#Av writes for once

[light-purp-insect]

Can I request headcanons for Raphael, Haarlep, Kar'niss, and Zevlor with oblivious gn crush?

Head In The Clouds

([all separate] Raphael, Haarlep, Kar'niss, Zevlor x GN unspecified Tav)

Banner credits in alt!

Notes/warnings: both SFW and Mature (no exact NSFW, marked for safety), flirting, failed seduction (Haarlep being an Incubus), somewhat manipulative(? Maybe???) behavior, suggestive themes, confused characters, dancing, self questioning/self doubt, extremely short mention of canonical death, close proximity/touching/hugging, obviously mentions of spider anatomy, Kar'niss is deranged and I don't know how to emphasize that, library dates (but Tav doesn't know that), mentions of the Infernal language in DnD, reading together, Zevlor tries to teach you a new language, not-a-real-date turns into a real date

I swear, the vast majority of BG3 fans see a pair of horns and their eyes nearly pop out of their skull. Me too!! Also I decided to make these short scenes, just as a treat for myself really.

-- Raphael --

Oh dear, he wasn't expecting this. Here he was, in his full cambion form, in the middle of the House of Hope, teaching you how to ballroom dance, and you weren't aware he had some feelings for you? How foolish could you get, little mouse? Yes, he fully was planning on taking your soul before he warmed up to you this past two days after letting you see his marvelous self, but now he couldn't be so certain. You were smiling as if you were still merely friends- no, only acquaintances! He wouldn't show the dissatisfaction his face, not even when you nearly stepped on his tail while trying to teach you the Viennese Waltz. Of course he had been holding you even closer than what the dance had called for, but that was his mistake, and he'd rather be bathed in holy water than blame you for it. "That's it, little mouse, very good." The demon whispered low in your ear. "How about we try a Foxtrot next, hmm?"

-- Haarlep --

If he was honest, now that you had warmed to him, something deep in the pit of his soul felt like perhaps it wasn't worth just sleeping with you once. Did he hate this new emotion? Oh absolutely, there's not a moment where he doesn't know how to react. He wasn't exactly used to actually loving someone-- were Incubi really, truly capable of love? Whatever, Raphael wasn't home, and it was the perfect opportunity to get you in his master's bed for an evening. Hopefully that would remove this-... Whatever this is. When the massive demon placed his hands on your waist and pressed your back against his near bare chest he purred out the honeyed tone he was so well known for. "Such an exquisite little mouse, you'd be a favorable meal. Come to bed with me, won't you?" Except that didn't happen. You had turned your head to him to answer, not a single hint of voluptuous desire in your eyes. "Now that I think of it, I could use a moment to lie down. Would you like to nap then?" Quite obviously he didn't expect that in the slightest. Much like his master, he didn't show much in his expression. Only a beat of silence before a rather content reply. "... Yes, a nap would actually be quite delightful about now."

-- Kar'niss --

The poor drider was quite upset, how come his chosen beloved didn't see how much he adored them and everything they ever touched? Was it because he was unsightly? Was it because he was cursed with his semi-chitinous body? In reality, it was probably because you just thought he was thankful you saved him from his demise, which he was! But even now as he hunkered down to hold you close to his chest, even using his pedipalps to keep you close. "Please, my savior, I need you!" Unlike the other times he grabbed on to you, this one felt proper; he was being gentle. His chin rest upon your head as a low growl softly reverberated in his throat. The bitter smell of old moss hit your nose like a freight train, but he didn't let go or tighten his grip. "Bless me with your warmth, just for a moment." You couldn't hear his next words, only mumbling as he was slowly losing the ability to hold himself together. "Please, one day you will love me too. Silly bug, one day I'll have you in my web, just you wait."

-- Zevlor --

While this wasn't a date in your eyes, and since he didn't tell you that it could be considered one either, Zevlor was slightly anxious. Who wouldn't, though? He brought you to a rather nice library, and he was worried how you would even consider going on something like a date with him. Then again you were sitting in his lap as he was trying to teach you some Infernal writing. The book laid in your lap as his arms came in front of you to point out the rather intricate looking letters. "That right there says 'Charming', I know the look a little close together." He placed his hand over yours and helped you point to the word, helping you pick out all eight letters of the word. "Does that mean the word I just read a moment ago spelt 'charred'?" You ask with humor in your voice. You could hear Zevlor give a delighted huff behind you, trying not to breathe on your neck. "That is correct." He slowly moves his hand away from yours. The tingle of your skin still lingered on his palm. "I think we might be reading a cookbook. I think this is... Beef Wellington? Would you like to make it together some time?" Hope was evident in his tone, but you couldn't tell if it was from the prospect of spending time together of making something for dinner.

#Av writes for once #zevlor baldur's gate 3 #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #zevlor bg3 #zevlor #raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep #haarlep bg3 #haarlep baldur's gate 3 #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #karniss #kar'niss #karniss bg3 #Karniss Baldur's Gate 3 #kar'niss bg3 #Kar'niss Baldur's Gate 3 #karniss x tav #Karniss x reader #kar'niss x tav #Kar'niss x reader

[sushisocks]

something nobody tells you about writing your own fic is that once it's finished you can actually just.... read it? and it's filled with your favorite ships and tropes and has a story you enjoy, because you wrote it! wild!!

#ficposting #rdr2 #AV #teki talks #finished AV and had a couple days off before feeling like i wanted to read smth and wouldnt you know it!! #there are whole ass fics catering to what i wanna read -- on MY profile!!! wowowow. truly blessed #anyway rereading AV just for pleasure and not to obsessively double-check a phrase or detail or edit out mistakes has been an experience #am having fun though. i wanna write more once i have the motivation/inspiration heehoo

[cursedthing]

.havign lots of thoughts about how npcs are portrayed learning about the nature of their universe in works

#ines screams into the void #.most of the feelings were thrown onto evan since like. i dunno feels like a lot of the works like that write the npcs as fi the npcs- #.are actually people from outside the game transported into the game and have points of refrence about this whole thing and react how ''rea #.people'' would react to learning that they were inside a video game #.when really the npcs would prolly react closer to just going yea okay. since that's their world. they have no other world. that's their #.universe. and now they ave a little bit more info about their own universe #.yea they could have an existencial crisis if they knew what it means but also like #.''ooooh that means that i'm not real'' uhm. yea they are. they still are. that world is real from their perspective and continues to be #.real even after the learn about this #.from OUR perspective they aren't! but from theirs? yea! they are! #.also it9 s not like they would instantly know everything about how video games work even if they had no prior knwledge of that #.why would they try to change the fact that they're made out of lines of code #.that's like being mad and wanting to change the fact that they're made out of atoms #.except in their case it's ones and zeros in a computer #.PLUS!!!!!!!!! IN SOME CASES!!!!!!!!!! MAYBE THEY DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT VIDEO GAMES OR COMPUTERS ARE!!!!!!!!!! #.IT ALL DEPENDS ON WHAT SORT OF WORLD THE VIDEO GAME PORTRAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #.IF THE WORLD HAS COMPUTERS IN THERE THEN THEY KNOW A LITTLE BIT MORE! #.IF THE WORLD IS MEDIVAL THEY WOULDN'T FUCKING KNOW SHIT! #.once again pointing at evan and how we threw bunch of our feelings about this onto her #.since like he grew up in a world post combine invasion and like. technoglogy isn't really the best #.like barely anyone has any access to it other than the combine and all that jazz #.so she doesn't know what video games are. maybe has heard of what computers are #.she learned about being in a video game but to him that's the same as learning how our solar system travels through the galaxy and physics #.it's just another little detail about the world thta may explain some things. or maybe it doesn't #.when facing with her code she sees it as her dna. yea she's reading it but she deson't understand a thing in it #.maybe some fragments maybe not #.just like how everyday people wouldn't know how to interpert dna if they already haven't studied about that subject #.and when him getting corrupted. she doesn't know what happened. he just knows that something did. but she can't do anything about it #.and instead just learn how to navigate the world with more difficulties #.like how one would with a pernament injury

[crow-the-unknown]

yall i can't even begin to explain how much nate mackinnon has been on my mind today

i'm so proud of him, so happy for him. i love him so much, etc etc etc

also that and the fact that we've clinched and are in first in central :3

#avs lb #colorado avalanche #nathan mackinnon #words cannot articulate how ready and excited i am for playoff hockey #its the hockey i learned the sport with because their run last year was when i got into it #so lets just say i'm more than happy to see playoff hockey with a whole season under my belt and a new understanding of the game #anyways once again i could write a whole ass essay on natemac #the usual

[aresmarked]

am i i in the middle of writing for mizuena week? yes. am i thinking of writing kanamafu for the inevitable fallout of the niigo event? also yes.

#project sekai #ave once said how any config with maf involves for her some form of kanamafu #and while i do write more shizumafu centric stuff (in part bc theres so many people making knmf stuff) i do hwartily agree #all of niigo but esp kanade means so much to mafuyu #she's fundamental to the safety maf has #what sense of support she has #to dismiss the bond they have would fundamentally change the characters #however you view their bond #and man i love that. love the writers behins psekai #warproduct rambles

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

Friday Kiss Tag Game

tagged by @bloodlessheirbyjacques (tysm!)

Tags

@italiangothicwriteblr @cherrybombfangirlwrites @tc-doherty @flowerprose @quilloftheclouds @thepixiediaries

Ashala gawked. “You broke the rules… and left the Palace… and snuck onto the ship… all by yourself?”

Vesta nodded and slid the dagger back into her pocket. “I do not enjoy it, but I am not incapable of such tasks.”

“If so, why not do this by yourself? Make your life easy and spin against me.”

“Believe it or not, Ashala, I am not entirely a monster,” she said. “And even if I was, such a solution would never last. One rumor may have been an accident, but whoever possesses the corpses of my sister and the Imperial Prince will not stay silent forever. They will find ways to use it against me, surely. Ways that will make simple execution seem a mercy. If either of us wishes to remain here, we must stop them."

Ashala took a shaky breath. “We don’t know how dangerous this enemy may be. You may die.”

Vesta gave a sad smile. “I have little to lose.”

“And what if I die?”

She blinked slowly. “Well, neither do you.”

Ashala drew away. She had no right to speak of her like that. “And what if I say no?”

Her expression fell. “No…?”

“That’s right,” Ashala exclaimed, pushing herself to her feet. “No. I don’t want to help you. I don’t care what it costs me. You’re selfish. You’re a liar. I hate you-”

Vesta rose to her knees and grabbed her hands, bringing her forehead to Ashala’s knuckles. The very image of a supplicant worshiper.

“Please,” she said. “I need you, Ashala.”

She stood silent, in disbelieving shock. “I thought Descendents were not allowed to kneel before others,” she whispered, half-sure she was delusional.

“Descendent shall not bow before Descendent, said the One Hundred Precepts, as written by my Ancestors.” She looked up, still holding Ashala’s hands. “But you are no child of the Ancestors.”

“No,” she said. “Far from it.” What a strange sight to behold! The future queen of Salisia, with the ancestry of gods, kneeling before a peasant sposta, begging for her to help her. Ashala could get drunk on the feeling of the moment. Was this what it felt like to have power? To have the rich and the beautiful grovel at your feet for what assistance you may bring them? Ashala knew that Vesta was far too calculating to ever really mean it, but that did not change how she felt. For once she tasted the sweet wine of power, she could only thirst for more.

“I will assist you,” she said. “Fool though I know I am.”

“Thank you, oh, thank you!” Vesta cried. She then squeezed her hands and kissed her fingers, and Ashala melted away.

#once again the kiss is technical but if i only posted romantic kisses i wouldn't have enough excerpts to stretch for many fridays #wip: blood of gods #my writing #oc: ashala av khilaya #oc: vesta ambrosius #ship: what remains of fire #writeblr #friday kiss tag #tag game

[bookishdreamer28]

𝑩𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒔 - Simon Riley x fem reader

(18+, MDNI, smut)

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

His hand was covering your mouth to muffle your whimpers as his fingers were shoved inside your gummy walls, moving in a rapid pace. Your clit was throbbing and as you tried to move you hand to rub the swollen bud, he softly slapped your hand away, and he started circling it with slow movements.

