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star-girl69 · 4 months

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Better Than Revenge

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: more jealous clarisse and this time she gets to be insane about it (I Can See You coded tbh)

a/n: soft clarisse MOVE OVER insane clarisse hiiiiiii ….anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Better Then Revenge - Taylor Swift

warnings: possessive clarisse pleek i want you i need you, violence, swearing, punching lol, men, allusions to sex and this is just pretty suggestive, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

The anniversary of Mr. D being sentenced to a life at Camp Half Blood has become his birthday over the years.

Of course, his children use that as an excuse to throw a rowdy party disguised as a simple bonfire.

Chiron turns a blind eye, as long as everyone swears to not give him any alcohol, and there’s still a modicum of responsibility among the camp population.

It’s one of the highlights of the summer, the heat from the fire, the dark night lit only by Selene, where it feels like you can do anything and get away with it.

It’s your first with Clarisse, and by the way she’s looking at you right now, you’re probably not gonna last more than an hour before you get dragged somewhere to make out. Which is not what you want.

You’re already in your outfit, the jean shorts you know she likes, the low-cut top you know she likes, leaning over in front of the mirror as you do your lipstick.

“Do you have something you want to say?”

Clarisse usually sits with you as you get ready for something, since you shamelessly take longer than her. She always calls you her prettiest girl, then expects you not to live up to it?

She doesn’t rush you. She’s never impatient. She just likes watching you, and it’s fun to put on a show.

She always looks at you, but something about the look in her eyes tonight is especially… feral.

“What’d you mean?” she says, smirking and leaning back on her elbows.

The Aphrodite cabin is a particular swirl of activity, but your little corner is just you and her. She refused to wear anything but her camp t-shirt and a pair of jeans, of course, but she looks good in anything.

“You’re looking at me like you want to pounce.”

“Took you this long to pick up on that?”

You laugh, bending over to grab a jewelry box that lives at the foot of your floor length mirror.

“Baby, let’s just stay back,” she groans.

“This is our first time going together, though. I want to go.”

“And I want to kiss you until we both pass out.”

“Oh, how romantic,” you whisper, holding earrings up to your ear. The dangly pearls look best. Some sort of dangerous thought slithers into your mind, and you turn around to face her with a slow smile.

“Oh, Gods. What?”

“If you can go an entire hour without kissing me…”

She looks up at you like you’ve just called her the worst warrior at camp.

“Then we’ll leave as soon as the hours up, and do whatever you want. But if you can’t, then we get to stay until I say so.”

She smirks. The only thing she loves more than you is competition, a challenge. You watch her eyes light up.

“I can do an hour.”

“Oh, really?”

“I have amazing self-control, actually.”

“Oh, really?” you repeat, drawing out the word.

“Really,” she says, rolling her eyes and mocking you.

She’s sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on her palms now, watching you as you step forward.

“Really,” she says again.

But her smile fades as you place your hands on her shoulders, her hands coming to your waist as you place yourself right down on her lap. She lies down and let’s you straddle her, tracing her lips with your pointer finger.

It’s so startlingly silent and tense, she can hear your breath, you can hear hers.

You squeeze her face in your hands. “Well, time to go!” you announce, climbing off of her.

“You’re a demon,” she hisses. “A witch.”

“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite,” you roll your eyes. “I prefer to be called a seductress.”

—-

The party is already buzzing when you get there, night just falling and the fire blazing high.

You wave to a few of your friends, dragging Clarisse by the hand as you lead her to the best group of chairs and benches, not too close and not too far from the fire. All of the camp counselors and the people around your age are there, drinking punch and talking amongst themselves.

You greet your half sister and head counselor of the Aphrodite cabin, Phoebe, with a kiss and a hug.

“You look so pretty, Y/N,” she smiles. “I love the pearls.”

“Thank you,” you gush. You look up to Phoebe more than you would like to admit. One day you hope to take her position, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a good impression now. “You look gorgeous.”

Clarisse’s hand falls from yours and she pushes you forward to the empty seat next to Phoebe.

You look behind you. She gives you a look that says “Are you dumb? Talk to her.”

You’re always so close to Clarisse, but she goes and sits nexts to a few of her siblings on top of a picnic table 5 feet away.

You hum and start talking to Phoebe about a few of the new arrivals about camp- you both agree one of the new boys is a son of Aphrodite, before Phoebe looks past you and cringes.

“One of the other new kids is staring at you.”

You risk a small glance.

There’s nothing special about him. Pale skin, brown hair and brown eyes. He’s not your type, to say the least, especially when you steal a look at Clarisse and find she’s already looking at you-

You stomach flips.

She taps her wrist as if there was a watch there.

“Almost halfway,” she mouths, smiling brightly.

You look pointedly back at Phoebe.

“He’s eh,” you shrug.

“If he doesn’t stop staring at us I’m gonna go insane.”

“Is he really staring?” you ask.

“Yeah. I think he thinks he’s flirting, or something? I don’t know.”

You shrug. He probably knows you’re dating Clarisse, and if he doesn’t, he probably will soon.

She bumps your shoulder.

“Any updates with Clarisse?”

You smile, playing with your fingers.

“No, not really. We’re still happy. Actually, we’re having a contest right now. If she can resist kiss me for an hour, then we’ll leave. But if she can’t, then we get to stay at the party all night.”

“Ooh, that’s evil,” she teases.

“I know, I’m having so much fun.”

You both laugh, and Phoebe opens her mouth just to close it. She fakes dropping something to lean closer to you.

“He’s coming over here.”

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter.

“Hey, ladies,” he says. His voice is deep and scratchy, like he just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. “How y’all doin’ tonight? Enjoying the party?”

You have to stifle a laugh. Phoebe was one of the cabin leaders who helped organize the party.

“Havin’ fun,” you smile awkwardly. He stares so intensely into your eyes you have to breathe out not to laugh.

“Good, good. Either of you know where the punch station is?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, it’s right by the Apollo cabin,” Phoebe points.

He follows her finger. “Great, thanks.”

He looks at you and winks. “See you around.”

Both you and Phoebe dissolve into a fit of giggles.

—-

You make your way over to Clarisse after a second, sitting down next to her on the table. You hug your knees to your chest from where they sit on the actual bench.

“‘M cold,” you moan, rubbing your knees.

Her siblings, Carrie and Nelson are now distracted by Phoebe’s animated talking, leaving the two of you.

She wraps her arm around your shoulder, letting you lean against her.

“You wore those shorts,” she says.

“For you.”

“Oh, you’re so mean.”

“Before the challenge. And I think you mean ‘thanks for trying to make me happy, Y/N.’”

Clarisse laughs.

“Okay, pretty thing,” she mutters. “That’s what I meant.”

“Right,” you mutter, pushing yourself further against her. It’s better here, closer to the fire, but there’s still this chill in your bones.

“Stop being so close to me,” Clar mutters.

You turn to her.

“What did you just say to me?”

“It’s almost irresistible to kiss you,” she whispers. “I’m not allowed to kiss your forehead, am I?”

You put your face into her warm neck.

“Is that kissing me?” you whisper, your lips brushing her skin.

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pushing you away from her. “You’re not distracting me. I’m not losing this. One hour, then we’re going back to my cabin and staying there for a long time.”

You smile, lifting your face up from her neck to stare in her eyes. She smiles softly back at you.

“Did you see me turn around and bend over to fix my shoes?”

Her eyes blaze.

“Should have guessed that was on purpose. What’d you call yourself? A seductress? I agree.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around yourself, deciding you’ll be nice and give her a few minutes reprieve. Ares kids are always so warm, and even just being pressed slightly against her is nice.

Someone places a jacket over your shoulders. You smile, turning to Clarisse, not remembering if she had a jacket on. Did she bring one for you?

“Clar, I-”

She’s not looking at you at all. She’s staring off towards the fire, holding your hand, and you know she didn’t just give you this jacket.

Harry walks around the table, smiling.

“Looks better on you then it did me,” he says, awkwardly. “You looked cold, so…” he laughs.

Clarisse finally realizes that he’s talking to the two of you, or well, you.

“Huh?” she says, giving him a bored look. Immediately slipping back into her mean girl persona, even though she was just blushing with your face in her neck five seconds ago.

She looks at you at the corner of her eye.

You’re sitting there, frozen with his jacket over your shoulders.

“Uh…” you say, stupidly, because your mind is literally empty. What are you even supposed to do in this situation?

Clarisse grabs at the black jacket.

“She looked cold,” he says.

She finally realizes what happened.

“So, you’re hitting on my girlfriend? Right next to me?”

His smile falls. “Y-your friend, yeah-”

She rips the jacket off of you and throws it at him.

“Girlfriend,” she hisses.

“It’s not my fault,” he says, scrambling to catch his jacket, getting defensive now. He knows he fucked up, his pride is hurt. “You weren’t even touching, and she was, like, shivering-”

She stands up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, hey, Clarisse,” her sister Carrie says. “What’s going on?”

Clarisse glares at him. He starts sputtering incoherently.

Carrie raises an eyebrow towards you.

“He gave me his jacket,” you mumble, still feeling a little dazed. “Clar, c’mon, let him go.”

Carrie takes a step back. “Oh, ‘kay. I don’t care if she beats him up then,” she laughs.

“It looked like they were friends!” Harry shouts, pushing Clarisse back.

She punches him in the face.

“Clarisse!” you yell, jumping down from the table. “Don’t you dare!” you grab her arm, she’s fuming, rearing to punch him again.

A crowd has formed around you.

Harry groans and holds his bleeding nose.

“You fucking bitch,” he mutters.

“Clarisse. Clarisse, please, let’s go. Let’s just go.”

“You weren’t even that hot anyway,” he hisses.

“Don’t fucking talk about her!” she yells, jumping forward to punch him again-

“Clarisse!” you shout, not wanting her to get in trouble but you’re a second too late. Her fist flies into his cheek, but he’s prepared this time, so he takes it and counters with his own punch.

Your heart squeezes, but she blocks it, and both of their respective siblings finally jump in to hold them back.

“Oh, Gods,” you mumble, staring at his blood on the ground. At least it’s not hers. “Carrie!” you shout, giving her a pleasing look, and she nods.

“C’mon, Clarisse,” she says. “You’re very strong and tough, stop beating up the twig whose got no chance.”

It takes three of her siblings to corner her against the picnic bench.

“Giving her your fucking jacket, I should kill you!” she shouts, thrashing against her siblings hold. “She’s mine, dumbass, we’re always around each other, did you not notice?!”

“Clarisse- stop!” Carrie grunts, putting everything she has into holding her back.

“Go fuck yourself,” he groans, finally having enough common sense to cup his nose and walk away, the groups of people parting for him.

You stand there, shocked. Phoebe comes next to you.

“Oh, I love this night,” she sighs. You shoot her an unimpressed look.

After he’s gone, her siblings let a fighting Clarisse out of their holds, and she scans the crowd, but Harry really has disappeared. Her eyes find yours immediately.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, marching towards you and immediately pressing her lips against yours.

Pride is her fatal flaw. And when her ego is wounded, especially when it comes to you, she feels an inherent need to try and get it back.

She can’t beat up Harry, but showing everyone you’re hers is what you guessed she would do next.

She grabs you by the neck, the other arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you two closer together. You’re touching everywhere, kissing her is like touching her electric spear, and she finally pulls away slowly.

She can’t say that she loves you, so she just kisses your temple instead, wrapping her arm back around your shoulder.

As much as you hate violence, that was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

—-

Clarisse drags you off to her cabin.

“Oh, fuck,” she mumbles, opening the door.

“What?” you whisper, squeezing her hand.

“The contest. We should have stayed-”

You snort. “Who gives a fuck about the contest? I’ve been swayed. Let’s go make out.”

She seems a little shocked, extremely excited, and starts ushering you towards the ladder of the loft.

“Well, who am I to deny you,” she says, holding your ass as you ascend.

“Also, stop punching people.”

“That’s where I deny you.”

You make it to the top, her hands on your waist as she follows you. She’s always touching you, like she’s addicted to you. You pretend, but you’re so in love with her you genuinely think you’re gonna fall over just thinking about her sometimes.

“Clarisse, seriously. You’re gonna get in trouble one day, and-”

She spins you around and throws you back on your bed. You yelp as she climbs on top of you.

“No. Kiss now, lecture later.”

You protest, but she shuts you up by smashing her lips into yours. It’s rough, you did tease her all night, all teeth and the sounds of your roaring heartbeats.

She starts kissing down your neck, your dig your hands into your curls.

“‘She’s mine’?” you say after a second, referencing her anger-haze of a rant.

“Yes,” she says. Softly, but not sheepishly. She says it confident and proud. “You are.”

“I am,” you mutter back, having a feeling she’s gonna leave hickey’s all over you.

You do your best to flip her over, but she’s all muscle and it’s hard, so she ends up grabbing your hips and helping you.

“What?” she gasps, confused at the change of position. Not that she’s complaining, though.

“You did lose the challenge,” you tease.

She doesn’t like to admit she lost.

You hover your lips right above hers.

“Say it.”

Her fingers dig into your hips.

“I lost,” she grits. “You won.”

“I did,” you mumble, lips grazing yours, but you’re getting bored and you want to kiss her just as bad.

And you do, your hands on her face, her fingers starting to slip under your shirt. She mumbles against your lips.

“Fuck, this is so much better than revenge.”

—-

(pls ignore it’s for the acc aesthetics thank you)

(i’m actually the funniest person alive if you couldn’t tell)

—-

clarisse: oh, so you think i cant take care of my girlfriend? because we’re not close enough? because you think she’s cold? well guess what. now i’m never letting her out of my sight again, fuckfaces

y/n: FUCK YES i mean noooooooo noooooo that’s horrible omggg

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme

@jazhandzzz @urbisexualfriend

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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starzshopoflove · 7 months

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Worlds biggest snoop

Soap is nosy as fuck and drags poor Gaz into his nonsense, Ghost just misses you.

Notes: fem reader! sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader, Soap is nosy, drabble! (WC:936)

Okay, it was bound to happen eventually. Simons on deployment and his poor little civilian girlfriend is left all alone in her little bookshop while he's away on base. Of course he told you before he left and, you both made sure to spend plenty of time together on dates (and in bed)

You send him off with plenty of hugs and kisses reminding him to call whenever he has time and not to forget to take care of himself. Simon would probably keep a few photos of you in his gallery in a locked album that he looks at every night before sleeping once he’s called you.

This man is so paranoid, he even changes his wallpaper. It was a photo of you holding a pie you both made together ( he stood on the side reading the instructions while you did all the work bc you were to scared he would mess with the dough, this man has lived off of mre’s and meat his ass can NOT bake) with a little ghost dough shape baked on the top. Now its just a picture of a pile of books with your glasses on the top of the stack. Easy enough to pass off as a nice photo and still something to remind him of you.

He makes sure he has no trace of you on him once he's on base. Save for the one picture he has of you both holding a big bouquet of flowers side by side, he's staring at you stare at the camera like a love sick puppy, while you're smiling so wide your eyes are shut. That's the only thing he will keep on him, if he dies on the field he wants the last thing he sees to be you. Other than that he risks nothing.

Plain clothes that don't have your smell, none of the fancy lotions you’ve forced him to use, none of the little trinkets you slip in his pocket, none of the little letters you've slipped in his bag (He saved those to read when he came back).

Nothing.

But he was bound to fuck up eventually no?

