgar curse he wanted to hiss into your ear.
Then, he flattened his hands against your back, folding you into him with his palms seared into your shoulder blades. Your face was smothered in the crook of his neck as he fucked up into you. The bed began to squeak, like a mockery of your tiny bleats.
“You all right?” Eren asked, his voice hoarse.
You only made an affirmative sound that got muffled as you burrowed against him. With your chest warm, like a tingling between your lungs, and your head stuck somewhere in the clouds, you took him in a speechless, almost surreal, bliss. How fiercely he needed you, if only for a blip in time, was intoxicating.
And in that fleeting moment, the sin of it, the forbiddenness surrounding you, had vanished. Eren was sure it would rear itself again, that was for certain. He could predict the ripple of guilt that’d course through him once he inevitably faced what he’d done. But even if it meant betraying his best friend, he couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.
Especially when he realized how fucking good it felt to come inside you. With his arms locked around your waist, your entire body smushed against his, he snapped his hips into you, as if he could possibly fuck you any deeper. He emptied himself into the condom as a groan tore through his throat, the hum of it against the shell of your ear like a final shudder down your spine.
He pulled out of you, faintly cursing as he did. You flopped at his side, entirely spent, and stared at the ceiling with fuzzy, unfocused vision. The rush of adrenaline was on a steep comedown, and you were already starting to feel it. Sore, but extremely satisfied.
“You should probably go to the bathroom—to pee and stuff,” Eren said, that familiar, boyish side already returning in full force.
Pee. Got it.
You only muttered a ‘yeah’ before you redressed and tip-toed off to the bathroom down the hallway. There, you wiped yourself clean, forced yourself to pee, and gave yourself a good long look in the mirror.
In just one night, you had hit every base. By definition, a home run, in your book—and with your brother’s ‘cute friend,’ at that.
You were shocked to see Eren was still there when you returned to your bedroom. He had on his boxers and tee already, stepping into his sweatpants as you opened the door. He gave you a soft smile as you hopped into your bed.
Then, even more surprisingly, he asked, “Do you want me to stay?”
Eren knew he should leave unless he hoped to get caught. Still, he thought it was the right thing to say.
You giggled, “I think my brother would kill you if he found you in here.”
He laughed along with you, but when it settled, he crawled beneath your sheets anyway.
Though you felt uncertain about it, he consoled it away with, “Don’t worry. I’ll just hang here until you fall asleep.” You at least deserved that.
He turned the light off and let you rest your head against his chest, your arm looped around his waist. You didn't know where the urge to cuddle came from, and neither did he, but he didn't question it. It was comfortable, even as he waited for that pang of guilt to hit.
But it never did. And once he heard your breathing taper to a peaceful drone, he slipped out of your bed and snuck back down to the basement. That stupid air mattress felt a whole lot more comfortable now.
Finally, Eren had scratched the itch he couldn't kick, just to get it out of his system. Now, there was absolutely no way he'd think of you again—not that kittenish little smile nor how you curled against him in your sleep—and definitely not while you were three hours away at school…
Right?
✧ continue to part two ✧
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Spring Cleaning
Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k
In which Alastor goes through your closet, and offers a tasteful replacement for the unsavory things he’s destroyed
Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, Alastor’s outfit-changing magic fuckery, mention of lingerie, slight suggestiveness
A/N: I’d like to thank Goodwill for providing the clothing item that inspired this fic
There’s someone in your room, and you know exactly who it is, because - well, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence. It doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that you’ve gotten used to seeing Alastor when you open the door, pacing along your bedroom floor, casually perusing your belongings, or sitting at your desk chair like he’s been waiting for you all day. It’s been happening for so long, now, that you don’t remember exactly when it started. And you certainly don’t know why. You tried asking, once or twice, but you learned quickly that he has a shocking ability to dance around questions that he doesn’t want to answer. All you really know is that he’s taken an interest in you, and that it’s not likely to disappear anytime soon.
Some specific visits do stick out in your memory. On one particularly horrendous occasion, he’d stood directly beside the door when you’d swung it open, hiding himself from view, only for his presence to be revealed when you’d turned to shut it behind you. His head had been tilted to a truly bizarre angle, but he’d straightened himself out while you were still reeling from the shock.
No need to be frightened, my dear. Just a bit of fun…
You got the feeling that the look on your face was exactly the entertainment he was looking for.
Today isn’t like that, thankfully. It’s usually not. You get the impression that he doesn’t want to scare you away (as if you could run away, even if you wanted to), and that that particular visit was a rare sort of indulgence. Your door is already cracked open, and you hear him long before you see him. He’s humming something, but like most of the songs he treasures, it’s far too old for you to recognize.
Not as if he accepts that as an excuse. You’ve started learning some of the titles, just to appease him. And the lyrics. And reading the books that he’s given you, and listening to his odd bits of old-fashioned advice, and accepting his various other gifts. The whiskey was nice, although of course he insisted upon drinking with you, and cut you off at one glass. Apparently, it would have been improper to indulge any further in mixed company. The coffee was better - at least he let you drink that by yourself.
When you swing the door open, he’s half-turned away from you, and doesn’t so much as look in your direction. But what you can see of his broadening smile makes it clear that he’s heard you enter. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”
This is another thing you’ve gotten used to: being made to feel like you’re the guest, in your own bedroom. It drives you insane, but of course, you’ve never addressed it. And you’ve certainly never tried to drive him out before he was ready to leave. This little arrangement you have - truly, you’re not sure what to call it - can be unpleasant, at times, but it’s not unbearable. He never comes late at night, and never shows up when you have company (although how he always seems to know whether you have company, you’re not sure). He doesn’t seem to want anything more than your attention.
It’s acceptable. Tolerable. And if you ever push back, you’re not sure what will happen, so you think it’s better to just leave things as they are. To let him come and go through your life as he pleases.
You’re coming closer than ever to saying something now, though, because this time he’s not just sitting at your desk, or standing idly somewhere in your room. He’s got your closet door open - and he’s rifling through the contents. Clearly, he’s been doing this for some time, because a large portion of your clothes are already lying in a heap on the floor behind him. As you watch, he tears another shirt off its hanger. A black camisole that you’d bought because it reminded you of something you’d worn often in life. A “going out top,” as your old friends had called it. He looks down with something like disgust, and drops it over his shoulder, where it flutters to the top of the pile.
“ Alastor…” You try to keep your tone even. Merely curious, instead of indignant. “What are you doing?” A bit of your anger slips through. It would be stupid to even hope that he didn’t notice.
“No need to be so hostile.” He slips another shirt from your closet and holds it up with both hands. “I’m doing you a favor.” He tugs on the sloped neckline of the delicate blouse in his hands, and a rip appears down the middle. “My mistake, dear.”
Arguing, you think, would be a bad idea. But you really do need him to stop. “I liked that one.”
“ Hmm…well! I didn’t. I’m afraid it was a bit modern for my tastes.” He shakes his head, and turns around, dropping the shirt into the mess of other garments on the floor. He’s made it through a good chunk of your wardrobe - several pairs of pants and jeans, as well as a few accessories you’d grown fond of, are visible within the heap. “I mean no offense, of course. I only wish to help.”
You certainly do take offense, but there’s no point in addressing that directly. “They’re my clothes,” you say instead, very aware that you sound like an idiot.
“Not anymore.” With a flourish of his hand, the pile disappears, leaving the floor bare. As well as your closet…as you carefully approach, you see that there’s almost nothing left inside. “You’ll thank me before long.”
It’s getting very hard to contain yourself now. “I bought those.”
“And I will be happy to provide some more… suitable replacements.” His image flickers in front of you - a moment later, he reappears by your side. It’s not the first time this has happened, either, but it makes you shudder every time. “To be entirely honest…” An odd twist of his neck brings his face directly in front of yours, nose nearly brushing your own. “I should have done this long ago.” He takes you by the shoulder, and guides you across the room to your dresser. “I’m nearly done already. Only a few drawers left to go.”
You stare up at him, hardening your gaze. Doing your best to sound confident, and not terrified of speaking up. “I want them back.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option. What’s done is done.” He turns, and reaches for the handle of a drawer. The small one, in the top corner.
Oh. Your stomach knots as you realize which drawer, exactly, he’s about to open. You can’t, under any circumstances, let him see what’s in there. But your protest is so frantic that it’s barely comprehensible. “That one - don’t… ”
He laughs shortly, as if you’ve said something only mildly amusing. “You’re getting hostile again, my dear. You know I don’t appreciate that.”
In a panic, you blurt out the question that rises to the top of your head. It will distract him for a moment, if nothing else. “Why are you doing this?”
You realize immediately that this was a mistake. Questioning him is always a mistake.
But then again - you would like to know.
He pauses, the corner of his grin twitching upward. Eyes narrowing as his head swivels in your direction. “I’ve taken a liking to you, my dear.” He certainly doesn’t sound as if he likes you at the moment. His voice drips with condescension. “So when you do things, or have things, that I don’t like, I find it rather jarring.” He takes a deep breath. After he exhales, his eyes flash, and he continues in his usual lighthearted tone. “Taking those things away is quite a comfort to me.”
His smile seems a touch more genuine now. Somehow, that makes it more unsettling. So much so that you freeze up for just a second too long.
“Back to business, then.” He lashes out a hand, and yanks the drawer open.
As soon as he peers inside, he goes rigid. You stiffen, as well, but certainly not for the same reason. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp static suddenly buzzing in your ears. “I told you…”
“No, you didn’t .” He dips a single finger into the drawer, and pulls out the garment on top by its strap, dangling it in midair and examining it. It’s black, like the shirt you’d walked in on him tossing earlier - but it’s certainly not designed for going out. Or for anywhere besides your bedroom. He stares at it for some time, until his silence becomes too much to bear.
“You shouldn’t have”-
“My dear.” He laughs softly, more to himself than to you. “I’d really prefer you not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, so fake that it’s painful to your ears, its conceit betrayed by the telltale twitch in his eye. “Now. Do tell me. What could have possessed you, to spend your hard-earned money on something like this ?” He tilts his head, and stares, clearly waiting for a response.
This question has no good answer, but some are worse than others, so you choose your words carefully. “It…I like how it looks?”
“Hm.” If he wasn’t grinning, as always, you’re sure he’d be grimacing instead. “I can’t say I understand.” He sets it down in the drawer for a moment, and carefully tugs off his glove. “Nor do I wish to.”
You watch in a mixture of mortification and horror as he takes hold of your lingerie once again, and snags his nails across the fabric, easily rending it to pieces. He drops the torn fabric carelessly to the floor, kicks it under your dresser, and pointedly wipes his hand on his sleeve before replacing his glove.
“Ah, well. No need to say anything more about it now.” His eyes trail to the remaining contents of the drawer. “I do hope that you’re not quite as fond of the rest.” He drops his hand over the pile, and a moment later, a soft green flame envelops it. For a moment, you panic, sure that your entire dresser is about to burn, but the flame disappears with the last of your lingerie, leaving not so much as a pile of ashes behind.