"Shh sweet girl, you have to be quiet like you promised me you would be hm?" You could hear his voice trembling a little as he tried not come himself by the sight of you lost in pleasure from his fingers.

Your teasing back in the meeting room was something Simon did not like at all, and he found it hard to not let himself get carried away and lay you down on the hard surface of his desk, as he pounded some manners into you in front of everyone. So after the meeting finished, he hurriedly led you into an empty small room so he can give you what you've been craving for.

You almost cried out as he took his fingers out of you. Tears started streaming down the softness of your cheeks and he instantly cupped them.

"Ssh you know I'm not done with you. Now come sit on my lap sweetheart and let me feel your dripping pussy wrapped around me" he groaned and you obediently turned around and walked towards him. You sat on his lap and once you were comfortable he drugged his throbbing lenght along your silky lips, and the moan he let out made you even wetter.

"So beautiful and perfect, sweet girl" he whispered against your ear and softly grabbed your chin to turn your head to him and sloppily kiss you.

When you felt his cock slowly sliding into you, you moaned and Simon rested his head on your shoulder as he started moving.

"So fucking tight" he gritted his teeth and started moving faster. Your mouth was hanged open as small whimpers escaped from it. You turned your head and you locked your lips onto his once again, a kiss so impassioned that made his hard length pulse within you.

"Such a good girl for me" he murmured against your lips and moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. He felt like he was going to burst at any moment.

"Simon" you whined and turned to look at him.

"What is...fuck...what is it sweet girl?" He could hardly speak. You arched your back and you started moving your hips too so you can meet his thrusts.

"Fuck yeah" Simon breathed and stopped his thrusts as he watched you pleasuring yourself on his hard and throbbing cock in awe.

"I'm com-" the wave of pleasure made you roll your eyes to the back of your head and you tried to hold onto Simon. Then he grabbed your hips to make you stay still and started thrusting fatser again. He kept going with the same pleasurable pace, and he looked at you with his mouth slightly open and brows knitted together.

"Look at you, a fine piece of art" he murmured and when you felt his length twitching in you, you both came and your moans filled the quiet dark room.

Simon slowly turned you around and when he noticed that your was slightly trembling from the pleasure, he enveloped you in his arms, spreading warm and comforting kisses all over your face.

"You ok pretty girl?" He whispered and you ave him a small nod before you tip toed to give him a kiss.

"I think I should tease more often" your murmured and smiled at his somehow socked expression. He then smirked and placed a kiss on your cheek.

"And I think you need to be a good girl and make sure to act like one and won't make me go through 2 unbearable hours of you teasing me with your hand under the table, if you want me to let you come after again hm?" His words made you squeeze your thighs together and the way he calls you good girl, has always been your weakness. He patted your thigh softly and carried you to his all the way to his room, so you can sleep together.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I juat had the need to write something smutty with Simon 🙈

Thank you for reading *mwah*

#simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #call of duty x y/n #call of duty #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod ghost #cod x reader #fanfic #ghost smut #simon riley smut #my writing #simon riley x y/n #cod x you #cod fanfic #cod #18+ only #fanfiction #x female reader #cod x female reader

[love-bitesx]

: ̗̀➛ PROTECTOR. hobie brown x reader

summary: spider-man makes a point of walking y/n home every night, but after befriending them as hobie brown as well, his feelings get complicated. words: 3.5k REQUESTS OPEN ! warnings: non-explicit sexual harassment (a man is very creepy to reader), reader isn't gendered! but be aware, author is female, so possible afab bias, i tried my hardest i swear. all characters are adults :) author is british so this is my interpretation of his silly little slang from what ive experienced hehe also divider credit: cafekitsune a/n: may feel a little ooc, but in my headcanon, when he's pining the way he is for reader, he's so soft. also, spider-man and hobie r completely different personalities u cant tell me otherwise. first time writing hobie so pls give me opinions ty. enjoy!!!!!

“is it home-time already, darlin’?”

there he was. the familiarity of routine washing over you, turning your head to see him propped up against the brick, spikes on display and guitar pick flipping in between his clothed fingers.

“spider-man, my hero,” you sighed and clutched your non-existent pearls, a smirk on your lips.

“you know i hate that,” kicking off from the wall of the pub you just clocked out of, he stuffed his hands into his patched up jacket, his bouncy stride meeting yours on the pavement.

“i know,” you smiled, allowing your bag to fall from your shoulders and into his outstretched hand, as always.

it had become a routine, over the course of a few months, that the one-and-only spider-man would escort you home from work in the late hours. at first, it didn’t seem real. why would he decide to spend valuable time most days walking you home, when he could be out fighting whatever darkness lurks in the shadows? you’ve asked him, almost every time, but he always gives the same, vague answer;

“who else is gonna keep you safe, love?”

his legs were longer than yours, by a mile. so he had to slow his usual pace for you. naturally bouncy, his booted feet tapped against the pavement like a kick drum, and you wondered whether that was the radioactive blood in his veins, or his natural energy.

laughter flittered through the dark streets as you caught up, it had only been a day since you last saw him, but being a crime-fighting, fascist-killing superhero, there was quite a lot to pack into a 24 hour day.

he bounced off the walls of passing buildings, recreating his fights with the air that hung between you both, throwing in some exaggerated punches here and there, to elicit an extra giggle or two from you. you almost got lost following his animated recreations, but he kept an eye out for the roads ahead. he’d memorised all the paths leading to your apartment.

it had all started a few months prior, after a particularly long shift at work. constantly over the span of a few hours, this guy would not leave you alone. no matter how many times you refused his advances, a smile on your face, masking the unsettling pit in your stomach at the sight of his grin. drink, after drink, after drink, he ordered just to stare at you the whole night, crude gestures and words thrown your way.

you’d gotten used to it, working at a pub in the depths of london, it wasn’t ever unusual to get unwanted advances. but something about this guy, you couldn’t shake it. ~

“what time do you finish, ay?” his accent was thick, you placed him somewhere up north.

“i’m not sure,” you muttered back, forcing a smile.

“oi, come on! ‘course you know what time you finish,” his words were slurred, and his eyes hadn’t left yours once, “was thinking we could ‘ave some drinks together, tha’s’all.”

“sorry, i can’t tonight, i have to be up early tomorrow,” you giggled, and if he wasn’t so drunk, he’d definitely have picked up on the nerves lacing your words.

“come on,” vowels drawn out, he made an attempt to stand up to meet your height, the proximity of him sending a shock of fear to your heart, until a strong hand clapped against his chest, the force almost sending him backwards.

“pack it in, dickhead, they said ‘no’,” a deep, almost calming voice spoke, contrasted completely with the stern, threatening tone of his words.

you looked to meet your protectors gaze, and it almost stunned you. he was tall, taller than you, for sure. dark, smooth skin with an aura of pure mayhem, silver piercings protruding from his face. adorned with a ripped, skin-tight plain top and denim vest, littered with badges, patches and just about any accessory known to man.

his eyes were what really held you. a heavy look, dark brown with the most unique feeling of strength and power that you’d ever seen. you could’ve easily gotten lost.

deciding you’d stared at him long enough, though, you broke the eye contact, diverting it back to the man who looked a humorous combination of terrified and offended at the same time.

“‘s alright mate, we were just talking, back off, yeah?” his liquid courage built up, ignorant of the taller man’s hand still pushing against his chest, ring-clad hands seeming to leave an imprint.

“think it’s time for you to leave, mate,” he spat back, mimicking his slang.

a moment of silence followed. you’d fully expected the drunken creep to swing a punch, or at least bite back, but under the weight of the taller man’s stare, he seemed to lose all fight he had in him. with a final murmer of something you couldn’t quite hear, and unsure you really wanted to, he stumbled backwards, slipping into the crowd.

“thank you,” you broke the silence, to which the man shrugged.

“he was a pig,” he brushed it off like nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile at his attitude. raising his newly free hand, he stretched it towards you, tight in a fist.

“hobie, hobie brown,” he greeted, and his accent completely erased the ‘h’ from his name.

“y/n l/n,” you smiled, accepting his offer and spudding him, the cold metal of his rings against your knuckles. you couldn’t help but grin at the oddity of his presence.

hobie kept you company for the rest of the night, ranting about his thoughts and opinions of various important subjects, ranging widely from drinks of choice to the existence of capitalist propaganda in modern media, all of which you hung onto every word of.

it wasn’t long until he’d managed to book him and his band into a few slots on the pub’s makeshift stage that stood empty on the other side of the room, smiling to himself at how authentically excited you seemed to hear his music.

when he left, his vacancy was immediately obvious. the booming pub feeling oddly silent without him.

after closing up for the night, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, switching the lights off with one hand and fiddling with the keys in the other, shaking the door to double check you locked it well enough. body aching from being on your feet all day, you yawned, stepping autopilot into the darkness. the night air was chilling, causing you to wrap your jacket tight around your body. cursing at yourself for not bringing another layer, or pre-ordering a taxi home.

“oi,” you heard from your right, turning quickly to the familiar call.

stumbling on the pavement, the drunken creep from earlier pointed towards you.

shit.

you hadn’t expected him to actually wait for you. it’d been hours since he left, he was insane. what was he thinking?

grabbing the keys from your pocket, you gripped them in your freezing hands in defense.

“where’s your little friend, huh?” he spat, clearly enraged by hobie’s interruption earlier. he stepped closer, and you stepped back, trembling as you tripped slightly on the pavement.

“ay, is this twat bothering you?” a voice called from above.

wait, above?

craning your neck up, you made eye contact with possibly the last person you expected.

“spider-man?”

and from that night, he’d met you every time. waiting outside the pub doors, no exception, to walk you home.

“hey!” spider-man’s upbeat calling snapped you instantly back to him, jumping slightly as you finally noticed he was directly in front of your face, white eyes narrowed on your demeanor, “where’d you go, huh?”

“sorry,” paying him an apologetic smile, “just thinking.”

“wanna clue me in, darlin’?” his tone was playful, but the soften of his masks expression felt genuine.

“just thinking about the day i’ve had,” you lied, unsure whether his spidey senses could tell. not that it was rare for you to think about how you met, but you didn’t want to bring it up again. if he could tell, he didn’t let on.

“whataboutit?” he sped up, slipping back to your pace and slinging his lanky arm over your shoulders, basically hanging onto you as you walked. he liked walking with you like this. it made him feel powerful, like he was keeping you extra safe.

“hobie’s band played again!” you exclaimed, and if he’d been paying attention, he would’ve seen the way your face lit up at the memory. unfortunately for him, his eyes were trained on webbing a chocolate bar from a passing vendor. god knows why it was still open, but he was glad it was.

“hobie, again, huh?” taunted spider-man, punching your arm playfully with the fist that gripped the newly stolen snickers bar, “starting to think you’re replacing me, love.”

“never,” you teased back, elbowing his side, hearing the jingle of his badged vest, “hobie’s just…”

ears pricking, he clung onto the words you were speaking, anticipating possibly hearing something he didn’t want to.

“he’s just so cool,” you breathed with a smile, and he almost verbally sighed in relief, stopping himself in order not to rouse suspicion. he smirked under his mask, “just got this feel about him, so easy to talk to, and he’s so talented! you know, i’ve almost learnt all the lyrics to his songs.”

his heart just about exploded. in fact, he thinks he could pinpoint the exact moment it did.

he played off his burning cheeks, clearing his throat and incredibly glad his mask hid his flustered expression.

“you should come see him, you know,” you looked up at him, and though you knew his answer was ‘no’, it was worth a try, “i can hide you in the back if you don’t wanna be seen.”

“come off it, love,” he dismissed, avoiding your gaze, but his back was tingling like pins and needles under the warmth of it, “i’m not keen to meet the man stealing you from me.”

“fuck sake,” you laughed and pushed his arm off you, brushing off his playful flirting.

his confidence was excelling. the friendship you had formed over the prior months had stemmed from his childish charm, and it hadn’t faltered once.

