#decided to balance it out a little lol

[matchingbatbites]

bang bang (my baby shot me down)

@steddie-week Day 2: Bittersweet & Angst This is something I've had sitting around for a little while. Decided to polish it up because I figured it's pretty perfect for today's prompt!

tw: major character death

When they had prepared for their final fight with Vecna, the party had planned for a lot of things. Everything they could think of, just to be sure that they all knew what to do, what to handle in the moment. 

None of them had planned for Eddie.

They'd spotted him when they arrived, had expected Vecna to pull something, but not this. Not their friend, mutilated and warped by the Upside Down, turned into a pawn for Vecna to use against them.

None of them are sure what to do, and it's Steve who sets his resolve in place, takes the job no one else wants to do. 

"I'll distract him. Maybe… maybe he'll be okay if you guys can take out Vecna."

The others have no choice but to agree, and they split accordingly.

Getting Not-Eddie's attention isn't hard. The thing seems to hone in on Steve, crimson eyes track him across the wasteland as he draws it farther away from the main battle, keeping him from being able to help Vecna. 

It’s an awful game of cat and mouse, Steve playing keep away with his own fucking body as he tries to maintain some distance from Eddie’s mouthful of shiny new fangs. His bat is smashed early on, the wood splintering beneath clawed hands, and he burns through the ammo on the pistol Nancy had pressed into his hands faster than he expected.

The shotgun is his last line of defense, and it’s been doing a good job of keeping Eddie away from him. The creature hisses and growls with every spray of buckshot, and Steve stays vigilant as he reloads, as he continues to dance around the thing.

He’s careful, until he’s not.

His walkie goes off, pulling his attention for a split second too much. Eddie slams into him, knocking him to the ground and sending the gun flying out of his hands. He tries to get up, tries to right himself, but he’s pinned down, held in place by supernatural strength and monstrous hands.

Claws sink into his stomach and twist and Steve screams. The pain shooting through him is white hot and he's sure the adrenaline ripping through him is the only thing stopping him from passing out. His arm flies out, scrambling for anything to help him, and he brushes against the cold metal of the shotgun.

Dread and panic fight for dominance as he grabs the weapon. He grits his teeth against another scream as the claws rake downward, flaying him open. His hands are shaking as he hauls the gun up, aims it in the general direction of the thing that isn't Eddie.

And he pulls the trigger.

The force of the shot is enough to make it stumble backwards, and the noise it lets out rattles Steve to his core. He sits up just enough to take aim again, and he fires another round into the thing’s chest, and it drops to the ground just as a voice breaks over the walkie.

“It’s over! We got him- Vecna’s dead!”

And oh. Oh no.

Steve drops the gun and scrambles to Eddie as best he can, ignoring the agonizing pain in his stomach as he crawls over, as he takes Eddie's face in his hands. When the ringing in his ears fades, he can hear his own voice, "I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." He knows he's crying, his entire body is trembling under the strain of trying to keep himself together. 

Fingertips brush over his cheek, and there's a weak "Stevie," from underneath him.

He looks up, and where once was glowing red, there's now chocolate brown, and he only cries harder. "Eddie."

The brush turns into a touch, and Eddie cups his cheek in one chilly hand. "You turned me into a real Nancy Sinatra, baby."

Steve sobs, swipes his thumb over Eddie's cheek and vaguely realizes that he can't feel it, that his hands are numb. "I can't believe you're cracking jokes while we're dying in each other's arms."

Eddie gives him a weak, lopsided grin, brushes his own thumb over Steve's mouth. "Got you to smile, though."

And yeah, he is smiling. He can't not smile, not when he's holding Eddie like this, even though the circumstances are the least ideal. He didn’t get near as much time with Eddie as he wanted. The sparks between them during spring break were undeniable, but he hadn’t even gotten to kiss Eddie before the older man was ripped from his hands, torn from existence. 

Steve swallows against the metallic tang filling his mouth. “Wish I could have taken you on a proper date. Wanted to take you out to dinner, listen to you ramble about your nerd game.”

The red staining Eddie’s teeth is hard to ignore as he speaks. “I dunno, I’m kinda digging the whole Romeo and Juliet thing we’ve got going on.”

“You would think this is romantic.”

Eddie chuckles softly, moves his fingers up to brush through Steve’s hair. “Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, oh you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death.”

Steve barely gets out a “You’re such a dork,” before he’s leaning in to kiss Eddie. It’s messy, both of them too tired to make it anything close to proper, and Steve feels like there’s something poetic to be said about them swapping spit and blood between them as their last act.

He pulls away after a moment and rests his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “ ‘m tired, Eds.”

“S’okay, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice is weak, but Steve can’t bring himself to look at him. Everything is going hazy, all fuzzy and soft. “It’s all over, now. Just go to sleep, everyone’ll be here soon, m’kay?”

Steve just hums softly, eyes slipping closed. 

He’s so, so tired.

#tw major character death #steddieweek2023 #just something short and painful for your tuesday afternoon #i've seen too much fluff going around #decided to balance it out a little lol #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #joey writes #ficlet

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also more odds & ends orville info & more not Not orville/phil info as well:

"In Steinkellner’s version of Summer Stock, Jane Falbury (Danielle Wade) and “Pop,” her father (Stephen Lee Anderson), are struggling to hang on to the family farm. Their farm is one of the few in the Connecticut River Valley that hasn’t been absorbed by the Wingates, whose holdings completely surround theirs.

The widow Margaret Wingate (Veanne Cox), whom son Orville (Will Roland) aptly describes as having eyes “as cold as death itself,” plans to absorb the Falbury farm by the simple expedient of having Orville marry Jane. After all the two kids had decided they were engaged in first grade!

Enter the prodigal younger sister Gloria (Arianna Rosario) who has been seduced by the lure of the Great White Way. She returns to the farm bringing along Joe Ross (Corbin Bleu in the Gene Kelly role), the director of the show that will make her a star, its composer Phil Filmore (Gilbert L. Bailey II), and the entire company. She has generously offered the company, which can’t afford rehearsal space in New York, the use of the family farm’s barn. Sister Jane reluctantly agrees to the intrusion with the proviso that the thespians will double as farm hands.

As rehearsals progress, Phil discovers that Orville, a bit of a doormat who has been raised with the understanding that he will never have to work, is a musical wunderkind. He is enlisted to work his magic on the show’s score and begins to blossom.

Widow Wingate takes umbrage with all this and vows to shut the enterprise down. Fortunately, the cold embers in her soul are stirred to renewed life by her encounter with Montgomery Leach (J. Anthony Crane), the has-been ham enlisted to give Ross’s show some cachet, so all might not be lost.

[...]

They make this Summer Stock a veritable feast of nostalgia. I was especially taken by the amusing way Steinkellner used Jackie Gleason’s theme song “Always” to further widow Wingate’s plot to get Jane and Orville hitched.

[...]

Orville, who has found personal liberation in show biz, is accorded a moment that reminded me of a similar scene in the musical version of The Producers. In a triumphant declaration of his emergence from under his mother’s thumb he exults, “I’m in the theatre! And I love it!” The audience loved it, too.

[...]

As director, Feore has elicited some wonderful performances, especially from subsidiary characters. Veanne Cox is splendid as Margaret Wingate as is J. Anthony Crane as Montgomery Leach, the faded matinee idol. Will Roland (Orville) and Gilbert L. Bailey II (Phil) both have wonderful moments and their intense professional friendship is one of the show’s highlights."

INTENSE PROFESSIONAL FRIENDSHIP you say....and also ofc everything about orville and wanting to be a musician and being in the theatre and he loves it sounds so good. i love it

#summer stock #orville wingate #will roland #also i guess they Are ambiently together / ''engaged'' already then lol #very cute really ''decided they were engaged in first grade''...and illustrative of both just kinda having been stuck in life the whole tim #mention of how the gene kelly epic solo tap sequence that i can muse on context for but Does just kinda happen #now does have more context and like. a part in an arc lol. which also gene/joe just doesn't have much of at all in the film; so (an arc) #needless bit at the end as the reviewer is skeptical this show could be on broadway basically b/c it's not ''edgy'' enough #which is then bafflingly & exhaustingly explained w/juxtaposing ''disclaimers'' abt the content in Other shows on broadway #which is bad; irrelevant; bigoted; and also unfair not just to those shows but summer stock lol. and like everything. and everyone. #get tf outta here....talking about like well gee i guess an ontario reviewer like me might enjoy it but in New York.... #like it's an nyt critics pick okay cool it. have Only read glowing reviews save the one critic who Didn't like the warm feelgood deal. #which is sure a thing that's possible to experience (though i don't think it makes for a Well Executed; Useful Review to hinge it on that) #but (a) warm feelgood material isn't like. riskier than what you deem Not ''unfashionably'' ''old-fashioned'' there #& (b) like many reviews point out that the feelgoodness Could've fallen flat or short or been too much but it was balanced / well executed #like don't come in here insulting the show with your supposed compliments lmao....Bizarre brushstroke of [ugh you know bway] shows.... #which it then gestures broadly at as shows with a ''message''....just tiresome & useless little tangent at the end smhhh #anyways really do love this for orville. was already wondering if he plays that piano we see them dancing with...their adorable meetcute? #i would like to see it....makes it seem even more likely. or who knows if it's orville just reading some music left At that piano #and singing but also composing? arranging? in doing so....harmonizing....etc #i bet it's a delight. he Does get to work on the show....he's truly getting I Don't Dance'd brought into the show/theatre ft. bisexuality #taking votes for whether he's chad or ryan in that situation. the one not already in theatre but also the one attached to the antagonist

[mistiell]

Hello!! Since your requests are open and I absolutely love the way you write him (despite there only being one—), may I request some sort of angst to fluff for Astarion with a reader that accepts his advances but doesn’t seek him out because they know that he’s only doing so for protection/convenience?

Like; yes, the reader does care deeply for him. They could even say that they love him. But they don’t want him to do anything just because he feels as if he’ll be denied kindness and sustenance if he doesn’t. So they’re very reserved and keep to themselves, treating him very kindly when he propositions them, but doesn’t do anything more than what he asks.

Omg, thank you so much!! I worried I might have portrayed him in a way that was ooc but I'm glad to see people like the way I write him!! lol WC: 1.6k

---

Astarion has manipulated and romanced countless people over the centuries. He knows what he’s doing. The routine differs depending on the person, of course, but he has it down to a science.

You shouldn’t be any different.

Since the first time you let him feed on you, it’s become a sort of routine he regrettably relies on to stay satiated. It’s been nearly a month and a half of sneaking to and from your bedroll every few nights, and he’s begun to worry that you’ll tire of it – that you’ll get sick of the fatigue and the lingering ache in your shoulder that clings to you well into the morning after.

This particular morning, he sees it in your sluggish movements and absentmindedness. Karlach has to call your name thrice before you finally turn to her with a small, “Hm?”

“Gods, has the tadpole migrated and blocked your ears?” The tiefling chuckles, cuffing you on the shoulder on the same side Astarion had fed from the night before. With a pained grunt, you wince, brow scrunching in discomfort as you roll it out a little.

Karlach gasps, “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s alright.” You smile, but when Karlach leaves, it falls as you rub at the juncture between your neck and trap muscle. If he doesn’t find a way to keep you on the hook, there’s no chance you’ll let your late night meetings continue.

So, when the two of you are sitting by the fire after setting up camp for the night, he decides to offer up the only thing he can think of to keep you interested.

“Ugh, Gods. There is nothing to do around here.” He huffs, prodding for an opening.

You snort, taking a sip out of your water skin, “You can say that again.”

There it is.

“You know,” He leans just far enough into your space to make you fluster, smirking, “We could always make our own entertainment?”

Eyes darting away from him, your throat bobs, “What do you mean?”

He leans in a little more, making sure to glance at your lips as he purrs, “I think you know what I mean, darling.”

“I think—,” Your voice cracks up an octave and you clear your throat, embarrassed. It’s rather cute, “I think I do...?”

“You think so, hm? Tell me what I mean, then.” Your mouth opens and closes a few times, and he can hear your heart beating fast against your ribs. He chuckles coyly through his nose and leans forward to brush the tip of it along the apex of your cheekbone, lowering his voice to a seductive whisper, “Might it have something to do with,” His fingertips find the top of your hand where it rests on your knee, ghosting up under your sleeve and over your wrist as he breaths, “Touching, maybe?”

A shudder runs through you as you swallow hard, “May— Maybe...,” He’s not expecting it when you pull back and look at him apprehensively, “But... I mean, are you sure?”

The question takes him aback; throws him off balance. No one’s ever bothered to ask before. It makes him wonder if he’s off his game, if perhaps his act isn’t as convincing as it normally is.

He shakes it off, grinning at you coquettishly, “Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.” It’s not the first white lie he’s told you, and it certainly won’t be the last.

You wet your lips, searching his expression for any sort of hesitance. He’s careful to make sure there’s none to find. When you’re satisfied, you smile shyly, “I’d like that” “That’s what I like to hear.” He hums, standing before offering his hands, “Shall we?”

You take them, and as he leads you somewhere more secluded, he counts it as a victory.

Weeks pass, and he’s sure to propose a little fun between feedings to keep in your good graces. One thing that he’s noticed is that you never really ask him to do anything more than what he’s suggested. He expected you to come to him every once in awhile after the first time he’d bedded you, maybe ask for a piece of him when you’re bored or in need of some stress relief, but... you haven’t.

He also expected you to have at least some demands, but aside from voicing your preferences in the heat of the moment, you haven’t asked him for a damn thing. For a moment, he wonders if he’s losing his touch, but he shakes the thought off as quick as it comes. The implications of it make his stomach churn.

If not his body, what else does he have to offer?

“Astarion?” You call as you approach him where he stands near his tent.

He startles, then clears his throat to play it off. “Yes, darling?”

You smile apologetically. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No worries, my dear.” He doesn’t understand why you’d apologize for something so small, or why it makes his undead heart twist uncomfortably in his chest, “Did you need something?”

“Come with me?” You ask, offering a hand, “I have something I’d like to show you.”

This is it. You’ve finally come to offer yourself up instead of it being the other way around.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” He hums, taking your hand and allowing you to lead him into the forest. A rather odd location to lay, but he’s definitely worked with stranger.

Weaving through trees, you lead him to a small clearing with a blanket spread out over the grass in the center. You only let go of his hand when you reach the edge of it, toeing off your boots before carefully plopping yourself down on top of it.

“So this is what you had in mind, hm?” He grins, following suit after you pat the spot next to you, “A romantic romp under the stars?”

“Oh! Uhm, no.” You titter, and he frowns.

“Then what did you have in mind, pet?” He asks, watching you twiddle your fingers.

“I-.” You huff, rubbing at your mouth and glancing away, “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, and I thought we could watch it together.” You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, “It’s stupid. You don’t have to stay, obviously, but... I thought it could be nice.”

What the fuck.

“You... brought me all the way out here, just to watch the stars?” He asks, sounding bewildered even to his own ears.

You look back at him nervously, nodding, “I did.”

What the fuck.

He should say something, but for the first time in a long while, he’s completely lost for words. His brows draw together in confusion, and when he speaks, his voice comes out wrong; too soft, too shaky. “Why?”

You stare at him, worrying your lip for a moment before starting carefully, “You don’t need to sleep with me to buy my kindness, you know. I enjoy our nights together, of course, but I’d like you just as much without them.”

Now he’s really at a loss. His stomach lurches with the anxiety and embarrassment of being seen without meaning to be. He feels vulnerable; exposed.

“Of course I know that.” He scoffs, attempts a smug grin. His voice shakes as he says it, “What’s not to like?”

You huff a small, singular puff of laughter, “Right.”

Something flashes above, drawing both your attentions. Stars shoot across the blackened sky, streaking it with white and blue and purple. You gasp, eyes so wide, he could watch the whole spectacle through the reflection dancing over them.

You lay back, using your forearm as a pillow as you watch the sky intently. He follows soon after, a strange silence falling over the two of you.

He tries to focus on the sight above him, but your words have a hold on his mind like a vice grip. It’s been so long since anyone has shown him kindness without some sort of transaction involved. So long that he can’t even recall it ever happening.

He stares hard up at the sky, mouth twisting down in apprehension. He swallows thickly before murmuring, “Would you really?”

He sees you turn your head to look at him out of his peripherals, brows drawn together in confusion, “Would I really what?”

Embarrassment flares and writhes in his gut; his nose wrinkles at the feeling. He feels utterly ridiculous as he replies, “Still like me if I didn’t...”

He can’t find a word that sounds right. You understand anyway.

Some strange, melancholic sort of horror flashes over your face before you will it away, nodding resolutely.

“Absolutely.” You flip your hand so it lies palm up on the blanket. An invitation, not a demand, “You mean more to me than sex, Astarion. I don’t care what we do or don’t do, as long as I get to be with you. Whatever that entails.”

A lump forms in his throat and his eyes burn. He knows if he looks at you, he’s not going to be able to keep the tears at bay. He looks at your hand instead, staring for a moment before slotting his fingers between yours. Squeezing, he hopes you’ll take it as what it is, “Thank you. I don’t think I deserve this. I don’t know how to navigate this. I think I want to try.”

You squeeze back. He takes it as, “I’ll wait for you.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3

[gamermattsgf]

Sour diesel p.2 // dealer Chris

Warnings: shower sex / clitoral stimulation / praise kink / drug dealer Chris x reader / size kink / unprotected sex / vertical prone position (I literally have no idea what else to call this lol) / piercing kink / thoughts of exhibitionism / slight hair pulling

Summary: still feeling the strong effects of the diesel you had just previously smoked, chris now wants a taste, and doesn’t mind pulling you into the shower with him to do so...