You peer into the empty drawer, mouth ajar. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” You’re probably getting into risky territory, but this mixture of embarrassment and irritation is becoming too much to bear.
“Hm?” His eyes are gleaming. There’s something dangerous there, you think, something that you have to tread carefully around. “You didn’t get so worked up over the rest of your closet. Is this different to you?”
“You said you’d replace the rest,” you mutter, judging it to be the safest possible answer. The least likely to cause further embarrassment. “I doubt you’re going to make the same offer with…those.”
“Oh? Who says?” His eyes gleam, in that way they do when he gets an idea that no one around him is going to enjoy. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on it…but those things clearly meant a lot to you. And I enjoy your company far too much to let something so small come between us.”
You think that you’d certainly like something to come between you and him. A wall, perhaps. Or a large metal gate.
“So! If it’s a replacement you want, a replacement you shall have.” He sharply closes the drawer, and kicks at a strip of shredded black fabric that still protrudes from beneath your dresser. “It should be something that can be worn in bed, I suppose. But I prefer to interpret that in a more traditional sense. Something to be worn to sleep.” His head tilts dramatically, and somewhere far above your head, you think you hear a few notes of a slow, lilting song, piped in from many decades ago. “And I believe I have just the thing.” That intractable smile pulls back, just a fraction. “Let’s see what it looks like on you, shall we?”
You open your mouth to protest. But of course, you don’t manage to get a word out before he flicks his hand in your direction.
When you look down, your previous outfit is gone. And in its place…well. Like Alastor said, there’s nothing lurid about it. It’s a slip of sorts, made of thin, silky off-white fabric that falls almost to your knees. Delicate enough that you wouldn’t wear it outside, but modest enough that you don’t feel entirely exposed. It’s something to be worn to bed, indeed. But not by you. There’s nothing you about it. The fabric itself appears brand new, but like all the things Alastor seems to appreciate most, the design clearly comes from long before your time.
You find, suddenly, that you don’t know how to hold yourself. How to act. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides, feeling heavy as your fingertips skim the silk that surround your thighs.
You realize, after the moment of disorientation had passed, that Alastor is not acting like himself, either. He’s quiet. You were expecting mockery, some ridiculous comment that would make you melt into the ground - but it appears that the results of your transformation have caught him off guard.
There’s a creak on the floorboards to your right. A faint sigh. “I must say, my dear…” Alastor’s voice is softer than you expected, and almost devoid of the static filter that usually coats his words. “It suits you better than I could have imagined.”
You think that you’d prefer taunting to whatever this is.
“I’d go so far as to say you look quite lovely.”
You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face just yet, and examine the finer details of the garment he’s cast upon you. It has narrow straps, and lace at the neckline, which is high enough to give nothing away. The hem is also lacy, and the cut is straight, not so much defining your curves as endeavoring to erase them as much as possible. Objectively speaking, it is quite pretty. But you’re left with the impression that you’ve strode into someone else’s closet, and departed wearing their clothes.
“Don’t you agree?”
Slowly, hesitantly, you look up. Alastor’s eyes are fixed on you, shining a brighter red than you’ve ever seen. There’s nothing vulgar about the way he’s staring - but he’s not merely amused, either. Instead, he’s looking at you with rapt fascination, in much the way that one would contemplate a particularly exquisite piece of art in a gallery.
“I’m…not sure.” You instinctively cross your arms, almost wishing that you saw a more crude impulse behind his eyes. That, at least, would be easier to understand. Instead, it’s something like appreciation - or pride. More of the latter. If you were merely a piece of art, you’d imagine that this would be how your creator would look at you, upon seeing you on display for the first time.
“No need to hide.” He reaches forward, and touches you lightly on the wrist. It’s enough to send both of your arms falling to your sides. “You couldn’t even if you tried.”
His smile, again, seems entirely too real. There’s nothing threatening about his tone. It’s even, charming. And yet…
He slips behind you, and his hand moves to your waist - a test, you think, to see if you’ll slap it away. “But I don’t think you’re planning on trying, are you?”
“No.” You’re surprised by how quickly the word comes out of your mouth, how breathless. It was an odd question, one that hinted at more than the subject in front of it, and seemed to demand an answer.
His other hand joins the first on your waist, and he turns you around, so quickly that you almost stumble, his palms dancing lightly over your barely covered skin. When you’re facing him, one hand slides up, curling around your jaw and holding tight, keeping your gaze turned up towards his face. And it is a long way up - it’s almost embarrassing how small you are compared to him. He stares down, staying silent for much longer than you’re used to, his breathing just a touch heavier than usual.
His fingers tighten over the silk at your waist, pressing into your skin, a small twitch of his hand pulling the fabric very slightly upwards. It barely moves the hem at all - less than an inch - but somehow leaves you feeling infinitely more exposed. You almost flinch away, but after just a moment, he lets go, all at once. In fact, he practically jerks his hands back, as if he’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, and doesn’t approve. His smile, all of a sudden, appears incredibly fragile.
“Oh…” He laughs softly - it feels forced. “Forgive me, darling. I truly don’t know what came over me.”
You’re not quite sure, either. And as usual, you neither expect nor want an answer.
He steps to your side, leans slightly over you, both hands clasped behind his back. With what seems like some effort, he forces the usual lighthearted tone back into his voice. “You do want to keep it, don’t you?”
“Yes.” You’d prefer not to, you think, if this is the sort of reaction it draws out of him. But you can’t very well get rid of it, if he doesn’t want you to. And, you reassure yourself, just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.
“Good.” Again, overhead - but not so far overhead as last time - that lilting old melody falls into your ears. You have the odd impulse to cover them, but you force yourself to keep your hands at your sides. “It is getting late…I think you might as well keep it on, and get yourself all ready for bed.”
You’d like to push back. But all you can manage is a mute nod.
“Lovely.” He starts to raise his hand, as if to reach out and touch you again, but seems to think better of it. The hand falls, and disappears behind his back once more. “Sleep well, my dear.” Quickly, he turns on his heel, only calling out one final line before slipping out through your door. “You’ll see me again soon.”
You have no doubt that you will.
Alone in your room, you slowly approach the mirror that stands in the corner. Your reflection does not change your initial impression. You don’t look like yourself. You don’t like it. And it’s not like he’ll know if you take it off, change into something more comfortable…
Your eyes fall upon your nearly empty closet, and you remember that you don’t have anything more comfortable. Not anymore.
This is alright, you try to tell yourself. It’s just a piece of clothing.
Just a piece of clothing that you can’t imagine wearing for any other reason, or for anyone else.
Your eyes fall upon the empty drawer in the top corner of your dresser, and trail over to your bed. Quickly, you drop your gaze to the floor. You realize, with a sigh, that it will be a long time before you have any company besides him in this room. In fact, it’s possible that you’ll never open your door for anyone again.
At the moment, doing so would feel far too much like allowing a guest into someone else’s home.
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⎯ genshin men as your yandere husband headcanons.
pairings : diluc, zhongli, tartaglia x fem!reader.
tags : fluff, yandere behavior, yandere headcanons, husband!diluc, husband!zhongli, husband!tartaglia, fem reader, genshin x reader.
prompt : what your life is like with your loving husband, who’s maybe just a little too loving.
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
your husband, diluc, who keeps you in his mansion, for your own protection. the only company you receive is that of himself and the maids, which is the way he likes it. he claims the outside word is too much for someone so delicate. only select guests will be able to visit you, and it will take some pleading on your part.
diluc will often come home late, exhausted and seeking your comfort. he will stay awake and keep you company. he knows you get lonely. your nights are a sacred routine, he loves to hold you in his arms. he needs to know you're safe at all times, and what better way to do that than holding you close to him? he'll kiss your neck and whisper to you how he’ll always keep you safe.
anything you want, diluc will provide for you. he lavishes you with gifts to compensate how he can't be there for you when he's working. if he's gone for more than a few hours, expect a gift alongside a sweet love letter. diluc will write you letters before he leaves for work often, if you don't wake up before he leaves.
⎯ "it's too dangerous out there for you. trust me. you're not leaving my side."
———
your tease of a husband, tartaglia, who keeps you as far away from his workings with the fatui as possible. you’re his most precious possession, so he keeps you by his side constantly. he loves to show you off as his wife, his arm is almost always around your waist or holding your hand. tartaglia is all over you, all the time. in public, in private, it’s no difference to him. he wants everyone to know you’re his.
tartaglia loves it when you watch him fight. showing off his strength is a means to impress you and to remind you how you can’t escape him. when he fights, he’ll make sure you’re a safe distance away, give you a quick kiss and then destroy his opponent. he doesn’t worry about hurting you, he knows as long as he’s around, no harm will come to you.
gift giving and physical touch are two ways tartaglia shows he loves you. tartaglia loves to kiss you, touch you, smell you, hold you or just be around you. you make all his worries vanish. if you express the slightest interest in anything, tartaglia will buy it for you, to the point he’ll be lugging multiple bags of gifts he bought for you all around liyue.
⎯ "do as i say for now, doll. i promise i’ll treat you afterwards!"
———
zhongli, who treasures you so. he is very attending to all your needs, and is practically the perfect husband. zhongli cooks for you, dotes on you, and is always seeking your smile. he will never allow you to know how much he truly loves you. behind the scenes, he will do anything to keep the domestic life he has with you.
when you two go on dates, zhongli will plan extensively to make sure it goes perfectly. he feels he will dry heave at the mere thought of you encountering harm, or feeling unhappy with him. you are his for life. his treasure. he values you above life itself. when it comes to you, he doesn’t feel jealous, more so possessive and worrisome.
at night, zhongli will massage your back and shoulders to help you sleep. he’ll always kiss you in the mornings, and tell you how beautiful you are. he adores when you hold onto his arm, or play with his hair. your touch is like a drug to him, he can’t get enough of it. he can’t get enough of you.
⎯ "shall we take a walk, my love?"
‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
#genshin x reader#genshin impact#yandere#yandere x reader#genshin yandere#genshin headcanons#genshin fluff#genshin#diluc x reader#tartaglia x reader#zhongli x reader#childe x reader#yandere diluc#yandere childe#yandere tartaglia#yandere zhongli
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The Nice Guy Finishes Last - (Steve Harrington/Reader)
Word Count: 6.1k
Pairing: Steve Harrington/F!Reader
Tags: Explicit Smut -- 18+ only, minors DNI. Best friends to lovers, mild jealous!reader mild possessive!steve, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, p in v sex, admissions of feelings, gooey fluff in the middle of sex.
Summary: When your best friend learns that none of your previous partners have taken care of your needs before their own (let alone gotten you off at all), he decides to take matters into his own hands -- literally, but even in the throes of passion, he's still your Steve.