“well, here i am,” you brought your pace to a halt, hovering in front of the door to your apartment building.

“i’ll miss you tonight,” he fell against the wall, eyes stuck on you. you couldn’t see it, but you could feel his smirk.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, i finish at 11,” you stepped towards him.

“i’ll be waiting,” he kicked off from the bricks, raising his hand to ruffle your hair, much to your protest, before practically disappearing in front of your eyes.

you were left grinning to yourself, much like every night.

“what’s up, bruv?” hobie’s friend elbowed him harshly in the ribs, causing him to rip his eyes from you.

“nothing,” he huffed, but by the lack of sustenance and playfulness in his reply, his friend was less than satisfied. hobie was a carefree, reckless guy with a constant spurt of irony, and seeing him with a sullen expression and no bite back, was worrying.

“come off it, hobie,” another one piped up, sitting across from him with an empty pint in one hand and cigarette in the other, pointing the latter in his face. he huffed, “you’ve been slumping for like 3 months now, and you’ve only been writing sappy love songs.”

the table snickered, and even hobie’s lips curled into a smirk. his friend was right, he wasn’t even nearly like his usual self. he blames you for that.

“who is it then, huh?” his friend pushed, cigarette still hanging in front of hobie’s face, ash crumbling off the end, “has our ol’ hobie brown got himself a partner?”

“oi, you know i hate labels,” he smirked again, knowing he was lying. not that he didn’t usually hate them, but he couldn’t avoid the fact that every time you made your way to the front of his mind, he was urged to call you his. his partner. his person. his love. just his.

he always did hate consistency, anyway.

“another round, guys?” your voice ripped him from his thoughts, your scent somehow drifting above the sticky smell of beer and cigarettes, he pinned that down to his spider abilities, but he’d be a fool to ignore that he had simply just memorised the aroma.

“please, darlin’,” hobie’s friends chirped up, grinning at you thankfully. he cursed the burning feeling in his chest.

“i could do you guys a deal,” you smirked playfully, and he looked up to meet your eyes. you looked beautiful tonight, like usual. he was fucked.

“if you lot give us a song, it’ll be on the house,” you smiled hopefully, taking note of their usual orders just incase they agree.

“sounds like a plan,” hobie reached his hand out to you, open for a handshake, to which you took. soft hands falling into his calloused ones, he couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt.

turning away, you left to get their usual set up sorted, feeling him still watching you, to which you threw him a smile over your shoulder.

it wasn’t unusual at all. his eyes would always find you. at the table with his mates, his gaze would swim through the crowd to yours. even on stage, lost in the moment with himself and his guitar, it was you he always found his eyes trailing back to. it wasn’t like the other men in the bar, it wasn’t predatory desire or lust, but it was warm. it was safe.

he had three options, really; confess himself to you as hobie brown, coming clean about the way he felt about you, the warmth in his heart that spread across his spine whenever you smiled at him, eventually having to come clean about his alter-ego. he could confess as spider-man, to which he’d have to come clean about his actual identity. or option three. stay silent and suffer in his own pity. bite his lip and pretend his heart wasn’t yearning for you.

but, he prided himself in being able to speak his mind without hesitation. confident in his word, suffocated in his silence. he would always say: if he ever bit his tongue, to kill him there and then. well, here he is; begging for mercy at the barrel, his tongue bleeding from keeping his heart locked in his chest.

he was fucked. well and truly.

“anything special happen today?” spider-man nudged you, taking a worried note of your unusual quietness recently. it was the same night, he’d picked you up like normal, and hopped along beside you.

“the band played again,” a swelling smile bloomed on your lips, “other than that, not really.”

your voice was hollow tonight. easily mistakable with your naturally soft tone, but to his trained ears, it didn’t feel right.

stopping immediately in his path, his bouncy steps ceasing, you quickly copied him. confusion slipping behind your eyes.

“what’s up?” you questioned.

“you know you wanna tell me,” he stepped around you, arms falling over your shoulders from behind, heavy with his full weight. something about the mask, it gave him a confidence with you that he’d quenched as hobie.

you sighed and rested your head back against his chest, taking him by surprise. there was something intimate about the way your eyes were closed, body resting against him. your brain was hectic, he didn’t need his spidey senses to see that.

“there’s just…” you spoke, eyelids feeling heavy as you opened them, looking up to see him. head split in two, you were unsure if you even wanted to say it out loud, “there’s this guy.”

it was almost cruel how fast his heart dropped, plummeting like a boulder into the pit of his stomach. body stiffening, his head was spinning so fast he didn’t even have the conscience to mask it.

“i just can’t get him out of my head, it’s so stupid,” if your wistful look wasn’t answer enough, the outpour of dissonance he could feel from your body told him it was serious.

“not another fella tryna steal you from me,” he chuckled, but his voice was weak, vulnerable. you hadn’t heard it like that before.

untangling yourself from his weighted grip, you leant against the wall of the building you were stood in front of, staring up into the night sky. there was something so embarrassing about admitting a silly little crush.

“not another one, technically,” you spoke softly, a hint of a smile tickling your lips at the thought of him, he stepped closer, “i’ve already told you about him.”

and he stopped dead in his tracks. mind racing a million miles an hour, picking apart every word you said. was he stupid? was he reaching? seeing something that wasn’t there? he was the only one you’d spoken about, but surely not, right?

shifting closer again, his body begun to feel the heat radiating off you, barely an inch between you both. he towered you, as always, the spikes on his jacket and mask hitting the streetlights perfectly, giving him an orange glow. you bought yourself to look at him, and though you couldn’t see the eyes beneath, you felt his gaze.

insufferably close, closer than you’ve ever been, you could feel your heart in your chest. a tension that you hadn’t quite felt before, bubbling in the air between you.

“say his name, love,” his voice was low, lower than normal, and a twinge of familiarity hit your chest hearing the deeper tone, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. chills dripped down your spine at the new found feeling.

gulping, you could feel his name in your throat, struggling it’s way out.

“hobie.” your voice was barely above a whisper, but considering he almost had you pressed against the brick, he heard every syllable. and god, did it sound good.

“again?” he croaked, just wanting to confirm, needing to hear it again, needing to hear you say it, relish in every beat.

“hobie,” you repeated, louder this time, more conviction in your chest, “i like him, like a lot.”

he went silent. dead silent, barely moving. heat radiated from him, and you could’ve sworn in the vacancy of sound that you could hear his heart pounding against his chest. reaching up, your hand trembling slightly, you placed it there. on his chest, feeling the material of his suit, the humanity of his heartbeat. he melted into it.

“are you o—“

“i need to tell you something.” he interrupted you.

it was your turn to be silent, eyes heavy with intrigue, begging him to continue.

without a word, his ring-clad hand ghosted your skin, drifting past the air between you and to the base of his mask, sliding along his neckline for the seam, and dragging it up over his face, revealing the man within.

your heart stopped, a thousand things flashing through your head, through your heart, surging in your bloodstream. you didn’t even know what to say, what to think, how to comprehend it.

“hobie?” your voice was small again, shrunk beneath the look in his eyes, the desire.

embarrassment waved through you for a moment, a sudden panic of the earlier confession, your chest pounding at the possible rejection.

he didn’t even leave the thoughts enough time to fester, however, because his hand that was holding his mask was suddenly flush against your jaw, the material falling softly onto your neck. thumb trailing the comfort of your cheek, revelling in the feel of your skin, warm against his hands, he leaned forward.

his lips were on yours, without a word. gentle, but rough. the tension escaping through the feeling of him pressed into you, desire leaping out of every shared breath. his other hand fell to your waist, and yours stayed firm on his chest, bunching the fabric in your hand to bring him closer. he obliged, of course, and the kiss deepened. his head spun.

pulling away for breath, you kept your eyes on his lips, disbelief swimming around your brain, colliding with the need to kiss him again.

“y/n,” his hand brought your eyeline to his, “i like you, too.”

you couldn’t help but smile, relief washing your body out.

“like, a lot.”

he kissed you again. and again.

a/n: hope u enjoyed!! pls let me kno if ur did, this is my first time writing for him <3 thanku!!!

#hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #hobie #atsv hobie #hobie my beloved #hobie x reader #spiderman atsv #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk #spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: frienemies-to-lovers, kinda mean!Eddie? shy!reader, swearing, a lil smoochin', mentions of lack of confidence and poor self image, cute nicknames

a/n: hi bb, will you be my valentine? I don't love writing mean!eddie but its okay because we can always fix him :)

Valentine’s Day.

A day which the Hawkins High elite are positively buzzing over the plethora of cheap red and pink decorations.

Cheerleaders swoon over poorly constructed cards from their popular boyfriends, while dozens of obnoxious mylar balloons take up way too much space in the already crowded hallways.

Beyond the 14th of February, the reason for all the excitement was the annual Hawkins High Valentine’s Day dance—of which you were head of the committee.

Was it because you were the only Senior to volunteer their time to coordinating it instead of attending it? Maybe, but at least it gave you a reason to show up to the dance without a date.

...and avoid looking like the pitiful wallflower you are.

You also knew you’d have no time to rush home and get ready after your last class, so here you are. Standing outside of the AV Club door, decked out in your new crushed-velvet dress. It's ruby red and dangerously short.

This was definitely out of your comfort zone. You typically preferred to be invisible. It’s easier that way; no one can hurt what they can’t see. Right?

But when this dress caught your eye in the mall shop window, it was the first time you could ever remember wanting to be seen. Wanting to try to look like the pretty girls who walk the halls everyday vying for the attention of others.

The dance gave you the perfect excuse. Sure, it’s not like you had a date or anyone asking you to go, but you felt so beautiful. The way the dress hugged your body made all the staring and whispering as you walked down the hallway so, so worth it.

“Hey—whoa…” Dustin’s voice dropped when he walked around the corner, arms full of equipment. “Y-you look fantastic!” He said proudly.

Dustin was your favorite Freshmen, always kind and happy to see you.

“Aw, thanks Dusty! You don’t think it’s too much?” You lifted your boot, inspecting it falsely.

Dustin smiled, “It’s too much for 6th period Spanish, but not for Valentine’s Day that’s for sure.”

He unlocked the door, and held it for you.

Dusting grabbed a pen and paper to write down what you’d need the AV Club’s help with after school.

With hands on your hips, you looked around the room. “Okay, so I definitely need the projector, and if you could set it up before—“

An annoying, loud, cocky voice cut you off. “Henderson! What the hell is takin’ you so long?”

Eddie fucking Munson.

You watched as he sauntered into the room, DIO jacket and all. He clapped Dustin on the shoulders before turning his gaze to you.

“Holy shit. That you, Mouse?”

Mouse. A nickname you loathed.

You’d made the mistake of sitting at the Hellfire table your Freshman year, and he’s never let let you live it down. Once Eddie saw just how shy you were, he made it his mission to get under your skin.

He'd plopped down into the seat next to you, assuming you were there to cause him and the guys trouble. “New girl’s trying to get in good with the freaks, hm?”

You jumped and began to frantically pack your belongings, “I-I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I’ll just go—"

When he realized you were nervous, he changed his tone. No longer was he on edge, but rather trying to make you laugh. Show you it's okay to give him a taste of his own medicine. “No no, little mouse. You’re not scurrying away that easily.”

Four years later, you’re both still here and Eddie’s been a thorn in your side ever since. You thought you'd be rid of him once he graduated, but he flunked--twice. Condemning you to another year full of his nonsense.

His obnoxious, overly-confident, doe-eyed nonsense.

“Munson.” You couldn’t help the eye roll. “Dustin and I are working on something so,” you flicked your hand toward the door. “Skedaddle.”

“Oof,” he teased. “You kiss your mother with that potty mouth?”

Eddie walked past Dustin, hands on his hips as he took you in. “Why, may I ask, are you dressed so fancy, princess? Hot date with a frog?”

Okay, guess we’re playing this game.

“The only frog I know is you, Munson.”

His hand flew to his heart. “You hear this, Henderson? Who knew Mouse could be such a brat?”