Author’s notes: ew why did it take me so long to write this and decide what I actually wanted to do with it lmao. Just a quick disclaimer, if you can’t really remember what happened in the first one I recommend going back to re-read it because this is a continuation of what happens straight after the first one ends. Also lowkey- why does this one get so sappy and soft at the end lol? I should really start writing tooth rots soon too. So anyways… get out ya sour diesel playlists and enjoy ;).

“If you overthinkin’, I get high with you, if you ever sinkin’, I go down with you, all I need, my baby and a cigarette” - CIGARETTES, Amir Obe

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹

‘shit that is strong stuff…’

You laugh at Chris’ throwaway comment, hyperaware of the way your whole entire body tingles itself into a horny hot-sweat. The thick smell of weed on both of your clothes and the redness of your eyes certainly don’t help in cementing the fact that you are both high out of your fucking minds right now.

Chris feeds his bottom lip into his mouth and tugs on the central silver lip ring he has hooked into his plump flesh.

The sight alone makes your toes curl. It’s as if every single move he makes drags you deeper into a violet haze of ecstasy until you’re so far away from clarity that you can barely see it anymore.

Chris’ soft chest rises and falls as his cock lies there in front of you two, bare, and needing a lot more attention.

Releasing his moist lip from his teeth, it recoils backwards slightly and you watch his lip ring glint hypnotically in the light of the ceiling fan above him.

They look dewy, a peachy pink cream colour… perfect for sucking on.

Your drug dealer’s frosty irises surround themselves with the bloodshot white of his eyes, and the redness almost exemplifies the popping blue colour of them.

His pupils dilate, and he seems to be deep in thought.

You shift uncomfortably on your knees, trying to press your aching heat down onto one of the balls of your feet to suppress its unbearable throb.

Suddenly Chris sighs.

His voice is deep and raspy, almost as if he’s just woken up from a deep slumber. You love it when you two link up to smoke weed together because his voice always drops down to this gorgeous register and it makes your folds slick beneath your underwear every single time.

Unbeknownst to Chris of course.

He’ll just sit there, knowing exactly what he’s doing, yet not knowing anything at all as he balances the blunt in his mouth, blowing out leisurely smoke rings and pumping his system full of relaxant narcotics. Perhaps sprawled out on his back across your bed if at your place or out on his deck in one of his chairs at his…

His voice always ends up the same though, gritty and an octave lower than usual.

‘Wanna take a shower with me, ma?’ He questions casually, as if saying something like this to you is rather a normal occurrence. It elicits a tight tension within your muscles, and you struggle to not grind yourself down onto the ball of your foot.

You swallow thickly at his request, and Chris’ lips twitch up into a little lop-sided smirk. He wants to see you naked. So fucking bad. And he’s not ashamed to admit it. He thinks about it a lot. More than he probably should.

He also just likes to think about you a lot.

Usually when he does his deals with other clients. He’ll always hand over his weed, or his bag of pills and then he’ll think about how much he misses your face.

Then when he’s stretching out his hand and expectantly raising his eyebrows for his money he’ll think about how much he hates letting you pay for your drugs.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he fucking loves spoiling you by giving you free rein of his most expensive strains.

Just a moment of your time is money enough for him.

And then whenever he slinks away from his deals with his black hood up, he leafes through his money and counts it… thinking about how much he can’t wait to see a text from you again.

Sometimes he purposely gives you smaller volumes of weed just so that you run out faster and have to come guiltily crawling back to see him again for more.

With that being said, he takes advantage of this moment, flicking his eyes down to the subtle rock of your hips that rut forward once and then retreat back to their original resting position.

You squirm about at the thought of his shower.

‘Um… yes please’ you clear your throat and mumble politely, your cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. And it’s almost unbelievable to think that you had the thickness of his cock stuffed all the way down your throat moments ago because of how you were looking at him now.

Chris snorts at this nervous reaction, a gruff and teasing giggle slipping past his lips whilst he tilts his head patronisingly. ‘What? You all shy now or somethin’?’.

You avert your eyes as he pokes fun at you, a hint of his Boston accent catching in the back of his throat as he smiles at your endearing behaviour.

You shake your head and muscle up the nerves to look up at him through your eyelashes. You sigh. ‘Sorry it’s just uhh… well- I’m just a little shocked at myself that’s all’.

Commenting on your previously greedy actions, it’s as if you can still feel the soft throbbing of Chris’ thickness stroking against the walls of your mouth. The taste of his cum haunts the base of your throat, and the memory of saliva seeping from your mouth to dribble around his pink head permeates your vision.

The look of the strings of spit connecting his tip to your lips as soon as you had pulled away from him almost become too much for you to bear.

Suddenly, you crack a laugh, and Chris is so fucking high that he finds it within himself to join in, even though what you had said wasn’t really that funny.

After recovering, Chris quickly silences and retreats back to looking at you lustily, his eyes glistening with that primal need to have you for himself, but equally to have you wailing and crying out his name with his windows cracked wide open.

Because he wants passing people to know, to know what’s going on in the bathroom of his apartment. And he wants them to be jealous. Jealous of the way that it’s him who’s pounding into you, him whose skin is slapping against yours, and him whose back is getting clawed at by your nails until it’s red raw.

‘I kinda wanna kiss you…’ he randomly muses to you. And you too, fall silent, and find yourself gravitating towards him naturally. He does the same, his eyes once or twice obsessively looking down to your lips. They hold a begging kind of gaze that almost has you rolling about the floor for mercy.

‘Do it then’ you breathe daringly, both of you two then coming in to bridge the gap. Chris presses his lips into yours, and then immediately you feel the artificial metal ring of his piercing against your own bare skin.

He squeezes his lips closed and traps your bottom one in between his two.

In one solid motion he makes you shiver by smoothly sliding his tongue across the skin of your lip, before wetly detaching himself and doing the exact same thing to your top one. He utters a breathy moan, the cold air on his prick making it throb and harden once again whilst you let him kiss you.

It’s not long before it escalates, and the taste of your saliva has Chris hooked. So much so that he lurches forward a little more to grab both sides of your face aggressively with his hands.

He keeps you held there, the large expanse of them moist with sweating arousal as your mouths drop open even further into the now very messy kiss.

Now it’s just your tongues flattening against each other’s and licking from side to side, spit whipping about and coating the corners of your mouths when sometimes each of you miss your mark.

‘Shower? Please?’ Chris breathlessly pants, his desperate tone almost making him seem like he’s transitioned into heat as his hands slide down your neck, then your tits, only to land on the fabric of your shirt. He boyishly twists it into his knuckles, and impatiently tugs you towards him.

‘O-okay… shower’ you acknowledge him, and then pull away.

Your wobbly feet rise to a stand from off of his scuffed green couch and only then do you realise just how wet you are after your thighs close and rub together.

Chris looks up at you with doe eyes, before grunting and standing up too, trying to pull his grey sweats and boxers up simultaneously.

He messily tries to tuck his weeping cock into his pants, but heaves an annoyed mumble when it takes longer than expected, before he is pushing himself back into you once he’s successful.

He leans in with his mouth already agape hungrily. The fever and determination he has only makes your horniness worse, still in an absolutely trance on your diesel high.

Your tongues sloppily lick each other’s, and Chris moans a quick ‘Mhh, so pretty baby’ into your lips with his eyes feathered closed in enjoyment.

He walks you backwards one or two steps, before humming again in thought and stopping. He then decides to not bother with trying to get you to walk to his bathroom, and so pulls away from your lips to kiss his teeth.

He shuffles back slightly and you eye him quizzically before he’s reaching his palms downwards and turning them up to his ceiling.

They twitch slightly when he purrs ‘up you come baby’, clearly wanting you to leap your thighs into the cups of them so that he can carry you.

You smile slightly at this, and smooth your hands over his shoulders for support before hopping into his hold. He groans a little at the force exerted upon his arms but then quickly flexes them and easily hitches your legs around his thick hips.

‘Atta girl’ he praises you softly before sponging a wet kiss onto the collarbone that sits right in front of the reach of his lips.

He then starts to walk you both through the corridor of his apartment to his bathroom.

On your way there he has to step over piles of his stuff that he’s lazily thrown onto his floor, like a heap of empty Pepsi cans and also his beloved pink North Face puffer jacket that he usually does his deals in.

It lays in a crumpled heap next to his mess of playing card. Presumably he must have had people round playing black jack earlier and just hasn’t cleaned them up yet.

After a bit of turning your head to the side and playfully biting the helix of his ear, he gets you to the door of his bathroom and victoriously kicks it open with his foot.

Twisting to the side, he squeezes both of you past the doorframe and looks up at you with lusting eyes before he is using his foot again to force the door shut behind him. It slams and traps you two into Chris damp-smelling bathroom, the scent of his cologne combatting the mould of the old walls and intoxicating your senses.

You forget how fucking good Chris smells underneath all of that weed.

He suddenly releases his grip on you, and you drop to the floor, your feet padding onto his white bathmat.

He pecks you on the lips once, before twisting around to turn his attention to the shower. He reaches into it and twists the dial which makes water come spurting out of the head. Whilst doing this you simultaneously take off your top and unbutton your jeans.

You slide them down your dewy legs as Chris reaches his palm in to test the temperature of the water before looking back at you, his stomach flipping in excitement at the sight of you standing there in your bra and underwear.

‘Is the shower ready?’ You speak up timidly, standing squished and self consciously with your arms folded over your stomach as you look at the man who has always been on your mind outside of deals, and not just because of the drugs.

He hums. ‘Hmm, not yet, wanna make it nice for you…’.

He turns back around and leans out of the shower.

Shaking his wet hand, a couple of droplets fall to the floor before he is taking off his zip up and letting it plonk to the bathmat. ‘Still feelin’ shy ma?’ He comments with a smirk on his face at the fact that you haven’t yet taken off your underwear.

You laugh and shake your head, his silly attitude managing to ease the tension. ‘Mhh, a little bit’.

Sometimes you get extra nervy when you’re high. It isn’t necessarily Chris’ fault that you feel this way, it’s just the kind of influence the drug has on you depending on what kind of strain you smoke.

His white shirt peels off next, before both of his sweats and his boxers come off.

‘That’s ok, I’d prefer to be the one taking off your underwear anyway…’ he rambles, the sentiment of his want travelling straight to your clothed core and making it burn with heat.

He stands there in his naked vulnerability and by now the shower has heated up enough to billow steam into the room and fog up the mirror in front of his sink.

‘Can I?’ He speaks gently and raises his eyebrows whilst gesturing to your white panties, decorated with a little brown teddy bear logo on the front of them. As if Chris couldn’t adore you more, your taste in panties makes him feel warm and fuzzy, the effects of the sour diesel only making his attraction to you worse.

You nod and Chris takes that as his chance to step forward and feed his thumbs into the soft cotton fabric bunched around your hips.

To distract you whilst he pulls them down, he starts to kiss you again, and you find yourself sucking on his lip ring whilst your panties drop to your ankles.

Chris’ arms then snake around your back, both pulling you towards him and enabling him to fumble around with the strap to your bra. After successfully unclipping it, he whimpers in victory before pulling away from you.

‘Ladies first’ he jokingly gestures and grasps onto one of your hands like a gentleman whilst he leads you into the shower.

He steps in after you and shuts the glass door, both of you getting soaked in the scalding water as it trickles from the shower head and onto your hair. Chris is quick to make sure that you’re directly under the stream of water so that you can absorb all of the warmth, and he looks at you through water droplet-stained eyelashes.

You smile and blush up at him whilst he gingerly trails his fingertip up the endless waterfalls of water slipping down your curves.

He then starts to draw aimless patterns on your skin, like an artist ravishing his muse.

He threads one of his hands through the thick sopping wet mop of your hair, strands clumping together as he drags his fingertips through it and looks at it in fascination.

Your lips crash against each others once more after a single look passed between you two.

Now it’s almost as if you literally can’t breathe without a constant taste of each other’s flesh.

A nicotine addiction, but for bodies.

After kissing slowly, for a while, Chris’ cock begins to ache.

He detaches himself, now the two of you fully soaking wet and the steam residing between your bodies making its way down your throats. The atmosphere is hot, choking, lustful.

Manoeuvring around you, your slickness throbs at the sight of his arm reaching up to unhook the shower head from its hold. Fat water droplet gather at the bottom of the strands of his long hair, and they drip down to the floor at every movement he makes.

‘Your turn baby…’ he lilts cheekily into your ear after using his other free arm to wrap around your front and pull you into his chest. Using the hand gripping the shower head, he teasingly turns the pressure up until the force of the water is hammering out.

He kisses your cheek, and you feel the grin on his face as you struggle not to crumple into his hold. Your knees feel like buckling, and the ache between your legs is almost strong enough to make you feel dizzy.

‘Chris I-’ you stutter quietly, but he doesn’t give you a chance to finish before he’s quickly moving the burst of water and concentrating it upon your clit.

Your throat echos a cry as you arch your back, your head falling into the crook of his shoulder as he licks his tongue over the tepid skin of your throat.

‘Yeah, you like that don’t you…’ he mumbles cockily against your flesh, the hold he has against the shower head unrelenting, even when trying to squirm away from it.

He keeps a firm lock over your body, and the waves of sensitivity it brings you almost makes you pass out. You whine and pant, slinging your arms behind your head and clawing at Chris’ neck.

You feed your shaking fingertips into his hair to yank on it, practically begging for mercy.

‘Feels so good’ you whimper, and Chris nudges your head to envelop your mouth into his once again. This way, he swallows your noises of extreme euphoria for himself.

Your wet bodies slide together, steaming rising from in between your legs as Chris starts to control the water’s flow against your core by moving the shower head in a circular motion.

‘Open up a bit wider for me baby’ he instructs you soothingly, and uses one of his kneecaps to knock into the back of yours, commanding you to spread your thighs a little farther.

You feverishly nod with an ‘o-ok’ before your wobbling legs are stepping further out and the vibrating pleasure is increasing the more Chris gains access to your clit.

You feel his hard cock brushing in between your ass, and it throbs wildly, Chris no doubt aching to bend you over… which he does, unexpectedly.

He presses your left cheek against the wall and your hands come flying up to slap against the cold tiles whilst he forces your back into an arch.

‘Fuck baby’ you mumble, drunk off of the feeling of Chris touching you in the best possible way.

‘Give it to me momma… wanna hear how good I fuck you… make it loud’.

Chris is smug when he presses his tip into your weepy hole, one of his hands coming up to also lean against the tiles above your head, which gives him the right kind of support. His other hand still works the shower head down at your core, and you let out a strangled moan after he fits himself inside of you.

He stretches you out from behind, and you whine a little in pain at his thickness. ‘Ahh Chris… l-little slower please’ you hiss as you suck your teeth, the rough skin of his cock throbbing inside of you and spreading your walls apart. Your mouth is dropped open and your focus is on breathing as soon as you say this, a line of drool accidentally falling from out of one side of your mouth.

It splatters heavily to the floor next to your foot.

Chris sees this slimy mess, and smirks at how much he’s fucking you up, his ego stroking itself as he slowly pushes his hips forward as per your request.

‘Fuck, look at you getting all hot and bothered… my cock really that big huh?’ He patronises you whilst watching your back rise and fall laboriously at having to take in deep stuttering breaths.

You moan a ‘yes’, feathering your eyes shut just for a second to regain your composure.

Chris grins devilishly, mumbling back a stern but simple ‘take it.’ In response.

So you do, and wait until he fully bottoms out to whine for him to move again.

Chris obeys, and his wet hips snap against your ass, causing a resounding clap sound to cacophony across the expanse of his bathroom with the water in his shower still running and its stream battering quickly against your heat.

Tears almost draw within your eyes as you fully soak in how well he’s treating you, fucking you up from both the front and behind.

He groans lowly in a humongous effort to try and hold off his orgasm, just so that you can have yours first, because he realises that you deserve it a lot more than he does after letting him thrust his cock up into your mouth.

‘That good baby? I feel nice?’ He questions, but of course he already knows you love it because of the way you’re almost pathetically crying for him to go faster.

‘Make me cum please- please make me cum’ your fucked-out voice drawls, your fingernails clawing at the tiles of his shower for traction as his fat tip nudges against the most sensitive part of your core with every thrust he makes.

With the shower head still firmly held against your clit, he helps you build up your organs and after a couple more thrusts, he finally finishes you off.

He drops the still running hose to the floor in favour of gripping onto you and making sure that you don’t fall, his hips continuously going but slowing their roll as he helps you calm down from your high.

After your cunt gets too sensitive to withstand anymore of his hard prick, you tap out, and Chris pulls out, panting in tiredness and stickily jerking himself the rest of the way to his own eventual orgasm.

He squirts his cum rapidly onto your back, and you shiver at the feeling of its warm consistency, twisting your body to try and get a look at it erotically dripping down your ass cheeks.

Both of you heave, trying to catch your breaths in the heat of the shower, which proves to be an even more difficult task as soon as Chris turns you back around to face him.

‘C’mere… want more kisses’ he babyishly mumbles, requesting for your lips softly on his once again with a pretty pout on his moony face.

He whimpers happily after you give in, laughing a little at his afterglow submissiveness before pressing small peppering kisses around the corners of his mouth.

You kiss each other once more, and this time instead of you biting against his piercing, he bites against your bottom lip, your tongues lazily twisting in the swelter of the shower.

You guess that the hot water probably washed away a good half of the drug, because you didn’t feel as high anymore.

You stay there, kissing for a while until Chris decides that he wants to rinse you off.

He passes the shower head that had once been firmly focused on stimulating your clit around your body to wash any cum and sweat away, before announcing that he also wanted to wash your hair for you.