Crackling speakers and a Madonna record provide the soundtrack to a house party at the Harrington house as you make your rounds to visit with friends. Steve’s friends mostly. Steve and Robin are the only two in attendance you would actually call close friends, Nancy and Eddie and Vickie were friendly, of course, but outside of that small circle everyone who showed up to these things you would call an acquaintance at best, and strangers that you can’t stand at worst.
Still, as Steve’s best friend and often the co-host of these things, you feel inclined to at least greet as many people as possible before letting loose and enjoying yourself. After quite some time and a couple watered down mixed drinks, you decide that you’ve done enough mingling and try to find your actual friends.
You half expected to see Steve wrapped up in some new girl already by the time you joined him on the couch, but bit back the bitter thought before it could show on your face. To your surprise, he’s engaged in an animated conversation with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan Byers, who you didn’t even know was in town until you saw him sitting on that couch. His arm is snug around Nancy’s shoulder and she’s leaning on him heavily, drunk with laughter and cheeks red at whatever they’re talking about, which is a far cry from the tense arguing they had been doing the last time he was in town, but you’re happy to see her happy.
She and Robin smile at you in greeting as you fall into the couch beside Steve heavily, the cushion bouncing your body a little on impact.
Steve doesn’t greet you, he’s mid-sentence, but his arm wraps around your waist in a too-familiar way and pulls you closer. Robin raises her eyebrows at the pair of you, but you just glare back.
She’s been on your back for months about your relationship with Steve, or lack thereof. You made the mistake of mentioning your feelings for him in casual conversation, and ever since then she has been insisting he feels the same way, but if that were the case, you would think the endless parade of dates and new women he brought around would at least slow down, right? Still, there have been times you were inclined to believe her. When his smile would soften when you entered a room, or he would hold on for a beat too long after hugging you. The sudden flush on his cheeks and down his chest at his pool parties when you would catch him staring. Sometimes it’s easy to pretend he might feel the same way. Either way, you’ve been best friends since elementary school, and you’d rather keep it that way than take the risk and ruin it all.
His fingers squeeze at your waist now, and you hide your blush behind another sip of your vodka-something.
“That’s what ‘nice guys finish last’ actually means, Byers!” He scoffs, pulling his arm from around you to lean forward into the conversation, elbows on his knees. “It’s not some lament about not getting the girl, it's about getting the girl off before you do.”
There’s a bitterness in your throat as you scoff into your drink. You can understand why Nancy is red as a cherry now, but the comment still doesn’t sit right with you.
“You got somethin’ to say over there, babe?” Steve asks, turning to you with a quirked brow and a challenge in his eye.
“Yeah,” you roll your eyes and discard your empty cup on the coffee table. It cracks with the force. When you continue, you lay on the sarcasm just as heavy as he just did. “Sure do. ‘Cause most guys definitely let their partner finish at all, let alone first.”
“Nah, nah, nah,” Steve waves your comment out of the air before his hand lands on your knee and he lays back onto the back of the couch. Looking up at you, forehead wrinkled with faux concern, he continues, stumbling over his words under the intensity of your glare. “The right guys do. You can’t tell me not one guy you’ve been with has…taken care of you first before themselves? Not a single one?”
If your eyes could physically roll out of your head, you’re sure they would. What little liquor you’ve had is hot, liquid courage in your veins and you couldn’t hold back your candid, bitter response if you wanted to.
“Steven,” you chide, the sound of his full name draws a chorus of ‘oooohs’ from the group around you. “I have never had a single orgasm that wasn’t from my own hands. Not one.”
Pressure on your knee where his grip tightens at your words. His eyes darken with mirth and some heated expression you can’t quite place, and he opens his mouth to reply, but Robin interrupts.
“Okay let’s not give Harrington another opportunity to stick his foot in his mouth,” she’s across the circle in seconds, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up off the couch. “Come on, I need another drink, you do too.”
You put up some resistance against her hold on your wrist, but follow her without complaint. She remains wordless until you’re safe in the kitchen, where the only other soul is Jonathan’s friend Argyle, already asleep on the floor by the sliding patio door.
“What the hell was that?” Robin whispers harshly, looking over your shoulder to make sure nobody followed.
“What?” You replied simply, “he was being an asshole.”
“Please,” she says with a laugh. Her tone is light and teasing as she talks, mocking your previous conversation. “Oh, Steven, nice touch by the way with his full name, Nobody’s ever made me cum before, maybe I need YOU to give it a try.” Her smile widens as your eyes do. “Jesus, it’s like you were begging him to take you upstairs here and now.”
“I was not.” You insist, then shove her shoulder playfully when all she does is smirk. “He just says shit like that to push my buttons. I’ve confided in him before about the guys that I dated, he knows they’ve been less than stellar in bed. He was definitely trying to get under my skin. Rub it in.”
You just barely catch her mutter under her breath, “he wants to rub something alright.”
An annoyed groan is your only response, before pouring yourself another drink and joining the rest of the party.
By the time the party starts winding down, most of the attendees headed home to their own beds or onto the next party and your close circle of friends each claiming a room for themselves to sleep in, you’ve sobered quite a bit. Perpetually afraid of hangovers, you made it a habit to switch to water after a certain point in the night. Especially because you were also the one who stayed up even later to clean up a bit before knocking out, yourself. The only thing worse than a hangover was being put to work while hungover, so you tried to prevent either.
You think you’re the only one awake, stacking cups and dumping out half-drunk beers in the kitchen sink. When you go to close the curtains to the patio you notice that at some point, Argyle has moved out to the pool deck and is asleep on one of the vinyl loungers, cuddling a garden gnome. (Thinking back, you’re almost certain the Harringtons do not have any garden gnomes.)
Giggling at the sight, you shake your head and make sure the door is unlocked, just in case he decides to come back in before shutting the curtains.
Movement and a voice behind you makes you jump. “What’s so funny?”
You turn to the voice, knowing it belonged to your best friend before you even saw him, but still clutching your chest in surprise. “Oh uh,” you point your thumb out back, “Argyle. Snuggling with lawn ornaments.”
Steve nods slowly, fidgeting with the empty beer can in his hand. “Sounds about right…what are you still doing up? Everyone’s asleep.”
“I always do this,” you say, then tease, “what did you think there was some magic party fairy that always cleaned up while you slept?”
He has the audacity to look innocent, looking around at all the mess and shrugs. “I guess I never realized how bad it was when I went to bed.”
Yeah, because you’re usually already upstairs with the flavor of the week before everyone leaves anyway.
You shake the bitter thought from your mind and opt for a friendly, “Yeah well, cleaning relaxes me anyway so no big deal.”
“Here, I’ll help,” before you can even protest he continues, mumbling, “‘M not even tired, I slept until, like, 1 PM today.”
So the two of you move through the house in a silence that sits somewhere between comfortable and not, stepping over an occasional sleeping body, collecting trash and recycling, straightening books and blankets and anything out of place. Your conversation from earlier hangs in the air, and you can hear Robin’s voice urging you to say something about it as you move through the house. It’s like a dance, his body always close to yours. You step to the side, he follows, you move on to another room, he follows, always within arms reach but never reaching out. You can feel the heat from his body nearby when you reach up on your tiptoes to grab a red plastic cup from the top of the bookshelf, just out of your reach. Before you can step away to ask for assistance, you feel his hand on your lower back, steadying you, and his chest presses up against your shoulder as he slides up behind you to reach it himself.
He mumbles an apology and you swear you can see his cheeks pink in the dim light of the den.
“Hey,” he starts, voice soft and close. “I’m sorry if I was an asshole earlier. I just…never mind. I was just drunk.”
“No,” you protest, “go on. You just what?” You steel yourself for his admission, that he was just doing it to get a rise out of you, but it never comes.
“I can’t believe it, I guess.”
“What, that most men are the worst?” Your words are hard, but your voice is light. You cross your arms over your stomach comfortingly and lean on the armrest of the couch behind you.
“No, that-” he pinches the bridge of his nose. You’ve known him long enough to know that this expression means he’s at a loss for words. That what he wants to say is on the tip of his tongue but he can’t bring himself to say it. A sigh. A brush of his fingers through his hair. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but I just can’t believe not one person has put your needs before their own. You deserve that. At least that, and so much more.”
You snort, “well, keep spreading your gospel like you were to Byers earlier and maybe the trend will catch on.” You can feel yourself shrinking, your posture drawn inward at his words. You deserve that. You have to remind yourself to not twist them into something with more meaning.
“No,” he says, firm, and with a step forward. He rests his hands on the armrest on either side of your hips, bringing his eyes down to your level. They’re sincere. The soft, sweet Steve you’ve always known, but they’re dark, pupils wide and lids heavy as he studies your face. “I’m serious. Those assholes don’t even know what they’re missing out on.”
“I-” your breath catches in your throat. Steve’s face is so close to yours that his hair tickles your forehead. You could play connect the dots with his freckles at this proximity, and your eyes do just that, following them from his eyes, down his cheekbones and over the prominent ones on his neck. His adam's apple bobs, swallowing hard when you lift your gaze to his lips, wondering if that’s where this is headed. “What do you mean?”
His own eyes fall to your mouth as he replies, “how drunk are you?”
“Not at all.”
You intend to ask him again what he means, but he’s inching even closer still. Just before he closes the gap entirely, he murmurs a soft, “good,” and then his lips are on yours, warm and wanting and insistent. He brings a hand up to your jaw, holding you in place as his lips work against your own, tongue sweeping at the seam, awaiting your consent to keep going. They part on their own accord, granting him the access you both desperately crave. You melt into him, arms winding around his neck as his tongue brushes yours and his teeth graze your lower lip.
This kiss has a sense of urgency, but an all around feeling of ‘finally.” He smells like the same Ralph Lauren Polo he always has, spice and pine and something a little sweet, and tastes like whiskey. You can’t seem to pull him close enough.
Breath ragged as he breaks the kiss, his thumb strokes your lip and his chest heaves, a look of elation and a little bit of a challenge dances on his features.
You avert your gaze, suddenly shy once again, cheeks warm and lips pressed into a thin line as you study the floor.
“Look at me,” he says, thumb on your chin and pulling your attention back up from the ground. “I’ll say it again. Those assholes don’t know what they’re missing out on, because if you look like this after one kiss,” he pauses to run his fingertips over the deepening color on your cheeks, down the length of your neck, and along the collarbone rising and falling with your rapid breath, eyes following the path his fingers drew. “I can only imagine how spectacular you look as you cum.” You bite your lip in an attempt to stop another grin, and he stands abruptly, startling you with his sudden change in demeanor and taking a few steps back. His hands rake through his hair as he paces, then land on his hips as he turns back to face you.
Unsure of what to say, you giggle out a soft, “their loss I guess?”
“No fucking kidding,” Steve muses, bringing onefist up to rest his chin as he studies you. This new side of you he’s never been granted access to, flushed and breathless and still somehow shy, lips wet and pink and parted as you wait for him to respond. “God, if I were them...if given the opportunity I would-” He cuts himself off. Presses his lips together to hold in whatever it was he was about to admit. He looks away this time, a hint of worry in his eyes.