“If you’ll excuse me,” you attempt to sidestep him, but he blocks your path. Big brown eyes watching your every move. “Don’t you have anything better to do than push my buttons?” It’s a pitiful gripe. You know he enjoys this far too much.

“C’mon, sweetheart. If I didn’t talk to you, who the hell would?”

Ouch.

Something no doubt said in jest, but it hurt to realize just how right he was. You had tons of acquaintances, and you got along great with the teachers. As for friends, the well's a bit dry in that department.

You cleared away the tightness in you throat. “Yeah, I don’t have time for this. I’m actually contributing to society. How about you?” Your face was twisted into a sarcastic smile, attempting to hide the hurt.

Eddie on the other hand thought the two of you were simply playing your favorite game. Seeing just how flustered he could make you before you gave him a taste of his own medicine.

“Yeah, you’re a real Nancy Reagan.” He laughed, gesturing to your dress.

Your eyes honed in on him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” he reached out, sweeping a piece of hair off of your cheek. “If you wanted a little attention, you didn’t have to do all this.”

This.

Said as if the word tasted rotten. Disgusted by what you’d considered to be you at your most beautiful.

I must look like a fucking fool.

The stinging in your eyes got stronger every second you stood in his presence. Your gaze locked onto the floor, following your feet as you left. “Bye, Dustin. I’ll see you later.”

Dustin protested, calling you back before turning his disappointed glare to Eddie.

“Dude…” he chided.

Eddie scoffed, “What? Henderson I was joking—she knows that, okay? That’s our whole thing.”

"Eddie, she was crying!"

Were you? No, no way. This is what the two of you do.

"No, she wasn't." He said unconvincingly. "You don't know her like I do, little buddy. She's a good girl, loves the cat-and-mouse of it all." Eddie wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or Dustin.

Eddie had a fuck of a time in O'Donnell's class, and now on top of all of that, he's late to set up Hellfire.

He moved a bit quicker down the hall, easy enough since most of the school left to get ready for the Desperate Dance. He intentionally always schedules DND on nights like this, that way he'd never have to be caught dead--

Eddie's stopped in his tracks at the sight of the trashcan at the end of the hall. He spots a familiar piece of red fabric hanging out of the bin.

He pulled it like a magician, revealing more and more of the velvet clothing until its fully removed,

A dress.

Your dress.

Why the fuck did you throw it in the trash? You we're the most confident Eddie had ever seen you while you wore this thing.

...and you looked drop dead gorgeous, but that's beside the point.

He heard your voice coming from the gym, and abandoned all thoughts of DND.

Eddie burst through the double doors, ignoring the frilly pink and red decorations for the dance. He weaved between the underclassmen carefully setting up the tables and backdrops to make his way over to you.

You, who now instead of being in your beautiful fucking dress, are in you school-supplied gym uniform. Your hair was pulled back, no longer falling in the perfectly natural way you had it earlier. Your makeup was gone--Eddie didn't mind that, he didn't think you needed it anyway.

But you'd never looked so small to him.

He called your name more gently than you've ever heard him speak. When you turned and saw your dress in his grip, you wanted to disappear.

Had he come to gloat?

"Why the hell was this in the trash?" he's not smirking, or sarcastic when he says it.

"Didn't like it." It's all the pain in your throat will let you get out.

You walk away from him, hurrying to find something else to do beside stand there and be made fun of by Eddie Munson.

"Bullshit," he calls after you, quick on your heels. "You don't wear a dress like this and look the way you look in it and just decide you don't like it."

You could feel the tears returning as soon as you stopped walking. "I don't know what you wanna hear," your back was to Eddie, but you felt his gaze regardless. "I just didn't like it...anymore, okay?"

The fake organization of the ribbons in front of you didn't deter him, he remained behind you in silence until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Did...did I say something? Earlier, in the AV Club." He spoke so softly, and with such sincerity, you'd never know it was Eddie talking to you.

You sniffled, angry at yourself for letting him hear how upset you were. "I don't know what you mean."

"Henderson," He's quick on your heels. "Henderson said you were crying when you left."

You don't--can't say anything. Trying desperately to will the tightness in your throat to go away and the tears to dry before they fall from your eyes. A small, shaking breath passes your lips.

"Please look at me, Mouse." His voice is hushed when he calls out to you.

You turn to him begrudgingly. Hoping if he saw the mess he made he'd leave well enough alone.

But when he sees your face, with red eyes and damp tear-stained cheeks, his heart falls into his stomach.

"Oh, oh sweetheart--"

You beat him to it. "I'm fine, Munson. Just...just give me the stupid thing, okay? I'm better off invisible, anyway."

"You've never been invisible to me." Eddie hands you the dress, and watches as you wring it between your hands. "I'm sorry, Mouse."

You scoff, "You didn't--"

"Yes I did," He says firmly. Eddie steps into you, closer than he's been before. "I made an asinine comment thinking we were playing our little game, but it's not a game if someone gets hurt, especially you."

Eddie swipes away the tear on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You looked beautiful. You're always beautiful, but that dress? Honey, I couldn't think straight. I'm a dumbass half the time, but I turned into a god damned Neanderthal when I saw you in that."

Your brain couldn't process what was happening. It almost sounded like Eddie...liked you?

"I thought," You looked down, embarrassed to even say it out loud. "I finally felt pretty, pretty enough to be seen and not just in the background."

Eddie's brow softens at your words, "Mouse, I see you. You're one of the only things I look for throughout the day. Always lookin' out for the pretty shy girl with the smile that makes me go weak in the knees."

You laugh at that. "I guess I always look for the obnoxious metal head that's way too good at getting under my skin."

Eddie chest rumbles with a laugh, too. "You're too good at calling me on my crap, what do you expect me to do?"

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, and it has Eddie clearing his throat. "Can--can I give you a hug? Hate that I made my favorite girl cry."

The smile on your face speaks volumes, but you nod anyway.

When you're wrapped in Eddie's arms, his warmth seeps through your bones, relieving any tension or nerves. His scent invades your senses, warming your belly and heart. You melt into him completely.

Eddie can't believe how well you fit in his arms, like a damn puzzle piece if you asked him. He smells you shampoo, and memorizes the fragrance, filing it away in his mind as his new favorite smell.

When you pull back, he leans his forehead on yours. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I really am."

You nod, moving his head a bit as it rests on yours. "I know."

Eddie steps away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ya know, uh, if you're not busy, I'm running a DND campaign tonight. I'd love it if you sat in and maybe after...I don't know, maybe I could take you to Benny's?"

You smirked, eyes narrowing at him. "You asking me out, Munson?"

His eyes widened in sheer panic, "Oh--oh my God, I read this all wrong, huh? Please just forget--"

You're quick to ease his worry. "I'd love too."

Putting the dress on the table, you offer Eddie your hand. "Show me the way, Dungeon Master."

He takes it eagerly, but doesn't walk anywhere yet.

"Eddie?" You giggle.

"One second, princess. Damn knees turned to jelly again."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson

[brewed-pangolin]

Just a little bit of Soap comfort...

18+MDNI

--

You didn't have to call him. He was already waiting on your doorstep when you came home.

"C'mere, bonnie." His voice was like velvet. Soothing the open nerves of your heart while his arms welcomed you into his loving sanctuary.

You had cured an unspoken bond when you were together. It was so long ago, yet the tendrils of devotion still pulled at your souls like vines. Stubborn and overgrown.

"I still love ya, y'know." He spoke soflty into the delicate fibers of your hair. Burying your head into his chest, encapsulated within the safety of his embrace as your world shattered like emotionally stained glass all around you.

"I can't do this, Johnny. Not now." Your feigned attempt a reluctance was met by a tighter hold of his arms around you.

"I know. We donnae 'ave to do anythin'. Jus' talk if ya want."

-

That 'just talk' lasted no more than thirty minutes before Johnny had you splayed out underneath him.

Every thrust fracturing your soul. Every fragmented whimper swallowed by his greedy void. Feasting relentlessly on your heartache, emptying the pain within your chest. Filling the vacuum with his overwhelming tenderness to dull the burn of healing as your mind and body cauterized itself from yet another failed relationship.

"Johnny," you whimpered breathlessly into his mouth.

"I know, bonnie. I know."

His wavering timbre sending you barreling into overstimulatation. Clenching your eyes, digging your nails into his flesh of his back as the pulse of an orgasm radiates deep within your pelvic floor.

"Open your eyes, love. Got'a see ya. Fuck, miss seein' ya like this."

You willingly follow his grunting command. Meeting his gaze, immediately drowning in his cerulean seas as you reach your climax and blissfully convulse around him.

"Joh-" your murmured whine was quickly silenced by his mouth. Defeaning your moans as he slows his pace, his hips stuttering with a growly moan as he abruptly empties himself deep within your welcoming caverns.

"I fuckin' love ya, bonnie. Love ya so goddamn much."

"I know, Johnny." His exhausted proclamation ricocheted off the walls and straight into your heart. Cementing the borders of your soul once more as you found yourself again within the deep recesses of his eyes.

You trail a finger across his sweat covered brow. Curling tendrils of his overgrown mohawk behind his ear, find your voice once more as his body steadily trembles above you.

"You wanna try again, Johnny? See what happens?"

"Aye. I'd try fer a lifetime if it meant I could 'ave jus' one night wit you."

You sealed the next juncture of your renewal with a kiss. Rekindling the flame between your conjoined bodies as the doors of eternity opened in a welcoming embrace.

--

I don't know what this is, besides a heap of emotional mumbo-jumbo. Whatever. I love writing SoftSoap. And writing this just healed my soul.

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @jynxmirage @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @punishmepunisher @d3athtr4psworld @ghosts-goldendoodle @obligatoryghoststare @shotmrmiller @writeforfandoms @thetrashpossum @simpingoverquestionablemen @mykneeshurt @haurasha @kkaaaagt @luismickydees

#Soul Healer Soap #SoftSoap™️ #Soap Squad™️ #comfort soap #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #cod soap #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod

[light-purp-insect]

A Hesitant Rest (Zevlor BG3 x GN unspecified Tav)

Notes/warnings: SFW, fluff, domestic feelings, mentions of other companions, Astarion being himself at the end, not beta read, sleeping together (literally), slight depictions of anxiety, slight nudity (undressing in the company of another person), very light spoilers, possibly fast paced? (Read author's notes below for context), very little dialogue

This was just an excuse to write something in two days to finally put another fic on my blog, as well as hopefully an introduction for fans of Baldur's Gate 3 to send asks.

The fire of the camp was on its last embers, the bright hot orange ashes going into the sky but no crackle left. It made the little clearing have such little lighting, the only main source being an occasional lantern or candle left out near a tent before their inhabitant went to bed. That or Karlach’s internal workings giving a glow through the thin fabric of her tent, but that was always to be expected. Speaking of, I don’t even remember why I’m still up. It's not like anyone will attack us, I’ve noticed very few creatures are even interested in us. But then again, I couldn’t be certain. For all I knew, there could be a bear that wasn’t Halsin or perhaps a crazed Drow or–

You notice the dull red tip of a pointed tail of your tiefling friend, Zevlor, twitch back and forth. His eyes scanned the camp and the outskirts of the trees until falling onto you. You could see the initial shock of realizing you were awake melt into delight. The bowl of food next to him had gone cold a while ago, but so did yours. He motions for you to come closer with a hand, and you oblige without much convincing.

Eventually you find yourself on the ground next to him in silence. Your hand in his, more for his comfort than trying to be cuddly, his tail begins to become more alive. In particular his tail went from nervously flicking in the dirt to being pressed against your side and the tip swishing to pat your thigh.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

“I'm afraid not, dear.”

His voice sounded a little defeated. He had gotten older and the stress of the loss of several Hellriders still was fresh in his mind. In his mind he still felt terrible, no matter how many times you tried to convince him it wasn't his fault for having his mind essentially possessed. To be honest he wanted to sleep next to you, you knew how to handle him the best.

“I have a few extra pillows, would you-..?” He doesn't finish his sentence, hoping you would be able to take his hint. To reiterate his question, he points to his tent with a clawed finger and tilts his head slightly. Once again you oblige to his silent offers. With a slightly pained groan, he gets up from the ground and guides you away towards his tent.