You almost melt at the sentiment and patiently stand there whilst he massages a dollop of shampoo into the roots of your hair, sudsing it up and smiling whilst he combs his long fingers through your strands.

After gently whispering ‘okay, now lean back for me…’, he passes the stream of water over your hair and bites his lip in concentration, wanting to make sure that the experience is just as soothing for you as it is for him.

You almost forget that Chris is just your drug dealer as he helps you out of the shower and grabs one of his white towels from his radiated hand rail.

Wrapping you up in one, he makes sure that you’re warm and snuggly before tying a spare one around his own waist.

Water droplets still drip from his chest as he grabs a small hand towel to place on top of your head. He then gently rubs your hair and tries to dry it as much as he can.

You both giggle at how silly you look in the mirror with the towel messily strewn across your head, which is exemplified by Chris deciding to make you laugh even further by vigorously shaking his wet hair out like a dog.

After you’re dry, he helps you back into your clothes, before playfully patting your ass as you both exit his bathroom, Chris shutting the door behind you two.

You suddenly swallow nervously and get anxious once again.

You just had sex with your dealer… twice.

What the fuck does that mean for your relationship? Are you going to have to block him and never speak to him again? Are you going to have to pretend like none of this ever happened?

You sure hope not.

As all of these worrying thoughts swirl about your mind like a raging storm, Chris suddenly comes in like a ray of sunshine and scares the clouds away with a silly sounding ‘hey, wanna play video games with me? I got a really cool new one over the weekend’.

As if he hadn’t just railed the shit out of you moments earlier.

You feel like this is Chris’ own special way of telling you not to worry about it, you can both think about the consequences later… so you smile back at him, returning to the living room where his old green couch lies before plopping down onto it.

‘Turning down a chance to beat you in Mario Kart like I always do? Never… gimme a remote and you’re on!’

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹

Author’s notes p.2: I want to make out with drug dealer!Chris to the song Percolator by SZA so bad. Bye- this is so specific but MUCH needed. Thank you all for waiting on the much anticipated arrival of Sour diesel part 2, I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did and likewise, I should be getting to work on cherry popper real soon! Ask, and request anything as always… until next time babies :)

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[luciddownloading]

Tarot Reading (Pick A Card): Your Future Romantic Partner 💚

Good morning/afternoon/evening. Whenever you find this! Today, we are going to be doing a reading on your future romantic partner. Pretty self-explanatory! I will first interpret who this person might be. It could be someone already in your life, someone you're in separation with or even someone you haven't met yet. As always, listen to your intuition. Then, I will go into what this connection will be like.

If you are wanting more, you can join my Patreon page to get the special 18+ extended reading! We will delve into the sexual aspects of this connection as well as channeled messages from this person. I have been channeling some beautifully intimate and loving energy in the extended. So, that's something you might want to check out!

It's possible that a fraction of you are already going to be with this person in a committed relationship but most of you won't be. Also, per usual, I won't be taking reversals today. I actually tried to at first but the energy didn't feel right.

Choose the image below that you're most drawn to and then keep reading to see what your future romantic partnership will be like! (It is possible, of course, to be drawn to more than one. Maybe there are two different relationships you need to hear about. This knows no time limits!)

PILE 1

PILE 2

PILE 3

PILE 4

PILE 1

WHO ARE THEY?

King of Wands

King of Cups

Two of Pentacles (back of the deck)

Okay, Pile 1, this is obviously someone with a ton of masculine energy. If you couldn't tell! But, when they enter into this relationship with you, they're going to be more balanced than they have been in the past. I get the feeling that you've known them for a while or seen them at a less evolved version of themselves. To be with you, they need to be in their King energy. And it doesn't matter if they're a guy or a gal. They will have matured into a better version of themselves. So, if there's someone you're thinking of who you feel you wouldn't want to be with, based on their past behavior, try not to judge them on their former self. That song Dead and Gone by T.I. and Justin Timberlake just started in my head. "The old me is dead and gone!"

It's funny because that's not too obvious here. Like I don't see Death or Judgement or a card that would indicate that. Maybe you're not at all expecting that they've changed or grown and this is going to take you by surprise. If there's history here, whatever happened moved them into a big room in the old doghouse. Lol or maybe you just decided you outgrew them. But, they took the time to straighten themselves out. They had to get their affairs in order, ground themselves, feel more centered or stable. OR they had to learn how to balance their fiery, fun side with their sensitive, understanding side. I'm getting one or the other: either they were all fire and little sensitivity or they were so vulnerable and overwhelmed that they couldn't - for lack of a better term - find their balls.

In the past, they may have hurt you by either being insensitive and emotionally unavailable, lacking that King of Cups energy, or unable to take action or be brave enough to be with you, not standing on their King of Wands business. Either of these modes may have caused them to choose something/someone else over you. They definitely either have personal placements in Fire (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) or Water (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) or both, for many of you. I get the impression that they're very fit, very attractive. Definitely a nice body! They know how to hold court and be the center of attention or life of the party. When they want to. Yet, they can also be shy or introverted at times. The main message I am getting here is that you are seeing them in either one extreme or the other: an unbalanced version of either the King of Cups or King of Wands. But, giving this relationship a chance will allow you to see them in a more accurate light.

WHAT WILL THIS RELATIONSHIP BE LIKE?

Seven of Pentacles

Queen of Swords

Page of Wands

The Star (back of the deck)

The way this relationship starts is by this person wanting you. BADLY. Not in a psychotic way. It's just that they will be manifesting you in. I definitely feel like this will start as the end of a separation of some kind. And you probably established that situation. I see you as this Queen of Swords and you just "noped" right out of whatever was going on with you and them. I feel like it's a forgivable offense but you also have to decide whether or not you want them back. The power is yours. What are you going to do with that sword of yours? Are you going to slay them like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill or put the sword down? Kill Bill, the SZA song, may have significant lyrics to this situation.

You have definitely been in "fuck them" mode before this starts, to some degree. So, yes, this definitely feels like, well, not an actual ex like SZA is singing about but someone who had you all in your feelings. And you had to make a logical choice about them somehow. And you're still going to feel the need to view them logically, to not give them too much leeway. And they are going to work hard to prove to you that they're legit and can be trusted. "You're on probation" is what you tell them as this starts. One wrong move and they're out because you don't have time. And you know what? I love that for you!

It's so funny because I am getting more about this "probational period" in the beginning of the connection than how it will play out as a whole. And that's because you will want to be smart and not get too swept up in the moment. You will take it step by step and they will be happy to match that energy. I think they will just be happy that you're giving them a chance. I can tell that the sex will be awesome. (So, your extended reading will be juicy!) But, I think that won't matter as much to you, especially if you've already had sex with them prior to being officially together. And be honest: you find them hot as fuck. But, as physically attracted as you are to them, you are going to insist on being level-headed about the relationship.

I just heard "so you don't do anything stupid." Whatever choices you made regarding them before, you may either judge yourself harshly for or get SUPER embarrassed by. Like that level of cringe that makes you want to crawl out of your skin. But, be easy on yourself. That was part of the lesson you had to learn! And forgiving yourself may make it easier to forgive this person. I do think that having a positive relationship with this person will be incredibly healing because of that past pain. It's possible to move past all of that and create something beautiful with this individual. If you want to! That's a matter of free will. Deep down, you do want something great with this person. Don't let grudges or resentments prevent you from seeing that.

A few things I wanted to add: This person will see as you SO special and amazing. You will be a very powerful light in their life and may even be a catalyst to their spiritual awakening. You could have Aquarius placements or something important could happen in this relationship during Aquarius season. Also, during your separation, they will be looking you up online a lot and stalking your social media, maybe even unbeknownst to you, especially if they're blocked or you have a hard-to-find account.

Join me on Patreon to access the extended reading, which will be 18+, discussing the sexual aspects of this connection, as well as channeled messages from this person.

EXTENDED READING FOR PILE 1

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PILE 2

WHO ARE THEY?

The World

Four of Swords

King of Pentacles (back of the deck)

Pile 2, I get the feeling that isn't just going to be any old relationship. This is going to be MAJOR. You probably already know who this is. But, if you don't, you're going to know. It is going to hit you when you meet them, hard, like a speeding train. But, in a good way lol. This is definitely soulmate energy, maybe even twin flame, if you resonate with that label. If you do, your person definitely does as well. In fact, this might be the type of connection to get you to believe in such things when you didn't before.

For some of you, this person might already have one or more children when you meet. But, take that as it resonates. They might be coming out of either a divorce or the ending of a major relationship as soon as you meet. This could be with the mother or father of their child. Also, for a select few of you, this could be someone that you spent time apart from while they were building their family: getting married, having kids. Now, after leaving their partner, they are available. In any case, this individual is ending some major cycle when you come together, which has prepared them for this new chapter with you.

I am picking up on the Fixed signs: Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius. There is an extra emphasis on Taurus as the King of Pentacles also represents Earth signs: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn. So, this individual could have personal placements in Taurus. They are also giving me more of a masculine energy, regardless of their gender. They are very comfortable being "the provider" and a message is coming through that this is also a source of insecurity. Maybe they take on too much pressure or responsibility (and have from an early age) or they worry that people, especially romantic partners, use them for their money. They are financially secure and abundant in some way. Their job pays well. There is also something kind of "thick" about them. If they're a woman, they may be voluptuous and if they're male, they may have a stockier or wider build.

I also think they will feel a sweet kind of relief being with you. For one, you are not materialistic and don't care about the money they make or being totally taken care of. You just like them for them which might be a slightly different experience because they always feel like people are attracted to them for what they can do or provide, for their usefulness. Yeah, some of them definitely have Capricorn energy. Venus in Capricorn, specifically, for a few. But, you see THEM as the valuable thing. I am getting the song The Way I Are by Timbaland which is funny because the verses describe someone who is the opposite of this energy: broke. Lol but the chorus is about not needing to spend money to express affection. Overall, I think being with you will be a relaxing change of pace, which is part of why they will fall for you. They might even compare you to their previous partner in that sense. For some of you, this connection might become a commitment while their divorce is being finalized or a child custody battle is going on. So, their connection with you could be a healing reprieve from all of that.

WHAT WILL THE RELATIONSHIP BE LIKE?

Page of Wands

The Lovers

Wheel of Fortune

Knight of Cups (back of the deck)

Pile 2, you are really going to bring out the romantic in this person. Before you, the romance had died in their life in a way. Everything was about utility and practicality and what was expected. Your person has a very traditional nature and that sometimes causes them to suppress their true passions or what's going on in their heart. For some of you, this relationship may actually inspire them to pursue a creative passion that they'd always loved but forgot about in order to pay the bills or "be an adult". It also could be a passion that you're pursuing as well. In any case, life will get a lot more exciting for this person once they're with you.

You inspire great passion in them in the, ahem, physical way. This is another pile where I can tell the extended is going to be very saucy. I do feel like their sexual attraction to you will be a big draw toward you for them. However, it definitely won't be their sole motivation. And since they are more traditional-minded, they probably won't be willing to jump in bed right away. In spite of everything they are feeling toward you! There may be times, in the beginning, where the horny part of them just wants to bang while the more restrained part of them insists on courting you or getting to know you first. But, even when they are holding back, they are full of desire for you. This will be true even in every day situation or public settings.

Something I also wanted to mention is that this relationship might have quite a few starts and stops. I say that because I had to actually pause this reading because my device wasn't acting right and start again later, which never happens to me. So, there is a very fated element to this connection and it seems like the Universe will have its way. And, because of that, there could be delays or things not happening when you expect or want. This person will have their hands full with their personal/family affairs, so that's a big reason why. But, it is also meant to come together and you both know this. You will feel especially lucky for having found one another and that will provide more incentive to make it work.

Join me on Patreon to access the extended reading, which will be 18+, discussing the sexual aspects of this connection, as well as channeled messages from this person.

EXTENDED READING FOR PILE 2

///////////

PILE 3

WHO ARE THEY?

King of Swords

Five of Pentacles

Five of Cups (back of the deck)

Pile 3, I definitely feel like this is someone you already know. There could currently be a separation going on with them or just a situation where they are not getting much attention from you. Yet, you are only treating them the same way they have treated you. Once again, I am sensing a Divine Masculine individual. This makes sense because most people in a reader's collective end up being Divine Feminines, especially since most readers are very feminine (including me). But, take it as it resonates! I am sure some masculines are hanging out here, too. And, of course, those labels are dependent on energy, not gender or sexual orientation. Anyway, this is a very masculine individual, I feel, with a significant Air influence (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius). They live in their mental body and are not good at expressing their emotions.

That doesn't mean they don't have feelings, though! No matter how they may portray themselves, they are actually very sensitive. Many of them have very expressive eyes that always give their emotions away, often when they're not even saying anything. This person, at the moment, could have alienated you with their lack of emotional expression. I don't think they conveyed the truth of their feelings to you. For some of you, they did everything they could to act nonchalant or distant or like they didn't see anything more with you. I can understand that leaving a bad taste in your mouth. But, maybe you can try to not hold that against them.

The thing is that they put you in the position of seeking out their love. This definitely feels like it was a runner/chaser thing, with you being the chaser. I always joke and say that the Five of Pentacles gives me Oliver Twist energy. The part where he's begging for more soup at the orphanage. "Please, sir, can I have some more??" That's the energy you were in with them. It wasn't desperate but it was maybe a bit overeager or anxious or hurt. Now, I feel like you've pulled your energy back and good for you! You're focusing on yourself and now they are the ones begging for more proverbial soup. Well, this person plays it too cool to beg. But, inwardly, they are now tormented by your very brief texts, your slow response times, or maybe even your radio silence.

I feel like nothing has officially ended here. It's just on ice. Now, you're probably saying, "Why is this my next relationship??" Well, I hear you but keep an open mind. Maybe this is an experience you needed. To teach you to not chase or plead for love, to let it naturally come to you. It was a lesson. And if you're laying back and leaving it to this person to now put in the effort, good. That's what you both need. They really, really regret being so distant and not being available for you. It's up to you to give them another chance. But, I have to say that their lesson lies in being present and emotionally available. They've got some shit to work out before you get together and I think financial issues play a major role. In fact, they might have been holding back partly because of that. This person is deeply insecure and that really gets in their way. They struggle with feeling not good enough, especially for you, but also know they will forever regret it if they don't at least try here.

WHAT WILL THE RELATIONSHIP BE LIKE?

Four of Cups

King of Cups

The Hierophant

Four of Wands (back of the deck)

Okay, just in general, I really love the energy of this reading overall. Some really powerful and beautiful connections are coming through in all of the piles. This feels like another soulmate/divine counterpart situation. And I wouldn't just say that! But, these kinds of connections can also get messy and confusing, as both people can trigger the other and act out their issues in very chaotic ways. I have to say that your person did not mean to hurt you. I would never excuse something seriously toxic or even abusive. In this situation, they were just guarded or self-sabotaging. It is absolutely your free will, though, to decide whether to be with them or not. If not, they would totally understand.

Your person is actually a real sweetheart, underneath it all, because they are just forever going to regret how they treated you, even if you do end up together. Even if you forgive them, it's going to be especially hard for them to forgive themselves. But, that's just their insecurity. Before you end up in a relationship with them, you will not realize just how much, how deeply, they seek to commit to you. This person wants it all with you: marriage, kids, the happily ever after. I think they daydream about all of that a lot, including a wedding day. Maybe they have been to a wedding recently and got very emotional because they thought of you. But, the heaviness of their feelings is a big part of why they run from them. They're very indecisive and they're going to have to get over that. I am getting the song Hot N Cold by Katy Perry, especially since there is a wedding scene in the video.

In this pile, I am being told more about what's going to lead to the relationship or make it happen. And it can't happen if this person is lying around, feeling sorry for themselves or unable to make up their minds. To be with you, they are being challenged to step into their King of Cups energy: to be unafraid of their feelings, to follow their intuition over logic, to embrace emotional intimacy. They need to realize, especially if they are a man, that being vulnerable and emotionally open is not a weakness and does not make them less than.

Their sensitive side is a more authentic version of themselves and I think you will find that wildly attractive. I do sense that they will come back in as a pretty radically different person. But, the difference will be that they will actually show you the real them and make it much easier to establish a commitment. For some reason, Spirit doesn't want to share too many details about the relationship because you are meant to go with the flow. So, we'll see what the extended says! One thing I will say, though, is don't be surprised if you blink and you're engaged or married. If you want that! But, I feel like a lot of you could also easily see yourself marrying this person, even if you have never really thought about marriage before. It could happen rather fast and if that feels right to you, your Guides are telling you to not judge it. If it's right, it's right!

Join me on Patreon to access the extended reading, which will be 18+, discussing the sexual aspects of this connection, as well as channeled messages from this person.

EXTENDED READING FOR PILE 3

/////////

PILE 4

Eight of Cups

The Star

Strength (back of the deck)

Pile 4, this is interesting because this may not be someone you personally know yet. And I say that because you may know OF them but not actually know them. This feels like someone in the public eye, with some degree of fame or recognition. And that doesn't have to mean an award-winning actor or something (although they could be). They might be a lesser known performer or a successful model or even an influencer/Internet personality. You'll know what resonates. And I am not saying this to encourage delusions. In fact, I rarely ever give messages like this. So, it must be for you! I also think you're more skeptical of a situation like this or afraid of being delulu yourself. But, something is (or will) intuitively tell you you're going to end up with this person.

They could have either Leo or Aquarius placements (or both) in their birth chart. I feel like they are super-attractive and very popular. For many of you, this person is on the taller side. They definitely get a lot of attention in a romantic or sexual way. But, they're also not the type to take themselves too seriously. I think they are very confident and handle the spotlight well but they're balanced and level-headed. They don't have an insane ego. It's funny because I think they will be very dissatisfied with many of their options until you come along. You will stand out to them. What I am getting is that they will find out about you in some chance manner. Maybe mutual friends or peers, especially if you're in the entertainment business or in their industry. They also might stumble across you online. Leaving a seemingly random comment on their social media or sending a risky DM could be the thing that gets their attention.