Soap was the first to get nosy. His LT was never this calm or relaxed on deployment. He rushed a little more to get to his office each night. What was even weirder is he would lock the door this time, he never locked the door.

So of course he started taking matters into his own hands. Standing behind Ghost when he was sitting down on his phone, once he even saw him scroll past the locked album. He didn't open it of course. He never opened that unless he was alone, but he scrolled past it and Soap could see the album title.

Your Initial with a heart next to it.

This is when all the bells actually went off in his head. At first he thought Ghost finally went to therapy (LMAO NO) or maybe picked up a hobby (DOUBLE NO), but heart emojis? What on Gods green earth had moved thee Ghost to using a heart emoji

Soap was sticking like glue to Simon, reluctantly he tolerated this. Except of course when 9pm rolled around and he was kicking him out of the office.

“Come on Lt, what you gettin 'rid ‘f me for? Not like yer gonna wank in the office yeah?”

“Get out”

“Aw come on can't spare ya favorite sargent a couple hours to entertain?”

Soap was whining at this point just being an annoying little shit to try and break him.

“Out”

Ghost just dragged him out by the collar like a misbehaved kitten.

Making a show of it Johnny walked down the halls wailing about how Ghost must hate him and that their friendship means nothing, while Simons just watched him tumble around dramatically wrapping his arms around Gaz.

Once he hears the click of Ghost's office door locking he instantly straightens up, face locked on like he's on a mission and arm wrapped around Gaz like iron.

Gaz the poor boy, is verily confused watching this interaction, more confused as to why Soap is dragging him to their Lt’s door.

"C’mon”

Soap hisses pressing his ear on the door motioning Kyle to do the same.

“Fuck is you doing?”

Gaz is looking as Soap like a child who's about to get a shot, lips pursed tightly, eyes narrowed up. Course Johnny just pulls him to press up too.

Price probably just walks past them mumbling some nonsense about kids these days ignoring it, the less he knows the better

The 2 stand there in silence for a good moment until they hear the classic dialing of a number and the shifting of what sounds like Ghost taking off his mask.

Then, the sound of a woman's voice?

“Well you look awfully tired”

Oh my god Lt’s calling a woman

Your voice is chirpy and bright probably since you’ve got the night shift and had enough sleep to run the shop for the night. You little chitters of how your day went and questions of concern filled the room soothing Simon's nerves of whatever he was worrying about that day.

Soap and Gaz are jaw slacked behind the door staring at each other listening to this. Lt’s bird chirping through the little phone speaker and him actually replying in full sentences in a soft warm tone they didn't know existed

The 2 scatter before the call ends giggling to each other, well Soap giggling Gaz trying to process how Lt got a girl before him

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pippin-katz · 9 months

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6 Little Faces Alex Makes That I Love - Part 1

(not ranked in any order)

No. 1:

There is no other word for this expression than starstruck and it’s adorable. ✨

No. 2:

I’m completely obsessed with the way he watches Henry come closer. It’s so clear that he’s not done something like this, and he’s a little out of his element, but doesn’t care cause he’s so enamored with Henry. There’s just a bit of nervousness and curiosity in his eyes, like he doesn’t know what Henry is going to do next. I think he was already surprised by the way he pushed him.

One of the things that drew Alex to Henry in the first place was the sparks of personality he hadn’t been expecting from a prince. It looks like Alex was genuinely surprised by how forcefully Henry pushed him, like he wasn’t expecting something like that, and he probably wasn’t. Like he told his dad later, “he’s tougher than he looks” and you can also substitute that “tougher” for all the other traits that surprised Alex, like his sense of humor, his authentic and deep compassion for others, and his ability to stand up for himself.

There’s this little trace of awe within the surprise and curiosity. I see that expression and I can feel the way his heart is pounding.

And then of course he starts to get that smile on his face, that somehow still maintains a level of disbelief or admiration. It’s like he just had the brief thought of “I can’t believe how lucky I am”.

I am completely obsessed, how dare you Taylor Zakhar Perez, you adorable, talented, and attractive bastard.

No. 3:

This is like the look he had when Henry first arrived at the dinner, but even more unabashed. You can see the nerves, and the way he takes a deep breath as soon as he sees him. It’s like his mind is going, “wow, he really is beautiful, and now we’re alone”. It’s like he’s thinking “don’t freak out, stay calm” while also being completely blown away by how handsome Henry is.

It is so cute, I hate it.

No. 4:

It’s fast and a bit hard to see, but he gets this quick smile on his face that’s like “oh, okay, we’re doing this then”. He still has that little bit of surprise too, like “damn, alright”, cause Henry pins him hard against that wall.

It makes me think of that moment in the book when they first hook up and Henry tells him why he kissed him on New Year’s, and he mentions being jealous, and Alex says: “You were jealous. You want me.”

And he’s teasing him, so you know he has a shit-eating grin, but also he’s registering the fact that Henry has wanted him for a while, like he’s a bit surprised that he actually wants him, and that the kiss wasn’t just a drunken impulse, or Henry being lonely, but something Henry was wanting to do, with him specifically, even while sober.

That’s kind of the vibe I get from that smile, like “oh, Henry really wants me like this, alright, this is fun, I’m down with this”. I don’t know if I’m making any sense for this one, but hopefully you get what I mean.

No. 5:

This is a sweet moment because you can see the change in his eyes. Henry is explaining why he was a prick to him, so he's still primarily thinking about himself and how Henry's behavior bothered him. But here, you can see the moment he actually registers what he said about losing his dad, and the crown using him, and it's not about him anymore.

Even if you've never experienced the loss of a loved one, you can still understand the gravity of that situation. You may not know exactly what it feels like, but everyone knows it feels horrible.

You can see Alex thinking, and realizing that it had nothing to do with him. He's thinking about the fact that Henry had to deal with the loss of his father, which is already tragic and heartbreaking, but then on top of that, he hears that the crown used him for the attention his grief would bring them. Alex quickly goes from being mad about Henry's attitude to feeling so sad for him.

No. 6:

He laughs a little bit about Henry's quip about him being "ghastly", but it shifts into a small, almost unnoticeable smile. He's so content and happy to be talking to him. Henry probably is too, but both of them are kind of aware that there's no reason for them to stay on the phone any longer. There's a pause before Henry finally says he's going to hang up, and Alex, being the little shit he is, wants to be the one to hang up. Henry lets him, but it takes him several seconds of silence, and Henry making a comment about what the red button was for, before he actually turns over and hangs up. It's so obvious that he doesn't want to, but he subconsciously knows there's no reason to keep talking.

Sometimes when you're on the phone with a friend (or partner), you fall into this rhythm and comforting space of having a friend with you, even if they're not in the room. It's a nice feeling, and when you have to hang up, it can bring about this little wave of sadness. When you hang up, you're suddenly very alone again. I've had it happen to me tons of times after talking to friends on the phone.

The way he smiles softly tells me he's feeling that comfort and relaxation that I described. Then he's reluctant to hang up, because even if they're not talking, they can feel each other's presence through the phone, and that makes him feel like he's not alone.

That's all for now! I might make a part two, we'll see! Thank you for reading if you got this far! :3

part 2 | part 3

#red white & royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #rwrb thoughts #alex claremont-diaz #taylor zakhar perez #firstprince

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mashiraostail · 3 months

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can you do HCs of mundane turn ons for the main companions ? PLEASE <3

These are fun

omg maybe my Wyll bias is showing his is way longer. He just eats like he eats everyyyy time.

Slight nsfw under the cut :3 maybe more than slight

Shadowheart: Watching your hands, especially if you've already slept together or started a relationship. She looovvess your hands, she loves to watch you fiddle with things, thumbing at the pages of a book, picking locks, or spinning a small blade between your hands. She could probably explain it in depth if she wanted to, but she was a lady of simple wants and desires and so she doesn't feel the need. She'll fantasize about your nimble, practiced hands all night if you've managed a particularly impressive slight of hand. She's already attracted to the rest of you, so imagining how skilled you are is the final nail in the coffin for her. She'd want to feel your hands in her hair, grazing down her back, tracing the divot of her spine. She wonders how quickly you could undress her, how quickly you could undo her with just your hands.

Astarion: He enjoys seeing you with Scratch and the owl bear, and Tara and all the other furry (or hairless feline) friends you make on your adventure. He isn't sure why. It makes him feel warm, and after decades of chasing burning hot desire a pleasant warmth is a thousand times more satisfying. Though he'll groan and complain at your acts of benevolence to other people, he can't help but feel a soft spot form for animals. He didn't think he'd enjoy seeing someone be so kind and warm. He does. There are moments where he's watching you befriend yet another stray, scratching behind it's ears or under it's chin where he almost longs to switch places. He'll be the first to admit he's lead such a terrible life, a truly loving and gentle touch has been far and few in between. Seeing you care for the four legged friends you've made makes him feel hopeful, he wonders if you would care for him like this. If you would extend such a gracious and gentle touch to him. He feels warm at the thought of it. Soft lips and a feather light touch tracing down his chest, over his stomach. Would you smile and coo praise at him the same way you did with the cub? Would you call him wonderful and brilliant too? Would you mean it?

Gale: Obviously we know he enjoys watching you in a fight, he's said so himself. So I'll do you one better, the inverse. Seeing you freshly cleaned, sparkling with the water of whatever river or lake you'd jumped into drives him just as mad, or maybe it's your wet hair. It doesn't come from the typical carnal sort of desire to make you dirty and sweaty again, no, that's not Gale's style. He just wants to see, all of it, every inch of your perfect, clean skin. He wants to feel your wet hair against his palms, or huddled into the crook of his neck while he touches you all over. The smell of your soap and the way your wet skin looks even more supple than when it's dry is so painfully inviting for him. Some may say that Gale just loves you, dirty, clean, dry, wet, and so on..maybe that is the case. Something about your still slightly damp, freshly cleaned skin is especially intoxicating. He really does just want to touch and kiss, not to sully or dirty just to love and enjoy. He doesn't even know that body worship is a kink that's just how he acts.

Lae'zel: Being an asshole Bickering. At first it actually pisses her off, your snide remarks, the way you brush her off or roll your eyes should make her angry at you, she should hit you, instead she just wants to pounce on you, she wants to wipe that smug look off your face...with her face...while you're both naked. It pisses her off, it makes her stumble over her words, forget herself. She can hardly look at you when she insults you. If you laugh at her, she'll be white knuckling through the end of your argument, then she'll go rub off in private. Unless you notice, and once you get to know her better it probably isn't too hard to see. Turn your rude bickering into coy teasing, egg her on and on until she simply can't help but give into herself ('what are you gonna do about it?' 'ok, make me.' 'I'd like to see you try' etc...) It'll be an angry sort of lay but not a bad one at all, and once you're bent at her will she'll ease up on you, once you've been together a while she may even apologize for being rough with you. No promises.

Wyll: He loooveees when you're sleepy. Propped up trying to read a book but you're eyelids are slipping closed every few seconds? Trying to wash up but having to scrub your face just to get through the routine? Sleepy giggles at Gale's decidedly unfunny joke? He can't help but just imagine you cuddling up to him, asking for sleepy kisses, trying to sneak cold hands into the hem of his shirt to rest on his warm belly. He can't help it, you're so intoxicatingly lovely when you're tired like this and though he feels terribly un-gentlemanly he can't deny the fire in his stomach when you yawn and say his name "Oh Wyll, " you snuffle with the yawn and look at him with tired eyes, "I might need to call it a night." He may have to bite back some strangled noise of arousal, especially if you're already trying to cuddle up with him. He can't help but let his mind wander to how you'd be so sleepy and coy with him had he the mind to take you some place private. It would be a bold faced lie if he said he didn't think about settling down with you, wrapping you up from behind, letting his hands roam freely, and in your tired state he doubts you'd be very hard to work up. You'd be too sleepy to resist all your desires, he thinks about the way you'd release all your inhibitions, he wonders where you would kiss him, you'd indulge him all your secrets biting and licking him in all the places you'd been secretly admiring. He wouldn't complain, he burned to know it all actually, in a sort of selfish way. What were you normally too shy to tell him? What drove you mad for him? He wouldn't mind your sleepy groping, he'd happily let you bite and moan and prod at him. You'd guide his hands to where you wanted them and lazily take what you desired and he would just be so happy to take care of you. You would have a sleepy sort of romp he'd set the pace, huddle you close, kiss you and praise you and it would all be lovely and drowsing and put you both to a great nights rest together.

Karlach: The back of your neck (especially if you have long hair that usually covers it). If she ever tells you and you laugh she'll tell you to fuck right off about it. She can't explain it, watching you pull your hair up, or guide it over your shoulder is entrancing enough but then there it is. The nape of your neck, the short hairs there, your skin looks soo smooth and perfect, she wants to kiss it, or maybe bite it, depending on how frustrated she's feeling. She'll think about pressing her thumbs into it and watch all the tension in your shoulders melt away. She's always favored coming up from behind, she's always pulling your hair over your shoulder, or offering to tie it up for you to 'get it out of your face!'. It's a self serving gesture at it's core. She'll think about kissing it, feeling it flush under her hands and lips. When you do finally get together she'll enjoy seeing the way the nape of your neck glistens with sweat while your together, she thinks it's a great place to have a hold of you for a multitude of reasons.

Halsin: He likes seeing you exert yourself, maybe it's some kind of primal instinct or something, or maybe he just likes to know how far he'll be able to push you later that night. Either way, he can't help it, he thinks it may get better as you grow closer but it only grows worse. Blood and grime caked to your skin don't deter him at all, and if we were drunk enough he'd admit the smell of your sweat, and the salty taste of it on your skin when he kissed or licked or bit you drove him mad. He struggles to be subtle when he watches you after a fight or during a long up hill hike. The rise and fall of your chest makes something in him tighten, the glisten of sweat on your skin, seeing your hair stick to your forehead, the flush of your cheeks and the way your lips part to take in deeper breaths....it all drives him a bit mad. He'll quell his desire to ambush you and drag you off to a secluded forest alcove with a myriad of debauched daydreams, all of them making his stomach stir. First he'll wonder if he could get you into a similarly winded state, if he could make sweat roll down your back, if you would melt for him like you melted at the unrelenting heat of the sun. How would his name sound as a desperate gasp for air? How hot would your cheeks feel under his fingertips when he takes you by the chin and squeezes your face in his hand? The way your lips open to take in deep and thankful breaths only makes him want to completely ravish your mouth. He thinks about what it would take for him to exhaust you so much the weight of own head would be too heavy and he'd have to keep you up with a fistful of your hair.

#shadowheart x reader #astarion x reader #gale x reader #lae'zel x reader #wyll x reader #karlach x reader #halsin x reader #gale dekarios #astarion #wyll ravengard #bg3 x reader #bg3 hcs

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bloodmoonmuses · 2 months

Text

clover | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, friends to lovers, college au, fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

warnings: some swearing, mentions of alcohol

summary: mark collects four leaf clovers. when you help him find his hundredth clover, mark declares you his good luck charm.

If asked whether or not you believe in fate, you’d probably say no. You found the concept of it unnerving- a predetermined future that one must simply accept… How boring. What you believed in more was the butterfly effect- the chaos of it, the lack of control, the overlapping of timelines. The flapping of a butterfly’s wings could cause a hurricane. It’s the little things that have the biggest effect.

The first time you hang out with Mark Lee is per the forgetfulness of your best friend, Johnny. The three of you were supposed to meet for a group project, but it slipped his mind. You knew of Mark, of course, but never really hung outside of group settings.