Much like he had said, on the rather rudimentary mattress was a few extra pillows and an old woven blanket for the both of you. From the inside, he turns and closes the fabric flap to the tent and begins to shuck the light armor from his body. The old leather falls unceremoniously to a little corner as he stretches his back with another groan. His tail slowly swishing around behind him as he continues to undress, giving you some privacy as you do as well.

Within a short time, he has stripped down to his old and worn boxers, the hoary fabric ripped slightly along the waistband and one of the side seams had been hastily restitched quite a while ago. His once lean body had gotten softer in some areas from age, of course still having to be well maintained from his previous years of travels. He had a few pink scars littering his figure, but nothing that looked particularly gnarly or uncomfortable to live with.

Eventually he turned back to you, giving a small smile that made his nasolabial lines more visible. He had bathed next to you a few times, so you weren't anything especially new to see in little clothing. He hunkers down on the poorly made mattress and waits patiently for you to follow. “It's been a little while since I was last able to sleep next to someone.” He muttered before looking away.

When he felt the bed sink under your weight, he looked back up. His gaze softened every second you were close. He needed this, something to comfort him tonight. The two of you languidly lay your heads on the pillows, and Zevlor momentarily readjusts himself so he wasn't laying on his horns.

As the two of you lay under the covers, eyes closed and silent, you feel the dull edge of a clawed hand. Did Zevlor want to hold you? It wouldn't be anything particularly out-of-the-ordinary, after all you had been through with this adventure. From under the blanket you guide his hand against your side. He gives a thankful huff in response.

And then, something you hadn't even thought he would do had happened. You had a feeling he wanted some contact, but now he had his arms wrapped around you and cradling your head to his chest. He smelt like the leather of his armor and had the faintest hint of smoke, probably from staying by the fire for so long. The tiefling languidly entertwined the both of your legs together, finally finding the warmth he so desperately craved. And you let him, he deserved something soft for once.

“Thank you, darling.” He purred– not in a lustful or lecherous way, but an actual feline-adjacent pur. You could feel by the blanket that his tail was sleepily wagging, clearly delighted you would let him have this. A pair of lips press to the crown of your head and stay there. You finally speak once again, wanting him to hear your voice before he drifted off to bed. “You're welcome, Zevlor.”

-- -- -- --

As the pale elf came back to the camp from his feeding, he instinctively decided to check the tents of his other companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Zev– oh. Well, at least he wouldn't need to check your tent tonight. He grined at the awfully sweet sight of the both of you asleep in the other's arms. He had a feeling he would tease one of you later, but he would allow you to rest before so.

#Av writes for once #zevlor bg3 #Zevlor Baldur's Gate 3 #zevlor x tav #zevlor x reader #zevlor x you #zevlor #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fic

[lqveharrington]

Love-Hate | H.B.

summary: you’re love-hate relationship with Hobie Brown himself <3

pairing: Hobie Brown x fem!Spidey!reader

warnings: kinda suggestive !! making out, fluff if you squint, cursing, gwen and miles being in an awkward situation, lmk if i forgot any !!

wc: 1.5k+

a/n: it’s so hard to write for hobie’s accent oml !!

————

You had a love-hate relationship with Hobie.

Literally.

One second you’ll be annoyed at him for taking all the snacks you announced you wanted to have and the next, you’ll be making out in the break room, knocking things over. It was a never-ending cycle that confused everyone who witnessed an interaction. Even during missions Miguel sent out, the bickering wouldn’t end and in return, the make-outs wouldn’t end.

You never labeled the relationship as anything and Hobie hated labels, so it was a win-win situation. There would be some moments where you were just friendly with each other, but the arguments that would soon blow up in your faces will always end whatever chance others would deem as a healthy relationship.

Sometimes, your closest friends at HQ were nothing but added more reasons to your disputes with each other. The typical starter to a fight would be one stealing the others' belongings without them knowing. Yet, neither of you could ever give proof until an hour later when the item would appear back in its rightful place where it was last left.

Gwen being the cause of those fights.

Just like today, but worse.

You were pissed. And it wasn’t even Hobie’s fault for once. Still, he decided today would be the day to be the most aggravating person in the world.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, love?” He draped an arm around your shoulders, feigning false hurt when you pushed him off. “Nice to know you have some sort of emotion.”

“Hobie, go away.” You glare in his direction, finding a smirk displayed on his face. Not giving him the satisfaction of blowing up just yet, you answer his previous question. “Miguel is being a huge dick. I fought the stupid anomaly off and got blamed for not calling it in. What does he want me to do? Risk the entire universe, my universe to be more precise, just to call in a stupid anomaly? I would rather be stranded on a deserted island than risk that! I hate him so much, I have no idea why I joined this stupid society!”

You enter one of the more secluded areas you claimed as your own place, scanning for the walkman your dad gave you before he… Well, you all know the canon event by now.

“Where the fuck is it?” You let out a frustrated groan, opening the drawers and slamming them shut once you realized someone had taken it. “Did you take it?”

“What?”

“Did you take the walkman?” You stare up at him, glare still prominent. “I left it here.”

“Why would I take the walkman?” Hobie blatantly replied, hands in the pockets of his vest as he leaned against one of the walls, his guitar placed right beside him.

“Because you steal all of my shit, Hobie!” You rub your forehead, earning a raised brow from the male. “You know what? Fine, it’s fine. Everything is fine. I just need to relax. Then maybe you’ll give back the Walkman.”

“I don’t have the bloody Walkman.” He walked up to you, mere inches away. “And if I did, I would ‘ave gave it to ya’ as it seems you’re in a bit of a pissy mood.”

“Bite me.” You roll your eyes at his words, shifting closer to his frame. “You always take my things! No matter what time of day it is, where we are, it always goes missing! And you clearly don’t understand the value of this particular item!”

You looked up at him as you breathed heavily from the small outburst.

“I didn’t take anything.” Hobie met your eyes and leaned the smallest bit.

“Liar.” You reply with a voice laced with pure hate.

If anyone had walked in for the first few seconds, they would’ve thought it was a staring contest. But the sudden energy that emitted from the both of you completely took over, now hoping no one walked in.

Your hands pulled on his vest as he held your face with one hand and your waist with the other, his lips meeting you with such force and passion. As swiftly as it happened, you were able to sync up your movements, allowing Hobie to push you on the couch.

“I fucking hate you.” You separate from him, catching your breath.

“Feelings mutual, love.” He kissed your jaw and moved down to your neck, leaving small pecks and sucking on the more sensitive parts. You let out a small moan at the action, tugging on his vest and wanting to feel his lips back on your own.

“You’re so fucking needy.”

“Shut up.” You close the gap between you two, the coolness of his lip ring sending a miniature shiver down your spine.

He slotted one of his legs between both of yours, eliciting a whimper you tried to hold back. Something that Hobie didn’t fail to hear. He shifted his leg with the smallest amount of force causing you to gasp, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. He swallowed all your noises, immediately feeling the need to get closer than you already were.

Hobie pulled away from you, the line of spit connecting the two of you splitting as you groaned from the physical detachment.

“Bee, what the fuck!” Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes still full of desire for the Brit in front of you.

“Y’know how much I hate your Spidey suit.” He squeezed your waist, watching you squirm underneath him. “It makes everything so impossible.”

You huff, “Don’t blame me for something you started.”

“I didn’t take your walkman.” He spoke in a lower tone, eyes darkening. “How many times will I have to say that for you to get that in your pretty likkle mind?”

“Fuck you.”

“You fucking wish.” Hobie went to attack your neck once more, this time gaining a much louder moan. Your own eyes widen at the noise.

He groaned into your neck, “Holy shit, love.”

— —

“Miles, you’ve discovered every inch of this place! What more do you need to discover?” Gwen walked backward, watching her friend’s eyes light up as he spotted a hallway he’s never been in. “What?”

“What’s over there?”

Gwen looked over to where he was pointing, immediate regret taking over. I knew I should’ve gone another way. She thought.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Let’s go to the break room and bother more cool Spider-men!”

Miles raised a brow at her sudden energy to leave the area. “What? Are you hiding something there?”

“Me? I won’t ever hide something in this stupid place.” She crossed her arms, standing her ground. “Let’s leave.”

“Nope.” He popped his p, already walking to the new area. “I wanna look to see what’s over there.”

“It’s boring! It is so boring over there.” Gwen followed, hoping that you weren’t there.

“If it’s boring, why do you want us to leave this place so bad?”

“Just… Because.” She stuck her tongue out. “Just come on, nothing good is over—“

“Fuck!”

The distant sound made Miles concerned, thinking someone was hurt in the area. He started to make his way down the hallway, Gwen trying to stop him before he saw something he wished he didn’t.

“Gwen. If something bad happens down there and we could’ve prevented it, it’ll be on you.” He poked her arm, web shooters ready just in case. “We’ll just check, okay?”

The blonde bit her lip and nodded. Instead of getting her web-shooters ready to shoot at whatever the cause is, she got ready to web his eyes closed and her own hands to cover hers.

Miles burst into the room flicking the lights on, screaming to scare off whatever it was.

You and Hobie, on the other hand, jumped at the noise, Hobie throwing a pillow at the culprit.

“MILES?!” You shout, hiding yourself under Hobie, silently cursing. “GWEN?!”

“OH, MY EYES!” Miles turns around, Gwen in return webbing them shut a little too late. “OW, MY EYES!”

“Oops, sorry, Miles.” She pats his shoulder, not making eye contact with the older pair. “Hey, Hobie… Hey—”

“As much as I love a group reunion, get the fuck out.” Hobie dropped his head on your shoulder, muttering out words that weren’t too nice. Gwen quickly turned around and left without struggle, Miles still struggling with the web stuck on his face. The blonde whispered an apology to the boy, grabbing his arm and leading him out of the room.

“Sorry— OW! Gwen!” Miles leaves the room with a yelp.

Hobie rolls his eyes at the pair, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “So?”

You stare back, “What?”

“You called me Bee.” He gave a smug look. “You like me.”

“I do not!”

“Whatever you say.”

You smack his arm, adjusting the way you lay on the couch. “You still took my walkman.”

“Gwendy literally left it on the counter over there,” Hobie smirks in your direction. “Either your spidey senses aren’t working or you love me.”

“Love? No. Absolutely not.”

“The look of messy everything on you is a style then, yeah?” He clicks his tongue, taking in your disheveled look.

“I hate you.”

“Hate you too.” He gave you one last kiss, which believe it or not, left a small smile on your lips.

————

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobart brown #hobie x y/n #hobie headcanons #hobie spiderverse #hobie my beloved #atsv hobie #hobie smut #hobie brainrot #hobie brown one shot #one shot #hobie brown atsv #atsv #spider punk #spider punk my beloved #spider punk hobie brown #spider punk imagine #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown hcs #spider punk headcanons #august’s works 🫧

[sherifftillman]

False Idols

alternate ao3 link

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: 18+ (minors DNI or I'm shattering throats n slicing kneecaps), unprotected sex (also pls do not do), oral (f receiving + m receiving), deepthroating, handjob, fingering, light degradation, p in v, cumming inside, eddie's got a god complex

Summary: One revelation leads to another, and another...

Word count: 3582

A/N: Sorry it's been so quiet on the writing front! I'm getting back into the swing of things :)

“Phoenix, this is Hellhound, do you copy? Over.” 

You love that Eddie’s got more friends now, you really do. And him being friends with those freshmen who loved their AV club sure has come in useful for you to be able to communicate with him uninterrupted, pretty much wherever you may be. But maybe he got a little too into making codenames for the two of you.

Reaching over to pick up your walkie-talkie, you hold it up to your mouth and squeeze the button. “Yeah, I’m here, Eds. What’s up?”

“Would it kill you to use the lingo just once?” Although his voice is warbled from the radio, you can hear the disappointment in his tone.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Uhh, ten-four, reading you loud and clear, Cap’n Hellhound, what’s your coordinates? Over.”