And I think there is some mirroring happening in that you may feel very dissatisfied with your current options until you meet this person. You could be moving on from an ex or past romantic situation and then, boom, this happens. At first, I thought the Eight of Cups was this person's energy but I actually think it's yours. It's only when you are done with a certain someone and moving on for good that they make their way into your life. In many ways, they are manifesting you and you are manifesting them. This is honestly pretty magical! They may have their eye on you first and become very determined to make you theirs. This person knows what they want and they go after it!

WHAT WILL THE RELATIONSHIP BE LIKE?

Eight of Wands

Queen of Wands

The Hierophant

King of Swords (back of the deck)

This relationship is going to heat up very quickly. The physical attraction here is off the charts. You might try and be a bit cool with your person because everyone thirsts after them or falls over them and you don't want to seem desperate. But, you still have eyes and a pulse, so you find them VERY hot. I actually think not being overly thirsty for them will just make you stand out more to them. It will also make you come across as more genuine and like you actually like them, not the superficial stuff. The more famous or desired they are, the truer that will be.

Also, let's be clear: they find you just as hot. You are this Queen of Wands to them: alluring, magnetic, passionate, charismatic, feminine yet fierce. They will be very drawn to the confidence you exude, even if you really don't think you're that big of a deal. I am getting the message that the point of this connection is to get you to step into that Queen of Wands energy. Because, even though it's not in the spread, I am really getting King of Wands energy from this person. They've got the sauce and, even though they stay humble, they know it. And they're meant to be a mirror of you in that way so you can embrace your own sauce. Sex With Me by Rihanna is now coming through. Yes, the sex here will be fire because you're both fire. You both probably have Fire placements (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius)

I feel like this connection is truly going to happen out of nowhere! I am not being told how because it's meant to be a surprise. And if you don't even know this high-profile person and have no connections to them, you couldn't even guess how it comes about anyway. Just let it happen! But, I can see travel being a big part of this relationship. You will probably have to travel far to see them and get acquainted with new places. You might even be moving where they are. They will splurge and take you on exciting dates or trips. And they are so much fun to be around. Never a dull moment!

Yet, they will also be serious about you. The Hierophant has come out so much in this whole reading! In this pile, it shows that this isn't going to be some player. Maybe they were in the past but they are going to be ready for commitment with you. I think it's because they have had enough of the single life. They may have been very sexually active before because they had plenty options and opportunities. And I think you can relate to that! But, now, they are ready for something real and I also think you can relate to that. You also might not either expect them to be so eager to get serious or you'll be surprised by it, especially since it seems like you've dealt with immature or noncommittal options in the past. R U Mine by Arctic Monkeys might also be a resonant song. I am not necessarily seeing a quick engagement/marriage but maybe just a quick major decision, like moving to their city and in with them. It will just feel right!

This is giving power couple vibes. You are like the masculine and feminine versions of each other. You might even evolve into an It Girl or Boy in your own right while with them (but you've always been one, babe). I think people will find you a highly attractive couple. This King of Swords is sticking out to me, though, like a sore thumb. I don't feel like it's their energy. It actually feels out of place. This is someone else; that person you're going to have to leave behind to be with them. I think that'll be a very difficult decision and it will be at the back of your mind in the beginning of this situation. Tbh, you won't be completely over this past person by the time you're with this individual. But, you will gradually let them go and see that it was the right decision.

Join me on Patreon to access the extended reading, which will be 18+, discussing the sexual aspects of this connection, as well as channeled messages from this person.

EXTENDED READING FOR PILE 4

//////

Thanks for stopping by! You can check out other readings and posts from my blog here:

MASTER LIST

#tarot #tarot reading #channeled reading #channeled message #channeled song #pick a pile reading #love reading #tarot love reading #pick a card reading #pick a card #pac reading #pick a picture

[reiderwriter]

Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz

A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ

You can read the first part here!

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?

You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]

As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward. 

If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats. 

The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you. 

Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind. 

With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.

The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend. 

"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks. 

"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up. 

"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively. 

"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?" 

"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable." 

He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself. 

Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned. 

"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible. 

"Um, Spencer?" 

"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up. 

"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day." 

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise." 

"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on. 

"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work." 

"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier. 

"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?" 

You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.

He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out. 

But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again. 

You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well." 

"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.

"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist. 

"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this. 

"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.

You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up. 

"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs. 

His fingers find your clit and you whimper. 

"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves. 

His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target. 

"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck. 

"Spencer, please, need you…" 

"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you. 

You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice. 

"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements. 

You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion. 

"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck. 

"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust. 

He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath. 

"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess. 

You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him. 

"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours. 

"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly. 

"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply. 

"What? I… What?" 

"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements." 

"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully. 

"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?" 

"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh. 

"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint. 

"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #maturereiding

[libraryofgage]

Decided to combine 4 and 12 of the prompt list! Something about these two prompts was giving me major Addams Family vibes, so I rolled with it lol

If there are any other prompts you want to see written, lemme know!

4. “You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”  

12. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Wherein the Munsons are branches on the Addams Family tree, and Steve finds himself the object of Eddie Munson's flirtations and devotion.

---

When the Munsons move in next door, Steve sits his brother down in the living room and says, "Don't bother them, Dustin. Wait, like, three days before asking for their life stories."

Dustin looks offended, to say the least. "I wasn't gonna ask for their life stories, Steve. I was gonna ask where they got all the bats and birds that hang out on their roof."

Honestly, Steve would love the answer to that, too, but that seems to be encroaching on the "life story" territory, considering the sheer number of flying creatures the Munsons brought with them. He'd been outside getting the mail when the Munson kids, a boy his own age and a girl Dustin's age, had opened a tiny cat carrier, and a veritable storm of black wings and feathers and screeching had somehow come streaming out of it.

The girl was watching them with a smile, and the boy turned around like he'd felt Steve staring. Their gazes met, and Steve's awkward wave was returned with the boy's eyes raking over him before winking with a grin.

"Look, ju-"

Steve's words are cut off by a banging on the door, the person knocking out a beat that he can't follow. He shoots Dustin a look to stay put before he opens the door to find the Munson boy on the other side. He's got that same playful grin and a plate of pitch-black...something in his hands.

"Uh, hi?"

Somehow, the boy's grin gets wider, and he shoves the plate into Steve's hands. "Heeeellooo, big boy," he says, his voice almost lowering into a purr that makes heat flood Steve's cheeks. "Wayne wanted me to drop off some of his famous arsenic and chocolate chip cookies. You know, since we're neighbors and all."

"Wayne? Arsenic?" Steve mumbles, looking down at the cookies warily.

"Our uncle," the boy says, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms as he looks Steve up and down again. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. Yet. That's a friend of the family privilege, at least, and you just ain't there yet."

It must be a joke, and Steve lets out a strained laugh. He balances the plate in one hand and holds his other one out. "Right, well, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Steve. You'll probably meet my brother, Dustin, later."

The boy takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it up to his lips. Then he turns Steve's hand over, brushing his lips across the meat of his palm before nipping. Steve jerks, yanking his hand back and holding it close to his chest, his heart beating erratically as the boy says, "I'm Eddie, my sister's name is El, and I'm going to have so much fun with you, Stevie."

And with that, Eddie turns on his heel and saunters back to the Munson home, which had been painted pitch-black (just like the cookies) at some point. Steve doesn't move from the open door, feeling a faint tingling in his palm, until he hears Dustin shout that he's going to let all the cold air out.

The arsenic and chocolate chip cookies had not, in fact, killed either of them. And, despite their burnt-to-coal appearance, they were soft and chewy. It had immediately put the Munsons in Dustin's good graces, which he happily proclaimed while Steve's head and heart were still reeling from Eddie's introduction.

In the following weeks, Eddie kept popping up whenever Steve left the house. He never overstepped, though. He'd appear at a distance, wait for Steve to wave or say hi, and then approach with that big grin with canine teeth that looked a little sharper than they should. Sometimes he'd offer more baked goods from Wayne (always with some schtick to them: eye of newt brownies, hag's breath toffee, cyanide and cherry pie). On one notable occasion, he'd offered a baseball bat with nails stuck through the end.

"El let out a demodog the other day, so you probably ought to be careful. I'd hate for you to get hurt by something that wasn't me," Eddie had said as Steve confusedly took the bat.

He blinked when he had processed the words and looked up. "You would hurt me?" Steve asked.

Eddie had leaned close, his ringed fingers ghosting over Steve's side and inching closer to his waist, and whispered, "It wouldn't just hurt, Stevie." His words had sent a shiver down Steve's spine, his mouth suddenly dry as Eddie pulled away.

And their interactions had escalated from there. With every meeting, Eddie strayed closer, lingered longer, spoke softer, and Steve couldn't escape the growing devotion and fascination in his eyes. At some point, Steve knew, things were bound to boil over.

So, he definitely wasn't surprised when they did at the neighborhood's annual Fourth of July cookout. Eddie had waited until El and Dustin were distracted by their other friends, checked to make sure Wayne was sufficiently busy with helping at the grill, and then kidnapped Steve to a hidden corner of the Byers's yard.

Which brings Steve to the present, the Byers's house casting a long shadow over him and Eddie so nobody notices them. The sound of other kids screeching with delight and parents discussing summer camps fades when Eddie leans in closer.

"You know I'd do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything?" Eddie asks, tilting Steve's chin up as he crowds him against the wall.

Steve presses back against the cool brick, silently holding Eddie's gaze. There's a stark seriousness to his words, and Steve can't help his curiosity about just what anything encompasses. "Would you kill for me?" he asks, his voice soft.

Eddie practically lights up, a feral grin pulling at his lips. "Gladly, sweetheart," he purrs.

"Would you die for me?"

"I'd tear out my heart and present it on a fucking silver platter for you. In fact, I can do it right now, if you'd like." A knife appears in his hand from seemingly nowhere, and Eddie brings it to his own chest only for Steve to stop him by grabbing his wrist.

"Then, what about living for me?" Steve asks, carefully taking the knife from Eddie and smoothly returning it to the holder tucked into his jeans.

Eddie leans in until their noses brush, his hand cupping Steve's jaw. "I wouldn't even dream of dying without your permission, Stevie," he whispers.

And Steve would fucking love to meet the person who could withstand Eddie Munson's attention and flirting and gifts and care and sheer devotion without falling head-over-heels for him. Steve would want to put that person in a jar, study them, see if their indifference is something he could mass produce. He's sure Eddie would be thrilled to help him do it, too.

"I have one request," Steve whispers back, reaching up and pushing his hand into Eddie's hair, warmth rushing through him when Eddie leans into the touch.

"Anything. Say the word, and I wouldn't hesitate to crawl through hot coals and broken glass." Steve has zero doubts Eddie would; in fact, he knows Eddie would be ecstatic to do it, if only for the chance to make Steve smile.

"I want one of the bats. And Dustin wants a demodog, but you better make sure it doesn't hurt him, or I'll make you listen to bubblegum pop and watch a Disney marathon."

Steve can feel the shudder that goes through Eddie, his eyes revealing a mix of horror, pride, and love at Steve's words. "You, Stevie, have perfected the art of making threats. Consider your two requests granted and me sufficiently...threatened," Eddie breathes, somehow managing to press even closer.

And Steve can't make either of them wait a second longer. With a grin that can easily rival Eddie's, Steve kisses him and begins to think of names for his bat.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #addams family #stranger things #i just love the addams family so much #one of my favorite aus to make actually #the way they love is so pure and unapologetically genuine #even if it's different from the norm of love and courtship #that makes it even more romantic #my writing

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | y’all accidentally adopt a kid

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; parenthood (?), mentions of violence

♡notes; i work with toddlers all day yet still somehow get baby fever- so here’s this i guess lol.

i can’t see Brahms as a dad so skipped out on him this time, Vincent is iffy too but we might come back to him

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> micheal never wanted to be a father before he met you

> he knows for a fact he has something terribly wrong with him

> and while it never bothered him…it was far too dangerous to pass on

> but the way you light up when little kids on the street wave to you

> how you talked about building a family when you got drunk and sappy

> and how soft and gentle you were holding your friend’s baby…

> he knew you’d be the perfect parent, good enough to balance any bullshit he was bring to the table

> so it’s maybe not a complete accident when he stalks into the house with a banged up stroller out front

> the baby is crying, his parents passed out from some shit they snorted in the living room

> it makes his job easier when he slits their throats, and he’s sure as hell not sympathetic

> not that he ever is

> he follows the cries upstairs- a tiny little boy is wailing in his crib

> but he stops and stares at Micheal, blue eyes wide as he looms in the door

> at first Micheal thinks the racket it going to start again and braces for the scream

> but the boy reaches for him eagerly instead, making grabby hands and squealing

> it takes a bit of snooping but Micheal finds some paperwork after he’s secured the child in a carrier

> Miles. The boy’s name is Miles, and he’s ten months old- just tiny for his age

> you think he’s fucking with you when he sets a baby carrier on your table that night

> “…that’s Miles.” He mutters and walks away

> you’re pissed but you can’t say you have anything but an urge to protect this tiny boy

> he has red hair, and light freckles and the sweetest disposition

> he’s perfect, surely Micheal wouldn’t just steal a child…not without good reason

> and you notice Micheal still lingering, watching you both

> you try not to smile

> “…well. Gonna help me find somewhere he can sleep or not?”

Thomas Hewitt

> when Charlie brings in the little girl, Luda Mae is beyond excited

> she had no idea the couple she’d sent down their road had a baby

> her dark curls and chubby legs and ruddy pink cheeks remind her so much of Thomas at that age too

> not too far off from one if she’s got it right

> she’s thinking selfishly, she’s always wanted a daughter

> but Thomas’ eyes go so wide when you both walk in

> he’s in awe of the tiny lil thing sleeping against his mama’s shoulder

> he won’t hold her, terrified of hurting her

> but you’re eager to take her for a bit and he gets real close, chin hooked on your shoulder so he can inspect her closely

> she’s all giggles as she touches his mask

> and you’re nearly in tears when she snuggles up against you

> “…yknow…i’ve been thinkin. i’m much closer to grandmama age than mama age now”

> you say yes before Luda can finish her ask - there was nothing you wanted more than a child with Thomas

> he’s hesitant, but he already adores her

> you have no way of knowing her name, so what you should call her is a bit of a hot topic for a few days

> Charlie wants to name her Charlotte because he’s a self centered bastard , and Luda Mae has about a thousand suggestions that come from baby books decades older than you

> but you let Thomas decide

> Audrey Mae Hewitt is what he chooses

> Audrey from a book he read

> Mae from his mama

> and it suits her perfectly

Bubba Sawyer

> “hey cook! look what i got!”

> Drayton about beats Choptop in the plate when he sees him carrying a toddler under his arm like a log

> but he’s kind of impressed such a scrawny dirtbag can carry a chunky kid like that

> the little boy is a healthy weight for two or so, with lil chipmunk cheeks that dimple when he grins

> and the cutest damn mullet you’ll ever see

> Drayton is getting too damn old for this, and there’s only one person he trusts even a minuscule amount in the house

> so he just. hands him to you when you walk into the front room

> “congratulations, it’s a boy”

> you’re confused but excited

> and a bit concerned with how he and Bubba will feel once the man gets home

> a kid is a big commitment- and a man that wears people’s faces can be scary

> but Bubba immediately squeals and beelines for the little one when he staggers in

> they both tilt their heads curiously before the boy tries to climb up his leg

> when he picks him up, the boy gives a huge belly laugh, kicking his legs

> you choose his name- politely declining your boyfriend’s brothers’ insistence on Lil Choppy or Drayton II

> Jedediah Junior sounds perfect to you - little JJ

#slashers #micheal myers #thomas hewitt #micheal myers x reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #bubba sawyer #halloween #slashers x you #tcm #slashers x y/n #slashers headcanons #tcm 2006 #tcm 2 #bubba sawyer x reader

[muniimyg]

8.5: exiled 》 series m.list

note: hi.... bye..... lol

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @bloopkook @suciedad-divina @xelenavazquezx @kyjjk @parkinglot-nights @skzthinker @thisisaburnphone @rrjkive @hyuneyeon @chemicalclub @bbtsficrecs @ronyiboniyy @italiekim @02shifts @insomniaroses @jayjahni @jeonsh1ne @greybears123 @eunthv @petalsofink @aerikook

//

“Get off of her!” 

All eyes are on you as you shove a drunk guy off Mina. He's probably twice your size, but it doesn't matter. Her eyes widen as you take her by the arm and hide her behind you like a child. She almost trips over her own feet, but finds balance as Yuna catches her. Yuna stands behind Mina, keeping her in the middle. Automatically, Mina feels safe.

The man puts his hands up and feels all eyes shift to him. 

Poorly, he tries to take a step towards you. Glaring at him, you don’t back away. Yuna tugs your arm to do so, but you ignore her. Instead, you stay as you are. Why would you back down? Why should you be scared? The man chuckles, unable to process what’s happening. He slurs his words, “I was just trying to talk to her.”

You find his ignorance ridiculous. Coyly, you call him out. “Since when did 'trying to talk to her' involve your hands on her ass?” 

His crooked smile drops at your words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without much thought, you take a step towards him. Angrier than ever, you want to yell at his face, slap him, and tell him he’s a sad excuse of a man. You hate him. He boils your blood and you love the idea of swinging at him. It takes every ounce of strength for you not to.