You reach out with your foot to kick his own softly, your socked toes nudging against his ankle playfully. “You’d what?”
“Full honesty?” He asks. It’s something you’ve been doing since you were kids. In serious moments, in moments of struggle or heavy emotion, if either of you asked for full honesty, the other would give it without question. You nod. His eyes darken again as he mulls the words over in his head. Then, meeting your eyes with a renewed intensity he says, “well, I’d get you to three before I was even undressed.”
Not for the first time tonight, your breath stutters, catching in your throat at his admission. You itch to respond, inside your head you’re screaming to say something clever, or even just say anything, but you’re just sitting there on the armrest of the couch, looking up at your best friend with this dumbstruck expression.
He can see your internal struggle, the awestruck look in your eyes, and the hint of a smile twitches at the corners of his lips, but he’s still been left hanging, vulnerable. So he asks, “what’s going on in your head? Full honesty.”
“I’m-” You hesitate. Your heart is racing, and there’s so much you want to tell him. So much more than orgasms and the order in which they should be given. So much more than playdates and best friends and platonic I love you’s, but he’s looking at your lips again and all you can think about is how much you need to feel his against them again, so you decide that the feelings talk will have to wait. You settle on a hushed, “I’m thinking that you’ve had that opportunity for a while…and that I might lose my mind if you don’t kiss me again, Harrington.” You were speaking to the floor, a little unsure, looking at the spot just in front of his feet, but when his name leaves your tongue, you finally look back up at him. He’s just as stunned as you had been, his mouth agape and eyes studying you for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he’s back on you in seconds, grip on your chin once more as he bends to meet your lips. You stand, slowly, pressing your chest to him, needing to be closer.
He doesn’t seek permission this time, licking into your mouth with a hot, hungry enthusiasm. Greedy hands wrap around your waist, exploring the expanse of your back, up your neck to fist in your hair, down to rest on your ass and squeeze. Your own rest on his chest, keeping you steady as he kisses you senseless. Static fills your brain, fuzzy, warm, and all you can smell is Steve.
This is the Steve you always dreamed of kissing. All roaming hands and hot skin and hungry kisses. He moves with a confidence you only ever saw through jealous eyes, but now that he’s in your arms it’s addicting. Self assured, confident hands creep below your cheeks and wrap around your upper thighs, lifting without a word, breaking your kiss and drawing a squeal from you as you’re swept off your feet. You wrap your legs around his waist for stability, and place a hand on his neck, grinning down at him from your new vantage point. He busies himself with your neck, nosing along your pulse, breathing you in. A sloppy kiss here, a gentle peck there, scraping teeth against your pulse point as he explores your skin. He stops when he notices your breath hitch, smirking into your skin and knowing he’s found a sweet spot. He focuses his attention there, another bite soothed by the caress of his tongue before he latches on and sucks.
A whimper falls from your lips, your hand grabbing hold of the long hair at the nape of his neck. “Steve-” you whine, torn between pushing him away and holding him there in that very spot, “don’t - people are gonna notice.” Even in your haze, you’re worried about what people might say, knowing that everyone in this house will know exactly who left those marks, come morning.
“Let ‘em talk.” He mumbles into your flesh, looking up at you through fanned lashes before nipping his way across your throat to give the other side the same attention. “Been wanting this for so long...gonna mark you up however I want, show everyone you’re mine.” He practically growls the last word before craning his neck for another feverish kiss.
Steve walks you around the couch and sits back into it, pressing your knees to the plush cushion on either side of him. His hands roam again, fingers play at the strip of exposed skin between your top and jeans, hook in your belt loops, creep up your spine beneath your shirt.
Gripping the edges of your top, he raises a brow in question. “Can I…” he doesn’t finish the question, just taps the skin where his hands rest.
You’re about to nod, but movement in the next room stops you both. There’s a shuffle, some footsteps, and then the bathroom door closes.
You both look at the entry to the den, an open arched doorway with no actual door to be seen. A fit of giggles threatens to escape, but Steve holds a finger to his lips and taps your hips so that you stand. You poke your head out the doorway, making sure the bathroom door is still closed. It is, so you make a break for it, Steve hot on your heels and both of you hushing your laughter as you run up the stairs and try to make it to his bedroom before anyone else wakes up or your friend in the bathroom comes back out.
The door clicks behind you. Stood in front of it, giggling, you look on as Steve sits on the edge of his unmade bed and leans back on his elbows. Your laughter subsides as he looks you up and down, his once soft, fond simile turning devious as you both remember where you had been just moments before.
You lock the door quickly before padding across the carpet to stand in front of him, and he sits up fully, gripping your waist again and nosing at your stomach. He lifts the hem of your shirt and places an open mouthed kiss on your hip bone, smirking up at you when you gasp at the action.
“Where were we?” He asks, inching the fabric even higher. Your nod is near imperceptible but he notices, and he’s pulling the garment up and over your head and tossing it aside. “Oh,” he chuckles in disbelief and shakes his head. His hands cover his face, rubbing his eyes and then reach out for you, finding purchase on your neck and waist, pulling you down into him. It’s like neither of you can believe you’ve wound up here. “C’mere.”
His lips find yours again, fingers splaying across the cups of your bra, teasing along the lace trim. Without warning, he flips you, your body bouncing lightly on the mattress. Eyes raking your body with admiration, he pulls at the cups of your bra, exposing your breasts to his gaze and the cool air. Your nipples perk under his stare and the chill, and you already know that your flush has made its way down your chest, but Steve is looking at you in awe and you’re already touch drunk before he’s even gotten started. He continues his earlier assault on your neck, moving on even lower to bite and suck deep purple marks into the swell of your breast, lapping at one nipple hungrily while tweaking the other with his fingers before switching to give each side equal attention. You keen at the pinch of his fingers, arching into his touch with a whine. The way he looks at you floods your core with arousal, and you don’t realize that you’re doing it, but you push on his shoulder to urge him further south.
He tsks, “little eager, are we?”
You huff, hiding in your hands, dragging them down your face and grinning at the ceiling. “Shut up.”
The pop of the button on your jeans is his only response. Your pulse races, tiny fires igniting along your skin wherever he touches as he drags your pants down your legs. He settles himself on the floor, gripping your ankles and pulling you to the very edge of the bed. His gaze zeroes in on your core, the little wet patch on your panties making his mouth water. He looks like a man starved, like he could absolutely devour you, and he intends to.
Wasting no time, he dives in, sucking another mark into your thigh before turning his head to mouth at your clothed mound. His nose brushes against your clit through the fabric, and it feels like lightning to your nerves. You cry out, hands balling into fists in his sheets as he groans at your wetness. He plucks at your waistband with his teeth, letting it snap back into your skin once before deciding now is not the time to tease and finally pulling them off.
Steve rests his head on your thigh, smiling innocently up at you when he reaches out to drag a digit between your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertip and circling your clit once before bringing the finger to his mouth and sucking it clean. He lets out another heady groan, eyes closing as he gets his first taste of you, and then returns to the task at hand. He swipes between your lips again, prodding at your entrance before thrusting in with two fingers. Your responding moan takes you by surprise and has you clamping a hand over your mouth.
“Don’t hold back, baby,” he urges, pressing a kiss into your thigh where his head rests. Fingers pump in and out, his thumb rubbing tight circles around your bundle of nerves. “Everyone else is asleep, and they’re all downstairs. I wanna hear you.” You clench around his fingers at that, drawing unison moans from both of you. Steve mutters praise into your skin as he fucks you with his fingers, curling them every so often to stroke that sweet spot inside you. “That’s it, let it out,” when you let out another high-pitched moan. “So wet for me, doin’ so well,” when your hips stutter to meet his touch even faster. “You smell so good, baby, I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”
Your pleasure coils tight and low in your belly, and you hold Steve’s gaze for as long as you can stand. The intensity of his stare and the press of his fingers to your core is all too much and you’re already so close to the edge. He can tell, and he smirks, sinking a third finger into you on his next thrust. “C’mon,” he urges, pumping faster, working harder at your nub. “Let go for me.”
You do as he says. Skin prickling and toes curling, your orgasm takes over you. Head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, you cry out your pleasure as he works you through it. Every thrust of his fingers sends another shockwave through you, but he takes mercy and moves his thumb, giving your sensitive clit a much needed break. He’s stroking you lazily now. No urgency to his touch, but just enough to keep you on edge, keep you wanting more.
The laugh that he gives is cocky, downright devilish as he says, “That’s one.”
You throw an arm over your closed eyes, giggling at the comment and shaking your head. Even with his fingers buried deep inside you and his breath ghosting your pussy, he’s still the same old Harrington.
“I get it Steve, you made your point.”
“Uh-uh.” He says, shaking his own head. He withdraws his fingers and you whimper at the loss, clenching around nothing when he once again licks the digits clean. He crawls back up your body, stopping to hover over you with a fist on either side of your head. Leaning down he gives you another messy, hurried kiss. “I believe I promised you three.” Just as quickly as last time, Steve rolls again, shuffling higher onto the bed and pulling your body atop his. You both groan as your hips settle on his clothed, hard cock. His hips thrust up into you, the rough denim of his jeans a new, delicious kind of friction that has you whining into his mouth. Settling heavier into his pillows, Steve’s hands grip your hips and urge you forward. You break the kiss, scandalized at what you think he’s suggesting. You sit back, lips bitten and swollen and red, cheeks hot. You want to shake your head, tell him that’s not something you’re into but he looks so eager. Another hushed, “c’mere,” tumbles from him and you’re letting him guide you forward.
Your thighs cage him in, and his arms wrapped around them hold you steady. You’re hovering just above his smug grin, and instead of making some smart comment, you reach down to run your fingers affectionately through his hair. His tongue laps at your entrance, circling your hole with a pointed tip before dipping inside. His nose bumps at your clit with his fervor, and you mewl at the sensation. The lower half of his face is covered by your cunt, wet and sloppy and slick, tongue gliding through your folds. He groans, eating you out like a man starved being offered the most delectable meal. Your legs shake with the effort to keep still. Steve takes notice, reaching for your hips to shift you forward, pulling your full weight onto him.
You yelp, tumbling forward and steadying yourself with a firm grip on the headboard. He guides you from there, rocking your hips against his mouth. Your shallow pants fill the room, and the sounds coming from Steve are downright obscene. Wet, greedy sounds, paired with a moan that sends vibrations through your whole core. If you weren’t already wet enough, his hungry, desperate sounds keep sending shockwaves through you, and he tilts your hips forward so that he can wrap his lips around your clit, tongue sweeping over it insistently. The pressure in your belly returns, your thighs clenching on either side of his face as your vision goes out of focus. You barely mutter a needy, “close,” before another orgasm rips through you, throwing your head back with another wild moan and gripping the headboard with both hands.
Steve doesn’t let up.