“Funny. Someone get this kid on stage,” Eddie deadpans. “Are you free to come hang out at the trailer, if I pick you up? Like, now?”

“Uh, sure! I’ll need to get ready first, how far away are you?”

“Uhh…”

“You’re outside, aren’t you.” Silence. Tells you everything. “Read you loud and clear, Hellhound. Phoenix over and out.”

You slip on the first shoes you find and head straight out the front door to your front yard. You probably should have picked up a jacket, considering how you’re dressed, but you’re not thinking about that right now. What’s important is being there for your best friend. The way you always have been, and always will be. 

Being Eddie Munson's best friend meant playing the most epic of fantasy games growing up. Being Eddie Munson's best friend meant having to stand back while he got bullied, because having a girl defend him only made it worse. Being Eddie Munson's best friend meant always having a front row seat to Corroded Coffin gigs, even though there was never a massive crowd, you knew there would be someday. Being Eddie Munson's best friend meant always having someone in your corner, and always being there in his, too.

You knew exactly why he wanted you out here. Now that he’s all up and graduated, the endless void of The Future beckons, and it scares him. All his other, more age-appropriate friends have plans and that scares him because he doesn’t. His plan was to graduate with you the year prior. You’d joked that he was always destined to be held back a year so you could leave that place together. But you managed to get through senior year unscathed. Eddie still didn’t quite make it until the following year. But he met his little baby nerds this past school year, so perhaps it was all part of his divine plan after all.

Everyone around you always had an opinion about your choice not to go into college right after school. You’re smart enough. It’s the usual way. What else are you going to do with your life? You always tell them that you’ve got your whole life to figure out what you want to dedicate it to working as, what’s the rush? But deep down, you know there’s another reason you haven’t left Hawkins.

You and Eddie had driven in silence for the most part. Whenever Eddie suggested these drives, it’s usually because he wanted to be alone, except for the pair of you, that state is only safe when it’s the two of you, even if it’s to sit in total silence. You felt the cold, remnant-of-spring breeze hit your skin and quickly pulled Eddie’s spare jacket from where he usually “stored” it beneath your feet and threaded your arms into it, suddenly very self-conscious about the choices you’d made - or rather, not made - before you left the house.

 He finally breaks the silence after he’s parked up outside his uncle’s trailer, though he shows no sign of getting out.  “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

You frown, "Why wouldn't I be? You drove me."

He chuckles softly, stroking his chin. "You know what I mean, smartass. You were made for college. You could be anywhere in the whole United States right now, kicking ass and taking names. Your whole world shouldn't start and end at Hawkins."

You want nothing more than to shake him by the shoulders and tell him that your whole world is right here next to you, but of course you can't do that. "Well, that's why I'm gonna be the Coffin's number one roadie, right? So I can see the world."

Eddie scoffs as he gets out of the car, "Please, give yourself some credit. You'd be our tour manager, at least."

"See?! Fuck college, I've got my life planned out already, seeing the world with my best friend in tow," you grin, hopping out the other side.

Eddie looks at his trailer, shakes his head softly and gestures for you to walk around some more with him. You follow in tow, feeling the cold air hit your chest, and cross your arms around it, desperately hoping you can continue to hide what the air exposes. 

Eventually, Eddie smiles softly, "Alright, in reality, I am pretty glad you didn't go to college."

"Me too," you nod back, walking into his arm to nudge it lightly.

After a few beats of walking in comfortable silence, Eddie chuckles again. "Speaking of life plans, you still gonna marry me when we're 35?"

You collapse into laughter, remembering the pact you made when you were kids. "Oh my god, stop! And I swear it was when we were 40! It definitely ended in a 0."

"Fine, then when we're 30," he muses. "Still down?"

"What's the rush?" you ask. "C'mon, don't you wanna find your soulmate first?"

He snorts with laughter, "Again with all the ‘fate’ stuff. You're so corny."

You stop walking and gasp in half-mocked offence. "What do you mean?!" You continue your pace deliberately back towards his trailer, having almost come full circle, and he follows, "Do you not believe that one of these days, when you're out on tour or whatever, you're gonna meet someone who you're gonna spend the rest of your life with?"

Eddie shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, muttering, "Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew."

Your heart sinks. "What's that mean?" you ask, but Eddie stays silent. "Come on, you can tell me!" He remains quiet. Trying to remain light-hearted, you tut, shaking your head. "Well damn, some future husband you'll be if you're already keeping secrets from me…"

He finally breaks, clearing his throat. "Um. Well, uh, maybe that… Person, is… Not somewhere out in the big wide world to go looking for after all." His gaze quickly turns to you to gauge your reaction before he turns away again. You wonder if, after all this time, or maybe just for now, he feels the same things you do.

You decide to test the waters, stepping closer to him and letting one arm fall, brushing your knuckles against his. "That's true, the world is a big ol' place. Maybe they're closer than that. Maybe they're still in America."

You see the corners of his mouth turn up as he takes your hand and squeezes it. "Maybe - maybe they're still in Indiana."

You've both stopped walking now, once again back at the van. You're looking into his eyes, his deep, dark, warm, rich eyes. He's looking at you with mixed eager anticipation and sheer awe that this conversation is even happening. "You think they might be in Hawkins?" You ask, an obvious sense of smugness present in your tone.

He leans into you, with just as prideful a grin as he admits, "I think we both know you're right here."

Your hand cradles his jaw into the first kiss you two have ever shared. Silent years of pining, of being afraid to lose him over this, of jealousy over everyone he ever showed an interest in, of guilt that you could never get over him. All of that melts between your lips. But there's more than just that. Not only is he matching your energy entirely here, he's one-upping it.

His hands start to slide down your back slowly. Tantalisingly. They stop at the small of your back, fingers drumming impatiently. You hum a sound of consent against his lips, and Eddie wastes no time in taking your ass into both of his hands and squeezing. As he pulls you close, your hips instinctively start to grind against his. Your moans harmonise in each others' mouths, though yours falters into a shiver. Eddie breathes out a laugh, rubbing your arms over his jacket. “Wanna head inside and warm up?” he purrs, pressing his forehead against yours and then leaning his head up to kiss your forehead softly.

You nod and step away from him, once again keeping your arms tightly wound across your body to keep yourself warm as he fumbles through his pockets to find the key to the trailer. You follow behind him up the steps, practically feeling the physical anticipation between the two of you like static electricity.  He wrenches the door open, holding it out for you and lingering as he watches you walk in. He quickly follows though, not even allowing enough time for the door to close behind him before snaking his arms beneath yours and pulling you close to resume kissing you.

He blindly guides you towards the couch until you both fall into it, grabbing your thighs to wrap them around his hips before sliding his hands up beneath your skirt to this time grip your bare ass. The metal of his rings press contrastingly cool and smooth to his warm, wide, worn hands. You squeeze your knees into his hips now that you’re straddling him, your hips desperately seeking friction which he happily provides, bucking up to meet you.

He makes quick work of throwing his jacket off of your shoulders, and you break the kiss to lean back and shake it off your arms. His eyes trail down to your chest and he sucks a long breath in. "Holy fuck, angel, I thought you had your arms crossed because you were mad at me for something, but…" He slowly drags his knuckles up and down against the sensitive nubs practically bursting through the thin cover of your dress. You breath hitches once, twice, three times as you gasp at the contact. "Now I see why."

"Yeah, well… I just threw this on because - it was easy and I - was just having a lazy day," you whine through his touches.

Eddie pauses for a moment to bring your jaw down to look him in the eyes as he raises his eyebrows. "You just "threw on" the one dress that makes your tits look like works of fucking art? Please." He tugs at the front of your dress to expose your breasts, and you slip the straps down to give him full access to take one out and start suckling on your nipple. He continues to rub the other between his finger and his thumb, and you rake your fingers into his hair as you cry out with pleasure.

Eddie looks back up at you as if he's high off the taste of your skin, smiling dreamily. "Would I be right in assuming, based on what I felt earlier, that your bra isn't the only underwear you forgot?"

You bite your lip and jump up, pulling your dress up over your head and throwing it at him. "Come see for yourself," you smirk, pushing your chin into your shoulder before running into his bedroom.

He chases you there, throwing his shirt off in the process. You sit perched on the edge of the bed and he looks at you in awe, slowly sinking his knees lower as he approaches you until he's on the floor at your feet, throwing your legs over his shoulders before burying his face between them and sliding his tongue deep beneath your folds.

Your hands once again take residence in his hair, scooping it all to one side so you can watch his tongue fuck you before pulling out to lap your clit rapidly. One hand is rested on your inner thigh, ready to plunge his fingers inside of you whenever his tongue is focused on your clit, and the other rests on top of your other thigh, ready to rub at your clit in circles whenever his tongue is inside you. He manages to find the one spot that causes you to feel a euphoria you've never known before, with his tongue and with his fingers, and holy shit, does he know how to work it with them.

"Oh, my - Eddie," you groan, and you feel his chuckle vibrate against your core.

"You know, sweetheart, I believe the phrase people use is oh my god."

Groaning at the sensation, you cry, "Fuck, when you make me feel this good, what's the difference?"

Eddie's entire demeanour changes. He looks at you in a way that excites you from the inside out. Yearning becomes possessiveness, along with a confidence you've never seen to him. He ducks back down to ravish you with the fervour of a man on death row eating his last meal, still massaging your clit just as gently as before. All of it is enough for you to climax over your best friend's tongue, screaming a string of mixed encouragements and profanities in the process.

You barely have time to appreciate the look of his ecstatic face absolutely smothered in your juices before he stands up, licking all around his mouth and pulling his belt undone. "Get on your knees, on the floor," he commands, and you instantly comply, though your legs feel weak when you bear your weight onto them.

Eddie's jeans and boxers fly to the floor with an almighty thud, which almost distracts you from the sight of his hungry eyes on you as he lazily strokes his cock. Thick, but not painful-looking. Long, but enough to not let any go to waste. Pink at the tip, veins all around. Adorned with a bushy mess of hair. Just perfect. "Say it again," Eddie commands, his tone deeper, darker.

You look up at him with a genuinely innocent curiosity. "Say what?"

"Fuck, you - you calling me a - a god really fucked me up, just, please say it again."

Biting your lip in anticipation, knowing you could make him feel things he's never felt before with one sentence, you look up at him and grin, "Eddie Munson, you are a total sex god."

However, it's you who's enamoured as he groans, his hand moving faster than ever, twisting around his member as his free hand beckons you to kneel up higher. You do so and he commands, "Spit on it." You comply and sink back down to sit on your knees, knowing you now want nothing more than to follow Eddie's every word to a T. Maybe he is a sex god. Eddie holds his palm out flat beneath his cock to also spit on it himself, lubing himself up and moaning the whole time. You watch the way it moves and you feel your mouth start to fall open. He smirks when he notices, "Go on, see what happens."

You let your jaw drop and your tongue loll out wide and flat as you keep watching intently. Your whimper almost comes out as a full-on cry as he flicks his spit-drenched erection all across your face - except for on your tongue, where you craved for him to be inside of your mouth. In a desperate plea, you cry out, "Oh, p-please, fuck, I'll do anything!"

Eddie worries his lower lip beneath his teeth in contemplation for a beat. A fistful of your hair flies into one hand, pushing it back until you're looking up at him, your neck taut. He holds his cock just below your lower lip with the other hand. He looks down at you, his eyes so blown out that they look black, and with the most confident tone you've ever heard from him, he asks, "You gonna pray to me while you're on your knees? Devote every waking moment to worshipping me?"

"Y-yes, god." You expect to do a lot more convincing than that, but something about looking Eddie dead in the eye and calling him that has him sliding his head just over your lip gently before roughly pushing your head down and thrusting up until your nose is nestled amongst the wiry hair spread beneath. You quickly try to remember all the tricks you'd read in the magazines: squeezing your left thumb in your fist, focusing on breathing through your nose. You manage to stay long enough for Eddie to let out the most pornographic of moans before tapping out, to which he hurriedly takes himself out and looks at you with great concern.