It's not such a bad idea, right?

The moment you move your feet and raise your hand, Yuna calls for Taehyung. 

It's a little annoying how in moments like these, it’s difficult to deny that they just might be a match made in heaven. Like magic, Taehyung makes his way through the crowd and places himself in between you and the drunk man. 

Taehyung eyes the guy, steadily with an intimidating gaze. His tone is cold and irritated. He has never been the one to entertain drama—especially the kind that involves his friends. 

“You bothering my friends?” He asks. "I'd suggest you don't."

The man huffs at him before deciding this isn't worth it. He backs off, not bothering to look back or utter another word. The crowd parts for him as his friends help him out of the house. By the time he disappears, Taehyung yells: “Ayo, what the fuck is everyone on? Since when did we let creeps in? Since when do we let each other be treated like that?”

“Taehyung—”

“No, Yuna," Taehyung pauses only to raise his voice. "That was so fucking weird! Since when do we stand around and let them do stupid shit—“

“Tae,” Yuna grabs his arm, and she attempts to calm him. “Everyone is drunk. No one is going to listen to your speech. It’s okay. Nothing escalated and you came right on time.”

He has a difficult time accepting her words.

“Just because it’s okay this time doesn’t mean it’s okay next time,” he huffs. Yuna hushes him and pulls him in a hug. Taehyung rests his chin on top of her head and murmurs, “You’re okay, right? Did he touch you?” 

Yuna shakes her head and proceeds to tell Taehyung to relax. She explains that it wasn’t even her that needed the rescue—it was Mina. Though it was a concerning matter, Taehyung doesn’t care. He takes any and every opportunity to protect Yuna. To him, only Yuna mattered. He pouts, feeling sulky at the fact that she was almost caught in an uncomfortable situation. 

The two drift into their own world, leaving you and Mina. 

Turning to her, you ask, "Are you okay?"

Mina nods, taking a breath in. She can't believe all of that happened within 5 minutes. It was all so fast. Hastly, she answers you. "Y-yeah, I am. Thanks for that..."

Simply, you offer a small smile and nod. Just as you're about to take off and find Yuna, Mina reaches for your hand. You hesitate, not knowing what to do. Although that doesn’t matter, The alcohol in her system gives her confidence as she takes your hand and tugs you in for a hug. By now, it’s clear that her state is well past tipsy.

Mumbling, she reveals, “My friends would’ve just stood there. The last time something like this happened, Jungkook swooped in to save me—”

“Why do your friends just stand there?” you ask rather angrily. That's annoying. Shouldn't girls stick together? Shouldn't friends do more than let bad things happen? Mina's words make you upset and lead you to a protective point of view. You pull away and look at her sternly. “You need new friends.”

She laughs, trying to play it cool. “They’re just shy…”

“That’s no excuse,” you tell her. “If that shit happens again, text me. Yuna and I will come to your rescue. I literally hate it when guys are—”

“You’re nice,” she says softly. Mina says it like it's the newest discovery the world needs to know of. She says it like it's mindblowing. You can't help but crack a smile at her as she continues. “L-like, I knew you were nice… But this is your first time being nice to me.”

You pause for a second.

Were you intentionally mean to her? You never meant to be (aside from the blowjob thing). Seeing her alone and in distress makes you feel like the most horrible person in the entire world. You want to say sorry. You want to beg for forgiveness and hope for a reset with her.

Let's be real.

Rebuilding or restoring—whatever the fuck you need to do to fix things between you and Mina—can't happen overnight. No flowery words or protective action can make up for the strain in your potential friendship with her.

You opt for the most rational path.

Baby steps.

“I guess I just never had the opportunity to be your friend,” you almost stutter.

Your words catch her off guard. 

Mina blinks at you. “I thought you didn’t like me. Why would you be my friend?”

You chuckle, a little taken back by her honesty. “Who said I didn’t like you? Jungkook?”

She shakes her head profusely. “N-no… No one really.. I just assumed. And, speaking of which…. Let’s go this way.”

By now, the crowd had already forgotten and moved on from what had happened 5 minutes ago. Everyone takes their place, occupying the house, and leaving you and Mina no choice but to move out of the way. Even though she’s drunk and stumbling through the crowd, she remembers where she last saw Jungkook. 

As she leads you to the backyard, she pauses at the sliding door. Outside, you can see Jungkook sitting on the grass with a drink in his hand. Yuna and Taehyung are sitting on the patio deck, talking to each other and watching over Jungkook. 

“I don’t not like you,” you admit to her. Your wording is confusing, especially to a drunk girl trying to comprehend your attempt at warmth. “Not liking you… versus not liking the fact that you like Jungkook are two different things… I think I was insecure. I was immature about it. I didn’t mean to be mean. I’m sorry I was selfish. I’m sorry if it ruined what you and Jungkook had.”

“You’re sorry about ruining my one-sided romance with him?” Mina frets, holding back tears. 

With no words to give her, you stay quiet. 

Breaking the silence, she asks with a sad smile: “What if I still like Jungkook?” 

It would be a lie to say that her words didn’t frustrate you. Truth be told, the entire idea of her still being into him makes you feel uneasy. Given that your fight with Jungkook blew up at the mention of her name—it’s not easy to move past. 

But you figure… Maybe you should. Maybe pushing through all the insecurity, ache, and pettiness is what needs to be done. There are so many good things in life and friendship is one of those things. She doesn't need to be your best friend or anything—but maybe she could be a good friend. At least, someone you could wave at as you cross paths.

Playfully, you nudge her. She reacts just as playfully and helps you unlock the patio door. 

“Then I guess you’re right,” you laugh, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible. “I don’t like you at all.”

For the first time, Mina throws her head back and laughs for real. 

You join her and laugh a little harder. Her reaction makes you feel a sense of relief and in that, for a split second, it felt comfortable and easy between you two. Like you had been friends all along. Like there was no bad start. No bad blood. When your laughter dies down, Mina takes a deep breath and makes a final confession. 

“I really wanted to be your friend,” her teary eyes give in. She lets a tear roll down her cheek as she continues. Sniffing, she admits, “I really wanted you to like me… You’re so pretty and you and Yuna have this nonchalant bestie behaviour that I'm honestly jealous of—“

“You’re so pretty too,” you say in awe. You can't help but feel flattered at her words but also a little bad that her luck seems to be quite the opposite of yours. “Let's put a pin on your friends for now... You’re really drunk, babes.”

“I know!” she cries with a smile. Mina throws her hands in the air like an overdramatic child. You've always known her to be cute, but this was the cherry on top.

She's cute! You don't want to rip her head off too! Progress.

Sighing, you ask, “How are you gonna get home?”

Mina shrugs.  “Dunno. Friends ditched me.”

You frown. 

“I’ll get Yuna and Taehyung to take you home… Is that okay? I'd do it myself but I think Jungkook needs my attention right now. Also, I don’t really trust the people at this party around you.” 

For the second time tonight, your words touch Mina. 

Oddly enough, your concern for her only makes her even more sad. It only makes her even more angry at the universe. In a sick way, she wishes you were mean. If you were mean, maybe it would be easier hating you. Instead, your honesty with your words pushes her into a dilemma. Should she hate you out of spite? Should she like you just because of this one good moment? Does she give it all up and let her growing resentment go? 

You look at her fondly and her mind is made up. 

You were forgiven. 

“I get it,” she sniffs, as she makes the connections in her mind. You tilt your head at her, eyebrows knit together.

“Get what?”

“I get why Jungkook wants to be loved by you so bad."

Mina doesn't continue her sentence. Puzzled, you aren't sure if there was more to it. You aren't sure if she was just that drunk. You aren't sure what it even means... Regardless, you're thankful.

One thing about Jungkook is that he’s good at drinking. 

In every beer pong game, every drinking game, and ice challenge—he has never had an issue getting drunk. He always had fun too! Drinking was easy for him. At least, it was easy until you. 

Drinking and having feelings for you all at once is not his favourite mix. 

God, he hates this so much. 

It feels like no drink is enough. No amount of shots or refills in his red cup will ease how he feels. Every shot he takes, as he shuts his eyes and throws his head back, he dedicates to you. How could he not? You’re the reason he’s drinking so fucking much anyway. 

He can’t think straight anymore. There isn’t a single thought in his head that makes sense and even counting is difficult now. Jungkook doesn’t know how many drinks he’s had. He lost count of the amount of shots he took by himself and with others. At one point, he thought his alcohol was water and chugged it.

Then, when he realized it wasn’t water… He threw up on Taehyung.

But that was minutes ago. For a good 10 minutes, he was left alone outside in the dark. Oddly enough, it was the first time in two weeks that he didn’t feel alone. His usual emptiness wasn’t consuming him.

There’s a stillness under the night sky that simply gives him peace. It lasts for a good 10 seconds before he thinks of you again… Not that he hasn’t been thinking of you every second of every day for the past two weeks—right now, he’s really thinking of you.

He’s thinking of how you laugh a beat after the punchline is said. He’s thinking of how you always hesitate to hold his hand. He’s thinking about the way you always take Yuna’s side even when she’s clearly wrong. He’s thinking about how much he wished he could’ve been that stupid fucking perilla leaf because it meant being close to your lips.

Then, he lets himself laugh.

It’s silly, isn’t it? Aside from being jealous of Eunwoo, he was also jealous of the perilla leaf itself.

How fucking hilarious.

Then, it gets worse.

As he continues to think about you, he swears he can see you making your way to him. Your figure comes closer and closer. Jungkook rubs his eyes, not wanting this to be a dream. Could it be true? Is it really you? Why… How the fuck did you get here? When?

With Eunwoo?

Oh my god.

He feels like he might cry.

“Jungkook,” you rush over to him and take the red cup out of his hand. Without hesitation, you pour out the alcohol and then toss the cup aside. He isn’t sure how, but you have a water bottle. It appears like magic and you open it. You don’t bother exchanging words with him as you bring the water to his mouth and tilt it.

He takes three big gulps before turning his face away.

“You need to drink more water,” you say softly, moving in closer to him. He looks at you weirdly, still not processing that you’re actually beside him. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him.

It feels like a fever dream.

“___? A-are you really here?”

His voice cracks. He sounds unsure and almost afraid. As much as it breaks your heart, you force yourself to put on a brave face.

Nodding, you offer him a smile. “Yeah, it’s me,” you attempt to give him water again. He rejects. “Come on, Jungkook. You need to drink more water—”

He shakes his head, rejecting you. 

“Pookie—”

“Yah, ___!” Jungkook pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Don’t call me that. Fuck, ___. You should know when to stop.”

You blink at him. His harshness is difficult to be upset over. You can't blame him for feeling whatever he's feeling. It's valid. You've been an absolute idiot. Yet, your face can’t hide the disappointment you feel from being treated like that. 

Jungkook’s stern face suddenly drops. You’ve never seen such emotion. His lips twitch, as he tries to hold in his sobs. He hasn’t cried over you yet. In the span of the two weeks apart—he has just been avoiding his feelings. Avoiding you.

Now, here you are.

In front of him in all your heartbreaking glory and he can’t find it in himself to walk away. He can’t think of a single thing to say or do. Truth be told, he just wanted to look at you because holy shit.

He missed you so much.

“Seriously,” you press, “please… Just drink a little more water—”

Jungkook hits the water bottle out of your hand. It practically flies to the other side of the yard. You stand still, trying to keep yourself calm. It’s not like you were afraid of him or his temper—you’re afraid of what’s going to happen now.

His words.

“Do you honestly think I give a shit about water right now?” Jungkook growls. “Fucking think about it, ___.”

You take a breath in.

“What are you doing, Jungkook?”

Silence.

You continue, “Why are you drinking so much?”

He stares at you with a blank expression. 

Fine. 

You can’t help yourself by saying something that you know will bring out a reaction from him. “Jungkook, why’d you ask for a break?”

The most that happens is that he squints at you. He remains silent. 

Sighing, you make one last attempt. “I’m not good at this, okay? Tell me what to do and I’ll—”

“Say sorry.”

Immediately, you do so. You apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me you have feelings for me too.”

That’s when you notice his fists are all curled up and his chest rises dramatically from taking deep breaths. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He lowers his gaze, searching for your eyes. Then, Jungkook snaps. He can’t hold it in any longer. There are too many questions flooding his mind and at this point—ruining his life.

“Tell me you hate me then,” he insists. “___, tell me it’s my fault. Please. I’m begging you. Tell me I’ve been delusional about everything going on between us and that I had no right to act like a wuss over a fucking perilla leaf because I don’t mean shit to you. Tell me, ___, w-why don’t you wa-want m-me?”

His voice betrays him. It cracks as his words spill his sadness. A small sob, followed by a real one, escapes his lips. He buries his face into his hands as his shoulders shake from his cries. 

Jungkook is a mess.

He is mindlessly drunk and completely heartbroken. You reach out for him, but he shakes you off. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? When you’re not crying or this drunk—please, Jungkook. I’m begging you.”

“No! It’s no use.” Jungkook begins to sob even harder. He clenches the left side of his shirt, where his heart is, and hits it once, twice, and then a third time. It’s breaking and in no time, his heart will turn into stardust. He knows it. Even so, he cries like his words are his dying wish. “I like you so much my chest hurts. My words lose meaning because there is no way for me to explain that the answer doesn’t change—it’s always the same fucking answer to the stupidest goddamn question—oh my god, ___! I can’t keep pretending anymore—it hurts so bad. Being with you hurts so bad… Being without you is death. I felt like I was dying."

“Breathe,” you plead, as you search for his eyes. “Jungkook, take a minute.”

It’s devastating.

Jungkook is in complete agony and you don’t know what to say or do to ease his pain. If you say what he wants to hear—will that fix everything? Will he stop crying? Will he accuse you of lying? You don’t know. All you know is that it feels like the sky is falling.

“I think I’ve had feelings for you since the first time I’ve ever made you laugh… And I miss that, ___. I miss making you laugh.” In a sad attempt to compose himself, he reaches for your hand. You let him take it. What else can you do when the guy you’re falling for is falling apart in front of you? You let him take your fucking hand. You hold his hand tight and bite your tongue from letting your stupid words ruin this moment. 

“I remember it, y-you know?” he sniffs, trying to catch his breath. “B-but I don’t remember the joke I told you. In all honesty, I was too busy looking at you. Like, when I made you laugh, your eyes smiled before your lips did… A-and I remember my heart skipping a beat b-because it never did that before.” 

His confession moves you. 

Although, your heart feels conflicted. You don't even remember the first time he's made you laugh. He always makes you laugh. It’s flattering to find out how deeply he felt for you, but it is also extremely heartbreaking watching him go through this. It hurts you much deeper than you’re expressing. You feel frozen and it’s not by choice.

All you manage to say is; “slow down.” 

He does.

This was harder than he thought it would be. Not that ever thought confessing his feelings to you would be easy—he just never thought it would be like this. Drunk. Crying. Already brokenhearted before his actual confession.

He wanted it to happen better than this. He wanted it to happen lovingly, not desperately. If he had it his way, it should’ve happened at the party. 

He should’ve taken your hand as you walked down the stairs together. He should have asked you out as you two got dressed. Jungkook regrets it so much. If he had more time—if Eunwoo had never shown up… Maybe you two would have been together tonight. Maybe he would’ve been happy. 

Instead, he was downing shot glasses of tears and drunk in love. 

Jungkook turns away from you and tries to focus on his breathing. As he catches his breath, you gather your thoughts. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want him to think that you’re okay with everything that’s going on—you’re not. You have feelings for him, sure, but you aren’t sure if they’re as deep as his… At least, that’s what you think. Then, that’s when it hits you.

They are, aren’t they? 

If they weren’t, you wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t be holding his hand like a fucking bitch. 

Your feelings are just as deep as his. That’s why you’re here, holding his hand, and wanting to talk things through sober. You want it to mean more than a drunken confession. You want him to mean more than what you’ve been downplaying him to be. As you process these thoughts, he lets go of your hands. He takes a few steps away from you and paces back and forth. As much as he hates to do this, Jungkook draws the boundary.

“Do you even think about me?” He asks with a slightly irritated tone. “Because it feels like you don’t. You never texted me once—”

“You asked for the break.” Unintentionally, you say it like a smartass. 

He huffs at you. “Still. You should have texted—”

“Are you actually mad at me, Jungkook? Or are you upset that—”

“I miss you. Every day that passed, I missed you so much. You didn’t even text. You didn’t even hold your gaze when I caught you staring at me… And I had to play it cool, ___. I had to act like I wasn’t fucking dying inside. I’ve been so miserable—and you knew it. You must have known it because the happiest I’ve ever been has only been with you.” Jungkook’s mind spins faster and faster. He has to get all these words out. They’ve clogged up his mind and he’s so sick of it. 

He’s tired of this. How much longer could he live like this? How much longer does he have to wait for your heart to choose him?

“I waited for your text,” he whimpers. “I have waited for you every day. Over and over again. Day after day—and I c-can’t—” Jungkook pauses to compose his final words. “I did it all alone. I caught feelings by myself. I waited all by myself.”

“Jungkook—”

“I got ahead of myself.” 

You can't believe how foolish he sounds. How the only he got ahead of were your words. Honestly, you can't blame him. All you can really do is let him cry. Then, without warning, he begins to storm away.

You run after him.

Before he knows it, you wrap your arms around his torso. Hugging him from the back, you hold him tight. Jungkook is startled and completely moved. He wants to turn around and melt in your embrace... But for some reason, he can't do it. He can't give in this time. He can't stay and wait for you to fucking get it together. That's why, he does it. It's like he takes hold of the knife stabbed into your heart and pulls it out.

Then, you're left there bleeding as he tears away from your grasp.