Not only does he work your through your second orgasm, but he keeps you right on the edge of a third; sucking desperately at your lower lips, fucking into you with his tongue, humming around your clit to send vibrations straight through you. You didn’t know it was possible to be this close again this quickly, but Steve has you singing his praises and whining his name as he makes you cum for the third time that night.
Your thighs quake, your head resting heavily against your arms on the headboard, and you can’t stop the bubble of a laugh from escaping your lips. You’re giddy, drunk on Steve, utterly exhausted but desperate for more. He slows, still lapping at your wetness and working you down from two over-the-top orgasms. When it all becomes too much, your hips twitch back, overstimulated, and he takes the hint, kissing your thigh gently and helping you down onto the mattress beside him.
Steve leans up on his elbow, hovering over you with a dreamy look plastered on his smug face. You reach out for him, pulling his face to yours and tasting yourself on his tongue. It’s sinful, how much the taste of your arousal on his tongue only turns you on more, and you find yourself reaching for the hem of his shirt. Breaking apart only to allow the shirt to slip over his head, then he’s back on you, a little distracted trying to undo his pants, but unable to keep his lips off of you for another second longer.
Jeans tossed aside, kicked off his legs as if they offended him, you reach out to palm him through his boxers, savoring the animalistic grunt that it pulls from him, and pull back the waistband, reaching in to fist his cock. His lips part, forehead resting on your own as you stroke him, panting and disheveled above you. You shift up onto your knees and crawl down the bed a little further, hovering in front of his member as you stroke, drooling.
He stops you with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, pulling you back up the bed.
“As much as I would love – and trust me I would love – for you to suck my dick, this night will be over a lot quicker than I’d like it to be if you do…” He holds your face with both hands and presses a heated kiss to your lips, “...and I know you’ve still got one more in you, don’t you?”
You only nod dumbly, lower lip captured between your teeth, and Steve chuckles as he reaches across you to fish in the bedside table for a condom. He makes quick work of tearing open the packet and rolling it on, then he’s hovering over you once again, reaching down to trail his fingers through your wetness one more time. He grins when you give a weak, spent moan, and bumps your nose with his own. A twinkle of the Steve you know and love, a familiar smile and soft eyes. He kisses you softly, a tender contrast to the dirty talk and rough hands from before, and works himself into you slowly, letting you savor the stretch. He bottoms out with a huff, and peppers kisses over your cheekbones. He stays that way until you’re whining for it and gripping at his hair, nails digging into his scalp.
Pulling almost all the way out, he thrusts slowly once, twice, and then you give a deep moan and he lets go. The room fills with the wet slap of skin on skin as he fucks you, groaning, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His sense of urgency is back, like the only thing on his mind now that he’s inside you is getting you off again.
Your hips buck off the mattress to meet his as white hot pleasure licks up your spine. Already thoroughly fucked out, you know you won’t last much longer, a fact that would embarrass you any other day but when Steve smiles at you and snakes his hand between your bodies to toy with your clit, you know no shame.
Steve invades all your senses, his cologne and musk surround you, his ragged breathing ringing in your ears. You can taste his sweat on your tongue and every inch of your skin he touches is alight with pleasure.
“One more,” he pleads, hips stuttering. He’s close, chasing his own release but holding back just enough to drag another from you first. His fingers pick up speed and his teeth graze the shell of your ear, whispering, “just gimme one more, cum for me one more time, baby.”
His words scorch your skin, hot and heavy in your ear. Your heart is racing, but so is his, pulse thrumming against your hands when you reach out to pull him into a final bruising kiss by the neck.
You moan your release into his open mouth, biting onto his lower lip and walls squeezing around him one last time. Steve isn’t far behind you, his pace faltering as he thrusts into you and stilling as he spills into the condom, forehead on yours and eyes screwed shut.
Both of you stay that way for a while, quiet, breathing each other in. Your hand absently plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he dusts little kisses along your collarbone. When he does pull out, it's with a shudder and a sigh, and he turns away only briefly to toss the condom into the trash. Searching the bed blindly, he finds his top sheet and pulls it up to cover your lower halves and pulls you in to spoon him, one arm wrapped around your middle, the other playing with your hair.
There’s never been a more comfortable silence between the two of you, and here in his arms, facing the darkness of his room, you feel a surge of bravery. Taking his hand, you play with his fingers and breathe deeply.
“Hey, Stevie?”
“Hmm?” His voice is quiet, just as content and sleep heavy as yours. A kiss on the crown of your head.
“Was this…this wasn’t just a one time thing, right? Full honesty.”
His hold on you tightens, “I sure hope not.”
You beam into the darkness before you and snuggle in closer. “Good,” you mumble. “‘Cause I think I’m kinda in love with you.”
“Yeah,” he grips your hand tighter and brings it above your head to place a kiss on your knuckles. “Yeah, I know the feeling. I think I’ve been in love with you for years.”
You let the quiet take over, then. There’ll be much more to talk about in the morning, when the sun is up and you’ve both rested, but you’re about to fall asleep in his arms with this new and somehow familiar feeling of comfort surrounding you. This is home, Steve is home…and he’s damn generous in bed.
#steve harrington/reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things reader insert#stranger things x reader#x reader#smut
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The Good Queen
(Gif not mine)
Fandom: House of the Dragon
Pairing(s): Viserys Targaryen x Fem!Reader, Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Harwin Strong x Alicent Hightower, Harwin Strong x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Alicent Hightower, Daemon Targaryen x Harwin Strong (I won’t apologize for everyone being gay for each other)
Tag: hotd the good queen
Warning: Fluff. Happy ending. No one dies (except Aemma, sorry love) and everyone lives. Age gaps. No feud. No greens or blacks. Slight gore.
Word Count: 3,901
Summary: The King must choose a new wife, and Alicent’s older sister, Y/n Hightower, is a suitable choice and a perfect match. For once, Viserys makes a decision that benefits everyone and upsets little few. The Seven Kingdoms are better for it.
Author’s Note: Not a request. Oddly enough, plenty request Otto imagines but never King Viserys. I thought I'd give it a try since I had an idea. But to be honest, Viserys x Reader are sort of background pairing/onlookers of this.
(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)
It was the most logical choice to pick the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower. It was also all part of Lady Y/n’s plan. After the death of her mother, she had become the guardian figure her younger sister, Alicent, truly needed in her time of grief and loneliness. Older and far more mature in beauty and wisdom, The Lady Y/n Hightower was determined to still give Alicent whatever was left of her childhood and did everything in her power to make her little sister feel loved and accepted. So if there were whispers regarding Alicent, Y/n likely knew about it. One night, her handmaid came into her room and warned her of whispers involving her little sister and the King. The maid spoke of Lord Otto placing Alicent where Viserys could see her after the death of the late Queen Aemma, and Y/n was beyond disgusted and furious.
However, instead of confronting her father, Y/n went behind his back and also placed herself where Viserys could see her. While she couldn’t stop Alicent from seeing the King at night without raising suspicion, she did, however, visited the King between meals and even ask Princess Rhaenyra if she could attend the Small Council meetings to act as another cupbearer. Rhaenyra, excited with the prospect of another woman being a part of the meetings, accepted the proposal. Y/n made sure to fill Viserys’ cup modestly and had even accompanied him in the royal gardens a time or two after that. It didn’t take much effort before he announced to his small council his engagement to her. Rhaenyra, sad but relieved her father found another wife, gladly welcomed Y/n into the family with open arms and was even more excited at the idea of Alicent being ever closer to being a part of her family.
The Hand of the King, however, was less than happy and voiced how displeased he was of her when finding time alone with his eldest daughter, “What have you done?”
“Done?” Y/n questioned from her vanity mirror, removing her earrings after a long day of the people of the court congratulating her.
“He was supposed to marry your sister.”
“Why would he want Alicent, Father?” Y/n tilted her head innocently at the reflection of Otto standing at a distance behind her, “She’s but a child.”
“In the gods' eyes, she is a woman grown.”
“So am I. I am the eldest, so why must she be married off first?”
“She’s the most comely lady in court.”
“If you think me ugly, Father,” she snarled, finally standing up and turning to face her father head-on, “Just say it and be done with it.”
“I had wished to marry you off to your cousin.”
“Ormund is Heir to Oldtown. Surely my uncle would want a better match for him to ally another large house to ours instead of within our own family. You’re a political man. Try to be smarter than the second son desperate for power.”
The insult strained their relationship if it hadn’t been strained already. Lord Otto barely spoke to his eldest daughter after that unless common courtesy compels him to do so, like complimenting her wedding dress before he gave her away to Viserys. Y/n may not have felt love when the King kissed her with the promise of affection and commitment, but she felt relief. Upon watching the way Alicent danced and laughed during the feast that night, entirely unaware and still innocent of childhood, Y/n knew she made the right decision.
It wasn’t long before Y/n was pregnant then the world as she knew it imploded with excitement. The maesters, after tending to all of the former Queen Aemma’s sickly pregnancies, were astonished to see Y/n flourish in quite the opposite direction. In a strange way, she was excited to be a mother, and practically raising Rhaenyra and Alicent helped with that dream.
At first hesitant, the princess grew to love Y/n as her stepmother, especially since the new Queen was her best friend’s sister. Even though Y/n was rumored to be carrying a son inside of her, Rhaenyra tried not to openly worry for her sake. She may be Viserys’ shiny new heir, but the idea of Queen Y/n having a son bothered Rhaenyra, even though Y/n tried easing her worries with the promise of always openly advocating for the princess’ right to the throne. This aggravated Lord Otto for obvious reasons. After Aegon was born, the Hand tried reaffirming his position over his daughter in order to persuade her into raising Aegon as the future king. In return, he got a stone wall, unmoveable even in the strongest of storms.
“You may be the Hand of the King,” Y/n had sneered at her father one night in the safety of her chambers, “But I am the wife to the King. I am the Queen.”
And with his daughter as Queen, Lord Otto found himself in lesser power than when she was just a lady of the court. With her baby boy on her hip, Queen Y/n attended many Small Council meetings, shameless at the stares of men around her when she took her seat next to Viserys, stealing the spot away from his Hand. Over some time, Y/n became to lean towards Rhaenyra when the princess poured her wine and offered small treats to her little half-brother. With the proper influence, Y/n had also convinced Viserys to grant his daughter a seat at the table, no longer a cupbearer. Y/n then happily stepped aside and let Rhaenyra sit next to her father while the Queen sat next to her own. By then, Lord Otto never felt further away from the King, physically and cognitively.
Even less so when his younger daughter was married off under his own nose. Like a carpet pulled underneath him, Lord Otto was forced to walk Alicent down the aisle and be handed off to her new husband, Harwin “Breakbones” Strong. Some wonder who could have ever picked out such a perfect match, while others looked no further than the Queen herself. With her father’s pawns now swiftly taken from him, Lord Otto begrudgingly asked King Viserys for his blessing to resign. Although shocked, Viserys only had to look to his wife before granting his Hand a dismissal.