You meet his gaze with an appreciative smile and a nod, completely ignoring the trail of drool still connecting you to him. Before he can say anything more, your hand is wrapped around him, pumping his cock with ease, "Gonna -" you pause for a second as you realise how gravelly your voice is after that, but continue - "gonna wake up, every day, n' worship your cock, however you want me." Eddie again grabs your hair, affectionately pushing your head around in all directions. Feeling a spike deep within your core at the sensation of your hair being pulled around too, you whine as you add, "'m gonna be there… Whenever, wherever you need me, an' - I'll only fall asleep while you're deep inside me, holding all your cum." Needing him in your mouth again, you suckle on his balls while playing your fingertips around them, too.

"Fuck," Eddie yells, "Alright, get back up, onto the bed, on your back." You don't need to be told twice. You practically launch yourself onto the mattress, the creaks of the springs foreshadowing the symphony you're about to create. He throws your legs upwards and outwards, and you silently comply with holding the backs of your knees as close to your shoulders as you can. You feel him trailing the tip of his head along your folds, so close. Your hips start to wriggle instinctively, but you hold back, seeing in Eddie's expression just how much he gets off to being in control. He notices and smirks, "Oh I know, aren't I being terrible… Is my sinful little slut resisting temptation for me?" You nod, and honestly, the way his toothy grin ever so slowly creeps along his face is the truly sinful act here. "Words, please."

"Y-yes, god, want you to fuck me, please," you beg. "Am I worthy now?"

"Always have been," he breathes before finally sliding into you. He feels so full, but effortlessly so. Like a key that finally presses all the lock mechanisms just right. And fuck, was he pressing all of you just right. "Yeah, I know, baby, I know," he soothes as you writhe against him, leaning over you to kiss down your jaw to your neck.

"Fuck, Eddie, wanted this for - so long," you mewl as your hips buck down onto him every time he pulls back.

"Yeah?" he smirks, knowing what you're craving and pulling out further every time before pushing in just as deeper. "My little pervert's been thinking about this, has she?" You look away bashfully, but he moves your face to look back at him. "Hey, hey," he soothes, "you know how hot that is, now I know? Because fuck knows how many wet dreams you've starred in."

He doesn’t give you the time to imagine him masturbating over the thought of you, all alone in this very bed. Angling himself to lean back just a little, he aims himself just at that part he was hitting with his tongue and his fingers earlier, that drove you wild. Your eyes roll back as your grip falters from your legs. You dig your fingertips into the mattress as you feel yourself starting to come apart once again. "Hnnn, fuck, I'm gonna - please, can I -?"

"Shit, I'm close, too. Ah fuck, look at you, look at me! Getting to fuck the most beautiful girl in the world, and she's my best friend? Fucking jackpot." He leans over you, fists pushing into the mattress either side of you, his nose barely touching yours, as he looks you deep in the eyes, his still blown into dark voids of total corruption. "Now c'mon, baby, tell me again. Who's your fucking god?"

You groan, "It's you, god, Eddie, god!" You clench around him just as you feel him filling you up, warm spurts of cum lining your insides. He stays inside of you, thrusting more and more gently until he eventually comes to a complete standstill. 

He still remains inside you, hovering over you, but his tired expression is far softer. "Holy fucking shit," he breathes, "that was intense."

"Yeah," you admit, "but in a good way, right?"

"Oh, absolutely," Eddie leans down to kiss you sweetly, gently. He caresses your face with a genuine adoration. "So, uh… If that's just a taste of what sex with you is like… Wanna bump that whole marriage thing up to next week?"

You reach up and cup his jaw, cocking your head. "Oh, sweetie. Go get us cleaned up, then find a suit. We're going to the courthouse first thing tomorrow morning."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut

[februarybluues]

idk if this is where I put requests I'm new to Tumblr 😭 but like I had an idea 🤓☝🏾can you write a story where the reader takes hobie roller skating and has to teach him because he's so horrible at it pleaseee

-M

i love this idea so much u have no idea . really hope i did it justice.

Roller-date.

warnings: cursing, gn reader, awful british, clumsy ass hobie

look at him guys omg he's so drools

Although he insisted that he’d rather spend time with you at his house, you weren’t listening. You had your eye on the new roller-skating rink that opened up recently and you instantly knew you wanted to go. He was very much against the idea at first; ‘Capitalistic ideations’ and what-not. “We can just get our own skates ‘n go ‘round town. We don’t need’a spend money.”, he’d say, but you countered with “It’ll be fun! Don’t you want to spend quality time together? It’ll be like a fun roller-date!” you smiled at him, and he found himself sighing with defeat. How could he possibly say no to you? “Fine. Just this once.” 

And that’s how he ended up here; sitting down next to you on a bench - inside the rink, bright pink roller skates in his hands. “You sure they didn’t ‘ave any other colours?” he asked you, looking down to see you tying the laces on your skates – which matched his. “Nope. But, it’s too late now!” you giggled, and he groaned; definitely regretting his agreement to come in the first place, but at least you were happy. Once you finished putting your rollerskates on, you looked back to him and smiled. You quickly made eye contact, as he had admittedly been staring at you the entire time. “Are you gonna tie your laces or do you need me to do that for you?” you teased, effectively snapping him out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes at you, before tying his laces. It was hilarious; his punk style clashed with the bright pink roller skates in a way that made you struggle to contain your laughter. “What’s so funny?” he asked you. You cleared your throat. “Nothing.” you muttered, still staring at his skates. You didn’t see the small smile plastered on his face. “Come on then.” he said, and you finally looked back up at him. “You ready?” you asked him, and he nodded. You stood up; careful to not fall over. He stayed on the bench, which made you quirk your eyebrow at him, confused. “Hobe? Are you alright?” you asked him, taking note of how he awkwardly sat there. He nodded at you; the once cocky smirk on his face was replaced with a subtle look of embarrassment. But he played it off well. “Fine. ‘M fine.” he said. “Then come on. Let’s get in the rink!” you smiled, and he scrambled to get up. At first, he opted for the ‘no-hands approach’; Attempting to stand up without his hands, to impress you. – which failed horribly. He slipped and landed back on the bench. Then, he tried to hold onto the arm of the bench to pull him up. It worked for a bit, but just as he finally stood up, his knees shook and he lost his balance, falling back onto the bench. You laughed quietly at his struggling, amused at the scene in front of you. “Hobie, can you not skate?” you asked him, genuinely. “Maybe I can’t. So what?” he didn’t look at you as he spoke. His lips were pouted and his brows were crossed with subtle anger and maybe a slight bit of embarrassment. You laughed, the situation was now making much more sense. The reason he didn’t want to skate was because he didn’t know how to! He scoffed at you, crossing his arms like an angry toddler. “I’m sorry- here.” you tried to stop laughing, and held your hand out to him, pulling him up as he grabbed onto it. It took him a minute to get his balance, but once he did he felt like the king of the world. “Want me to teach you how to skate?” you offered, smiling sweetly. “I’d love tha', doll.” he raised your hand to his lips and pressed a small kiss to it. “Firstly, let’s get in the rink.” you stated, slowly beginning to step towards it. A hand latched onto your arm before you could do so. “Wait! Don’t jus’ leave me ‘ere!” he all-but-shouted, clinging onto your arm. You laughed again at that. “Here. Just take tiny steps. Sort of like waddling- like a penguin.” you instructed, before demonstrating it to him. He copied your movements, before tripping over his own feet. You caught him before he hit the ground, pulling him back up. “Be patient with it. It’s not a race.” you said, slowly shuffling once again. After a while, he seemed to get the hang of things. And finally, you reached the rink. “Okay, this is going to be a lot slippier than the carpet, so be careful.” you warned him, before stepping into the rink. He nodded, slowly shuffling in. You were right. It was a lot more difficult to keep his balance, and he stumbled around quite a lot. - almost falling more than once. But eventually he did regain his balance. “This is easy.” he commented, growing a lot more confident. You let out a small laugh, before warning him again. “Don’t get too cocky. You’re gonna end up jinxing yourself.” He didn’t listen, holding onto the wall of the rink and using it to hold himself up.

You moved around, skating in semi-circles around him. He just looked at you as if you were a professional. “‘How are you doin’ tha’?” he asked. “Oh it’s easy! You just gotta push with your legs. - not too hard. But gently just push.” You instructed, giving him a demonstration as you spoke. You slowly skated around him, and he took multiple mental notes on what you were doing. The place wasn’t crowded, but it definitely wasn’t empty. There were a decent amount of people around the both of you. “Did that make sense?” you stopped in front of him. He nodded. “Like this?” he pushed his left foot backwards, and very slowly inched forward; still clinging onto the wall for dear life. “Uhh.. you’re getting there?” he scoffed at you. “Knew this was a bad idea.” he muttered almost inaudibly, but you heard it. “Hey! Once you get the hang of things I’m sure it’ll be fun. Stop being so negative.” you pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he playfully rolled his eyes.

You spent a while giving him a bunch of pointers and tips on how to skate, how to stop, and all of the basics. He just looked so lost the entire time. He listened intently, and asked some questions – which was very unlike him. When you commented on his sudden change in behaviour, he responded with “Jus’ wanna make sure you ‘ave fun. Teachin’ me all this isn’t all tha’ delightful, eh?” it was sweet of him, and it truly made your heart smile.

After around 20 minutes, you spoke up. “That’s pretty much all you need to know. Are you ready to try it out properly now?” “Prepare to be amazed,” he said, and you laughed. “By all means, show me what you’ve got.” he obliged, skating impressively well considering he had only learned moments ago. You applauded him, clapping your hands dramatically. “But can you let go of the wall this time?” he muttered something, sounding slightly hesitant. “O’course i can let go o’the bloody wall.” it was quiet, and you almost missed it. He slowly let go and held both arms out to stabilise himself. And then, he did it. He started to skate without the help of the wall. You felt like a proud mentor, quickly following behind him as he kept going. “Look at you go!” You smiled, and he looked at you with a cocky smile.

You did a few laps around the rink, hand-in-hand. His hand was squeezing yours with subtle uncertainty, and you gave him a small squeeze of reassurance. “You’re doing great.” “Oh ‘ell yeah. Bloody professional I am, yeah?” you chuckled, “The best of the best.”

He was doing great. He was a lot more confident than when he had started and had picked up the pace. But, he was almost too confident. “Watch this,” he said, before speeding up drastically and attempting to spin. But, about halfway through his attempt at spinning, he tripped over his own feet and landed on the cold ground. Understandably, you burst out into laughter at the situation. You couldn’t help yourself, okay? After a while, you crouched down next to him, carefully. “Are you okay?” you asked, and he looked away from you, embarrassed. “Meant to do that.” he excused himself, and you giggled. “Sure you did.” You then noticed the small rip in the knee of his jeans. This rip was not intentional, and you could see a small graze peaking through the fabric. “Baby, your knee.” you said, your hands moving to assess the injury. He swatted them away before you could see it properly. “Hey, hey. ’m fine. “ he said, but you ignored him, immediately moving your hands back to his knee. You moved the ripped fabric around so that you could see the injury. “Looks like a bit of rug burn. Poor thing.” you said, acknowledging how he subtly winced at your thumb grazing over it. “Jus’ a scratch. Like i said, ‘m fine. Dealt with worse.” “Are you sure? Does your ass hurt from falling on it?” you teased, laughing at your own words. “‘S not tha’ funny.” he murmured. “Oh come on. You have to admit it’s a bit funny.” “ Fine. Maybe jus’ a bit.” he admitted and you smiled, before standing up and holding your hand out to him.