For the first time, you watch him walk away. As he enters the house and you're left all alone, you try to rationalize everything in your head... But you can't.

You've been exiled.

#bts fanfic #bts fic rec #jk angst #jungkook angst #jungkook smau #jungkook fic

[slut4thebroken]

Party Favor

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x reader (college au)

Summary | After you get too drunk at a party, Robert takes you upstairs to “lay down.”

Warnings | Smut, non con, drunk sex, misogyny, degradation, non con filming, anal fingering, object insertion, humiliation, he’s a horrible person lowkey, breeding, come feeding.

Words | 1.8 k

Notes | Guys I’m so excited for this lol (and yes, this was inspired by a video on nsfw twitter💀) (Also ty @hllywdwhre for all your help!)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“God- you’re so pretty. Has anyone ever told you that before?” You asked, words slurred as your body swayed into him. 

“Pretty? No..” He chuckled, making you frown. 

“Well it’s true.” You said definitively. “Your hair is pretty,” he grabbed your wrists and pulled them away when you reached for his perfectly styled hair, “your eyes are pretty… your lips are pretty.” You giggled, brushing your fingers over his lips. 

“Okay,” He laughed, almost uncomfortably, “drink some more.” You didn’t protest when he handed you the bottle of vodka, watching you take a large swig. 

“Mm… god, I love looking at you.” You groaned, staring up at him with glassy eyes. 

“You don’t handle alcohol very well, do you?” He asked amusedly, having to wrap an arm around your waist when you swayed again and almost lost your balance. “Okay.. You should lay down.” He decided, taking the bottle from you. As he led you over to the staircase, he passed a handful of people, only some of which actually looked at you. Most of those people were guys giving encouraging jeers, some were girls staring at you with either jealousy or contempt. 

He brought you into a room and closed the door, then laid you down on the bed before laying down next to you, keeping a safe distance for now. You turned on your side to face him and he tried to keep his face neutral and not show his annoyance when he realized you were about to talk. 

“Y’know, sometimes you’re kind of a dick-” Your words were cut off by a hiccup and he raised his brows, waiting for you to finish. “You’re a dick… but sometimes you’re tolerable to be around. Like right now.” You smiled, making him roll his eyes. 

“Drink some more.” He handed you the bottle again, hoping that if you got drunk enough, you’d stop talking for once. You brought it up to your lips and downed more of the liquid, barely even reacting to the taste anymore. When your eyes fluttered closed and you brought the bottle back down, he got up and walked to the foot of the bed, then grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge, startling you. 

“Robert?” 

“Shh… Just keep drinking.” He wrapped your legs around his hips, then pushed your skirt up, making you whine quietly and reach a hand down to weakly push him away. He ignored you though and opened his pants to free his cock, then pulled your panties to the side and lined up. When he finally forced it in, a pained moan escaped you as he groaned quietly. 

“Robert…” You whined, trying to push him away again. In response, he leaned over you and grabbed the bottle, then lifted it to your lips and helped you drink more of it. He started fucking you slowly, making you whimper and squirm under him, trying uselessly to get away. Your walls were fluttering around his cock as you struggled to adjust to his size and he moaned quietly every time you tightened up. 

You pushed the bottle away so he let go and left it leaning upright against your arm as he lifted himself back up. Holding the tops of your thighs, he started bucking into you a little faster and you cried out as your back arched off the bed. If you were trying to convince him you didn’t want it… you were doing a shit job. 

“Robert..” You whined, eyes barely able to stay open. He ignored you and used one hand to push your shirt up, exposing your tits. Even though putting up with you all night was one of the most annoying things he’s ever done, it was definitely worth it. Your pussy felt brand new and your tits were bouncing with each thrust, turning him on even more. 

When your eyes fluttered shut, he pulled out his phone and started recording, getting your whole body in frame for a few seconds before moving closer to your hips. He bit his lip to stifle a groan at the way your walls looked stretched to the brim around his cock. When you let out a quiet noise, he saw that you were trying to open your eyes again. So he used his free hand to grab the bottle and bring it back to your lips, making you drink some more. 

You let out a muffled sound and weakly pushed the bottle away, but he kept it there for a few more seconds, forcing more of the alcohol into your mouth for you to drink. Once it was pretty much empty, he lifted the bottle and downed the rest of it, then tossed it on the bed. 

Even though your eyes were closed and your head was lolled to the side, you were still whimpering and moaning, especially when he grabbed the top of your thigh again and started fucking you harder and faster. Your cunt was leaking so much that it was making wet sounds with each thrust and he moved his phone closer to show his cock glistening with your arousal. 

Your sounds were completely incoherent and he could tell you were trying to say something, but the words were too slurred to make anything out. So he leaned over you and shoved two fingers in your mouth, making you choke instantly. He wanted to warn you not to puke on his hand, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to use this video for yet, so he stayed silent. You brought a hand up to grab his wrist, but could barely even try to pull his fingers out of your mouth. 

When he got tired of that, he removed his fingers and slapped your tits a few times, making you flinch and let out a startled moan with each hit. After another beat, he stepped back and pulled out. Your legs fell open as if your body was completely limp, but he ignored it and turned off the camera, then set his phone down to move you into the position he wanted. 

“Fuck, you’re heavy.” He scoffed, flipping your dead weight onto your stomach, then lifting your hips until you were on your knees. He got on the bed behind you and resumed filming as he pushed his cock back in. Your sounds were more muffled like this at least, even as he slapped and groped your ass. His thrusts never faltered as he pulled you open a little and spat on your rim, then used his thumb to drag the saliva up to your asshole. The second he pushed his thumb in, you were whining and trying to move away, making him flatten his hand on your ass and pull you back into position. 

He brought the camera closer for a good view of both holes, almost moaning at how your cunt was visibly puffy and red now. When he started fucking his thumb in and out, you blindly reached a hand back with the intention of pushing him away, but it dropped onto the bed before you could reach him. He moved the camera back again for a full view of your body, videoing the recoil of your ass after every thrust and the arch of your back that was unintentionally pushing your hips toward him, making you look even more desperate for it. 

Almost laughing when he got this idea, he removed his thumb and grabbed the bottle again, positioning the rim to your asshole and slowly forcing it in. You whined loudly in displeasure and tried reaching a hand back to push him away again. His hips slowed into a steady rocking motion as he fucked your ass with the bottle. Far too soon for your liking, he started moving it faster, rapidly fucking your ass until you were crying out and trying to squirm away. He let go of it to grab your hip and pull you back, and had to bite his lip to stifle a laugh at the sight of the bottle sticking out of your asshole. 

Instead of fucking you with it again, he just smacked the bottom of the bottle a few times, forcing it in deeper until the neck was completely inside. He almost wanted to push it in further, stretch you past your limit, but based on the sounds you were making, it seemed like you were already at your limit, so he held off. 

Grabbing your hip again, he started rapidly bucking into you, chasing his orgasm and enjoying the feel of the bottle pushing against his cock inside you. You were letting out quiet grunts with every rough thrust and the slapping of his hips against your ass was so loud that anyone who walked by the room would definitely know what was happening. He hoped no one would come in since this door doesn’t lock, but at the same time… he can’t even imagine the look they’d have when they saw you being fucked face down, ass up with an empty bottle of vodka in your asshole. Your reputation would probably be shot to hell depending on who saw it. 

He choked out a moan as his hips stuttered, only seconds away from falling over the edge. When his orgasm finally washed over him, he pushed in so deep that your back was bent in a way that had to have been painful, especially based on the sound you made. His hips kept bucking forward, trying to bury his cock deeper as rope after rope of his come painted your walls. He doesn’t even know if you’re on birth control or not. 

When his orgasm finally faded, he let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. You whined when he pulled the bottle out of your ass, then again when he dragged his cock out and sat back on his heels. He set the bottle down and grabbed your ass cheek to spread you open, getting a close up shot of your gaping hole fluttering around nothing. 

The moment his come started to trickle out, he picked up the bottle and collected as much as he could on the rim, then nudged your hips, making you land on your side. Your lips were already parted so he just shoved the bottle in your mouth, feeding you his come. You grimaced a little at the taste, but didn’t react any other way besides that. Even when he let go of the bottle, you just stayed there with your lips wrapped loosely around it and your eyes shut, probably on the verge of unconsciousness now that he was done. 

He panned his phone down your body slowly, making sure to get his come dribbling out of your mouth around the bottle, your shirt still pushed up exposing your tits, and your skirt lifted with your panties still pulled to the side. The sight of his come still leaking out of your cunt had his cock twitching with need again, but he ignored it and pocketed his phone before fixing his clothes and walking to the door. He gave you one last look before opening it and walking out, leaving it open in case anyone wanted his sloppy seconds. 

#robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #robert fischer #inception #cillian murphy

[hier--soir]

high strung

abby anderson x f!reader

pairing: abby anderson x personal trainer wlf f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: abby has seemed distracted in your sessions as of late. when you discover why, you help to ease some of her tension. warnings/tags: some tight little workout shorts, abby "i'm not gay" anderson has her first experience with a woman, r insert is a trainer but has zero physical descriptions, massage, gay panic, smut, fingering & oral [abby receiving], reference to masturbation [reader], brief mention of other wlf characters from tlou2, brief owen slander lol sorry. word count: 3.5k masterlist a/n: considering abby isn't explicitly queer in tlou2, i wanted to write a short n sharp little bisexual awakening for her. bit of a quick build up but idc i don't know anything about the gym and wanted to get to the gay sex lol, hope you enjoy!

She’s wearing these tight little shorts. Pale blue. So thin they’re almost sheer where they wrap around the bulkiest points of her thighs.  

You don’t look, don’t let your eyes roam over the reedy material, don’t glance down when she bends her knees and drops into a squat. Don’t don’t don’t. Don’t even look when she lays out on the bench, flat on her back, and those shorts bunch and pinch in the crevice where her legs meet her hips. No, you’re well-versed in this now. Adept at not looking.

“Show me ten,” you tap the bar once.

Abby grips the barbell. The skin of her knuckles turns a piercing white as her fingers flex and tighten around the metal. Ninety pounds on either end, and yet she lifts it off the rack with a practiced sort of ease. You feel a familiar rush of pride as she moves effortlessly through the first few reps, her breathing calm—relaxed. Your hands hover, useless, in the air over the bar. Ready to step in if you’re needed, but knowing that you won’t be.

The gym at the base is usually crowded. Sweat covered surfaces, muscle tanks in every conceivable direction, and plenty of shirtless assholes that think they own the place. But this morning you hit the jackpot, arriving early in the morning when there’s only a few others milling around.

“That’s it,” you mutter. “Good, good, give me another one.”

You notice it slowly. The same way it happened last week, and the week before that. The gradual progression; a tilting, wavering, descent into mistakes, into heavy breathing, into distraction. From behind her head, you watch her knees raise a little, feet arched until she’s balanced on her tip-toes, the muscles in her thighs straining.

Her fingers loosen a little around the bar. Grip faltering, failing. A muscle in her forearm flexes and spasms beneath the skin.

“Hey,” you warn, hands darting forward to rest on the metal. “Come on, we’re not even halfway done.”  

Abby doesn’t offer up a response. Doesn’t meet your eyes. She simply huffs out a breath of exertion and presses the bar upward again. Beads of sweat glisten along her forehead, snatching at wisps of loose blonde hair and pinning them to pale skin.

“Good,” you commend, fingers hovering featherlight. But then it happens again. Her face twitches, lips pursing, and she grunts. A low, frustrated sound.

“Abby,” you sigh. She allows you to grip the bar, and together you lift it back into the groove on the rack. “Are you hungover again?”

“No,” she scowls. She sits up and wipes a reddened hand across her face. There’s a patch of sweat on the back of her shirt, and the darkened material clings to her spine.

“Then what’s the problem?” you arch an eyebrow. When she doesn’t turn to look at you, you walk around to stand directly in front of her. “Manny keeping you up at night? Burnt out? What?”  

“No,” she repeats, and this time you think you catch a flash of irritation. Something angry, something heated, rolling beneath the surface of her skin, begging to be expelled.

And you’ve seen the way she can lash out. Seen how people cower and shrink beneath her steely gaze when she’s mad. Quickly, easily, you decide you’d rather not spend your morning getting chewed out for being nosy.

“Listen,” you say. “Why don’t we call it for the day? We ca—”

“I’m fine,” Abby asserts firmly. But the hard set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders hints otherwise.

You watch her snatch a water bottle off the ground and tilt it against her mouth. Watch the way she drinks in long, hurried gulps. Watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows. Watch a dribble of water snake down her chin, her neck. Don’t.

You look away.

“You’re distracted,” you retort with an eyeroll. “If you hurt yourself in here Isaac will have my ass.”

She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. A broad hand pushes the hair back off her face, mussing it behind her ears, and then she meets your eye.

“I’m just…” she trails off and glances away. Clears her throat a little. “I’m feeling a little tense, okay? Everyday I’m either in here, or Isaac has me out scouting some fucking Scar hot spot, and I’m exhausted, and my legs are fucking killing me.”

You feel your face soften, mouth tilting down into a sympathetic frown.

“I get it,” you nod. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know I push you pretty hard in here—”

“It’s not—” Abby shakes her head again. “You’re not the problem.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment the two of you rest in a wary silence. Listen to the sounds of people working out around you; muted grunts of exertion, the spouted praise from spotters standing close by. You notice the way she flinches when someone racks a weight a little too aggressively – a little too loud.

“Let’s go in the back,” you suggest easily, already turning away. “We’ll do some physio; I’ll help with the knots in your legs.”

It’s a simple routine once you get her onto the massage table. Tucked away in a back room, door closed, her shoes off, you can set to work without so much distraction.

You start with her calves. Using the palms of your hands, the pads of your thumbs, you rub against the tightly coiled muscles there. Working out any knots that you find, any hidden strains. Moving slowly, purposefully, working your way up until you hit her thighs. And that’s where the tension becomes evident.

It seems like Abby is in pain as you dig your thumbs into her outer thigh. Her face is all screwed up, eyes closed as soft little grunts slip from her mouth. When you find a particularly tight knot and press she spits a low curse, eyes clamping shut and face turning to the side.

“You doin’ okay?” you check in, eyebrows furrowed as you watch the way she squirms and wriggles around on the table – as if she’s shying away from your touch. As if it’s too much for her. “I’m really not pressing that hard, Abby.”

“It’s good,” she chokes out. “Keep going.”

You continue with a sigh, crackling your knuckles before using both hands to work at the muscle in her upper thigh.

“Jesus,” you sigh. Your palm rolls over her quadricep, working to release the built-up rigidity there. “You’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” Abby grits out, voice hoarse and stilted as it sneaks its way out past her teeth. It’s like she’s holding her breath, the way sharp exhales rush from her nose every few seconds.

“It’s fine,” you assure her. Your fingers press against her knee, and you push it up towards her chest until her thigh is pressed against her stomach. Stretch out the muscles there, let her feel the pull, the burn as her knots loosen. “Do you need—oh.”

Because you look down and the words get caught in your throat. Musing caught like a mouse in a trap, your mouth suddenly feels like sandpaper. And you were always so good at not looking, never looking. But now… you’re almost glad you looked. Because there’s a damp splotch on the front of her shorts, shades darker than the rest of the fabric. Right in the crevice between her thighs, where the inseam of those tight fucking shorts rests against her mound.

It must be sweat, you think. It has to be. But when you look at her face you notice how flushed she is. See the blotches of deep red that stain the skin on her neck, her cheeks, and you know it’s not sweat. She’s wet.

Your hands freeze in place, keeping her leg pinned to her chest.

Abby says your name quietly, and there’s something urgent in it – a panicked tone to her voice that makes your stomach tighten.

“Is this why you’ve been so distracted?” you ask. Your mouth is dry, lips chapped as you look between her face and that spot between her thighs. Back and forth, over and over. Your fingers tense against her thigh, and the skin there is so soft. “You’re…”

“I’m not,” she rushes, face almost entirely pink now.

“It’s okay,” you soothe quietly, thumb starting up a slow movement against her flesh. Soft, small circles. And you know you must look calm – but on the inside there’s a hot, wet feeling lashing out against the inside of your stomach. “Is that because of me? S’that why you’ve been so distracted in our sessions lately?”

Abby turns her face, tucking her chin into her shoulder in attempt to hide her blush. You lower her leg back onto the massage bed. “I don—I don’t know why I’m…”

“Abby,” you laugh softly. Your palm is flat against her thigh now, fingers twitching – itching to explore. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not…” she grimaces.

“Not what?” you hum, and you’re playing with the hem of her shorts now. Curling around the thin fabric, rubbing it between your fingertips. “Do you… will you let me help?”  

Her eyes widen at the suggestion, and you feel the way her thighs tense beneath your touch. Pressing together, almost squirming at the thought of it. When she doesn’t respond, doesn’t say no, your fingers creep higher. They tuck around the waistband of her shorts and tug once, testing the waters. Again, she says nothing. Those heady blue eyes stare at your face, pink lips parting as her breathing grows heavier.

“Abby?” you urge.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and it sounds almost like a question.

Her eyes turn glassy as she watches you, and then her hips cant ever so slightly upward on the bed. An invitation.

Smiling, you peel the material of her shorts down slowly, but you don’t look. Not yet, not even as you drop the material onto the ground. Don’t look even when there’s so much white in your vision. A field of creamy skin, begging to be seen. Your thighs press together, skin hot, the muscles in your stomach tightening as you notice that she’s sweating again.

“I’m not gay,” Abby says then. So quiet, so cautious.

Your smile only grows, and you nod. Kind. Understanding. “I know,” you whisper. “I get it.” And you do.