Tail between his legs, Otto Hightower left for Oldtown, never to return to King’s Landing, even when his daughters produced him grandchildren. In his place, Lord Lyonel Strong was named Hand of the King and he was a better-suited friend to the throne, and most importantly, an ally to his Queen.
Queen Y/n was a busy woman, even while pregnant. Especially while pregnant. She couldn’t afford anyone trying to take away her power and influence when she was knocked down and so she was constantly on the move, no matter how round she got. Her daughter, Helaena, came quicker than Aegon, and so the Red Keep was filled with delight at the announcement of a new princess soon to roam the halls. Rhaenyra was delighted. She was spotted trying to teach the baby girl how to walk, letting her little sister hang onto her hands and trot over her own feet. Alicent was already a proud aunt, but she doted on Helaena much like Y/n used to dote on her own younger sister. It seems as though the Queen had been quite the influence between Rhaenyra and Alicent, both now fully grown, beautiful and proud.
If Alicent was missing her father, she never showed it. Instead, she spent her time excited when she learned she would soon be a mother herself. Watching Y/n raise her children, Alicent had grown to wish to be just like her sister one day. Harwin was kind to his young wife and understood his place in her heart must be shared with the people around her. He knew Alicent loved her sister, the Queen. He knew she loved her niece, Helaena, and nephew, Aegon, and above all, he knew she loved the Princess Rhaenyra. Harwin couldn’t blame Alicent. Harwin had grown to love her, too.
Y/n and Alicent were soon pregnant together, and it felt as though the Seven Kingdoms could not have had a more beautiful, plentiful summer that year. Everyone was happy, whether of the royal family growing or from the prospect of the harvest. Most of King’s Landing was always celebrating and most stomachs were full and warm. With the Queen and her sister expecting, the castle was alive with happiness and love.
However, Y/n knew there was one individual who was internally unhappy. She was no fool. The Queen saw the way Rhaenyra looked at Alicent and the way Alicent looked at Rhaenyra. Surely, Alicent’s unborn child sparked a deep-dwelling of sadness within Rhaenyra, longing still evident in her eyes. Eventually, Y/n saw the way Ser Harwin stared after the princess as well and knew that something had to be done. She wouldn’t dare dream of separating the three, but she knew that Rhaenyra had to marry soon or who knows what sort of rumors might blossom should someone else notice the tension between the princess, Alicent, and Harwin. Rhaenyra needed a husband, despite the princess making it difficult to find a suitor. Y/n knew where to look, but unlike the other times, it would take a lot more effort to convince the King of this match.
“No,” Viserys smiled, despite the clouds looming overhead, “Absolutely not. Daemon is not worthy of my daughter.”
“If you could have your way, no one would be worthy of her,” Y/n sighed, briefly smiling at her husband while rounding the Small Council’s table towards him, her hand brushing over the surface. They were alone at the moment, waiting for the other members to join them, “But she is your heir, and she’s no longer a child. She is unwed, and last I heard, Daemon had recently lost his wife, Lady Royce. As I understand it, their marriage was left unconsummated.”
“Others will look to him to be King, instead of Rhaenyra their Queen,” Viserys retorted.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Not everyone will be happy, no matter what decision you make, Your Grace.”
She reaches the King, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders as she crossed to stand behind him, rubbing his aging shoulders and physically feeling his body slowly uncoil and relax. Viserys sighs, long and exhausted, his fingers rising to rub his eyes, but instead reach further back and clasp Y/n’s hand instead. She squeezes his hand encouragingly, while Viserys still looked hesitant and forlorn, “He’s not worthy of her...”
“No,” Y/n leans down and kissed the top of his head, “But he does love her. And I think she loves him, too. They are dragons, Viserys, and your kin. Your house sigil requires three dragon heads. If Rhaenyra is to be Queen someday, then she will need heirs of her own. She’ll need dragons. This marriage proposal is not an unheard-of custom, especially for a Targaryen. This alliance will keep your legacy strong long after you and I are gone, and your reign over Westeros will remain peaceful long after Rhaenyra has passed on.”
The Small Council meets that evening, and Viserys announces Daemon and Rhaenyra’s engagement. For supper, that night, King Viserys and Queen Y/n sit beside Rhaenyra and invite the children and Harwin and Alicent along for the celebration as well. Rhaenyra’s eyes sparkled again for the first time in a while, and if Y/n noticed the tight grip her stepdaughter had on her hand, she didn’t comment.
Thankfully, Daemon was on board with this proposal and made no fuss when he was summoned to King’s Landing. Both he and Rhaenyra were married by the end of seven, long days of festivities. The newlyweds decided to temporarily part for Dragonstone, but both rushed back on their dragons when they received word of Queen Y/n and Lady Alicent both going into labor.
Aemond was a difficult delivery, but Y/n was, as always, overjoyed to have the infant brought into her arms. Down the hall, not long after Aemond was born, the Queen could hear a different cry coming out of her sister’s room.
Alicent birthed a son, Jacerys Strong. The whole kingdom rejoiced over their new prince and little lord. Many spoke about the bond the two would share growing up and strengthening the alliance between House Targaryen and House Strong. Lifelong friends were born that day, and Y/n could not wait to raise her children alongside her sisters'.
Rhaenyra quickly became pregnant as well, and by this time, Y/n had noticed the way Rhaenyra and Alicent hold onto each other as they roam the gardens, both of their husbands following them in tow. The Queen doesn’t miss the way the four often spend most of their time together, day and night. Sometimes, Y/n feels as though she’s intruding when watching them all interact. Rhaenyra and Alicent are usually glued to each other’s side, but if not, sometimes Y/n noticed Daemon accompanying Alicent and Harwin attending to Rhaenyra. There are times when even all three are attending to the princess as her stomach slowly grows. Now that she noticed this, Queen Y/n noticed other things as well, like how intense those training sessions between Daemon and Harwin can be.
For the most part, Y/n turns a blind eye and makes no complaint. She doesn’t say a word to Viserys, but she’s seen the way the King watches his daughter with her... group of confidants, and part of Y/n wonders if her husband sees it, too. Perhaps she is not the only one turning a blind eye in order to see Rhaenyra happy with the family her father always wanted her contented with.
Daemon and Rhaenyra’s firstborn is also named Aegon, nicknamed the Younger. Aegon the Elder was delighted when Rhaenyra confessed she named her child after her brother more so than the Conqueror. Viserys was a proud grandfather/uncle, holding the babe in his arms as he sat upon the Iron Throne to announce Aegon’s birth to the court. During the festivities, Viserys even made a lighthearted joke about how his darling wife was so young and it was nearly impossible to believe that she was now a grandmother.
More children came after that, though Daeron would be Y/n’s last after she broke out in fevers once she birthed him. She survived, but after that, both she and Viserys agreed that Daeron would be their last one. Alicent and Harwin bore two more sons, Lucerys and Joffrey, while Daemon and Rhaenyra had another son and a daughter, Viserys II, and Visenya. Despite a few age differences in between, all the children were raised together within the Red Keep and grew up nearly forgetting that they were, in fact, not all direct siblings. They were taught together. They trained together, sewed together, and fought together.
Ten years passed and they were the best years of King Viserys’ life, or so people claim. Even as his health declined, he made no room for sorrow, only joy when his children and grandchildren were involved. One of his favorite pastimes was overlooking the courtyard and watching as his children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews all played together. All of the Targaryen children’s dragons, still small with age, curiously watched them play as well, acting more like large dogs than fiery beasts.
As they got older, some of the boys got rougher. As siblings-who-are-not-really-siblings do, they all occasionally fight or they take their anger out in training. One unfortunate incident was between Aemond and Lucerys. Whilst training, it was clear that the cousins were angry at each other over something minuscule and so they tried to vent using the swing of their swords. Unfortunately, Luke swung hard and Aemond didn’t sidestep in time to avoid it. The very tip of the Strong boy’s sword slashed across Aemond’s eye, leaving behind an unspeakable scene full of blood and screams.
The Queen was summoned right away, directed to Aemond’s chambers where her son was already abed with the Grand Maester tending to him. It was a gruesome scene, even with the wound already cleaned. Aemond’s eye was swollen and angry, a long, ugly cut running through it, trailing down his cheek and over his eyebrow.
The maester moves away from the bed and allows the Queen to take his place by her son’s side as he explained, “I have given as much Milk of the Poppy as I could, Your Grace, but for a child of his size, it would be too dangerous to give him the proper doses he would normally need to relax. The pain has dulled, but it will linger.”
The Queen sits on the edge of Aemond’s bed, “It will heal, will it not?”
“The flesh will heal into a scar... but the eye is lost, Your Grace.”
Y/n’s face crumbles in distress, taking Aemond’s hand in hers while brushing some of his silver hair from his young face, “What happened?”
“An accident in the training yard, Your Grace, as I understand it.”
“Luke cut me!” Aemond cried in anger, “He cut me and I should have left my mark in return! I had my chance and I couldn’t take it! I wish I had!”
"Aemond," his mother warns, eyeing him with a look that only a mother could threaten with her child, “You don’t mean that. I understand your anger and your grief, but at the end of the day, what happened was an accident. Tragic, yes, but an accident. Luke is your cousin. He is a part of your family and he loves you. He would have never intentionally harmed you and you know it.”
She leans forward then and kisses his forehead, just above the top of the cut, "We can get you something to cover it up. Or, once it fully heals, we can replace it with a false eye. A diamond, perhaps? Ruby?"
Her lightheartedness softens Aemond’s anger, slightly, as he relents to his mother’s touch, leaning into her embrace as he entertains her idea, "Sapphire."
She leans back so he could see her smile of approval, "A fine choice, my love.”
The Queen stands up, taking her time to help Aemond lie down and get properly tucked into his covers. She lovingly pets his hair down as she turns to the maester beside her, “Grand Maester. Have some essence of Nightshade brought up to my son’s chambers. He needs time to rest and heal.”
“At once, Your Grace,” the maester bows then exits the room.
Y/n leans back down to her son one last time, bringing his hand up to her face to kiss his fingers, “Be hopeful, son. Women like men with scars."
She leaves the room and makes her long trek to the kitchens. Rounding a corner, she comes across her sister. Alicent was distraught and full of guilt, grasping the Queen's hands in hers as she cries, "I'm so sorry... Harwin and I will punish Luke accordingly."
"There's no need," Y/n is quick to reassure Alicent, her sisterly instincts kicking back in. The instinct never truly went away. It was dormant, but Y/n will always protect her sister, no matter how old she gets, "It was an accident, Ali. Aemond will not resent your son for it. I can imagine Luke is very distraught about what happened. You must attend to him. Reassure him that he was not at fault and I would never hold this over my nephew."
After she sent Alicent back to her family, Y/n returns to her original task and heads to the kitchens. She returns to Aemond's chambers a little while later, carrying a tray of food and drink for her son, ignoring the servants when they offered to carry it for her. Behind her, Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron are hovering in the doorway, poking their heads into the room and trying to get a good look at their brother abed. The Queen sets the tray down and turns back to the doorway with a knowing glance, “Come along. Dine with your brother but then leave him to rest.”