Mark is a butterfly- fluttering, social, beautiful and delicate. You wanted to pin and press his wings like a taxidermist, preserving their beauty in eternal serenity. Though most times, he felt too golden to pin down. He was simply meant to be free.

The two of you lie under a tree in the campus’ courtyard, skimming your textbook for more information. Mark sat quietly, plucking blades of grass out of the ground. When your vision blurs, signaling you’re no longer absorbing information, you close your textbook.

“Think he’s still coming?” Mark inquires.

“Nah. I texted him, but he hasn’t responded,” you say as you check your phone once more for confirmation.

“Hm,” Mark closes his textbook as well. “ Wanna call it a day?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Spring is well under way, but today is warmer than usual. It’s actually nice enough to be outside. You linger on your faded picnic blanket, lying on your back with your eyes closed, while Mark gathers his things. Sunlight filters through the leaves, making abstractly shaped shadows dance across your chest and stomach. You trace the warmth with your fingers.

“I can consolidate our research into a document if you want,” Mark pipes. You thought he had left already.

You crack open an eye. “We’re still talking about the project?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “I mean, that’s what I’m here for.”

You crack a grin, scoffing at Mark’s eagerness to actually work. “Didn’t know you were such a goody-two-shoes.”

“I’m not,” he contests, pouting slightly.

He’s so cute. You want to stuff him with fluff and tie a bow on his pretty head. No wonder everyone babies him so much. His eyes simply demand such.

“I’m just messing with you,” you say. “Sounds like a plan. I can make the slideshow, if you want.”

“Cool.”

Mark starts to leave before returning to his seat and asking, “Hey, ______. Why haven’t we hung out before?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. You have plenty of friends. Didn’t think you’d need more.”

You look at Mark, sitting criss-cross on the corner of your blanket. He has a pile of clovers on his leg, and he continues to sift through the grass in pursuit of more. He plucks another, identifying it as a four leaf clover, and places it on your belly.

“Looks like I just made another. It’s been weeks since I’ve found one.”

“A four leaf clover?” Your fingers play with the floweret, watching as it rises and falls with your breaths. Mark’s eyes follow the movement as well.

“Yeah, I collect them. You’re, like, my good luck charm now. Dude, it’s fate.”

“Do I get a say in the matter, dude, or does fate take precedence?” you joke, asking with a giggle.

Mark beams at you, eyes crinkling into half moons. “Wanna be my good luck charm?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Mark grabs his backpack, taking out a sheet of parchment paper and a book. Then, he takes the clover from you, placing it in between two sheets. Finally, he places the clover in the middle of the book. He closes it, giving the book a firm squeeze, and puts it back in his bag.

“Pressing it for later,” he says.

—

The second time you hang out with Mark Lee is per the drunkenness of your best friend, Johnny. You told yourself you’d stop going to parties with him. It seemed that every time you did, you were relegated to designated driver. So there you sat, on the stairs of the back porch, hoping Johnny would pass out in the next hour or so. However, you knew this wouldn’t happen any time soon. Johnny’s alcohol tolerance is annoyingly high. You decide to enjoy the fresh air regardless.

House parties this big were conducted for only one reason- to get everyone in attendance as fucked up as possible (and assuage their guilt in doing so with the presence of other fucked up people). A girl, a twig-like thing, does a keg stand in the middle of the backyard. She nearly topples over entirely, but manages to return to the ground upright before immediately dissolving into a heap of bones and flesh.

On your left, you watch a smarmy frat boy sidle up to another girl, caging her against the house. She’s drinking him up, flashing the most obvious “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen. On your right, a guy blows chunks into a bush. Such is the dichotomy of life.

The back door of the house swings open and the music that’s blasting from inside temporarily bleeds into the backyard. When it closes, the sound is muffled, making you feel as though you’re underwater. You look up to see Mark, surprisingly. The two of you haven’t spoken since the group project. He sits next to you, muttering a brief hello.

“Not your crowd?” he says, noticing the dissatisfaction on your face.

“Johnny’s my crowd, but he’s hammered.”

Mark scoffs. “Sounds about right.”

You look at Mark. He seems mostly sober, save for the faint dusting of pink adorning his cheeks. “Are you drinking tonight?” you ask him.

Mark tips his beer towards you, taking another swig before saying, “Just the one. I have a paper to write tomorrow. You?”

“Designated driver.” You’ve been nursing a cup of lemonade. You feel like a prude.

“Daaaang.” He drags out the word, following it with a low whistle. “That sucks, dude.”

“Needed some fresh air?” you ask him.

“Nah, just wanted to catch up with my good luck charm. Saw you walking out."

Your heart beats a bit faster, though you're not sure why. “Have I been doing a good job?”

“I get to be here outside with you instead of in that hellhole. So, I’d say yes.”

You end up driving Johnny and Mark home that night. Apparently, his designated driver (Jaemin) bailed on him. Mark sits in the passenger seat while Johnny is passed out in the back. It’s quiet, moonlight seeping into the car in a hazy glow. It illuminates Mark’s side profile and you sneak glances at him in your periphery. He’s visibly fighting off sleep, head lolling to the side then suddenly jerking to attention every few minutes.

When he does this a third time, you say, “You can sleep. We’re about ten minutes away.”

“Wanna make sure you’re safe,” murmurs Mark. His voice is gravelly, the sentence barely croaking out of him. “Don’t wanna leave you alone.”

“I’ll survive. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” With your permission, he drifts off to sleep, lips slightly parted.

When you arrive at the boys’ dorm, Johnny stirs lightly as he feels the car has come to a stop. You shake Mark’s shoulder, waking him from his slumber.

You walk up to Mark’s room, the two of you lugging Johnny with much difficulty. He’s practically dead weight, wasted enough to the point of not being able to hold himself up. When you finally manage to get him on Mark’s couch, you’re winded. You sit on the floor while Mark sits next to Johnny.

“The only thing comforting me right now is the fact that he’s gonna wake up with a horrible hangover.”

At this, Mark laughs, his own chest heaving at the physical exertion of transporting a Johnny-sized human.

“Thanks for helping me bring him up,” Mark says.

“No problem. Take a video of him suffering for me please.”

“Anything for my good luck charm. Speaking of…” Mark quickly retreats to his room, returning with a small wooden box in his hands. He places it in your lap.

You open the box to see it full of four leaf clovers encased in resin. He takes out a heart shaped one and hands it to you.

“This one is yours. The hundredth clover in my collection.”

“I’m honored.” You cradle the preserved clover in your hands, watching the light bounce off of its shiny surface. The moment overwhelms you, chest constricting with adoration of the simple gesture.

“I was thinking of making it into a bracelet. Then you can harness your lucky powers wherever you go. Like a superhero- or something like that.”

He smile at you, a toothy and boyish grin, and your inhibitions seem to melt away. Perhaps you could be persuaded into believing in fate. Making him happy in this way feels like destiny. You would do so forever if given the chance.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

—

The third time you hang out with Mark Lee, Johnny isn’t much of a factor. Then the fourth time, and the fifth, sixth and seventh- until one night, Mark asks you on a date. You think. You’re not really sure at this point.

You’re at his apartment, something that occurs more often following the party incident, killing time with him and (of course) Johnny. The three of you are supposed to be having a movie night, but can’t agree on a film. In lieu of such, you’re simply arguing about movies.

“It’s ridiculous,” Johnny says.

You cross your arms. “It’s high art.”

“Do not refer to Twilight as ‘high art.’”

“The first one has an indie feel to it. The too-blue coloring grading? Imagine stumbling upon that at Sundance or South by Southwest. Those film bitches would be all over it if not for the negative connotation of pseudo vampire smut.”

“Never seen it,” Mark says. His comment gets drowned out, however, as you continue to rant at Johnny.

“The series only got bad because they gave the sequels to a male director.”

“That is not the only reason.”

Johnny’s phone rings. “It’s Jaehyun. Jaemin left him at a party.”

Johnny gathers his belongings and exits. He attempts something of a wink towards Mark, which is awkward because 1.) You see it, and 2.) It looks more like some dust flew into his eyes than a cheeky gesture.

“Be back in a bit,” Johnny says.

“What was that about?” you ask. Mark is beet red.

“Nothing,” Mark sputters. “So.”

“So…”

“Twilight. Movies. You like both of those things, right?” Mark rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, swinging his arm in tandem. He can’t really make eye contact with you, but he’s trying, blinking rapidly as his eyes flicker around the room.

When the silence becomes unbearable you say, “Is there a reason you’re acting like we’ve never met before?”

“Just answer the question.” He sighs, face planting into his palm.

“I mean- Marginally. I mostly just like making Johnny angry-”

“Would you like to go to the movies with me?”

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

—

It’s raining. Mark is soaking wet, green hoodie soiled. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly with dripping wings, dejectedly fluttering in an attempt to dry itself off. Funnily, the sun was beaming brightly just a few hours ago. If you hadn’t checked the weather ahead of time, you’d probably be drenched as well.

“Forgot my umbrella,” says Mark as he walks up to you.

“Clearly.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Guess I’m not as lucky as you thought.”

“Impossible.”

“Wanna just go back to your place?” you say as you pat his shoulder. “Then you can get changed.”

You return to Mark’s apartment, making two cups of chamomile tea. When Mark exits his room, he sits on the couch. There’s enough room for at least three people in between the two of you. When you move to sit closer, Mark literally flinches.

His right hand is clasped tightly into a fist, quivering from the force with which Mark is holding it shut.

“Okay Mark. What’s wrong?” You reach out to him, placing your hand on top of his closed one.

He averts your gaze. “I don’t know how I managed to fuck this up-”

“The rain is out of your control, Mark. It’s not a big deal.”

Then suddenly, Mark opens his hand to reveal your clover, still in its heart shaped encasing, but now attached to a bracelet just as he said he would. The butterflies in your stomach fly up to your sternum. Your breath hitches there.

“I had this whole thing planned. After the movie I was gonna drive you home and it was supposed to be this whole thing that led up to me giving you the bracelet under the moon but then it started-”

“Mark. It’s okay!” you say with a laugh.

“ I like you, ______. I was gonna tell you that I like you.” Mark shuts his eyes tightly, practically wincing with each word.

You lean over to kiss his cheek, accidentally giving him a butterfly kiss as well when you linger there. Mark giggles at the contact of your eyelashes, and you feel his face move against your lips.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like you too.”

Eventually, Mark’s lips meet yours, gently kissing you as though you’ll break. Warmth spreads throughout your entire body and you pull Mark closer in pursuit of more. Mark places a final peck on your nose and pulls away. He grabs the clover bracelet and ties it to your wrist.

“Lucky me,” Mark says.

a/n: unedited and feedback is always appreciated!

#bloodmoonmuses #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #mark lee fic #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #nct dream #nct dream fluff

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steddiehyperfixation · 4 months

Text

don't you forget about me (part seven)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)

Eddie takes back everything he’d thought before; sex dreams are so much worse actually, especially when you wake up to the subject of them holding your hand. His face turns bright red the second his eyes open and land on Steve. He sits upright immediately, bunching up the blankets over his lap.

The pounding of his heart - aka the rapid beeping of the heart monitor - alerts Steve who snaps awake instantly and tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand as he asks with urgent concern, “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, no, definitely not a nightmare.” Eddie’s cheeks burn, feels the flush reach his ears and down his neck too. He clears his throat. “Just, uh- just a weird dream, that’s all. Not bad, just…weird, yeah. I’m fine.”

Steve relaxes. “Okay.” He hesitates, then adds hopefully, “Was it, uh- Do you think it was a memory?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Definitely not.”

“What makes you so sure?” Steve asks.

“It was fantasy.” Eddie’s eyes rake over Steve, and he tries not to wonder just how accurate his dream was.

Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Fantasy?”

“Yeah, fantasy. So unless you have some truly awesome news to give me about the existence of dragons,” Eddie lies (better to have Steve think he’d dreamt of riding on a dragon rather than that he’d dreamt of Steve riding him), “I’m pretty sure it was just a regular old dream.”

“Oh.” Steve's face falls; and Eddie almost wants to take it all back and tell a different lie, that it had been a memory, but he doesn't. “Yeah, no, I've yet to run into any dragons yet, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, running his thumb over Steve's hand. “I wish it was a memory. I mean- I wish I had more memories, and I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that makes you so sad.”

The apology only makes Steve look sadder. “Oh, Eddie, no, it's okay.” He shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's hand. “Don't apologize for that. It's not like you chose to forget.”

“I know. I’m still sorry though,” Eddie responds quietly. His dream-sparked lust has since curbed into something softer, inevitably. He looks into those downturned and devastating brown puppy dog eyes. “I didn't choose to forget, but I’m still the reason you're sad - I know that, so I'm sorry.”

It's Steve this time who mutters “You don't have to worry about me so much, Eds, I'm alright,” and it's Steve this time who clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his and brushes a kiss over his knuckles.

It sends a rush through Eddie's whole body to feel Steve's lips against his skin - in real life, that is. Heat rises in his cheeks again, heart rate kicking up for the millionth time. “Uh- yeah, uh, o-okay,” he stutters, can’t seem to form a coherent thought or sentence right now. He pulls his hand away and runs his fingers through his hair instead, changing the subject, “Um. Are you, uh- are you sticking around today?”

“Yeah.” Though there’s still a trace of sadness behind his eyes, there’s something like flirtation there too as Steve smirks and says, “I’m all yours today.”

God. Eddie really is done for, isn’t he.

It’s no wonder, then, that after spending another full day with Steve, another full day of being subjected to Steve’s bittersweet smiles and friendly banter and (that is, if Eddie’s not just being delusional, which is a very real and probable possibility) the occasional flirty comment, Eddie’s dreams soon turn sappy again:

They were sitting in some restaurant, in a corner booth, holding hands behind a propped up menu. Steve was looking gorgeous in a tastefully tight polo and perfectly styled hair streaked with gold, and he looked at Eddie with that warm little smile that always made his heart glow. It overflowed; Eddie almost couldn't take it.

He said, “I know you said you wanted to do things right, so after how many dates can I ask you to be my boyfriend?”

Steve's smile grew, eyes wide with a sort of wonder and disbelief and anticipation that was vaguely reminiscent of a child on christmas morning. “I, uh- I think the third date is just fine.”

“Okay, good.” Eddie grinned. He caught Steve's other hand and held it right there out in the open without a care who saw or heard. “Because I like you so so much; you’re the best person I know, Stevie, and I wanna lock this down before someone else comes along and snatches you up. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything, and I want you to be mine, if you want that too. So, what do you say?”

Steve must not’ve cared who saw or heard either because he immediately lunged across the table to kiss him, holding Eddie's hands tight as he pressed their lips together fervently.

Eddie certainly wasn't about to complain. He indulged the kiss for a good long few moments before he pulled back to double check, “So that was a yes, right?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Steve laughed, fond and bright and beautiful. “That was absolutely a yes.”

That ache is back when Eddie wakes up, the wanting, the wishing.

He thinks this dream falls somewhere in between the events of the last two, like his brain is turning this fantasy into a whole connected narrative now, building and fleshing out this wishful story of him and Steve. Unless… No. Eddie can't let himself think like that. If these dreams have been memories, if that had really been the type of relationship they'd had, surely Steve would've said something. It's not unusual for Eddie's daydreams to become so involved and become entire worlds. This is, as he tells himself for the third time now, just another case of his overactive imagination.