“Let’s see if they have any plasters at the front desk.”

omg heyyyy... so like, ive been wanting to make a normal taglist for all of my fics (not including series' tho they have separate taglists) so like lmk if you wanna be added pookie x

#. feb writes #for once #hobie brown #atsv #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv fic #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobart brown x reader #hobart brown #hobbie brown #hobie brown atsv #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown headcanons #hobie my beloved #hobie x you #spiderverse headcanon #astv hobie #hobie brown x y/n #spider punk x reader #across the spider verse fanart #punk spiderman #spiderverse #spider punk #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv x reader #atsv x reader

[khruschevshoe]

How Behind-the Scenes Issues Affected the Writing of Doctor Who (Both Good and Bad)

Doctor Who is such a fascinating show to look at from a Watsonian v. Doylist perspective. Like, entirely just from an episode writing point of view:

Twice Upon A Time feels so slow and meandering and even boring in places because Chris Chibnall didn't want to start his run as showrunner and Steven Moffat didn't want the show to lose the coveted Christmas timeslot (ironic, I know) so he bumped the Twelfth Doctor's regeneration from the end of The Doctor Falls (where it makes sense) to the end of the Christmas special

Boom Town (my beloved) only exists because originally there was going to be an episode in its spot explaining that Rose had been molded to be the Doctor's perfect companion (by the Doctor, gross) and the writer didn't have the time to commit to the show

The ending of Last Christmas feels like one inside-a-dream too many because originally Jenna Coleman was questioning whether she was going to leave the show or not and the ending was rewritten after the first readthrough when she decided she wanted to stay for another season

The first five episodes of Season 7 feel like each one takes place in a different genre because that's literally how Steven Moffat pitched it to the writers; for example, A Town Called Mercy was literally pitched as "Doctor Who does a Western"

Not so much a weird one but one I find cool: Eleven's first words and Thirteen's first words were literally written by Moffat and Chibnall respectively, as they were brought in to write the first words of the first Doctors of their runs so as to make it cohesive

The reason why Fourteen isn't wearing Thirteen's clothes when he regenerates is because Jodie Whittaker is much shorter than David Tennant and Russell T. Davies didn't want it to look like he was making fun of the genderfluidity of the Doctor (still think he made the wrong decision, but eh)

Wilfred Mott isn't in the Runaway Bride and Donna's father isn't in Partners in Crime because the actor who played Donna's father, Howard Attfield, died after filming several scenes for Partners In Crime, leading to the character of "Stan Mott" from Voyage of the Damned being written into Partners In Crime as Donna's grandfather

Astrid Peth doesn't die in the original drafts of Voyage of the Damned, but Russell T. Davies wrote what is generally considered one of the most emotional deaths in Doctor Who just because he wanted Kylie Minogue to be able to focus on her music career

Originally Oxygen was written as a prequel to Mummy on the Orient Express, where a corporate representative appeared on a monitor. Said representative was fired for his fumbling of the station and would later live on as the company computer, Gus

During Season 11, Chris Chibnall had to do some major rewrites for many of the one-off episodes, therefore The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos ended up being a first draft that made it to screen. He later admitted it was his least favorite episode of the series

And this is only a fraction of what I found in terms of major behind-the-scenes writing reasons. Though I am still totally willing to critique the product that made it to our screens, finding out the reasons behind some of the more badly written episodes of the show really made me feel sympathy for every showrunner of the show as well as appreciate a lot of the good episodes that ended up here despite the short production schedule/unexpected problems (once again, Boom Town my beloved AND everyone's favorite companion Wilfred Mott only exist because of unforseen problems). Absolutely bonkers, isn't it?

#russell t davies #steven moffat #chris chibnall #wilfred mott #astrid peth #the battle of ranskoor av kolos #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor #jenna coleman #clara oswald #last christmas #twice upon a time #boom town #writing #behind the scenes #eleventh doctor #oxygen #mummy on the orient express #a town called mercy #partners in crime #fourteenth doctor #yes i did my research for this one #doctor who

[yestrday]

— TIE ME UP. yan! rich kid! childe x gn! mercenary! reader

your latest hit is a boy named ajax. the job's easy— kidnap him, bully him a bit, then send him back without any will to live. easy enough, it seems, but not everything will go the way you expect it.

( reader is not a good person; murder, mentions of torture; kidnapping; obsessive behavior, tying up, slight mentions of n/sfw, masochistic childe )

note. ahhhh im in a writing a slump so i decided to write the other part of anon's request to practice. idk if it's good enough, but childe will always be my go to whenever i want some disgusting yandere boy

you might like: childe's spiked drink

it's nothing you haven't seen. someone wants someone dead and they would pay millions just to see that come true. you whistle when you open the case of green bills for the nth time this day and the sight makes you smile.

what a haul you've gotten. despite the dread that's been growing inside you since you took this job, the million worth of cash inside this single suitcase is enough for you to retire. maybe you'll finally take a break from all this gory business, find a nice plot of land where the police can't find you, and make a farm for yourself. that sounds nice.

determined to finally finish this once and for all, you slam the suitcase shut and chuck it into the back of your car, along with the squirming ginger screaming at you through his gags.

"it'll be all over soon, love," you croon, sporting a wicked smile. "jus' get some sleep in here, mmkay?"

with one last muffled scream of his, you slam the trunk on the poor man's shaking expression and rev the engine to life.

"'ello there, babe," is the first thing the boy hears when he blinks his eyes awake. "good ting ya slept, hm? the road here was full of em potholes. not exactly pleasant for a passenger in the truck, right?"

it's a classic stereotype— that heavy country accent tinged with seduction and danger— even you're painfully aware of how cheesy your voice is. but it's what you were raised with, plus most of your victims dig the accent anyway, so might as well make use of it. the boy grimaces when the single fluorescent bulb swaying on the ceiling hits his sight, and he lets out a little grunt. 

"ajax childe. third son of the ceo of childe's toy corporation and now…" you plop yourself onto the wooden seat in front of him, nonchalantly waving the knife in front of his wide-eyed stare. "the target of some rich sod's hatred." you give him a lookover, from his ruffled ginger hair, his lean bod, down to his strong calves. clearly, he's been working out. you sigh in mock pity. "what the hell did ya do anyway? make off with someone's girl?" he's pretty enough to entertain the thought, and judging how flirtatious he acts in front of the paparazzi, that very well might be the case.

he protests against the gag once again, and you shake your head. "sorry, babe. not really in the mood to listen to sum brat scream." you tap your cheek as you contemplate on what to do with him. "hmm... they didn't actually want ya dead, if i'll be honest with ya. just bully ya a little till ya want yerself dead, y'feel? it's good to 'ave less blood on my hands, but hm, when i get commissions like these..." you cock your head, pondering over the countless victims you had over the last decade.

"they don't usually come out alive, yanno?"

another muffled scream through the gag, and you watch in boredom as he tries to wiggle his way out of his binds. clearly, however, it's futile when all he accomplishes is burn himself with the rope. well, what else was he expecting? you were a hired mercenary, he a mere ceo's son living a cushy life. there really was no challenge here.

but looking at him... you feel somewhat sympathetic. you have no respect for those high-class scum who like to hide behind fake smiles and faker compliments. but the kid in front of you was just some irresponsible young adult who just happened to be born into the elite, and well, if he wasn't the son of such a big corporation, he'd probably have gotten away with whatever he did. such was the consequence of having too many eyes on you. maybe it'd make you less worse of a human being if you let this kid air his grievances out.

you sigh, getting up from your spot. "alright, alright, i'll ungag you. just shut up already, jeez." he seems to jostle around less when you say that, and you swiftly untie the cloth to let him talk.

you already know what to expect— teary pleas, desperate bribes, maybe even some angry threats. all these are common in victims and more often than not are you forced to listen to all that shit before you decide to gag them again or just shoot them in the head. so you brace yourself for whatever agonizing scream they might have in store for you.

"ah..."

you grimace. here it comes.

"you're prettier than anything i've imagined..." he tilts his pretty face up, gazing at you with lovestruck eyes under the shine of the harsh light. your shock is mirrored in those loony eyes as his smile widens till it almost splits his face into two,

"...[your name]."

"what the fuck?!" instinctively, you recoil away from him, taking steps back while he continues to pin that heart-eyed stare on you. "what in the–?! how the fuck do you know me?!"

"oh, [your name], is there anything i don't know about you?" this... this freak sighs almost dreamily, and it makes you grimace by how slimy it is. "your name, your occupation (obviously), your favorite drinks, your... heh, three sizes!" he lets out a low giggle. "finally...! to finally see you right in front of my very eyes!"

you blanch. "three...?!" this cannot do. you are being outdone and outsmarted by some rich playboy. clearing your throat, you regain your composure and narrow your eyes at him in a glare (why... why is he shivering?!). "bluffs won't save you from your fate, childe."

you live a life in the shadows. leaving traces of yourself for people to find could spell to be your doom, and yet here was this kid claiming that he knew everything there is to you. it was a laughable attempt at a bluff, and he only caught you offguard by that disgusting grin of his. you're confident enough in your own abilities that you know that no one would be ever able to track you—

"[your name] [last name]. single father, three siblings, but they're all dead. you became a mercenary at age 16 and you go to your headquarters every weekend. you like the cafe at sixth avenue and you order the fourth thing on the menu almost every time." his grin widens when he sees the alarmed expression on your face. "should i tell you more?"

impossible. gritting your teeth, you pull him by his collar, almost tipping his chair over until you catch it with your knee. it... spreads his legs and pushes against his bulge, and you want to scrub yourself clean when you see his red blush and lip-bite. "how the fuck d'you know all that?" you snarl. you shake him. "tell me!"

"because i love you," he says, almost breathless. he looks at you with eyes so full of devotion and obsession that you might believe him. "there's not a single piece of you that i don't love."

you pull your lip back. "you're fuckin' disgusting."

"ah, but!" he wiggles in his chair, his clothes straining against the binds. "you're the one who tied me up like this! all vulnerable and ready for you to torture, right?"

you can't believe this man. "that's how kidnappings go, you idiot!" unable to hold on to this weirdo any longer, you let go of him and he and the chair he's tied to collapse to the floor. it's a nasty fall, but you're too busy rubbing your hands together in some attempt to rid yourself of the germs he may have transferred over to you.

the gasp of delight when he hits the floor grates like metal against your ear, and he squirms when you look down at him with such hate and disgust in those pretty eyes of yours. "is it starting? are you gonna torture me now?" your eyes flit to the array of tools you laid out on the counter, but now you feel reluctant to dirty this man's blood with the tools you painstakingly polished to shine. "ah~ ♡ i wonder what you're gonna do to me! are you gonna cut me up and leave me to bleed? tie me up till it hurts to breathe? ah, [your name] ♡" he calls your name with ecstasy. "i'm so excited to see what you'll do!"

with your back turned towards him and facing the tools, you don't grace him with a reply. instead, you bite your lip, panicked and pale expression reflected in the cold reflection of a knife.

'why me?!' your thoughts scream. 'i've never met this man in my life before!'

'how am i supposed to break someone who's gone too fucking far?!'

he continues to smile at your back, watching as you contemplate which torture device you'll bless him with for that night.

'so, so cute!' you're shorter than him, but somehow the thought of you dominating him and spilling his blood makes his jeans tighter. 'they're gonna make me go through sooo much pain, i can feel it! they'll have the power to kill me. they might kill me!'

just like that man you shot in that alleyway, eyes staring blankly at the mess of guts and brain splattered against the wall. there was no remorse in your eyes as you wipe the blood off your cheek with the back of your hand. no remorse as you stuff that body into a bag and make a mess all over yourself.

he remembers it clearly. your skintight black bodysuit, how the blood seemed to match your soulless eyes, the peek of tongue as you licked the blood from your thumb— he remembers it all too well.

how could he not, when he had his back pressed to the wall, out of your sight, hand clamped to suppress his noises. not a terrified scream, mind you. but his heavy breaths as he continued to observe you from a distance.

better than an angel. more divine than an angel. you were the reaper itself, stained in blood and black.

and his obsession with that reaper grew, as you revved off with your motorcycle with the corpse in tow, and he lay in the alley shadows with a hand in his jeans and blood at his feet.

if you had looked closely beneath all the money, maybe you'd see one damning clue that would tell you that this commission was a bad idea. a clue stitched at the bottom of the suit, fancy lettering showcasing initials in cursive:

a.c.

ajax childe's grin grows wider when he sees you finally settle on a tool. even when bound up and knocked to the floor, those hungry eyes and crazed grin seem to make him more of a predator than the you holding a knife.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere childe #yandere x reader #yandere tartaglia #yandere genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact childe #yester.writes