A picnic was made in Aemond’s bed, his mother and siblings surrounding him as they nibbled on bread and cheese. They talked about other things to distract the injured prince, telling stories about their day or laughing at a joke Aegon said. Viserys, in search of his family, limped into the room with his cane not long after, smiling softly at the scene before him.
After sending her other children away to let Aemond sleep, Y/n takes her husband's arm and carefully walks with him to her own chambers. His hair had begun to thin out and a hunch in his back drove him to lean forward or off to the side as he walked crookedly. He was no longer the peaceful, handsome king Y/n had married, and a small ache in her heart hammered every time she looked into his eyes, age spots and wrinkles beginning to form on his pale skin. Despite his troubles with his health, he still never looked happier.
"You are a wonderful woman, Y/n," Viserys held her arm in a firm grip, his kind smile pulling those wrinkles further up his face. His eyes dazzled warmly, happily, without a sign of a lie, "You're a good mother, a good queen, but most importantly you're a good wife. Had I not married you... I am not sure I would be surrounded by the most loving family and ruling such a prosperous kingdom. What would I do without you?"
Y/n smiled back, patting his arm affectionately as they make it down the long hallway of their home, "Best not to dwell on such a question, my love. The Seven Kingdoms are better off without knowing."
~~~
Viserys dies in his sleep a few years later. His health had gotten worse and the only thing he allowed the maester to administrate was the Milk of the Poppy to dull the pain. Otherwise, he didn't ask for a cure, nor did he try to even fight his illness. Many often wondered if, in the end, he was waiting to die. Others thought that guilt was a deadly illness and whatever secret the King had, died with him. After being given a window to mourn, the now Queen Regent, Y/n Hightower, crowned Viserys' rightful heir herself.
Queen Rhaenyra's coronation was grand, as what Viserys would've wanted for his beloved daughter. Daemon, his brother, proudly took the name, King Consort, while Rhaenyra named her firstborn son, Prince Aegon the Younger, her rightful heir. Lyonel Strong remained the Hand of the Queen, but his son, Harwin, was named Commander of the City Watch and was given a place at the Small Council's table. His children with Alicent were given titles to many lands, their oldest son heir to Harrenhal. Aegon the Elder was permitted the claim to Dragonstone, while Rhaenyra's other half-siblings were appointed as squires and cupbearers to her court, some were even betrothed to the Strong children.
Y/n, however, remained in King's Landing, despite being granted permission to go back to her family's home, Oldtown. With Rhaenyra's permission, she remained in the Red Keep where she had made a home among her children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews. Y/n Hightower -once called the Good Queen- died in her bed many years later, after briefly meeting her first great-grandchild to her son, Aegon, and his wife and niece, Visenya.
There were no Blacks. There were no Greens. A hundred years will pass and everyone will know the story of how one woman stopped the Dance of Dragons from ever happening. Or better yet, no one will have ever even heard of it.
~~~
A/N: I know, I switched everything up and made everyone confused. This was a form of therapy for me after I wished that everyone in the show would just get along.
Part Two
#viserys targaryen#king viserys targaryen#viserys targaryen imagine#king viserys targaryen imagine#viserys targaryen x reader#king viserys targaryen x reader#hotd imagine#house of the dragon imagine#hotd#house of the dragon#paddy considine#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#harwin strong#daemon targaryen#otto hightower#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#helaena targaryen#daeron targaryen#rhaenyra x harwin#daemon x rhaenyra#rhaenicent#rhaenyra x alicent#princess rhaenyra#daemyra#hotd the good queen
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leveling the playing field IV
summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.5k
tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!!
masterlists // nav // requests
join my taglist here
a/n: im just hammering this out at this point-
next part
The following days were full of a new routine. Every morning, take pain medication for your now neverending migraine, gather food for Lucy Gray and the Snow's, check in with Jessup and redress his bite as best you can, go to the hospital and be denied visitation to Coryo, go to class, and then start the cycle again that afternoon. You were getting burnt out, and quickly- your parents were displeased that you weren't home as often. Their patience was wearing thin.
If you were honest with yourself, your patience was also wearing thin. You were catering to Lucy Gray, which of course you agreed to do, but in the case that she wins the games, the Plinth Prize would not be going to you. It would still go to Coriolanus- and he was in the hospital doing nothing but recovering. Which was good. You remind yourself several times a day that you are happy to help because at least he isn't dead.
The sun is setting when Coriolanus wakes up again, this time feeling less groggy. He's been in and out the last few days, most of it as a blur due to the pain medication that has been pumping into his system through an IV for the last few days. He does vaguely remember waking up to eat as much as he could stomach, talking to Clemensia, maybe, unless he was hallucinating, and telling a nurse to stop letting you in when he kept seeing covered plates and glass containers showing up with more food. It had to have been you, and while he was grateful for it, he loathed the idea of you pitying him.
Tigris and Sejanus were both present, now, and despite telling the staff to not let you in, he's more than a little disappointed you are not there. He furrows his brow, attempting to pull out the tube from his hand. "Hey, hey-" Tigris stops him, shaking her head out of confusion. "What are you doing?"
"I'm fine. I'm better." He insists, pushing her hand away.
"I need to go check on Lucy Gray..." He mumbles, shaking his head.
"Y/N is with her. She's fine." Sejanus tells him, standing by the end of the bed.
"Now? What time is it? How do you know?"
"Well, the interviews will start in an hour or so." His friend explains.
"An hour?" Coriolanus asks, now more frantically pulling out the tube with a hiss. He has to be there, he has to go introduce Lucy Gray. He didn't even consciously realize time was passing while he was there.
"No, Coryo, you can't go. Y/N can handle it." Tigris says, trying to calm him.
"Sejanus, are you going?" He asks, ignoring his cousin completely.
Sejanus looks down, shaking his head and twisting his fingers out of nervousness. "No, uh, Marcus escaped. He's gone."
Coriolanus was disappointed- he was hoping he would be able to hitch a ride with him. He'll have to run- though it isn't too far.
"Okay, well, I'm going." He insists, grabbing a pile of clean clothes that Tigris had brought for him the day previous.
Tigris gives up on trying to stop him, and Sejanus hasn't really attempted to. He knows that you would be happy to see him if he is feeling well enough to go. Watching you in class, constantly jittery and even a little pale, made it evident that you needed Coriolanus, or you were worried, at the very least.
Thankful for the morphing he still had in his bloodstream, he makes it to the studio in time for Lucy Gray's interview, even with a few minutes to spare. As soon as he sees you, he can tell that you've been struggling. The bags under your eyes couldn't be hidden by makeup, nor could your healing bruises from the bombing that were now turning a shade of green that would typically make him ill. Scattered as well among them were some darker ones, purple ones, around your elbow and on your wrist. Regardless, you're smiling- talking in a hushed tone to Lucy Gray.
You're opening your brother's guitar case, carefully lifting it out of the velvet that surrounded it when you see Coryo walking toward you, and you're immediately abandoning your effort to stand up and greet him. "Coryo? What are you doing here?" You ask, excitement fading into worry.
"I wouldn't miss it." He smiles politely, adjusting his cuffs.
You sigh, finding the effort to match his smile. "You made it." Lucy Gray grins at him, brushing over her face with a cloth you offered her, a small effort to clean up the dirt and grime that clung to her skin in the zoo.
"Well, I got her a guitar. It's my brothers." You quickly move on, already feeling comforted by his presence alone. You grab it, holding it out to him as Lucy digs into the makeup that you had brought for her to borrow, hoping to add some life back into her face.
He takes it, looking over the polished wood and the brand-new strings. "Thank you. And it's tuned? Working order?"
"Tip top shape." You promise with a nod. "I had it professionally looked over this morning."
"You're a dream." Coryo praises you, making you blush. "Thank you, Y/N. Truly."
"It's my job."
Lucy Gray did amazing in her performance- and everyone loved it. She received the most donations by a long shot, which will allow Coriolanus to help her in the arena. As much as he can without changing her abilities to defend herself or fight, anyway.
You had made it home shortly after, returning your brother's guitar and having a shower before practically crawling into bed. Finally, you feel like you may be able to get a good night's sleep. Coryo is home, and even though you have an early morning, you'll be able to relax enough to rest.
That is, until you hear something snapping against the window next to your bed. You try and ignore it, covering your ears with your pillow, but the tapping persists.
You flick on your lamp and hesitantly pull back the curtain, peeking out to track the source of the noise. It was only a moment before your eyes landed on Coryo, who waves when he can see you in the window. You rub your eyes, squinting from the light and sliding the window open.
"Coryo?" You ask, confused as to why he's here.
"Come down, bring your notebook." He whispers loud enough for you to hear, but his voice is still soft enough to not wake anyone else in your house. "And a coat, it's quite cold."
You sigh. "Okay. Give me two minutes." Apparently, rest isn't a part of your evening plans.
You follow alongside him all the way to the arena, already set up to host the Hunger Games in the morning.
"Woah..." You gasp, walking into the same clearing you had just days before, but now it looked like a whole new place. "Okay. This we can work with." You smile a little to yourself, not noticing Coryo training his eyes on you.
He watches as you walk ahead of him, immediately toward the center of the large room as you scribble in your notebook. You wanted to get down as many details as possible, every new pile of debris or hole that could offer a place of refuge for Lucy Gray. Coriolanus wants to focus on the task at hand, but this is the first time he's been around you without the prying eyes of classmates or adults in a long time. You were never alone, he almost always was outside of school.
Walking up next to you, the light from the moon hits your hair and the side of your face as you look around, hardly glancing at the book in your hand. "Are you..." He starts, being reminded of what he noticed on the walk over but wouldn't dare to mention.
"Hm?" You prompt him to continue, drawing your attention to the boy in front of you now and lifting your pen to your mouth, biting onto it while you shake out a cramp in your wrist.
"Are you wearing makeup?" He asks, leaning in slightly to get a closer look.
"Excuse me?" You laugh awkwardly after grabbing the pen once more, taking a small step back. "Certainly your grandmother taught you its unbecoming to ask a lady such a question."
He chuckles slightly, looking away from you. "Bold of you to assume I consider you a lady." He jokes.
You gasp in mock offense, playfully smacking his arm. "How dare you!" You can't help but laugh. Now you remember why you were friends. Or why you considered him a friend, and why he believed that he was merely tolerating you. In reality, he didn't have to bring you. He could have come on his own, but why should he when you would be willing to accompany him? You're known for your attitude, your brashness, and he admired your unwavering ambition- whatever you wanted you would get. Not just because of your family name, either. You were willing to work for it, to fight for it.
Coriolanus was walking a fine line between desiring your presence and his own indifference. Now, surpassing a mere tolerance of you, this change scared him. "I know what you look like, you know. It's the middle of the night, there was no use wasting our time with putting on makeup." He says, not wanting to let on his own intrigue on the topic.