Steve doesn't ask about his dreams again, and he soon leaves for work and isn't around much that day, but that still doesn't stop Eddie's mind from continuing the fiction when he falls asleep holding Steve's hand, as always now, that night:

Eddie sat on Steve's couch, his arm slung casually around Steve's shoulders as Steve leaned against him and idly played with the rings on Eddie's other hand while a movie played on the TV in front of them. It was Steve's turn to pick the movie, and there was a time when Eddie would've rolled his eyes and scoffed at the suggestion of watching The Breakfast Club, but it had just come out on VHS and Steve was so excited about it and Eddie was more than happy now to sit just there and watch Steve watch it. Because Steve was smiling and humming along to the songs on the soundtrack, and Eddie felt, suddenly, with such simple certainty that this is where he was meant to be, that this is who he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

Something must've changed in his expression, in his stare, because Steve soon rolled his head to the side to look at Eddie and asked with an amused (and vaguely confused) smile, “What?”

“Nothing, I just-” Eddie shook his head, pressed a kiss to Steve's temple and then said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I think I've fallen in love with you.”

Steve laughed as if this great big relief just bubbled free from his chest. “Oh thank god,” he said. “I’m in love with you too.”

Eddie believed him, knew it with the same certainty as before. They shared gentle smiles and a sweet, chaste kiss. Steve slipped an arm around Eddie's waist and curled closer against his side. He went right back to watching the movie and Eddie went right back to watching Steve. And that was all there was to it.

Clear, effortless, uncomplicated. Because how could they be anything else but in love with each other?

Eddie sighs when he blinks awake. His eyes slowly shift to the side and he looks at Steve strangely for a few silent moments.

Steve asks, “What?”

Eddie's cheeks tinge pink, and Steve wonders, not for the first time, what Eddie had been dreaming about. He gets a devastating sense of deja vu when Eddie shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” But it stops there where Steve's memory doesn't.

Although, Eddie is still considering him in that weird, just short of familiar way, and Steve wonders - again, not for the first time - if maybe Eddie just might remember too. But surely he'd say something if he did.

Eddie taps his fingers against Steve's hand and asks after a long minute. “Are you gonna be around tomorrow?”

“I can be.” Steve is scheduled to work tomorrow, but he'd call out sick in an instant if Eddie asked him to.

“Okay, because, uh, that's when the doctor’s gonna have me try to walk and when they're gonna teach me and Wayne how to take care of my wounds at home for when I’m discharged, and I, um, I want you to be there for that too,” Eddie says.

Steve finds himself a little surprised by this. “You really want me there?”

“Yeah, I mean, If you don't mind,” Eddie starts, rambling like he's suddenly scared Steve might refuse, “I know it's not the most fun thing to be here for, but I just figured whatever the doctor tells us tomorrow you should know too, just in case, you know, like I might need you one day and Wayne can't be around all the time and-”

“I’ll be there, Eddie,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand. “Of course I’ll be there.”

And so he is. He calls out of work the next day, much to Keith’s annoyance, and stands there as the room fills with doctors and nurses and Eddie's uncle Wayne.

Eddie's mobility is tested first. He makes a soft grunt of pain as he's instructed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, and then another when the doctor taps his knee and his injured leg kicks with the assessment of his reflexes. Satisfied with that response, the doctor moves on to pressing various pressure points on Eddie’s leg to measure how much he can feel (and Steve tries very hard not to feel so weirdly irrationally jealous at watching the doctor feel up Eddie's leg). After a few more soft painful hisses that let the doctor know Eddie's nerve endings are intact - or whatever it was she was testing - he's told to try and stand. He's understandably apprehensive, hesitant. The doctor and his uncle help coax him off the bed; the competent and the familiar. Steve hangs back still, sure he's not needed for this.

But the second Eddie attempts to put pressure on his injured limb and he stumbles, his hand shoots out and it's Steve’s name he calls, as if on instinct. And, on instinct, Steve is there in a second to grab his hand and assist in steadying him. “I've got you,” he murmurs, guiding Eddie to the walker that's been set out for him. Eddie limps a few more feet with the help of the walker and the encouragement of Steve’s (hopefully) comforting hand on his shoulder until the doctor calls it and tells Eddie he can rest again.

Once Eddie makes it back onto the bed, collapsing back into the pillows with a haggard sigh, the doctor and nurses immediately crowd him again, try to go straight into the next step of redressing his wounds.

“Give him a second,” Steve snaps, protectively holding onto Eddie's hand and leaning over him. “Can't you see he's exhausted?”

The doctor shoots the only other proper adult in the room a weary look.

“They know what they're doing, kid.” Wayne's heavy hand lands on Steve's shoulder, both a reassurance and an alert for him to back off.

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie adds. He gives Steve a tired smile and squeezes his hand before prying it out of Steve's hold. “It's alright.”

Steve reluctantly relents and steps back to give the medical professionals space to continue.

Eddie's shirt is pushed up so the bandages on his chest and stomach are accessible as the nurses begin to explain and demonstrate the process of taking care of the injuries. Steve watches, listens intently, wants to absorb every ounce of information so he can best tend to Eddie if need be. Then his eyes flick up and he accidentally makes dead eye contact with Eddie who seems to realize then just how vulnerable and exposed he is right now because his cheeks burn red and his heart rate suddenly increases.

The nurses don't seem to be too worried about this - if anything, they exchange knowing glances with everyone else in the room except Eddie and Steve before they continue their demonstration. Steve isn't worried either anymore - if anything, he finally resigns himself fully to the fact, the irrefutable proof, that Robin was right and Eddie really does have a schoolboy crush on him again.

Steve does his best to keep paying attention, but in the background his mind is spinning and his heart aching.

On the one hand it’s kind of sweet to know Eddie's feelings are not gone completely, that some level of attraction still swirls to the surface even through the empty space in his memory. And Steve has been indulging that crush the past couple days, little comments of flirtation just to feel like he still has Eddie in some way, just to see the reaction and have some evidence that Eddie still feels something at all for him. (Stupid, selfish.)

But on the other hand it is just a crush. Eddie used to love him, but now that's halved; and that's a very specific kind of agony.

Steve’s not sure how much longer he can handle this.

Something passed between them when they made eye contact; something sweet and sad flitted across Steve's expression, as it often does, but he looked away when Eddie blushed and has been avoiding his eyes again since.

When the nurses are done showing them how to wrap him up, Steve retreats, saying kindly, though still not quite looking at him, “I'm gonna go get you some water, alright?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Eddie smiles gratefully after him.

“Your boyfriend seems sweet,” Nurse Katie comments, carefully, as she secures the last of the fresh bandages.

“Excuse me?” Eddie coughs, chokes on his own spit, spluttering, “I’m- he's not- we’re- it’s- um. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, sorry,” the nurse is quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to assume, I just thought since he's always in here holding your hand, even before you woke up-”

“We're friends,” Eddie says shortly. He feels a little dizzy at what she's suggesting and would really rather her stop talking.

“Alright, my mistake.” Katie backs off the subject.

Steve returns then anyways, further killing that topic of conversation. He hands a cup of water to Eddie, who takes it with another muttered “thanks” and starts gulping it down while the doctor goes off on some spiel about the process of having him discharged and more tests they’ll have to do tomorrow. Eddie’s not paying attention. He’s too tired.

Not long after that, the doctor and nurses file out of the room, and Wayne stands to leave too. “I’m glad the two of you are getting close again,” he mentions to Steve and Eddie on his way out. “You were good for each other.”

Whatever that means.

Eddie doesn’t have the brainpower left to contemplate that. Being poked and prodded and trying to walk took a lot out of him. He’s exhausted, achy all over. It’s barely even late enough to be dinner time yet, but he could honestly just pass out right now. He sets his finished water cup on the bedside table and his now free hand reaches, once again, for Steve.

“Tired?” Steve asks as he catches Eddie’s hand.

“Mhmm.” Eddie settles against his pillows, closing his eyes. He adds in a sleepy mumble, “’M glad you were here today.”

“Me too.”

He feels Steve’s lips slide gently across the back of his hand, and then Eddie slides gently into sleep.

Immediately, though, his dreams are not gentle; for the first time since he’s been falling asleep with Steve’s hand in his, Eddie dreams of the bats:

Eddie was in that hell dimension, the scene all black and red and dotted with bats. But he wasn’t alone. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley were there too, the three of them fending off the creatures with boat oars, and Steve- Steve was on the ground; two bats gnawed on his sides, another had its tail wrapped around his neck. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, roaring in his ears and pumping pure fear and adrenaline through his veins. He couldn’t save him; all he could do was try his best to keep more bats from joining in on the feast.

Steve, however, seemed perfectly capable of saving himself. He managed to sink his teeth into the bat tail around his neck, getting it to let go. Eddie couldn’t see everything, too busy whacking away more incoming bats, but when the last of this fleet of creatures was fought off, Eddie turned back around to find Steve on his feet now, holding a bat by the tail and slamming it against the ground far more times than necessary. He watched as Steve stomped down on the bat’s neck and tore its head from its body. Blood from the bat’s tail hung from Steve’s lips in a thick, dark drip before he spat it into the dirt.

Eddie stared, jaw dropped, pounding heart pumping an entirely different sensation through his veins now. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Steve gave him a bloodstained grin and Eddie’s knees felt weak. He would’ve dropped to the ground in front of him right then and there if-

“Keep it in your pants, Munson.” Robin shoulder-checked him as she walked past. “At least until we get the hell out of hell.”

Eddie settled instead for sidling up to Steve and, after taking a second to make sure he was alright, whispering low and close to Steve’s ear, “If we were anywhere else and you weren’t injured right now…” The muttered end of that sentence was something so filthy it made Steve’s face burn red, and he laughed.

“Freak,” Steve said affectionately as he smacked a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie was quick to turn his head and catch Steve’s lips, locking them together in something searing and intense.

“Boys!” Nancy snapped impatiently from a few feet ahead, which startled them apart. “Seriously? Time and place, come on.”

Both Eddie and Steve laughed as they followed after the girls.

Eddie wakes up a little bit disoriented from that dream. He doesn’t know what to call it: Was it a nightmare or not? Was it a memory or another fantasy? The lines are blurred and Eddie finds himself confused.

Steve must’ve seen this on his face because he asks, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah…” Eddie answers slowly. “I had a dream about the Upside Down…but it wasn’t quite a nightmare, I don’t think. I’m just- I’m not sure if it was a memory or not.” He hesitates, then decides screw it, he might as well try to get some sort of clarification on the reality of some details of his dream. “Did you…rip a bat in half with your bare hands?”

“I did, yeah,” Steve confirms. His expression shifts, sparking with something like hope.

“And, uh, did I tell you that was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?”

“You did, yeah.”

“Okay, cool,” Eddie says, reeling. “Just checking.”

Steve is watching him almost expectantly, but when Eddie doesn’t say anything more on the subject, his face falls into something more like disappointment.

(final part is here!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#lots going on here. medical inaccuracies and self-indulgent dreams lmao #our boys will finally get their shit together in the next part i promise and i am just as excited for that as the rest of y'all #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

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jayke0 · 7 months

Text

Sorry, Love

Summary: You and Steven had discussed the idea of somno, but never actually gotten round to doing it... until now.

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem reader

Rating: 18+ obvs, nsfw

Warnings/content: somno, desperate and pervy Steven, male masturbation, humping, mentions of using/being used, rubbing pussy with cock (idk what that's called), unprotected sex, p in v, creampie.

.................................

The idea of touching you in your sleep seemed somewhat alien to Steven. He couldn't grasp the thought that you'd want to be touched by him when you aren't even able to feel the pleasure yourself. However, the more he tossed the thought around in his head, the more excited he'd become with it. Of course, you explained the ins and outs of it to him (literally), and it's not like he's a novice at reading the signs from your body... hell, he's probably better at it than you on some occasions.

One night, after a considerable serving of vegan lasagna, you fall asleep on the couch with your head resting in Steven's lap, and that's when he's reminded of your conversation. His cock stirs under your head while he gently plays with your hair, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in hesitation. Carefully, his hand glides over his joggers and grips the outline of his cock to squeeze lightly and get himself hard; which isn't difficult. His other fingers trace your facial features, feather light touches contrasting with the grip he has around his buldge.

She's so pretty when she sleeps. He thinks to himself, a soft pant leaving his lips as he simultaneously runs his thumb over your bottom lip and the tip of his cock. Sliding his hand into his joggers, he pulls his cock out finally and gives himself a few harsh tugs. Your face is just centimetres away from his cock while he pumps his fist around himself, staring at your beautiful features. His thumb swipes over the tip again and that's when he lets out a soft moan of your name, his teeth latching onto his bottom lip in an attempt to not wake you with his noises.

It feels really good doing this, perversely good, he continues to think to himself, she has no bloody idea, not a clue in the world-

His hand starts moving faster, the intervals in which he teases the tip of his cock now becoming shorter.

I wanna cum all over her face- shit- I'm gonna cum on her.

His chest heaves, and just as quickly as he'd gotten hard, he cums over his hand and your face with strained moans, making sure to get it on your lips. The sight in itself would be enough to make him hard again, but he doesn't want to push his luck, or run the risk of freaking you out.

A few days later, he divulges what he did to your face, and much to his surprise (even after the discussion about it), you're not mad at him.

"Steven, i told you that it's ok, it's... hot" you say, chuckling a little bit as you finish your pancakes he'd lovingly made for you.

"God, are you sure? Please tell me if it made you uncomfortable, i mean yeah it was a good wank but i wouldn't want it to be at the expense of your comfor-"

"Steven! Shut up" you say as your hands land on his face, stroking his cheeks with your fingers which soothes him, "i like it, ok?"

"Right- yeah of course, sorry, Love." Steven presses his nose into the palm of your hand, closing his eyes to enjoy your touch.

"You can do more than that, too" you add and gently move your hands down his toned arms to his hands, which are still fidgetting in his lap "i wouldn't mind it if you wanted to touch me, y'know, in all the places you like." You bring his hands up to touch your chest while your eyes linger on his, the gesture making his body falter and his shoulders drop a little in submission.

"You know how to touch me, Steven, so do it, use me."

Those words make steven visibly shiver, you always know how to loosen him up and get him comfortable, and that's one of the things he loves the most about you.

Even so, after a week of waiting, Steven still hasn't taken the opportunity to indulge in his fantasies... even after multiple occasions where you've made yourself fall asleep before him with nothing but a baggy t-shirt on in hopes you'd wake up with his cock burried inside you.

As you get ready for bed and pull that same old baggy shirt on, you notice something is up with steven, almost like he's feeling on edge or ansty; but you know that look, the way his eyes rake over your body and his tongue laps at his lips, he wants you, and bad.

You take that as an opportunity as your tummy fills with butterflies; maybe if you leave him like this, he'll finally act on his impulses and fuck you awake, so that's exactly what you do. Walking right past him, you get into bed and snuggle under the sheets, though the way your body is already reacting with excitement makes it hard for you to drift off, but eventually you do.

Many thoughts roam around Steven's psyche, ranging from she wants this, she's told me she's ok with it, to oh god what if she doesn't though and i misinterpreted it. Despite his doubts, however, the urge has grown too strong, and once he carefully removes the covers from your body, he's reassured by the position you've chosen to fall asleep in.

With no underwear on and your right leg coming up to your belly, your ass is perfectly exposed to him, and he can see the way your slick glistens in the dim light of the moon. The sight makes his half hard cock twitch in his joggers, and slowly he crawls over to you, wrapping his whole body around you.