You’ve been in her shoes before; confused, unsure. Young and always wondering why you felt so on edge around the pretty girls in those tight uniforms they liked to wear around the base. Always pretending you didn’t think about the way their clothes moulded against their chests, their thighs, as you lay in bed at night, hand stuffed inside your underwear. Never admitting to yourself that you wanted to see underneath – to see their skin; touch it, taste it.

“I get it,” you repeat, hand stilling at her hip. “But I need to hear you say you want it.”

You ruck up her shirt. Just a little, just so it rests above the dip of her belly button, and you can see the rolling hills of her abdomen. You admire the muscles there, the way they rise and fall with each laboured breath. Abs that lead to a hardened v-shape which only encourages wandering eyes to look down down down.

Her skin is pale, and you can see the elaborate network of blue veins that spread out beneath it like spiderwebs. Lifelines, pulsing with desire. For you.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you offer, and she nods slowly, seemingly grateful for the assurance. “I’ll help you out… just have a little taste, okay?”

“Fuck,” she mutters, head tilting back against the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t realise you were—I want you to—yes.”

Finally, you look down at her underwear—heather grey with a tiny hole near the band and a dark wet patch on the front—and ask breathlessly, “When’s the last time you had sex?”

“I don’t know,” she exhales. “A few months maybe.”

“You’re so fucking wet,” you tsk under your breathe, shaking your head a little. You can see a soft thatch of curls peeking out the side of her underwear. Saliva pools in your mouth.

“When did you?” she asks.

“Last week.”

“With who?”

“Lyla,” you admit. Your hand is on her stomach now, tracing the indents of her muscles. Fingering every freckle painted across her skin, feeling the way her belly expands with every shuddering breath. “We’d had a few drinks. It wasn’t the first time.”

“Lyla?” Abby scoffs, eyes darting down to watch your fingers. “From the infirmary? Lyla’s not gay.”

“Sure,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your voice. “And neither are you, right?”

That shuts her up quick.

You climb onto the table slowly, careful not to jostle her legs too much. But they splay easily, spreading open for you to fit between. Murmuring gratefully, you look up to see her watching you.

“You do this with everyone you train?” she asks, voice breaking when your index finger snags against the band of her underwear. “Work them to the bone and then…”

“And then?” you smirk, eyebrows raised.

“And then fuck them?” she gasps. Her hands are tense by her sides, fingers curled around the edge of the table.

You bare your teeth at her and shake your head, slowly lowering until your lips meet the skin at her hip.

“Not all of them,” you breathe against her skin, marvelling at the way her frame trembles beneath you.

Unwilling to waste another second, you lick a stripe up the front of her underwear. Taste cotton and sweat and slick. Your touch is painfully light. So gentle that you wonder if she even felt it. But then she gasps – a sharp, breathy sound that has molten heat pooling between your own thighs, and you smile. Gotcha. Her legs lock up on either side of you.

“Relax,” you whisper, and settle a hand on her thigh. Rub slowly there, pressing your fingers in gently to release the strain in her muscles. “Do you want me to stop? I can stop if you don’t want this.” 

“Please,” Abby says quietly. More desperate than you’ve ever heard her sound. “Do it, please.”

“I will,” you tell her. Smile reassuringly and squeeze her thigh.

When you finally get your mouth on her, no more barriers between your tongue and the wet cut of her cunt, you’re a little mean about it. You tease her clit. Tickle your tongue around it, underneath it, never quite touching, just showing that you know exactly where it is, exactly where she wants to be touched. You use your fingers to spread her open, pressing back her folds until you can see the full spread of her; pink and glistening for you.

The taste of her is salty and heady and soon enough you can’t help swiping the flat of your tongue against her clit, and revelling in the stuttered moan that swells out of her.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “Keep doing that.”

You roll your tongue against it in circles, side-to-side, changing up the rhythm whenever you fear she might have gotten used to the feeling. Spell out your name with the tip of your tongue, and then hers. Spell out words in your own language, one that you’re fluent in and want so desperately to teach her. Like this, your tongue on her clit, is a religion, and you’re a modest missionary sent to spread the gospel.

She makes the most gorgeous sounds. High pitched, breathy moans that burst out of her and have you wishing you could touch yourself. Just slip your fingers past the band of your panties, to where you know you'd be dripping-- No. Not yet, not now. This is about her, you remind yourself.

When you take her between your lips and suck, she cries out. A hoarse, rasping shout of your name that only makes you suck harder.

“Oh my god,” Abby mumbles, voice awed, surprised. “Oh—oh fuck, oh my god.”

Lowering your tongue, you press it against her weeping hole. Taste the slick that pools there, waiting for you to drink it down, and feel a moment of sympathy for her. You wonder if Owen ever touched her like this. If he ever made her feel this good. And as the muscles in her thighs tighten and one of her hands falls against the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair, you know he didn’t. 

“I think I’m gonna—” she gasps, hips bucking against your face. You can feel her slick on your chin, your cheeks, your nose. You lick her clit again in slow, firm circles. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna come.”

You press a finger inside of her, slowly stretching out her tight hole. Give her something to bear down on when she comes. And when she does come, it’s intense. Her fingers tighten in your hair, winding around the strands and tugging as she presses your face harder against her pussy. Your nose presses into the light curls on her mound and you groan, inhaling her sweet, musky scent.

“Fuuuck,” she gasps, the word catching in her throat. You open your eyes and watch the way her abdomen tightens, every muscle in her body going taut. Watch the way her eyes clamp shut, mouth hanging open as she gasps and moans and mumbles beneath her breath. “Fuck, don’t stop. Your tongue, oh my god don’t—please don’t stop.”

So you don’t stop. Abby’s still riding out the final ebbs of her orgasm when you push another finger inside of her. Her body jolts against the table, shaking and trembling beneath your hands and mouth. And then, tongue still moving gently, you curl your fingers inside of her. Press the tips of your middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grin when she moans your name. You think it might be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard – your name on her lips.

“You like that?” you mumble against her, the corners of your mouth twitching up.

“Yes,” she moans, hips bucking against your face. “God, yes.”

“Taste so fucking good,” you sigh, flattening your tongue to lick a broad stripe up her cunt. You can taste her come everywhere. Coating your chin, your lips, the inside of your nostrils. You groan, tongue moving faster against her clit now, desperate to see it happen again. She twitches into the table, and one of her hands falls to your shoulder. Blunt nails dig into the skin there, hot and piercing as she grinds against your mouth. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” she cries out when you add a third finger. You moan, eyes rolling back at the way her walls stretch around you. So fucking tight.

Your fingers dig into her thigh. Silently pleading with her; tell me, tell me, tell me.

“So good,” Abby mumbles. “So—shit—so full, m’so full. Ohhh.”  

There’s something hot pooling at the base of your spine. Want – curling against your insides, begging to be satiated.

You murmur that desire into her cunt. Inaudible; the words lost in the mess of her, in the quick glide of your tongue between her folds.

“What?” she gasps.

“Say my name,” you repeat, louder, pleading.

And she does – she’s perfect when she comes for you again. Strong back arching off the table, thighs tensing around your body as she chants your name. Her hands are strong, fingers no doubt leaving bruises where she grips your skin tight, holding your mouth against her pussy as she convulses.

She doesn’t let you pull away for a minute, maybe two. Holding your head between her legs as she grounds herself, chest heaving with heavy breaths. You swear you even feel her stroke the skin at the nape of your neck. Twist the hair there around her finger and tug gently. But then she’s letting you go – strong hands falling back to clasp against her lower stomach, and you’re stumbling off the table.

You hand her those shorts—those tiny fucking shorts—and smile. Can see the way uneasiness flits across her features as she drags them back up her legs, sparing a wary glance towards the door. Probably wondering if anyone heard her; if they heard the way she cried and moaned and gasped your name as she came undone against your face.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, only half-lying. “We weren’t that loud.”

But you can tell by the way she nods that she doesn’t quite believe you. That she’s still confused, still unsure, still wondering what this all means.

So you squeeze her shoulder, thumb pressing into the dip below her collarbone, and promise – “No one has to know.”

thank you for reading! x

maybe ill write another part to this where abby realises she wants to return the favour... idk we'll see

#middle finger and ring finger supremacy idgaf #my writing #fic: high strung #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson smut #abby anderson wlw fanfiction #abby anderson fic

[supernovafics]

The I’ll be there for you series is ace! 🥵 I’d love a funny blurb about Steve walking in on reader and she’d just go out the shower! Steve would be so flustered. Kinda reminds me of when Chandler saw Rachel naked 😂

𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 702 words

warnings: explicit language

summary: in which a very awkward moment occurs when you’re late for class 

author's note: thank you for the request!! i loved this idea lol

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

You were already running late for your nine-thirty class, so you thought you might as well make your lateness worth it. 

You decided to actually put an effort into picking out an outfit for the day before taking a longer shower than usual because why not?

Twenty minutes later, you were pulling your towel from around you and starting to wipe the mirror to clear the steam from it, when the bathroom door abruptly opened.

Steve started walking in, gaze first meeting your immediate confused one. His eyes then glanced down for the briefest of moments before he quickly jumped back and slammed the door shut. “Oh. Fuck. Shit.”

“What the hell just happened?” Your bathroom door was now firmly closed, but you were still staring at it with wide eyes as you wrapped your towel back around you. 

“I’m sorry.” You heard Steve’s voice. “I thought you weren’t here because you’re usually gone and headed to your nine-thirty class by now. And I ran out of body wash, so I was coming in to steal yours. It’s nine-fifteen, why aren’t you at class right now?”

He was rambling and you didn’t have to actually see him to know that he looked so flustered right then. If you weren’t still completely thrown and in shock by the entire current situation, you might’ve laughed. 

“I woke up late and decided to just take my time instead of rushing,” You explained, making sure your voice was loud enough as you went back into the shower to grab something. “This professor is barely ever on time anyway.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

You opened the door and Steve immediately turned around. “Don’t worry, I have a towel on now.” He faced you again and you handed over your body wash. “I hope you enjoy smelling like lavender and vanilla for the day.”

“Thank you. I will,” He said, evading your eyes and keeping his gaze fixed on your bedroom floor. You could still see how red his cheeks were. “Once again, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” You told him. In that moment it didn’t necessarily feel fine— your best friend had just seen you fucking naked for goodness sake— but you knew that it would eventually feel fine, and you didn’t want to make things weirder than they were. So, you instead decided to make a joke. “I’ll just have to see your little Harrington one day to make things even.”

Somehow, Steve’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. 

“Steve, I’m kidding. Obviously,” You said as you readjusted your towel a bit, holding it firmly shut around you with just one hand so that you could use the other to poke your best friend standing in front of you. “Stop being weird and awkward about this. You saw me naked for a second, whatever, that’s okay.” You thought about your words for a second. “Okay, it’s not “okay,” but it will be. Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

He nodded after a second and you let out a happy sigh in relief, muttering out a quick, “Great.” You were about to turn around and go back into the bathroom but Steve started talking before you could. 

“Y’know, if seeing my… stuff is what it takes to restore balance between us, then we should do that,” He said and hearing the playful tilt in his voice made you smile. 

“I honestly think that if I saw your little Harrington right now it would just make things even more weird than they already are.”

“Okay, in that case, I’ll keep my pants on,” He told you and you laughed a bit. “It’s also not little, by the way.”

Now it was your turn for your cheeks to warm in awkwardness. You rolled your eyes as you finally turned away from him and started heading back into the bathroom. “Ew, oh God, please get out of my room. I didn’t need to know that, and you’re giving me way too many scarring visuals now.” 

When you closed the door behind you, you heard Steve say, “Oh, and we’re definitely taking this moment to the grave.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Of course. I thought that was obvious.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

[7ndipity]

“Not Just Friends"

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: You and Joon have been toeing the line between friends and something more for weeks, and you finally decide to make the first move.

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I can't tell if I like this one or not, I'm too tired lol, but hopefully you will!(Also, I can't, for the life of me, come up with titles🤷)

Masterlist

Requests are open

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“Okay, it’s the zombie apocalypse,” You started for the third time that afternoon, shifting to face him where he sat next to you on the bench. “All we have to eat are mint chocolate protein bars.”

“That sounds absolutely disgusting.” He said, scrunching his face up at you.

“It’s all we have left!” You retorted. “Would you eat them or not?”

“Nope.” He responded immediately, sipping his coffee.

“Seriously?! You would rather starve?!” You asked in disbelief.

“I would leave them for you, so you could survive.” He said, shrugging.

“That’s sweet, but also very stupid.” You commented.

“Well, I guess that’s just me.” He said, smirking at you.

“Ugh,” You cringed, making him chuckle. “Why do I even bother with you?”

“Because I buy you coffee?”

“Mmm, not sure if that’s good enough.” You replied dryly, reaching over in an attempt to flick the brim of his ballcap, but he leaned out of your reach, making you nearly wobble off balance before shifting back to your original position.

It felt nice to hang out with him like this again, ending the day just sitting together in the park as the first leaves of autumn skittered by on the breeze. Things had been slightly off between you the past couple weeks, following a slightly drunken evening out together with some other friends had resulted in you both sharing more than you maybe should have.

“So, I have a question.” He drawled, leaning slightly closer than was necessary for you to hear him. “What would you do, hypothetically, if I told you somebody was into you?”

“It depends,” You replied, giggling slightly at his focused gaze. “Is it you?”

“Maybe.” He said, raising a brow as he stared at you, feeling yourself suddenly sober up a bit as you realized he was being serious.

“Then I would say, hypothetically, that I like you too.” You answered, pulse picking up as you noticed his eyes flicker down to your lips, leaning in a little more.

The sound of a glass being dropped somewhere else across the room had shook you both out of your trance, reminding you that you weren't alone, scooting away quickly before anyone else noticed what had happened, or almost happened…

Neither of you had directly spoken about your conversation from that night, but there had definitely been a noticeable shift in your dynamic.

When you were out together, he would briefly catch hold of your hand as you wove through the crowded streets to keep you close. You always claimed the seat beside him, which had earned you a few curious glances from a couple of your other friends.

You weren’t exactly dating, but you definitely weren’t ‘just friends’ anymore. Due to the nature of your limbo state, however, there was also a slight sense of uneasiness, not quite knowing where the line lay between what was okay and what wasn’t anymore.

It had grown quiet as you’d gotten lost in your thoughts, contemplating whether or not to just bite the bullet and ask the dreaded ‘What is this?/What are we?’ question, but before you could decide, you felt a sudden droplet of water hit your hand, quickly followed by another on your cheek as you glanced up at the darkening sky.

“Aw, shit.” You grumbled, fumbling to pull your jacket hood over your head as it began to rain properly. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to start till later.”

“I told you.” He said, grinning as he sat back, not bothered in the least by the sudden weather change.

“You know, you’re one of the only people I know that actually likes getting caught in the rain.” You commented, watching him in amusement.

“Rain’s nice.” He said tilting his head back to let it fall on his face.

When he sat back up, something seemed to shift between you again as you made eye contact, feeling that familiar tense flutter in your stomach as his gaze flickered down to your lips.

Seized by a sudden surge of confidence, you leaned forward again, not breaking eye contact as you caught his shirt collar before pulling him down gently, connecting your lips.

For a split second, everything else seemed to fade out, the only thing you were aware of was the feel of Namjoon’s lips moving softly against yours.

Too soon, you pulled back, no more than an inch, feeling you and Joons’ breaths slip out in shaky exhales as his eyes slowly fluttered open to look at you.

“Do that again.” He whispered, hands coming up to hold your waist firmly, pulling you closer to him. “Please.”

At his plea, you immediately leaned in again. This time, the kiss was much more intense, teeth clashing and tongues moving against each other as your hands fumbled to find purchase on his shoulders, only breaking apart when your lungs started to burn from lack of oxygen.

“Fuck,” Namjoon sighed, leaning his forehead against your shoulder as he tried to catcht his breath. “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.”

“Why didn’t you?” You asked.

“No idea.” He chuckled, pressing closer to you as a sudden breeze made you both shiver.

“It’s raining a lot.” You noted, taking in your dampening surroundings.

“Mhm.”

“We should probably head home.”

He groaned, pulling back reluctantly. “I don’t wanna let you go yet.” He said, pouting slightly.

“Who said you had to?” You asked.

He tilted his head at you questioningly.

“I said we should head home, I didn’t say it had to be alone.” You said, winding your hand into his.

“Oh, Okay.” He grinned.

#namjoon scenario #namjoon scenarios #namjoon drabble #namjoon imagine #namjoon blurbs #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon oneshot #bts one shot #bts reaction #bts scenarios #bts drabble #bts fluff #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts requests #7ndipity

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Useful 🔞🔞🔞 (Jimin x Reader)

Summary: You’ve stretched yourself thin lately and you know it, and so does your boyfriend Jimin. As Jimin always takes good care of you, you decide to give him a treat to thank him—and as always, Jimin gives you back your love tenfold. 

Tags: Dom!Jimin, Sub!Y/N, minimal plot, massages, kneeling, collars, Y/N calls Jimin sir, sub space, oral (m. and f. receiving), praise kink, breeding, cock drunk Y/N, multiple orgasms (f.), protective!jimin (🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵), aftercare!!!!!!

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do that LOL)

W/C: 3055 (3k)

A/N: Guess who’s back on their bullshit? ME. Sorry I kind of disappeared again LOL being a functioning adult is the worst. Anyway, here's some massage-turned-unprotected-sex. <33

Sometimes, you get in moods like this. Moods where everything is irritating and stupid and simultaneously upsetting. You know yourself well enough to know it has to do with you stretching yourself too thin. Work? Of course you can do that task. Family? Absolutely you can attend that event. Friends? Yes, you’d love to go out tonight. 