"I would argue that you don't, not since we were fourteen, anyway." You reply, dipping your head to get back to your sketching. "It's more of a force of habit."
His closeness allows him to grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently but firmly lifting your head back up to get a better look at you. Your eyes widen, your heartbeat increasing with a mix of fear and embarrassment.
His eyes bore into you, into every part of your face as if your skin would somehow tell him the full story. You can't bring yourself to speak, just waiting for him to find the answers he wanted.
"Is it your father?" He asks, looking into your eyes now, his grip loosening on your chin.
You take a quick step back. You were aware that he knew something, he was the only one who tended to stare too long at your skin wherever it was exposed ever since you were thirteen and he asked what happened when you came to school with a bruise on your cheek. Notably more so after your essay last year that rewarded you with only a B.
"I won't tell anyone." He says, and your own voice echoes in your mind after telling him the same thing just the other day at your house. "I would have by now if I was going to."
"Why do you care?" You bite back, defensiveness being your go to weapon in a war of self-preservation.
He wants to spit at you that he doesn't, but that's a lie he couldn't even dream of in this moment. You'd storm out, probably never talk to him again, and that idea hurt him. "I want to help you."
"Well, not much anyone can do now is there?" You reply, attempting to move on. "Let's look around." You try and change the subject, give yourself an outlet to walk away, but this doesn't work as Coryo is grabbing your wrist, stopping you from taking another step.
"You can help by ignoring it." You sigh, his blue eyes just staring as he scrambled to find the right thing to say. "By not treating me like I'm going to break at every turn. How does that sound?"
He opens his mouth to speak but he doesn't, slightly shaking his head. He wants to release his grip on your wrist, tense and tight with urgency, but how could he without giving you the idea he thinks he's hurting you? He slides his hand into yours, holding his breath. "I apologize. It's not what I intended."
Now it's your turn to be speechless, staring down at your hands locked together.
"I just wanted to keep you safe." He explains, dancing around the idea even in his own mind that maybe he cares for you more than he should. "After Arachne, and after Clemensia, and now the Ring twins and Felix still fighting in that hospital bed it's so obvious to me that we are far from safe in this. We always were."
Your brow furrows. "What happened to Clem?"
"Dr. Gaul..." He takes in a deep breath. "One of her experiments, Clemensia has been in the hospital for days and she has these scales growing all over her and I thought I watched her die and then you almost died and-"
"Hey, hey, woah-" You cut him off, stepping closer again and not daring to drop his hand as he begins to crumble in front of you. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
He just nods, attempting to swallow back the fear in his voice.
"Okay. So, we've made it this far. You'll get that prize, we'll move on. Next year it will be someone else's problem. You will be safe." You say, squeezing his hand gently. "We're almost done, just a few more days."
His mouth is dry, and despite his heart racing, he knows you are right. After tonight, you won't be face-to-face with the tributes again. Neither of you will be in harm's way anymore, at least, not due to the games. Life will return to normal for you, and he will claim the prize he is owed and his life will change for the better. You won't be bringing him food every day, and you won't both be stressing over how to best prepare Lucy Gray. The tightness in his chest returns as his thoughts devolve- will he miss you?
It catches you off guard when he pulls you into a hug. Tight, panicked, heavy under the weight of all the tragedy and grief the two of you walk around with day to day. There is no one who gets him quite like you do. This time, he rests his chin on your head as your arms wrap around his waist, hands overlapping on his back. No, it's not enough. He tilts his head down so he can feel the warmth of you on his cheek, holding you tight as he takes in the scent of your hair. It's not roses, not like his mother's powder or what's left of her clothes in the Snow apartment, it's fresh. The smell of whatever soap you use doesn't demand to be noticed and inhaled, it's mostly full of you. Raspberries. That's it- it's raspberries mixed with you.
"We're almost done..." You whisper again, gently rubbing his back now in reassurance. He wonders, could you not feel the weight of everything? Of both of your entire lives barreling toward you all at once? Of course not. You were Y/N Y/L/N, you could only feel the pain of others; altruism drips out of every ounce of your being despite your habit of lashing out. Of course, you couldn't see it. You only saw him right now. Not his fear of losing you.
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#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#coryo snow#tbosas#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#hunger games#thg#thg fanfic#thg fanfiction
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always you
wanted to wish @rozzieroos a very happy birthday! you've been so supportive of me since the beginning and it makes a world of difference to someone who is always just a bit nervous to share the things they write. i am unfortunately not a very crafty bitch, so i can't return the friendship bracelet favor right now, but i hope this is a nice little sappy gift for ya! sending you big hugs and all my love 💕 - mickala
rated t | 1,324 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, the most miniscule hurt and almost entirely comfort, boys in love, side platonic stobin stuff but robin isn't technically there
💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
Steve always had an adrenaline crash after a visit from Robin. The first time it happened, Eddie was convinced they would have to move to Boston just so Steve could get out of the funk. Luckily, they figured out what to do after a couple of days.
And every time it's happened since, they manage to get him out of it pretty quickly.
But this time seemed worse, and Eddie wasn't sure why.
As far as he could tell, everything about the visit was normal. Robin came for a long weekend, they all went to dinner together the first night, Eddie had to work on Saturday so Steve and Robin had their fun together. Sunday, they all went to brunch together before dropping her off at the airport.
And Steve was fine! That evening he was cooking dinner and dancing to music while Eddie wrote some notes for a campaign he was running with work buddies. They ate together and Eddie did the dishes while Steve went through his nightly routine of locking up.
They even gave each other blowjobs in the shower.
But this morning, as soon as Eddie opened his eyes and smelled the bleach, he knew it was bad.
He sat up and looked out the open bedroom door.
"Fuck."
He got up quickly, throwing on the closest pair of pants he could find, probably Steve's since they felt baggier than his own, and made his way down the hall to the bathroom.
Steve was on his knees, scrubbing the shower like it personally offended him.
"Hey sweetheart, everything okay?" He asked hesitantly.
"Fine," Steve answered, clearly very far from fine.
Eddie sighed and sat on the closed toilet lid. "Stevie, it's okay if you wanna have a sad day. I know it's hard when Robin goes back home. I'm off today so we can just relax in bed if you want."
Eddie would never tell Steve that the reason he was off was because as soon as he knew when Robin was going back home, he'd requested the day off to be here for Steve.
"I don't need a sad day. I'm fine."
"Yeah, that's why you've scrubbed the shower until it's literally sparkling at way too early in the morning," Eddie reached out and covered his shoulder. "It's okay to miss her. I know it's hard."
Steve stopped scrubbing.
Eddie prepared for what was likely to be a very ugly and loud sob.
Steve turned to him with his lips quivering and eyes watery.
"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie said as he got on the floor with Steve and pulled him into his lap. "It's gonna be alright. We're gonna visit her next month, remember?"
"I know," Steve said against his shoulder, voice wobbling like he was still holding back tears. "I just don't wanna keep doing this."
"What?"
"I hate being so far from her. We were supposed to live close enough to see each other every weekend and have sleepovers and now she's in Boston with her girlfriend who is amazing, and I'm here with you and you're amazing, but I miss her. And I know she misses me." Eddie could feel tears soaking his shirt. "And it's stupid that we're so codependent still, and I feel bad that you probably feel like you're not enough."
"Sweetheart, I don't ever feel that way. I've never felt that way. Have I made you feel like I feel that way?" Eddie tightened his grip around Steve.
"No, not really," Steve shrugged. "It's just I know we're a lot. And I know it sometimes probably seems like I need her more than I need you, but I don't."
"Sweetheart, I know that." Eddie kissed the top of his head and smiled. "You're a package deal. I knew that the moment you kissed me in the hospital room. I was getting Steve and his platonic soulmate Robin, or I wasn't getting Steve at all. I know how important she is to you. Don't you think she's important to me too?"
"I guess," Steve shrugged again, sniffling against Eddie's shirt.
"Well, how could she not be? She helped make sure you stayed safe before I was there to protect you. She knows exactly what to do when you have nightmares, taught me everything she could so I could be there for you. She sends me tapes she thinks I'll like when she sends you care packages. She was the second person I ever came out to! "
"Wait, I thought I was the second person you came out to."
"You were the third. She was a practice run when I saw her staring at the young nurse who checked my vitals the day I woke up. She's the one who told me I should tell you," Eddie nudged him away for a moment so he could look down at him. "I wouldn't be on this floor with you five years later if not for her. She's kinda important to me."
"I just hate that I get like this!" Steve finally said. "I hate that this happens every time. It's not fair to you."
"Love, it's okay. I know how to help." Eddie kissed his forehead. "Go ahead and wash your hands and go get back in bed. I'm gonna grab a book and we're gonna cuddle for a bit."
"But-"
"And then!" Eddie continued, louder. "We'll get pizza delivered for lunch even though we shouldn't. We'll call Robin. We'll take a bath. I'll wash your hair. I'll make us that roasted chicken stuff you like for dinner. It'll be perfect."
"Okay."
"And then-"
"There's more?" Eddie could hear the smirk in Steve's voice even though he'd buried his face against his neck again.
"Of course there's more." Eddie poked his side. "And then we're gonna start talking about moving closer to Boston so we can visit her more than three times a year."
"Eds, we can't afford Boston."
"I know. But we can afford New England if we find the right spots. We'll have her send us some ads for places for rent. I can transfer within the company. You're a teacher, you can work anywhere."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It is so easy. Making you happy is the easiest thing I'll ever do."
"But you have to be happy too."
"I will be. You wanna know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I'll still have you. And let's be honest, it's way more likely that one of the New England states is gonna let us get married before fucking Illinois."
Steve chuckled. "Married? Who said anything about getting married?"
"Oh, did I forget to mention? I planned on spending the rest of my life with you."
"I know that, goofball." Steve let out another genuine laugh. "I just didn't think you'd ever wanna actually get the law involved if they ever let us."
"Steven, I don't involve the law, the law involves me."
"I don't think that's how it works, babe," Steve kissed his neck before pulling away. "I think all that sounds nice though."
"Then hop to it, Harrington! We've got a bed to get back into."
Once they settled in their bed, Steve curled into Eddie's side while he opened the book they'd been reading for a week now, he looked up at Eddie with a soft smile.
"I love you a lot, you know?"
"I know, angel. I love you a lot more," Eddie replied, leaning down to kiss his lips softly.
They'd spend the day exactly as Eddie said they would.
They'd find a place only two hours from Robin and move less than a month later.
They'd get married as soon as it was legal for them to do it.
They rescued a dog.
They even adopted twins.
And every single time Steve wanted to see Robin, they packed up the car and went to visit her.
Because Steve had Eddie, and Eddie had Steve, but they both had Robin.
#steddie#steve harrington#stranger things#eddie munson#fluff#established relationship#idk i just think we should appreciate robin's place in THEIR relationship more#like you're tellin me she doesn't latch onto eddie too???#you're tellin me eddie and robin aren't thick as thieves???#please
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