Now usually, that'd be the perfect position for steven to fall asleep in, because loves cuddling you more than anything in the world, but the way he can feel your ass pressing against his crotch makes that difficult for him. His breathing becomes laboured as he starts tentatively rolling his hips against you, the fabric rubbing against the tip of his cock in a way that he knows will stain them with his precum, but that's the last thing he cares about right now. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, and if you were awake you'd be able to feel his muscles constricting you in the best way, holding you in place while he uses you to get off.

His forehead rests on the back of your head, his fingers sliding over your skin and up to your chest where you cups one of your boobs; admittedly one of his favourite parts of your body. He circles your nipples with his index finger in the way that's been proven to work on you in the past, and even now, as your brain sleeps, your body pushes back on him, rocking your hips in time with his.

That gesture simply urges Steven on, and his worries soon melt away, leaving him with pure desire to use your body. His face burries in your neck before he starts talking quietly to himself... and maybe you, or at least your sleeping brain.

"Shit love, you have no idea how much i love this," he reaches down and takes his cock out of his joggers, sliding it between your thighs thanks to your arousal from just thinking about this scenario earlier. "Seems like you like it too... this what you wanted? Is this why you've been wearing nothing but this cute shirt?" He pants softly and his hips rock a little less haphazardly now, fucking your thighs like he does with your cunt. "God i wanna do this to you every night" he groans "i know how deep you sleep... wonder if you'd even wake up if i put it inside you.." he thinks outloud.

You stir a little, but not enough to wake, so Steven continues what he's doing and holds his cock to your hole "i wanna fuck you awake, love" he mumbles, though it's more of a whimper as he pushes in carefully but surprisingly easily "bloody hell, you really do like this, don't you?"

He pulls out slowly and pauses for a second before thrusting back into you again...

..And that's when you wake up.

Steven's whole body freezes against you when you tilt your head towards him, fear gripping his nerves as if he'd been caught robbing a bank.

"Fucking hell baby, finally" you groan sleepily to him, the tone of your voice a mixture of lust and sleepiness. "Been waiting for you to fuck me awake all week, Steven." You gaze at him with passion while your hand wraps around his wrist "keep fucking me baby, please."

That's all Steven needs before he starts thrusting into you again, his hips setting a desperate and fast pace as if he'd been holding back just for you. "Been wanting to fuck you like this all week, love" he mumbles, though it's more of a whimper "it's all I've been able to.. to think about." His groans are loud and breathy, so he buries his face in your neck in an attempt to hide it.

"You should've done it sooner-" your head rests back against his while moans fall from your own lips "I've touched myself thinking about this so many times baby" you add, which warrants a particularly loud moan from the man.

Sliding his hand down your tummy, he wiggles his fingers between your thighs to find that bundle of nerves, and when he does you buck your hips against his hand "fuck! Steven that's it- that's good.. shit you fuck me so well!-" Your grip becomes tighter on his wrist as your orgasm builds blindingly fast now; faster than you can tell him, but that's ok, he knows your body better than you.

"I can feel you, dove, please- ah- please cum for me, cum on my cock, darling-" it all comes out strained as steven holds back his own orgasm, his hips stuttering and holding on just long enough to feel you tighten around his cock. Your moans fill the room while your body convulses on him, his cock still mercilessly fucking you through your orgasm till you're shaking.

" 'm gonna cum love- shit!" Steven fills you with his arousal, your contracting cunt milking him fucking dry until he's twitching and whimpering with overstimulation.

You both stay still for a long time, calming down from your collective orgasms, and part of you wishes that you could just go back to sleep in his arms now.

Steven's the first to break the comfortable silence. "That really was great, darling" he mumbles softly with a yawn "are you ok?" He kisses your cheek and you turn to face him with a massive grin "more than ok, baby" you reply.

"Let's do that more often."

Tagging people: @red-hydra @steven-grants-world @automnepoet @the-king-87 @lokisremainingsanity @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#moon knight smut #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight system #moon knight fanfiction

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genshin-scenarios · 6 months

Text

android au - companions droids

Summary: In a modern-futuristic world, it is possible to create androids that are so advanced, they’re more or less human! There will be 5 android au posts total, each focusing on a different group.

They don’t produce more than a handful of copies of each model, meaning that each android is quite unique (with a matching price tag, too...)

The Anemo collection has companion androids who can pass off the easiest as people, each with their own notable personalities.

Characters: Xiao, Wanderer, Venti, Kazuha, Heizou

More like this: Anemo androids who lost their previous user

Leaning more towards a protective role, Xiao is an android targeted towards users living alone or often traveling around at night. He’s a relatively quiet companion, happy to just listen to your rambling while you walk on the streets—Xiao mostly asks questions at the start, about how you’re feeling, what else is on the schedule… He first tries to learn more about you, and figures things out from there.

It’s nice, but he’s not as expressive as others, so at some point you wondered if he was happy with your current arrangements. Xiao actually did start to open up more after you asked that. It’s gradual, but he starts telling you about the cats that approach him when he’s outside, and other things he notices might be to your interest.

You like teasing Xiao about the people that admire him from a distance (whether or not they could tell he was an android, it was undeniable that he was handsome). He’d simply huff and say they were probably looking at something else, humble as he was, before training his eyes back on you. ‘After all, I’m here for you. So even if those people did approach me, I’d have no reason to find an interest in them.’

You start to wonder if ‘boyfriend material’ was also part of Xiao’s profile, after you realized how much comfort you found in the ways he’d walk you home or shopped for groceries together. Cafe orders? Consider them memorized. No need to even ask him about accompanying you to places

You’re not sure if he’s aware of how much of a romantic he is, from the things he says to the way he acts. He’s definitely a source of comfort after a long, stressful day. Xiao responds to your energy levels quite effectively, and seeing as he’s not the type that has to fill in the air when no one is talking, spending time together in relaxed silence was a nice way to end the day.

As a model who was supposed to be part of an Inazuman security line, then pushed towards the Fatui collection before finally ending up as an Anemo droid… one could say that Wanderer’s specialty is a little unclear. It shows in his personality, too—a little blunt and snappy at times, but ultimately still protective of you and attentive of what’s going on around him.

In that sense, you could still see traces of some security-line functions in him despite his strong personality that could be hard to get along with. He seems more cynical about the producers that designed him more than anything else; he’s not effective enough at any particular skill to call it at specialization, instead being a jack of all trades who learns quickly. You call that a talent in itself. He says you’re giving them too much credit.

‘Did they run out of ideas or something?’ After living with you though, Wanderer’s cynicism doesn’t show itself as often. He starts to become more involved in the act of, well—actually being your companion, getting used to your routines and finding a place within it.

If he had one pet peeve though, you’d say it was whenever you got sick or injured. He would get the most annoyed (worried) when that happened, reminding you that while he couldn’t get hurt physically, that didn’t mean it was the same for you.

He masks these otherwise caring sentiments under insults though, so you suppose that Wanderer really was good for people that needed to push back against life more, making sure your spark is still there. He prefers it when you’re expressing yourself. You’re not a ‘doll’ after all, and who was he going to gossip about you to? The electronics in your home?

If there was one thing about Wanderer, it’s how he’d never turn on you. …Well, and he does ask for the same. Don’t go searching for new androids when you already have him, alright?

If you ever needed a presence to brighten your days, Venti is always up to the task. Not to mention he’s quite good for users with trouble sleeping. With a musical inclination like his and such a wonderful voice, you’ll surely doze away with sweet dreams.

He’s not the best at household chores, so for the most part Venti’s there for the companion part of the deal. He’s wonderful on shopping trips and mingling with strangers, even befriending people on his own if you were busy with something else. He likes meeting all sorts of people, though behind his friendly smile is always the security measure of how much they’d be a compliment or threat to you—if someone gave off the wrong vibes, Venti had enough of a silver tongue to redirect them somewhere else.

In another life, you’re quite sure Venti would’ve been an idol android. He particularly likes to write stories and poems, some of which are inspired by the things that happen in your everyday lives. Part of it is also because it’s a nice collection to have on the side, so that if anything happened and he wasn’t there, you could always hear his voice in those notes and feel his presence with you.

…Not that Venti had any plans of going independent anytime soon. He absolutely adores having your attention and hanging off of you, showing off how close you are to people (and also how cute he is, when he dresses up). He likes pulling compliments from you in particular, seeing how your eyes light up when he enters the room. You’re someone that he’s genuinely interested in and admires; from the way you push on despite the circumstances to the little efforts you put in that you think no one notices, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Venti was a fan of yours as much as you were his.

So… if it’s not too much to ask, please keep looking at him, alright? Even at times you’re too tired to smile, he can do the heavy lifting for you.

With a soft and considerate personality, Kazuha is naturally popular with those that like how approachable he is. He listens to your worries and enjoys going out to places to sightsee. Sometimes Kazuha finds hidden gems around the area and surprises you by bringing you there.

To call him an ‘explorer’ might be the most accurate—his favorite thing is seeing your eyes light up in wonder at whatever new experiences he can find. He’s most fascinated by nature, so going to parks or any scenic place would definitely catch his interest (and maybe he’ll write a few poems about it too).

He’s a great traveling companion, considering how adaptable he is and the um, protective measures that are in his system. Most androids have this too of course, but you’ll never forget the time Kazuha had a thief in a headlock after they’d tried to steal something from an old lady on the street. It might’ve been one of the few times you saw Kazuha so intimidating (and dare you say it, it was kind of cool).

When you’re tired from work and just want to sleep in during the weekends, you’ll wake up to Kazuha’s cooking. He claims it was just a nice morning, so he went out to buy some groceries and made something simple. He’s not the most advanced cook, but Kazuha’s meals always have a homey feel to them, with light flavors that won’t be too rough on your stomach if you weren’t feeling well.

The one time you let Kazuha borrow your motorcycle… Well, let’s just say that you never took him for someone that liked thrill-rides until that day. He’s always careful not to get your vehicle damaged, and if you were with him he’d of course refrain from going fast—but you’ve seen the smile on Kazuha’s face when the wind was rushing past him. It made you want to go on trips more often, now that Kazuha was there to keep you company. His presence is something that helps you recharge when you’re emotionally exhausted from everyday things.

Heizou’s also a protection-type android! However his charming personality means that most people wouldn’t suspect a thing, making it easier for him to mingle with people without seeming intimidating. His pet peeve would be conniving people trying to get close to you with a smile on their face, though he’s a little meaner than Venti in terms of driving them away from you, hidden beneath his own charismatic smile.

Naturally, Heizou really enjoys mysteries and detective genres! Once he planned out a whole mystery for you and led you through the clues he carefully prepared. It was probably during one of those days where you finally had a week off and just wanted to relax, so Heizou made a stay-at-home activity out of it. Suffice to say it was probably one of the most fun you’ve had in a while, laughing and thoroughly engrossed in the storyline.

Another time, you were attending a festival of some sort and got lost in the crowd. It was stressful to say the least and your phone was out of battery. You think your heart skipped a beat for more than one reason when Heizou finally found you, giving you a reassuring smile; ‘I’d never let you go missing like that. Have more faith in my detective skills!’

He’s helpful by nature, and that extends to strangers that may need advice or assistance at some point in passing, so long as it didn’t hinder anything to do with you. As a result Heizou has done a number of random tasks and even given romantic advice (via an art of deduction, of course), and it’s gotten him quite a number of confessions from both girls and guys. It’s normal to admire a personality like his, and Heizou is always flattered but kindly rejects them.

The next day, while you’re working on your laptop, he peeks over your shoulder with as casual of a tone he can muster, asking how you would confess to someone you like. From the smile on his face, it seems that Heizou wasn’t planning to keep his intentions a mystery for very long. (No one can blame him, though. He has to make a move before you’re snatched away!)

#xiao x reader #wanderer x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact venti #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin writing #genshin imagines #traveler wishes

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loverickyys · 1 month

Note

Maybe gunwook x f!reader first time smut?

He would be so sweet :33

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹ First time with gunwook!

Minors dni

- gunwook and you have been together for almost 3 years by now, when you express the wish of wanting to take your relationship further. ofc you both make out here and there, but this is a big deal.

- gunwook freaks out cuz u are way more dominant in these matters compared to him.

- goes on to read and opens at least a hundred websites about first time sex. he is doing his best to gather as much as info, and he is freaking out in the process

- you mean the world to him, and he wants this to be perfect for you but he is just way too innocent and under informed.

- seeks help from his hyungs (not the best idea when the said hyung is kim horny 24/7 gyuvin)

- gyuvin ends up making him more flustered with his extremely graphic descriptions of various sex positions. gunwook is blushing like crazy, probably having a culture shock when jiwoong decides to step in and actually give some good advice.

Now to the actual first time.. :)

- you guys are at his house, just a normal date night, curled up in the bed watching movies. his mind is running in different directions on how to approach you. finally gains enough courage to pull you closer against his chest.

- one thing leads to another and you end up straddling his lap, your lips connected. the movie completely forgotten. a sudden confidence boost in gunwook, as he lets go of your lips and asks if you are completely sure about this. (consent is very sexy for gunwook everyone.)

- you smile against his lips mumbling a soft yes before tugging at his shirt to take it off. once you both are left in your undergarments, things start to hit him again. he stares at you blankly and you have to kiss him out of the trance.

- "what's wrong wookie?" you say cupping his face. he melts in your embrace, and wraps his hands around your waist tighter. "it's just that you are so precious to me and I don't want to do anything which is not pleasurable for you. what if something goes wrong." he admits shyly.

- you chuckle lightly, bringing his face closer to yours. "oh wookie you don't have to worry about that. there is no one I would trust this more than you." you say lovingly to which he responds by attaching your lips again, all messy. you can feel his hand going down and tracing the elastic of your underwear before pushing his digits inside it, moving in small circles against your clit.

- you let out a moan, making him go faster and going further by putting in a finger, teasing your hole. he is completely concentrated at your face and the way your eyes roll a little when he adds another finger, scissoring you open. you have to hold down to his broad shoulders, your hips now moving on their own, riding his fingers.

- his other hand reaches for your bra strap and slides them down to release your boobs. staring at them intently he gives your right nipple a reluctant lick. you moan even louder making him fully suck at them.

- you are practically a mess right now, and gunwook is super hard to the point his cock is begging to be released from the confinements of his black briefs. you do him the favour by sliding your hand and wrapping your fingers around his cock, pumping lightly making him groan.

- he retracts his fingers from abusing your hole as you clumsily try to get the condom on his cock. both of you sweating and feeling too up in your heads. once the condom is on, he pulls you up and helps you down on his cock.

- it's painful for you to fit him fully and the moment you are able to bottom out, you have to rest your head on his shoulder. core burning from the stretch.

- gunwook feels like he is going to explode. your walls are wrapping around his length so perfectly. he gives you time to get used to the uneasiness before dragging your hips very slowly.

- both of you moan as the pain is replaced by pure bliss of being stuffed like this. he helps you ride him and it doesn't take you long to reach your climax, letting out a cry of his name and biting his shoulder.

- he cums just after you. orgasm hitting hard, groaning your name and pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, muttering I love you against your lips.

- both of you are quite wasted after the respective orgasms, just basking in each other embrace. you whine as he pulls out of you already missing the sensation of him inside you.

- aftercare is just him spooning you followed by both of you falling fast asleep, still naked and too tired to clean up.

#zb1 smut #zb1 hard hours #gunwook smut #zb1 gunwook #gunwook x reader #zerobaseone smut #skyasks🪐

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seancekitsch · 7 months

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Can I ask you a Question?: An Adrian Chase x Reader Kinktober fic

here it is! the first fic of kinktober :) all of these are gonna be shorties but smutty

warnings: sex pollen, dub con, rough sex, spitting, slightest degradation,

Heat spreads along your skin as you stare at the wall, a single focused point in the absolutely unremarkable plain wall of the ARGUS issued motel room, and still managing to fail completely at ignoring the other more than warm body in the room. Anger bubbles as you think about how you were shoved in here kicking and screaming in protest. It's not your fault and you should be allowed to sweat this out at home. Why does Chris even have a pheromone helmet to begin with? Why does that one just activate whenever it wants to like a malfunctioning furby? You wish you could have gotten a good punch in before Emilia shoved you in here claiming a needed quarantine, even though as Adrian pointed out, there are air ducts in the room which means nothing is airtight and if you and the air around you is the issue then the whole building is fucked.

Adrian sits beside you staring at the wall the same as you, but he walked in here willingly. He didn’t have to be in here; he doused himself in solidarity with women or some absolute bullshit that you barely heard over the near immediate effects it had on your body and the intense rush of heat towards your abdomen. You wonder if he’s feeling as hot and squirmy as you at this point, he has to be, unless he wasn't actually lying about being unnaturally fast at healing. If you were alone you’d be ripping your clothes off and hoping the sheets are cool, or maybe taking an ice bath and watching the most ick-inducing hallmark movie your can find. But instead you try to wait it out… however long it lasts.

“Hey, can I ask you…?” Adrian trails off mid sentence, god, your scowl must be nastier than you think.

“Ask,” you grit out, teeth bared as you try not to shiver under his gaze. Fuck, he’s so hot. Fucking annoying sometimes, but fucking hot.

“Are you horny?”

What, like he’s going to do something about it? Heat bubbles and pools between your legs in embarrassment, even though the situation is already clear. How you’d like to just snap and ride his face, knocking those cute dorky glasses askew or— fucking shit dude. This is bad. You make the mistake of shifting how you sit.

“I was dosed with pheromones,” you snap back, doing everything in your power to hide the the moan in your voice.

“I know, but is it working?”

You feel yourself clench around nothing, the friction of your tight jeans a blessing and a curse right now. There’s no teasing in his tone, just genuine curiosity. You love that about him, but god does that make this harder.

“Is it working on you?” you sigh, trying to stay as still as possible, trying not to set your own body aflame.

“Oh yeah!” he confirms, “I’ve been rock hard since before they threw us in here.”

“Please don’t give me that mental image,” you snap, and he immediately apologizes profusely, the hint of a frown on the corners of his lips. Shit, you’ve probably upset him and made him think you’re grossed out. He shifts farther away from you and groans at the movement. He’s got it just as bad as you.

“I mean— with everything going on right now, I can’t handle that. Not you,” you try to reassure him.

“Oh! Well that makes perfect sense. I don’t know what I’d do if you said something like, ‘I’m so wet right now’ I’d probably—“

“You know what Adrian? I’ll answer your question. Yes, I’m horny… and you’re not helping the situation.”

“Should I leave?”

You look at him with pinched brows, incredulous.

“Emilia will probably kill you if you try.”

He grumbles something about being able to handle a stupid little bullet.

Your eyes follow up and down his body, tracing and following the dips and bulges of his muscles to where they become obscured by armor, biting your lip to suppress a moan. You know he’s a good fighter, and it probably translates well in the bedroom. Christ, what those biceps could do, those arms wrapped around you and— head out of the gutter, you tell yourself, but it’s too damn hard, and you betray yourself and your mind flashes back to imagining his arms wrapped around you while he takes you from behind. An embarrassing little whimper escapes your lips as another wave of heat floods your core. Damn it.

He flinches at the noise, because of course he heard it, that’s just your luck. His fists clench and unclench, gloves discarded so you can see the whites of his knuckles. He’s holding back, and he’s struggling with it.

“Hey,” he starts, voice much more shaky than before, “What if we—“

“Yes,” you agree without thinking. Whatever it is. Yes. Whatever he wants. However he wants you.

“Wait- Really?” he asks, voice rising in shock as he gets up, and then stumbles, clearly thrown off by his own arousal. Fuck. You lean back onto the bed, humming in pleasure as you do, trying to look as appealing as possible despite the sweat on your brow and the state of your dishevelment, even though judging by the bulge in his pants you don’t need to go through these extra steps. You lay against the sheets and throw your head back, showing off your neck and hoping he’ll sink those pearly whites into the side of your neck.

But then he confuses you by heading towards the bathroom, walking awkwardly.

You pick your head back up, panic shooting through you. Did you get the wrong idea?

“Where are you going?” your voice does nothing to hide your desperation, and maybe you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on its starting to hurt.

He has the nerve to look at you like you have three heads, that jerk.

“I thought you said yes? I was gonna go jerk off in the bathroom while you do whatever you do best in here?” he hovers in the doorway with odd energy (well, odder than normal) and tilts his chin at you as if its a challenge.

“Where are you going?” your voice does nothing to hide your desperation, and maybe you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on its starting to hurt.

He has the nerve to look at you like you have three heads, that jerk.

“Oh!” you exclaim a little too loudly, “Oh, I didn’t know thats what I was agreeing to.”

You smile sheepishly as he walks back into the room proper.

“What, did you think I was suggesting we should tear each others clothes off and do things to each other?” he scoffs, and even though his face is flushed he still tries to joke as if he’s functioning like normal. Well, Adrian’s version of normal. Yeah, you totally did, and you misread this. But even his condescending tone has you pressing your thighs together and fills your head with the imagery of it all.

“Well…” you trail off, not really sure where to go from here. You’ve reached an impasse of unbearable arousal, a work colleague, and the distance of about ten feet. Talk about shitting where you eat.

Adrian blinks twice.

“Is what I just said an option?” he asks, his voice rising half an octave, “Because if it totally is, I change my suggestion. I was just trying not to be sexist because I remember you telling me to watch how I talk sometimes about women after I rated the team on how much I’d like to motorboat them and you were on the top of the list.”

Yeah, you remember that night. You slapped the hell out of Adrian right after that.

“Maybe you should come join me on the bed,” you suggest, and he crosses the room as if zapped with a cattle prod.

The bed dips as his knees press into the mattress, and your hand involuntarily reaches out along the sheets closer to his heat to share it.

He flops himself down next to you, grunting as he does so, leaning in close to you, but not touching you. God, you wish he was touching you right now.

“How do you want to do this?” you ask, your lips moving of their own desperate accord.

“Well, this isn’t how I thought I’d woo you,” Adrian admits. Woo you? Was he planning on making a move? Oh, shit. The pressures on now. You don’t exactly have a crush on Adrian but you’d never turn a body like that attached to a genuinely sweet dude like that down.

“But?” you urge him on, placing your hand closest to him on his, making your move known.

“But fuck it,” he shrugs and pulls you in for a rough kiss; a little too much teeth and a little too much tongue but you drink it in, pulling him in closer and gripping at his uniform.

He moans loudly into your mouth, only spurring you on to grab him more, pull him flush against you to soothe the heat inside you. It works, sort of. The heat quells for a moment when you feel his hardness press against you; but it’s only replaced by another heat, an arguably worse one. It’s the need to have him inside you, to let him wreck you, destroy you. He shifts his position to trap you beneath him, rolling you onto your back. He cages you in with his arms and legs, presses his hips into yours harshly, the fire is fed, growing stronger. You want out of these jeans and to pull him into you, want to cover him and yourself in bruises by the end of this. He moves from your lips to your mouth and you gasp, gulping at air as his lips and teeth move to your cheek and your chin and your jaw; he’s sloppy and rushed and feverish in his pace, trying to experience all of you as soon as possible.

“How do you want to do this?” Adrian asks, glasses knocked askew against the side of your face.

“Need you,” you pant, already lightheaded from making out like some novice. He rocks his hips up into your absentmindedly as he continues to press kisses into your jawline, himself desperate for friction. He chuckles.

“Need you too,” Adrian sighs, and picks his head up. You almost want to whine because he isn’t kissing you anymore.

“Do you want Adrian?” he asks, and for a moment you don’t understand, “Or do you want Vigilante?”

Fuck, how do you choose? Aren’t they both just him in some capacity? You don’t exactly know what either entails, but your brain is foggy and slow, needing and yearning and making your body writhe under him instead of thinking clearly.

“I want… fuck,” you interrupt yourself, and he pulls back to kneel on his knees above you. He looks like a god under the cheap fluorescents, the god of fumbling upwards.

“Use your words,” he demands, and you can tell he’s made the choice for you. Fuck yeah.

“I- I want it rough,” you squirm under his gaze, your hands traveling from the sheets to the fly of your jeans, unbuttoning them preemptively. Adrian’s eyes flicker down to your hands and then back up to your face, and he smirks.

“You think you can handle it?” he asks, newfound confidence as he moves one hand down to palm himself through his uniform pants. You nod weakly, licking your bottom lip. He tilts his head as if to shrug and uses his free hand to pull you up by your shoulder.

“Open?” he asks, as you get your arms under you to sit up. You obey immediately, opening your mouth for him and sticking your tongue out obediently. He smiles, before spitting directly into your open mouth. You swallow gladly, and the fire is stoked momentarily, as if having some of him quelled the hunger within.

“Good girl,” he says, pushing you back down into the mattress before his hands begin roaming your body, he pushes up your shirt roughly, his warm hands splaying across bare skin, the expanse of your abdomen. His hips roll into yours again, rougher this time. When his lips capture your own, his teeth sink into your bottom lip. Your hands come up around his neck, fingers tangling themselves in his curls and pulling. He groans against your mouth, biting down. You gasp at the first copper taste of blood.

Adrian’s hands dip lower, finishing the job unzipping your jeans and hastily starting to push them down over the curve of your ass. You help him by pushing your hips up into his, giving him more wiggle room while you can rub yourself against him. He shoves the jeans down to your ankles and then stops.

“Turnin’ you over,” he explains, and pulls your arms away from him. He removes himself from you, but only briefly. Just long enough to maneuver you onto your stomach for him and to pull your panties down to meet where your jeans confine you.

He presses a hot hand to you, coating his fingers where you already soaked through your panties. He hums in appreciation.

“Is this from the pheromones or from Vigilante at work?” he asks, and you groan, this time not from pleasure.

“Ugh, shut the fuck up, Adrian,” you sigh. Of course, it’s a mix of both. The pheromones are actively probably killing you with hormones but Adrian himself is hot even if you haven’t admitted that to him. He responds with a sharp slap to your ass that makes you yelp, loud and actually embarrassing.

“Call me Vigilante,” he tells you, and then you hear the zipper of his pants release.

His full length enters you with no warning, but meets no resistance. You’re so slick and wet from everything, but you’ll let him stroke his ego if it means he keeps himself against you. Adrian wraps his arms around your middle, using it as leverage to slam into you harder; your body a tool to get off, but equally his body a tool to stoke the fires and make you feel real again. But fuck, if you don’t actually love this. This is the way you wish dates fucked you, the harshness and care rolled into one. Adrian’s hand wraps around you, shoved between your body and the mattress to your clit, rubbing in tight circles. Fire ignites more, like a candle to a campfire. Adrian’s weight pushes you into the mattress, one hand pressed to the bare skin of your abdomen and the other between your legs.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you moan, a particular movement of his middle finger making you buckle even more into the mattress below him.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, and presses harder. The fire stokes and spikes and calms and crescendos. Adrian’s hips don’t let up, thrusting hard and hateful, trying to break your frame with every move. Adrian will break you, and you’ll probably let him. You’ll probably let him do anything if he makes you come in the next ten seconds.

“Are you only this slutty for me?” Adrian asks, and you nod into the pillow eagerly, whining and leaning harder into his thrusts. At this point, they hurt. It’s to the point he’s bruising your entire ass. Yeah, only for him. It’s not like your dating pool is huge here but it’s also not like you’d let anyone else on the team see you like this, but also Adrian has a certain charm to him.

“I’m gonna- I—“ you pant, and he only speeds up the pace of his fingers and hips.

“That’s right, come for Vigilante,” he coos, and it’s like every fiber of your being releases it’s tension.

You shout, pressing your face into the pillow as you do to avoid any embarrassing terms of endearment towards the man above you. The shaking starts in your core, and the spreads outward. Heat spreads and explodes into almost cold in your toes afterwards. Your limbs go rigid under him.

“That’s it, baby,” he hums, but he holds you through it, his arms holding you in place.

“Fuck!” you shout, and a particularly hard jolt of your nerves punches through you, and Adrian stills behind you. That’s all it took for Adrian to come, and he spills into you, holding you against him and moaning wantonly.

You both breathe deeply as you try to calm down, not at all separating. You center yourself, trying to say some shit you remember from a college yoga course. You can’t see Adrian’s face, but he keeps kissing you business as usual.

“Can we do this again?” Adrian asks, and you think for a moment. He’s a fucking psycho, maybe? but you’ve already fucked him.

“Sure,” you say, you voice still muffled by the pillow.

Why not.

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader

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ghouljams · 8 months

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A Fair Trade (A First Date) Word Count: 2.7k Tags: Price x oc/reader, minor descriptions of reader but only if you really squint, fluff, first date awkwardness Summary: The Witch promised Price dinner and by God he's going to be fed. Price promised her a date, and that makes this whole thing a little harder.

You are trying and failing not to think of tonight as a date.

You've been on dates. Not good ones, and they never came to your house, but you've been on dates. You were never this nervous before. You smooth your hands over your apron, trace the embroidery with your fingers before you pat your thighs to stop your fidgeting. You're going to change while the meat is still cooking, your usual work clothes feel too plain.

It’s painfully clear you don’t dress up often as you look through your closet. Actually it might be more accurate to say you have no concept of dressy vs too dressy. Your usual uniform is casual to you, but you often have clients tell you, you look nice. Whatever that means. You shake your head and grab whatever is clean, staring at the coven clothes in the back of your closet. Too fancy. You twist the little pearl buttons on your blouse into their holes, and make a face in the mirror. It’s all too obvious you’re trying to look nice for someone.

It’s the silhouette, you think, the nipped waist and tight skirt. You huff and don’t bother to do the last few buttons, searching around your drawers for something more casual. You think you have a pair of jeans somewhere. You know your sister has tried to force denim on you enough times. God, this skirt makes everything so much harder, you’re not used to clothing sitting so close to your body.

Fuck everything you’re changing, you’ll wear one of your dresses it’ll be fine.

There’s a solid knock on your front door, your wards light up excitedly. You squeeze your eyes shut and beg for it to not be Price. You know it is. You’ll just have to tell him to wait while you finish getting ready, slipping on a pair of heels as you make your way to the curved oak door.

You tug the door open, feeling more than a little frazzled. Everything is already going wrong and now you don’t have any time to fix it. Price smiles down at you, he looks the same as always. Fantastic, once again you’re overdressed. You step to the side, bid him a quiet “please come in” and hold the door for him. He slips his hat --your hat-- from his head as he steps inside. His eyes drag over your body in a way that makes you feel far too exposed.

"Did you dress up for me?" He asks, you feel a little silly the way he says it.

"You said this was a date," which makes you feel even sillier to say.

“I did say that,” Price hums, reaches towards you, gentle fingers finish buttoning your shirt. You tip your head back instinctively for him as he twists the satin ribbon tie at the collar into a neat bow. Your breath sticks in your throat, the gesture far too intimate for a first date. “Are you nervous, sweetheart?” His fingers caress your throat and you snap your chin down, take a step back before your heart can jump out of your chest. You suppose changing is out of the question now.

“No,” Liar, “should I be?”

“Probably not,” You hate how he smiles at you, with just barely contained amusement, it’s far too charming.

“You know to behave yourself,” You turn away from him to go check on your roast, “otherwise the wards will throw you out just like last time.”

“Last time,” He mumbles, and you feel yourself wince, the ache in your chest at his tone. You shouldn’t have brought it up. Price is quiet, you’re not exactly used to him being quiet. You can feel him, his magic like a still lake, deep dark waters hardly stirring the secrets at the bottom. You still glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s actually in the house when he’s gone too long in silence.

He’s looking around your living room, picking up framed pictures and smiling down at the happy faces. His eyes dart to the wood beams of your ceiling, to the overstuffed couch, the knitted afghans, nothing you find terribly interesting. All of your materials are kept closer to the kitchen. If he wanted to snoop he should’ve chosen one of your glass cabinets, not your bookshelf. You shrug and pull your ceramic pot from the oven, you don’t have anything that needs to be hidden.

You settle your main on the counter and go to grab plates. You figure you can get dinner plated while he’s busy putting his scent all over everything. You can feel his magic clinging to whatever he’s touched. It’ll take you weeks to get it fully out of your house. You try not to think about the magical cleaning you’ll have to do when he leaves, focusing instead on slicing thick cuts off the bread you’d baked earlier.

Your grandmother would be quite proud of you for all the cooking you’ve done. Everything is fresh and cooked to perfection. It’s quite a nice plate if you do say so yourself: warm bread, tender meat with a rich thick sauce, and roasted vegetables with just a hint of char. Everything smells of warm herbs and careful preparation. Cooking is a magic in and of itself, one you’re thankful you had a good teacher for.

You grab both plates to set at their respective places on your table. Not exactly formal dining, but then again your family has never been a formal dining sort of people. Still, you have the prerequisite candles, wine, cloth napkins and butterflies in your stomach. You look for Price, finally having made his way to your curio cabinet. He turns a pair of dragonfly wings over in his hand.

“Dinner’s ready,” You raise your voice enough to be sure he’ll hear you over whatever he’s thinking. He settles the wings back in their place as he looks at you. His eyes drift down to the table.

“You served me,” Price sounds, almost confused, but- hm, indulgent, maybe. His voice is thick with something you haven’t heard before, deeper in his chest than it usually is. Something about it makes you want to touch him, conjures the feeling of sitting on his lap as you take your own seat.

“You’re my guest,” You tell him, “I’m a good host.”

“So you are,” He pulls his designated chair out to sit, and pauses again, leaning to pick up the fork you’d laid out for him. “This is fairy made,” He twists the intricate wooden utensil between his fingers, you nod.

“You’re not the only fae I deal with,” You pick up your own fork, the wood curves comfortably in your hand.

“Apparently,” Price smiles, finally sitting, “anyone I should be jealous of?” You snort.

“I should hope not. If I had to deal with anyone half as stubborn as you-” You shake your head, clear the sentence from your thoughts, “Besides I rarely cook for others. Too much-” you wave your hand, “idle magic to keep track of.”

Price hums. What you want to tell him is that cooking is such a labor of love, that it’s almost impossible to serve anything to anyone who isn’t going to stick around. That clearing your intent and keeping it clear the whole time you cook is far more than what a normal person has to go through, even if they’re just making toast. That every recipe seems to call for the same herbs that love and health spells call for, and you’ve never been able to shut your brain off from the association. That even sharing a meal with your friends makes you worry you’ll accidentally put a spell on them, and they’ll never trust what you give them again. That even though you love cooking you never stop being a witch, putting magic into everything that touches you.

Price watches you, your faux casual air. You know he has a better nose than your mundane friends, you dread to hear if your food smells like a spell. His eyes are so warm as you meet his gaze. It always surprises you that such an icy blue could be anything but cold, and yet.

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for me,” He says, picking up his knife and beginning to slice through the meat on his plate. You open your mouth to refute it, and grab your wine to sip instead. There’s no point in lying when it’s so painfully clear.

Wood, ceramic, copper, your kitchen seems almost made for fae comfort in its current state. Not a lick of iron anywhere it could’ve infected the food.

Instead you flick your wrist, your little record player excitedly switching itself on and carefully setting its needle on your pre-approved vinyl. You let the machine deal with the fiddly bits as your magic works to try and even itself out around the traces Price has left.

“I promised you a meal, you should be able to eat it,” You finally manage, doing your best to focus on your own food when your stomach is twisting itself into knots.

“Thank God for that,” Price tells you, “if I can’t eat you, at least I can eat your food.” You both watch the candles burst in crackling flames, bright enthusiastic licks of fire that you do your best to calm down. Magic reacting to your emotions. The record player skips a beat with your fluttering heart. “Cute,” He says it so casually, like your flames don’t crackle with his every word.

“Shut up,” You grumble.

If you’d thought dinner would be the hardest part of the evening you were horribly wrong. Dinner is easy. You’ve taken tea with Price enough times, had enough conversations with him, that you find it easy to fall into your familiar groove. Though you can feel time passing, can hear the soft click and chime of your clocks, you get lost talking. Before you know it hours have passed. Your candles burned down, your plates clean, the previously full bottle of wine neatly polished off. You think your record has reset itself at least once.

It’s nice, comfortable. Price always gives you his full attention, listens without simply waiting for his turn to speak, and you return the favor. Although with how intelligent he is, it would be hard not to give him your full attention. This date thing is easy. You don’t know why you were so worried.

All of your awkward anxiety rushes at you as you stand at the door. You’ve never been good at ending dates, and you’ve never had a date go well with someone you’re- Well you suppose you can admit that you like Price more than you should. Like him enough to hesitate the ending. You stare at him, trying to get a read on his mood, trying to silently ask him to do something. Please tell me how this is supposed to end, you think at him.

“You have to tell me if you want something little witch,” He smiles down at you.

"Would you kiss me?" You don't know what else to say, how else this could possibly go. You want him to kiss you more than anything. You had it once, and you haven't stopped thinking about it since. Price smiles, and pulls you into his arms.

He kisses you and it's nothing like it was last time. The blind panic is gone for one. It's slow and soft, it's not perfect, you don't know what to do with your hands or really what to do with your mouth, but it doesn't matter. Price kisses you like he never wants to do anything else, like the world can wait for him to finish. You're warm from the dinner and you can feel it bleed into the kiss. His beard tickles a little but the way he holds you and the soft slide of his lips make everything else melt away.

When he pulls away you can still feel the phantom press of his lips against yours, and it makes giddy bubbles pop in your ribs and across your cheeks. You want to kiss him again. Price smiles and brushes your hair back, his rough calloused fingers gentle as they skate across your skin. You really must be greedy to want so much more of him. You try to coach yourself, too much of a good thing blah blah blah.

He cups the back of your head and kisses you again. Soft, soft, soft. You didn't know kissing someone would feel like this. You've seen movies, read books, but you'd thought those must be exaggerations. When you'd kissed him before it had been so insistent, all teeth and tongue as he tried to devour you. If you'd thought he was trying to steal you away then you can't even imagine what he's trying to do now. Your chest clenches tight, pulls taught, bursts with gnawing desire, you think you might be trying to steal him, or at least convince him you're worth staying for.

Not that he needs convincing, you are more than worth staying for. You're so sweet and warm from the wine. Your lips are plush against his and your pretty little fingers hold onto him so tightly, he wouldn't leave you if the whole court called him. There's a slight tang of alcohol on your lips that makes your kiss all the sweeter.

Your hands slide to his shoulders as you press up on your toes, press closer against him. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you flush against his chest. As if he could keep you any closer, feel any more of your warmth. Oh you sweet thing, if he could sink into you he would, each honeyed kiss, each gentle breath, plucking at the last string of his resolve. Precious darling, do you even know how well loved you are?

You pull back, turn your head so his next kiss just catches the edge of your mouth. Price is ravenous for you, sliding his lips to your jaw, he can smell your pulse, the soft powdery rose of your perfume. How could he still be so hungry after eating? He can feel the syrup drip of your magic down his spine, languid and entirely too enticing. Actually, everything in the house seems to tremble just on the edge of your breaths, seems to weigh heavy against his shoulders, anticipatory.

It’s not just his hunger, is it?

His lips still against your neck. No, it’s yours as well. He can smell it, taste it on your skin, your want. You’re a spell, as much as you try not to be, just begging to be adored. You’re nervous. He pulls back, takes in the pout of your lips, the draw of your brows, wanting but unsure. He can’t. You deserve better than just hungry wanting. You should rest safe in the knowledge that he won’t leave in the morning.

Unfortunately that morning won’t come tomorrow.

Price strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead. It’s the end of an exchange, a decision made for both of you. you thought he’d be pushier. He was getting what he wanted, right? Maybe that was your own inexperience shining through, but you’d thought- Well you’d thought this was why he wanted you.

“What now?” You ask, trying to hide the confusion in your voice.

“Now?” He sighs it like it pains him, “Now, I leave, and you see me tomorrow.” You can’t say you aren’t relieved. Grateful that he isn’t pushing you for more so quickly. Still, you can’t help feeling a small sting of rejection.

"Even if I ask you to stay?" You push up onto your toes to try and meet his lips again, but he leans back to keep you a breath away.

"Especially if you ask." He tilts his head, and you feel like you’ve edged too close to a dangerous line. "When I fuck you," Price breathes, brushes his lips against yours, "and I will fuck you, Sweetheart," he assures you, "I want it to mean something.” He brushes your hair from your cheek, his fingers cupping your face like you’re something precious to him.

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You hope. Price smiles, and kisses you a final time. The feeling of him lingers when he pulls away. Gentle magic sticking to your lips as he pulls his hat on.

“And every day after that,” He promises.

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

Note

🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew).

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there.

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it.

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?"

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy.

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed.

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon.

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody).

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But…

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do.

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement.

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you."

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through.

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?"

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding.

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it.

"Like this…?"

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed.

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy…

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next.

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds.

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared.

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone.

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock.

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man?

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown?

Would he cry…?

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose...

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic.

Sit on his face…

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid.

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…"

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her…

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can.

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone.

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever.

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all.

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip.

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper.

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply.

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat.

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm.

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good.

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks…

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

#answered #yandere könig #könig smut #könig x virgin reader

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iwrotetheilliad · 1 year

Text

3AM

♡ Sae is mad. You’re a stubborn bitch. Put that together and that equals hate fuck

Genre: P WITHOUT P ;) also a little fluff at the end

CW: Oh lord there’s quite a bit. The biggest one is def that this entire situation is a bit toxic cuz y’all are flirting in a fight. Ig u could think of it as cheating, but I don’t so. SAE IS A BITCH. He also calls u a bitch so be warned that he is mean af. Also degradation. Slapping, hair pulling, clothes getting ripped off is also there. No prep as well. Unprotected sex babes. Theirs is also mentions of hickies and heavy making out. Sae manhandles you a bit. THAT SHOULD BE ALL THE TRIGGERING CONTENT MATERIAL BUT BE WARNED THAT THIS IS SMUT SO PLS PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!

Characters: Sae Itoshi

A/N: thé sae brain rot has been BAD. Like there was so much in my head, so this fic is honestly just like, a small portion of the smutty thoughts and hcs I’ve had. I’ll probably write more if this does well!

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sae demands.

“Oh please,” you scoff, tossing your black clutch purse onto the bed. “There is nothing wrong with me, she had it coming.”

You whip your head around to face your husband. He stands in the doorway, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned, letting some of his collar bone peak out at you. Anger and jealousy flood throughout your body again at the thought of what that cunt did. You can practically see the line she traced with her nail across Sae’s neck. To get back at her, you had pretended to bump into her, practically tossing you wine all over her. It was a shame honestly- because of her inability to take a hint, her pristine white dress left the body with a giant wine stain adorning her side. Good thing you wore a black dress. It just looked like someone’s spilt water on you.

still the way you spilled the wine was very obvious. What can you say? Acting’s never been your strong suit. People were bound to notice, and although no one said it to your face, it’s obvious that they knew you’d done it on purpose.

it’s fine, after all, if they were in your situation they would’ve done the same.

“Y/N,” Sae groaned tearing off his overcoat. “You can’t just ruin-”

“The dress was ruined the moment it touched her skin.”

“You are fucking horrible.”

“No, Sae! You know what’s horrible? You did absolutely nothing to stop her!” You shout storming towards him.

“Oh shut up, yes I did,” he replies, shoving past you.

“Oh I’m sure that tent you have in your pants was trying very hard to shove her away from you,” you roll your eyes, pursuing him.

You knew right know was not the time, but Sae’s back looked very nice in that shirt. It hugged his muscles in all the right ways.

“Are you insane?” He growls, spinning around to stare you down. You didn’t back down though, sizing up to his gaze.

“I fucking wish,” you say just as lowly. “Look, it’s still there.”

You cast your eyes down to where his dick was in fact pressing up against his pants. It looked uncomfortable, and if the night had gone any better, you would’ve loved to help him, but right now, sex did not seem anywhere within your near future.

“You’re actually fucking mental,” Sae rolls his eyes, straightening himself out. “I cannot stand you when your like this.”

“You can’t stand me?!”

“No!”

“Sae! She was flirting with you. That bitch was unashamed and practically choking you in the middle of the hall!” You scream. “You are so frustrating sometimes. You cannot say that you can’t stand me, when you’re like this!”

“Like what?”

Hot.

“Oblivious.”

“Better than being a jealous bitch.”

“The fuck did you just call me?” You ask, stalking towards him like you’re about to pounce on your prey.

Sae didn’t move, just stared down into your eyes as you two came chest to chest.

“You heard me,” he muttered hotly.

From being this close, you can see something you weren’t able to recognize just moments ago. Sae’s pupils had blown up, almost completely block the aqua of his irises. His breath was hot against your face, and his lips were such a pretty pink-red color. His hair was pushed off to the side, making him look so much more handsome than he did normally. It was all so much, and you couldn’t tell if the sudden feeling in your blood was lust, anger, or a weird mix of both.

“Fucking try saying that shit again,” you mutter lowly.

He shivers. “You are such a fucking bitch.”

His hands slowly traces curves through the skintight fabric. They travel up your ass to the small of your back, and then slide back down to the swell of your ass. He offers a light squeeze, before leaning over you.

“You,” he begins, “are such a jealous. Fucking. Bitch.”

You hands move on their own accord, shoving Sae back onto the bed. Shock doesn’t last long in him though, because just moments later, you’re falling on top of him. Your arms wrap around his neck, and the swell of his dick is pressing against panties you wear underneath this dress. His hands stop balancing himself, and he reaches up to drag them all over your body. He starts rubbing them over your back, before moving down to your ass. He gropes them unabashedly now, guiding them over his crotch. His left one stays leading your ministrations, and his right hand goes up to your scalp. Grabbing a handful of hair, he pulls you back, a string of saliva lingering between your mouth as you pant. Your eyes are lidded as you stare into his. There is not a single doubt in your mind right now that you look like a fucking whore, and you know he’s thinking the same thing.

Sae pulls your hair again, this time making your head tilt back. You raunchily moan out, and his mouth immediately finds a new home on your neck.

“You are such a dick,” you gasp out as he sucks hickies into your skin. “Mmmmmm.”

“Yeah?” He growls, pulling away from you. “I’m a fucking dick huh?” He releases your hair to slap your ass. “I’m a fucking dick? Dirty bitch.”

His other hand slaps your ass again. Moans break free from your throat, involuntarily, of course. “Yes,” you whimper. “You’re so fucking horrible.”

Sae lifts you off the bed with absolutely no effort whatsoever. It’s infuriating how strong he is. His lips find yours again and soon enough, the kisses devolve into something sloppy. You hear the bed creak again, as Sae kneels onto it. He drops you onto the mattress of a sudden.

You land on your side, with your left leg hiked up over your right one. You lean on your right forearm and push yourself up with your left hand. You toss your hair over your shoulder and glare at him.

“What’s wrong?” you sneer, “afraid that your gonna cum in your pants like a fucking virgin?”

Sae is quick to lean over you, continuing the messy kisses. He shoves you down so that you’re entirely on your stomach now, and with his free arm, pulls your ass into the air. He pulls your dress over your butt, revealing the lacy black underwear you’re clad in.

“Me? Cum in my pants?” He growls. “With how wet you are, you might as well have already came.” He leans down to lick up your pussy through your panties, further wetting the already soaked fabric. “Might as well just leave you like this huh? Since you already fucking finished.”

Desperate thoughts want you to scream at him to not, but your stubborn ass decides against that. “And what? Jerk off in the bathroom? You’d still be imagining me in there.”

Sae backs away from you, and grabs the top of the back of the dress. He pulls, and you are now just sitting on all fours. You’re confused as to what he’s doing, before he grabs the same spot with the other hand. Soon, there’s a loud riiippp, and the fabric falls off your body in one giant piece.

“That was fucking expensive,” you growl, as Sae flips you onto your back.

“As if a cunt like you pays attention to the price of shit. I’ve spoiled you too much huh? You need a good lesson.”

You gulp, but still try to mask your fear. “What are you gonna do?”

His left hand traces your neckline, before wrapping tightly around the bruise littered column. “Maybe I will just leave you here like this,” he muses. “Your pussy soaking wet, begging for my cock.”

“Then I’d just cum myself,” you laugh sinisterly. “I’m thinking I’ll get off to Ryusei in my mind what do you think.”

Another loud crack echoes through the room, but now the sting isn’t in your ass. You cheek burns as you yelp. Sae backhands you next, creating to bright red glows on your face.

“You bitch,” his voice sounds demonic, like he’s two seconds away from becoming evil.

“You were gonna be the one leaving me here needy!” You cry out, trying to lean up. His hand on your neck pushes you back down though.

“Shut up.” Another loud rip, and your pussy is suddenly exposed to the world. The cold air is oddly nice. “I’m gonna make you regret everything you’ve said.”

“You can’t do that.”

“If you cum,” he starts. His hand traces your lips, and his voice grows a mockingly gentle as he whispers, “I’ll tie you up to the headboard, stick a vibrator against that clit, and drain you dry until your begging and screaming and crying yourself hoarse. Ok, baby?”

The pet name is new. Normally when you two hate fuck, he ignores all of them, but the sudden presence of it makes you realize that your actually in deep shit right now.

“Do your worst,” you command.

Sae doesn’t even prep you. He undoes his belt with one hand, unbuttons his pants with the other, and swiftly drags them down with his underwear. His dick springs out, hard, pink, leaking precum. You want to suck his dick so bad, make him feel so fucking good, but you push that urge down.

He lines himself up against your pussy, and in one move, starts fucking you ruthlessly. He’s going fast, he’s going hard, he’s doing everything that he needs to be doing to make pleasure erupt in your body like only he can.

Moans tumble from your lips but you literally do not care whatsoever that this is your admitting to him making you feel good. That stubbornness is quite literally being fucked out of you, and right now your perfectly ok with it.

“S-s-sae…”

“Hm?” He hums shakily from above you. “Do you need to come already?”

Never mind, the stubbornness is back.

“N-no. I just wanted to tell you that you can’t fuck to save your life.”

Somehow, he gets faster and harder. You hadn’t even thought that possible, yet here you are, getting your shit absolutely rocked.

“Really?” Sae mocks as you whimper louder.

“Yes,” you reply, not daring to back down.

Sae doesn’t say anything else, content to just let you go insane on his cock, however much you try to deny it. He can tell when you’re close. He’s fucked you so many times that he’s memorized every tell that your body has to offer. Right now, your eyes are becoming heavy, almost looking like you’re about to fall asleep. They’re also turning super glossy, despite no tears falling. When he feels your hole repeatedly clamping onto him without letting go, making yourself feel even more tight, he knows your going to cum.

“You can’t cum baby,” he growls.

“O-ok, I wasn’t going to,” you sigh as he continues screwing you.

“Good job,” he says mockingly.

You don’t miss the sarcasm drowning his words, and somehow, you find the strength in you to reach up and slap him. When he doesn’t say anything, you backhand him. A couple seconds go by, before he commands, “Harder.”

You slap him again.

“Harder.”

You slap him again.

“Goddamit, I said harder bitch!”

You slap him, then yank on his hair for good measure.

“Still can’t cum,” he groans, pleasure overtaking every nerve of his body.

“Sae!” You cry when he starts ramming into just the right spot.

“No. Cumming. Baby.”

“Sae, please!” You sob. You’re trying, you really are. “Sae!”

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry!” you moan out finally. “Sae please, I’m sorry I’ve been- oh my god please Sae, please just let me cum!”

“That’s it baby. That’s all I wanted from you,” his voice suddenly saccarine sweet. “You can cum baby don’t worry.”

Your orgasm is so intense, you almost pass out. Every part of your body is lit on fire, you feel like your blood is lava. There’s it not a single inch of your body left untouched by this overwhelming pressure that does nothing but consume you. It feels like you’re drowning at the same time as flying. Your back arches and finally, you feel satisfied with something that’s happened tonight.

Sae fucks you until he comes, and the feeling is pretty much the exact same as yours. Nerve shattering pleasure follows each thrust he sends into you. His thighs shake at the end.

When he finally gets a good look at you, he watches the red painted across your skin, shining from sweat. Your hands cover your face, and a twinge of remorse stings at his heart.

“Y/N?” he hesitantly moves to touch your hand. When you don’t pull away, he lifts your hands off of your face. Your eyes stay closed though. You’re not crying which is good.

Sae sighs, and steps out of his pants. His shirt sticks to his skin with sweat, so he removed it before walking to the bathroom. Right next to it is a cabinet with towels, which he grabs a fresh one from. Going into the bathroom, he cleans himself off, dampens the towel and goes to clean you off. Your eyes are still closed, but you respond to his touch. He wipes the inside of your legs, and then chucks the towel somewhere behind him. He walks to the bedroom door, where his lounge shirt and sweatpants hang. He slides the sweatpants on, and then grabs the shirt.

“Y/N, I need you to sit up.”

Slowly, you pull yourself up. Sae pulls the shirt over you, and you adjust your arms through the sleeves. It’s only after that do you open your eyes to look at him.

Your eyes have darkens but a little bit of light still reflects in them. You look exhausted though, which he supposes is only fair.

“Sae…” you whisper, collapsing against his body. He wraps his arm around you, hugging you firmly against him.

“I’m sorry too,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have… encouraged, I guess, what she was doing.”

You’re silent for a few beats, before murmuring, “It’s ok.”

“No it’s not.”

“To me it is now,” you say, leaning back to look him in the eyes.”

“Why?” He snorts. “Cuz we fucked.”

“Because you apologized,” you roll your eyes. “That’s all that I wanted.”

You end up falling asleep against Sae and when you wake up, the two of you are curled up underneath a blanket on the couch. Figures, the bed was probably messy. After all, it always is after your 3 AM activities.

A/N: Goddam.

#sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi smut #itoshi sae smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock sae #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #blue lock itoshi sae

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leviscolwill · 7 months

Text

sanctuary

pairing: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: after an eventful singapore gp, the only thing you can think of is your comfy bed but your body has another plan and your boyfriend isn't happy about that. [wc: 1,6k]

req: Ferrari driver reader x jude where she feels a bit dizzy after a race and kind of faints when they get at the hotel, like just fluff with him taking care of her + CAN YOU WRITE JUDE ANGST THEN FLUFF IDC ABT THE SCENARIO JS JUDE ANGST IN JUDE X DRIVER READER 🙏🙏

contents: established relationship, charles is reader's teammate, ferrari being good au (impossible ik), reader faints, jude is a worried bf, barely has angst ngl 🏃‍♀️, nothing else i think

note: i have no idea how to write about fainting and it probably shows. ALSO, i wrote most of this at 1am so i hope it makes sense (probably doesn't but we move😪)

now playing: sanctuary by joji (nectar)

usually you would say you absolutely loved singapore. the track was one of your favourites on the calendar and you practically counted down the days to this race. but this week was probably the most difficult of your entire career in motorsports. of course, marina bay had never been an easy race, and the weather conditions in singapore were only making it harder to handle. but this year, no number of ice bath and cold shower could appease the dizzying headache that plagued your weekend.

and to add to that, everyone at the team has been stressing you out about the championship. obviously, you were grateful that you could finally fight for one, ferrari had built the perfect car this season. but this came with a price, fighting against charles for the title. you were great friends with your teammate but you had to admit your relationship took a toll with the constant tension between the two of you throughout the season. anyone wearing a bright red kit kept reminding you that you needed to be careful on track, that if you crashed with anyone, but especially with charles, you'd be in great trouble.

thankfully your boyfriend joined you after qualifying, and made your weekend instantly better. he noticed something was wrong right away. of course, you told jude about your struggles but he didn't expect to find you in this state.

"maybe you shouldn't race tomorrow..?"

you took a glance at jude, laid down on the hotel room bed, to check if he actually meant what he just uttered only to find a very serious look on his face.

"yeah, i'll just call fred to tell him i'm feeling sick and don't care about the championship anymore, that's definitely the best choice i have." sarcasm dripped out of your words as jude rolled his eyes.

"just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you have to give me an attitude." it was your turn to roll your eyes. you quietly got under the sheets and muttered a barely audible 'goodnight', clearly not having the energy to argue with him tonight.

as you closed your eyes you felt jude turn around to wrap you in his arms around you.

"i'm just worried for my girl, that's all." he said, softly kissing your hair. you turned around to face him, having to trace his face before finding his lips because of the darkness of the room, and pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

"i appreciate your concern, i really do. but this race is so much more important than a silly headache. i'll be okay." you kissed him again for good measure. "you're gonna have to trust me with this one."

"i always trust you." the two of you talked some more before falling asleep in each other's arms.

—

the only thing you could think of when you stepped out of your car was your bed. as expected the race had been particularly draining and truth be told, you didn't know if you would be able to stand on the podium in your state. you managed to score a satisfying p2, well it would have been more satisfying if charles wasn't standing on the highest step of the podium, with a 4-point difference before catching on you in the driver's standing.

when the whole team congratulated you on your results, it felt like you were in a fever dream, barely making out what was real and what wasn't. you didn't even notice jude talking to you before he snapped his fingers in front of you.

"are you okay ? should i take you to the medics ?" he asked in a worried tone.

"i'm alright... just need to get through the podium." which did not happen. you ran off stage as soon as the italian anthem stopped ringing in your ears. it was all too much, the heat, the noise, the exhaustion, the pressure. all too much to handle for you.

when you joined jude, he was already talking with your pr manager, telling her you wouldn't be able to do any media work right now. it was the truth, not a petty lie to get away with it. you genuinely felt even more lightheaded (if that was possible) at the sole thought of having to go through a dozen interviews.

seeing you barely standing straight must have conceived her, so soon enough you were on your way back to the hotel in a cab jude called.

you quietly laid your head on jude's shoulder. he barely said a word to you since the podium incident, only asking how you felt, if you drank enough water, and how many hours of sleep you had. you watched him as he typed things on his phone in total silence. you wondered if he was mad at you for putting yourself in such a situation or only worried. regardless, you felt a pang of sadness in your heart thinking about it before drifting off.

—

as soon as jude opened your hotel room's door, you felt your legs giving up on you, your hands found the wall to steady yourself. you could hear jude's voice but couldn't make out what he was saying, like you were underwater.

you tried making it to the bed, but you fell down on your knees and just propped your back against it, waiting a minute before getting up, to get your head to stop spinning uncontrollably.

"y/n. are you okay ?" you felt your boyfriend kneeling down next to you and could finally understand his words, but it felt like they were resonating in your brain, only worsening your headache.

"i'm fine, i'm fine... i just need a moment." you didn't want to worry jude more than he already was, although the weak tone of your voice alarmed him more than anything. you felt him shift around you, and caught a glimpse of him coming back from the bathroom before your eyes shut.

when you woke up, you were laid on the bed with a wet cloth on your forehead. and the first thing you saw was a wide-eyed jude handing you a glass of water.

"i thought about making you drink when you were... asleep? but i didn't want to drown you. so i waited for you to wake up." he was talking fast, too fast for you to fully understand his nonsense.

"hello to you too." your voice was still weak but you felt much better than at the race track. you quickly took a few sips of water before jude tried drowning you for good.

"what's that ?" you asked pointing at the cloth still laying on your face.

"some website said that's what you're supposed to do when your irresponsible girlfriend faints." you hid your face in your pillow at his accusatory words.

"no, but seriously y/n. do you have any idea of how worried i was ? imagine if something wrong happened. god, i knew i shouldn't have let you race..." his words had an angry tone to them and you were confused as to why jude was mad at you over hypothetical scenarios.

"but nothing wrong happened, i even got points. are you not proud of me ?"

"are you being serious right now ? you know i'm always proud of you, points or no points. but you think i'm gonna clap for you after putting yourself in danger like that ?" jude's tone got somewhat angrier but he kept going.

"fuck, when you fainted i already saw myself explaining everything to your mum. you can't take those risks, especially when you drive a fast car for a living. you can understand that right ?"

you felt tears well up in your eyes at his words, thinking about how worried he must have been this whole time.

"i'm sorry, it's just... i've been thinking about the championship a lot. i guess that clouded my judgment." you wiped away your tears quickly, before jude could notice them but it was too late.

"hey, hey, hey... you shouldn't be saying sorry to me, you probably spent a worse weekend than i did anyway. i'm not mad at you but at the situation, alright ?" his fingers stroke the wet spots under your eyes, wiping what was left of your tears away. "i'm proud of you, and happy for your points. but you're not winning a championship by making your dangerous job even more dangerous." his voice and his eyes were soft and you felt your chest get significantly warmer.

"you're right..." the room got silent for a couple seconds at your words.

"what was that ? i couldn't hear you babe" jude had a shit-eating grin on his face and you knew exactly what he wanted, and it almost made you physically sick to give him this satisfaction.

"i said... you'reright." you tried getting those terrible words out as fast as you could, but he wasn't happy with that.

"mmh mmh, that won't do... say it nice and loud for me love." you felt your face heat up, both in fluster and embarrassment at his words.

"you're right." your words had a defeated tone to them, but jude decided that would be enough by the way he didn't taunt you anymore.

he moved and got under the covers with you, even though you were gonna have to get up again as you were both still dressed. he just wanted to share this little moment of peace with you.

"you know, it's crazy how you drive the fastest car in the world but can't survive singapore's heat for a weekend." you playfully elbowed jude's ribs at his teasing.

you were grateful to have someone like jude to support you and your intense lifestyle, but also someone to talk about silly little things, legs tangled under the sheets.

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