Jimin also knows you well enough to know when you’re getting like this. You know he’s noticed, from the way he puts in a bit more effort lately to keep you happy. He buys your favourite takeout dinner and bath bombs and even a new matching scarf and gloves set to keep you warm. That’s the way Jimin is—a natural giver with a considerate, purposeful mind. He never so much as says a word to you about your little gifts, but you know he notices when you give him a few more kisses than usual to silently show your affection. 

But you’re getting to a point now where two things become obvious: you need a break before you burn out, and Jimin needs to be shown that you appreciate him before he starts to feel burned out himself. 

The solution comes in the form of an at-home spa kit you buy online. It’s not much, a little warmer and a bottle of lavender scented oil, along with some candles and little hand towels. But knowing Jimin—and knowing you—you don’t stop there. Instead, you hop in the shower as soon as you come home. You wash up and dress in only panties and one of Jimin’s oversized sweaters, light candles and then warm up the oil. 

As your shared bedroom is filled with romantic lighting and the sweet lavender smell, your mind wanders. You think of Jimin’s face when he sees you like this, how his eyes will darken and a smirk will spread on his lips. You think of taking care of him and thanking him for all he does for you with both words and your hands on his body. And naturally, you think of how Jimin will return the favour—with firm words and strong arms around you. A perfect balance of sweetness, teasing, and protectiveness: that’s Park Jimin. 

Your eyes flicker to the collar you set on the nightstand, a black leather collar with plush inner lining and a custom silver J embroidered on the front. You press your thighs together, waiting. 

“Baby?” Your heart leaps as you hear Jimin’s voice down the hallway. Your boyfriend emerges from the hall, curious eyes peeking into the dimly lit room. Then, he sees you, scantily dressed in front of the bed. Jimin smiles, but there’s that familiar edge. “Oh, what’s this?” He asks. 

You lick your lips as Jimin draws closer, loosening his tie. “A surprise.” You whisper. 

Jimin laughs, taking a seat on the bed. “I can see that.” He says, glancing at the massage oil. Your boyfriend brings you to stand between his spread legs with both hands on your wrists. You swallow as he looks up at you with darkness in his eyes. “What kind of surprise, exactly?”

“A massage.” You reply, pressing your thighs together again. Jimin notices, but he’s not strict with you today—he knows you’re too worked up to be teased today. Instead, the man leans in, pressing kisses against your belly over your sweater. You shiver—his lips are still cold from outside, even through the soft material.

“That will be fun.” Jimin says. “Thank you for doing this, baby.”

“No, thank you.” You say, and to anyone else, you would sound like strangers. But only you know the way Jimin’s simple words and touches make you want to obey him, show him how grateful you are, how well you can take care of him. Jimin knows it, too, which is why he lets go of your wrists and runs his hands—which are warm, likely from wearing mittens—up and down the backs of your thighs. “You’ve been so nice to me. I-I want to take care of you.”

Jimin hums, and it’s more beautiful than any melody you’ve ever heard. “Mmhm.” He says, and one hand brushes over your clothed core. You shiver. “Want to submit to me?” He asks, then begins kneading your ass. His touch is firm, reminding you of your place even as you tower over him. 

“Please.” You gasp. “Please, sir.”

“Go get your collar.” Jimin answers, letting go of you. He leans back on his hands as you scurry to the nightstand and back. You kneel on the plush rug by Jimin’s feet, then present your collar to him with both hands. The dom accepts it from you, and you elongate your neck for his ease of access. Jimin plants his elbows on his knees, bending over you to fix the collar in place. “What’s your colour, baby?” The dom asks even though you both know how desperate you are already.

“Green, sir.” 

“Good girl.” Jimin says, then stands up. You look up at him, face a few inches below his clothed cock. Jimin’s eyes darken. He knows what you want, and you both know he’s never denied it to you within limits. You wait patiently as the dom removes his pants, then his boxers and discards them on the floor. When Jimin sits down, you grab the warmed bottle of massage oil off the bed. 

“May I begin, sir?”

“Yes.” Jimin answers, and even he sounds slightly breathless now.

You begin on his right leg, massaging his thigh dutifully. You work away at the knots caused by long hours, then down to his calf. “You have a talent for this.” Jimin praises you, carding a hand through your hair. Your face burns as you sit between his legs and serve him, but you feel so good, so useful. And Jimin is nothing if not vocal about it. “Such a quick learner. My good, smart girl.”

“Thank you.” You whisper as you finish massaging the right leg, then move to his left leg. You repeat your motions, slow and dutiful. As you work at one particular knot in the back of Jimin’s left calf, he sighs in relief. You smile and Jimin catches it. 

“Feel good that you’re helping me?” He asks, and you look up at him. Jimin cups your face with one hand, looking down at you with love. It makes you want to cry in joy, but it also makes your vagina throb as you want to give yourself to him. But you tell yourself to be patient. You want to make Jimin feel good, and you know Jimin will return it tenfold to you in due time. “Massage my hips for me, baby. They’re a bit sore.”

You nod, putting a bit more oil on your hands. You place your hands on Jimin’s hips, running your thumbs along the groove of his V-line and pressing your fingers into his hips. You work at his hips until you end up down at his mons pubis and then lower, where a hard, heavy cock hangs between his legs. “C-Can I help you with that, too, sir?” You ask, and you surprise yourself with how whiny it comes out. 

Jimin laughs at your politeness. “Of course, beautiful.”

You lick your lips, running your slicked hands over Jimin’s cock. You run your hands up and down the shaft, collecting pre-come to lubricate him further. You take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. Jimin groans above you, spilling praise from his lips. “Oh, that’s right. Just like that. So good, so perfect for me.”

His praise urges you to take him deeper until your nose presses against his mons pubis. You use your hands to cup his balls, massaging them gently. You work your way up and down the shaft, with Jimin’s ever-louder sighs and curses egging you on. You can feel the tightness in Jimin’s abdomen, the way he wants to come in your mouth. And you’d let him, oh how you’d let him. 

But before he can come, Jimin pulls you off him. You look at him, confused. “Come here.” Jimin says, and you climb up into the bed. You eye his cock, but Jimin gives you a breathless chuckle. “You haven’t massaged my back yet, remember?” He reminds you. You blush, and Jimin beckons you closer with two fingers. You position yourself behind him, sitting with your thighs on either side of Jimin’s hips, and add more oil to your hands before massaging his shoulders. 

Jimin sighs as you work away the tension, and his hands find your calves, stroking small circles into your skin. You’re halfway down Jimin’s back when he wraps his arms around your calves and pulls. You gasp as you end up with your clothed vagina against his bare ass. Jimin chuckles, and you know he can feel how wet you are. Flushing in embarrassment, you try to shuffle back, but your boyfriend holds you in place. “I think that’s enough for my back. Why don’t you come over to the front?” Jimin purrs, glancing at you over his shoulder. You gasp as he presses himself back against your soaked panties.

“Y-Yes sir.” You say, and Jimin releases your calves. 

You crawl around Jimin, and the dom lays down. He folds his arms up behind his head, looking comfortable like he’s laying on a sunbed somewhere warm. “Get on my lap.” He says. “And take everything off.”

You remove the two articles you’re wearing in a heartbeat, then straddle your boyfriend’s hips. It’s a struggle to not push yourself down on the leaking cock tucked just behind your ass, since Jimin hasn’t given you permission to ride him yet. 

You run your oiled hands up and down Jimin’s abdomen, over the hard ridges of his ribs and the plushness of his belly. Jimin looks at you for a moment, then grins. “You know, I’m not a big fan of this oil. Can we try something else for wetness?” 

“L-Like?” You ask, but Jimin just holds his hands out to you. You flush, knowing what he wants.

You crawl closer, until you’re straddling Jimin’s face. “Oh, that’s much better.” He says, then breathes cool air onto your already throbbing clit. “Such a useful, useful girl I have.” Jimin says. Before you can thank him, he presses his tongue past the opening of your sopping wet hole. You whimper, almost collapsing but JImin holds you up with his strong grip. “So busy being useful you forgot you’re supposed to feel good, too, didn’t you?” He asks, looking up at you darkly. “But you’re always like that. Always thinking you have to do it all alone, even though I’m right here—” He says, then swirls his tongue around inside you. You cry out. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry, sir!” You beg.

Jimin licks a stripe from your hole up to your clit. Then, he sucks at the bud until you’re shaking above him. “Are you? Are you going to let me put you in your place?”

“Yes, yes, sir!” You chant.

Jimin releases one hand from your hips, sliding it down the curve of your ass until it finds your hole. He presses two digits inside you, and you accommodate them easily. “Good girl.” He praises you, and you’re almost crying by now. You cry out his title. “Count.” He orders.

“T-Ten…N-Nine…” You count, trembling from the force of not coming from Jimin’s skillful lips against your most sensitive lips. “Eight…s-seven, oh—” You moan as Jimin nips at your inner fold, then releases it. Then, Jimin begins pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. “S-Six, five, four—” You continue as Jimin eggs you on. 

“T-Three, oh, two, one—” You pant heavily.

“Now.” Jimin orders and tears fall from your eyes and you shake so hard from your orgasm that he has to hold you up. “Good girl. That’s my girl.” He praises you, turning you so you can lay down against the bed.

“Yours. Yours.” You repeat hazily as Jimin arranges himself above you. He plants his hands on either side of your waist, then kisses you long and deep. 

“Colour?” He checks. 

“Green, please, sir.” You say, guiding his hand up to your collar. “Yours, please, sir.” You all but babble. Jimin beams with pride. 

“That’s right. All mine.” Jimin says, kissing at your hardened nipples, then down to your belly. With one hand, he begins rubbing at your clit again. He works you back up until you’re whiny and grinding against him for another orgasm. “Would my good girl like my cock?” Jimin asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Yes!” You answer immediately. 

“Where?” Jimin teases. You reach down and spread your outer folds, not caring how messy you look right now. Jimin’s gaze darkens. “Right here? In your pretty hole?” He asks, sliding two fingers back into you. You whine as he wiggles the fingers inside you until the room is full of wet sounds. 

“Yes, please. W-Want your cock, sir.” You beg, clenching around his fingers.

Jimin withdraws his fingers, then lines himself up to your entrance. You both moan as he bottoms out within seconds from how soaked and loose you are. “Where do you feel that, baby?” Jimin asks, more for his pride than any other reason. 

You place a hand on your belly. “Right here.” You say. “All full.”

“Yeah?” Jimin says, gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart. He thrusts in and you have to fight not to come right then and there. 

“Yeah.” You whimper. “W-Want your come right there.”

“I know.” Jimin coos at you. “You need your hole nice and full, don’t you? Need to fill up your pretty belly with my seed so you remember who you belong to. So you can quit. Trying. To do. Everything. By yourself.” Jimin says, punctuating his words with long and deep strokes that have your back arching off the bed.

“P-Please sir.” You whine. “Your seed. Please.”

“Gonna come again already?” Jimin asks, knowing your body well. When you reply yes and plead him for permission, Jimin leans down and kisses your forehead. “Hold on a bit more, you can do it.”

“Y-Yes. Yes. Anything you say!” You say, feeling cock drunk. It doesn’t take more than that, only a few more pumps until Jimin’s hips are stuttering from the way you clench him desperately—even as he’s moving. 

“Rub your clit.” Jimin orders, and you reach down, rubbing hard and fast. Within seconds, Jimin is slamming into you one last time, filling you with his hot seed. You come hard around him a second time, but Jimin isn’t done there. He pulls you up, making you squeal. You whine as your positions reverse, with you on top and Jimin laying down. “You can come around me one more time, since you were such a good, good girl.” He praises, entangling a hand in your hair. His grip is firm but not painful. 

“Thank you, sir.” You reply gratefully, running your fingers over your clit. There’s something exhilarating about being stuffed full of come and getting to put yourself on display with it. You make a show of pushing yourself to a third orgasm around Jimin, his seed making both of your thighs sticky and gooey. 

“Show yourself to me again.” Jimin demands, and you spread your folds to him again. The dom growls. “Such a pretty cunt. Who owns that?”

“You, sir!”

“That’s right.” Jimin replies. “Gonna come again for me? My good girl, making a mess with my seed?”

“Yes, please!” You all but scream.

“What a pretty fucking girl. I want to give you my come again and again, until you can feel a baby growing where I put my seed. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Being shown off to everyone as the pretty, obedient girl I got to knock up and to take care of?”

“Yes, oh, please—” You’re crying again, almost insane with the thought of being protected and taken care of by Jimin. You’re so deep into your subspace by now all you can think of is how safe and good you feel right now. “Please, all yours—”

“Come.”

The single word sends you over the edge, and you tremble around him a third time. You lay down on top of Jimin with his cock still inside you. The dom wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “So sweet. My perfect baby.” He praises you, peppering kisses on your temple and forehead. 

“Thank you. Thank you sir.” You repeat over and over, and Jimin holds you tight. 

Once you’re ready, Jimin slides out of you. You roll onto the sheets, but Jimin doesn’t give you time to get lazy. “Come on, we need to shower.” He says, pulling you up into his arms bridal style. You squeal, tucking your chin over his shoulder. 

Jimin helps you shower, particularly gentle with your hips and legs as he knows they’re sore now. He helps you dress in your pyjamas. Then, he lifts you onto the counter, insisting on doing your skincare routine for you. You giggle but let him help you, knowing he likes to spoil you like this. Once you’re done, you hold your arms out to be carried back to bed. Jimin laughs, kissing you again. 

“Oh, you’re a real menace.” Jimin complains dramatically, setting you down in the armchair a few paces from the bed. You grin up at him, and Jimin strokes a hand down the side of your face lovingly. “I’ll be right back.” He says. 

You watch him leave the room, then return with two granola bars and a bottle of water. “I know you ate, but just in case.” Jimin says, watching you open the snacks. While you eat and drink water, your boyfriend changes the bedsheets and blows out the candles. Once he’s done with that, you join him in bed. Jimin envelopes you in his arms, kissing your forehead softly. 

“That wasn’t too much for you, was it?” He checks. 

“No, not at all.” You say, feeling shy when Jimin looks at you with that intense look—like he’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and safe. “Thank you.” You add.

Jimin smiles. “You’re welcome, my love.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, my baby.”

#bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts smut #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #jimin smut

[ginnsbaker]

it's just dinner

Summary: Another installment from the Dentist AU, sequel to the follow up; You and Wanda enjoy a quiet dinner at your home--or so you thought

Word count: 3k | Tags: Fluff, Some Blood (lol), Wanda being clumsy

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: There will be one more installment after this. It's been really fun writing something so wholesome :)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

-

Wanda Maximoff is breaking up with you.

Before you two are even an item.

And the first date hasn't even finished yet.

Two hours earlier

Every attempt at a date with Wanda Maximoff is a tragicomic misadventure.

The first attempt was promising: a quaint dinner at a hidden gem of a restaurant. Yet, on that very day, your apartment's plumbing decided to rebel, turning your living space into a mini lake. You remember Wanda's sympathetic chuckle on the phone, suggesting a rain check. The next date was set, but it still wasn’t in the cards. Just as you were picking out a shirt, Wanda’s phone buzzed. An urgent mission. She sent an apologetic message, punctuated with a little red-faced emoji. “Next time,” she promised.

Your third attempt seemed foolproof. A coffee date, something short and sweet. Yet, irony dripped as you got a call from the dental clinic. An emergency extraction that couldn't wait. As you gloved up, you couldn’t help but think of the universe’s odd sense of humor.

(Maybe it's trying to send a message, and you've been too stubborn to listen.)

But resilience is your middle name. So, here's attempt number four.

A cozy dinner and a film at your place. Simple. No grand expectations. If, by chance, this date still falls through, at least you're already home. Your bed awaits, just steps away, to provide solace for any potential disappointments.

As the clock ticks closer to the agreed-upon time, you arrange the table, blending classic dinnerware with contemporary accents. Wine glasses shimmer under the subdued lights, their elegant curves catching the candle's dance. The gentle melodies of a classical piano accompany the inviting aroma of the goulash, creating a setting that might just captivate Wanda's heart.

Not that you’re already aiming for her heart. That'd be rushing things, wouldn't it? Only a week ago, you and Wanda were each wary of the other—you, daunted by her powers, and her, intimidated by, well, you.

A mere dentist.

In your bedroom, you've changed outfits multiple times, finally choosing one that finds the right balance between casual and slightly dressy. Every detail matters, from the watch you're wearing to the cologne you've spritzed.

Sure, there's a hint of anxiety, but above all, you're buzzing with anticipation. You can picture it—Wanda's appreciative smile as she digs into the goulash, both of you snuggled up during the movie, and then chatting about everything and nothing as you both start to get sleepy.

Your phone buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You see a message from Wanda: “On my way. Can't wait!” accompanied by a heart emoji. Your spirits rise instantly. You send a silent plea to every god out there who’s watching, hoping for no more mishaps tonight.

Time seems to move both too slow and too fast. Every tiny noise from outside makes you jump, wondering if it's her arrival. You go over your preparations one more time: the temperature of the goulash, the volume of the music, the soft glow of the candles.

A soft knock sounds at your door. The moment has arrived. Your heart races as you move to answer it, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You open the door, and there she stands—Wanda Maximoff, perhaps the most powerful Avenger, clad in skin-tight jeans, a long coat over her shoulders and the same nervous smile you’re wearing right now.

“Hi,” she murmurs softly, that European lilt making it sound almost musical.

“Hey, Wanda,” your voice quivers ever so slightly. “Please, come in.”

She steps inside, and you instinctively reach out, helping her slip off the long coat. The soft fabric is warm from her body heat, and you can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you suggest with a gesture towards the plush sofa. She gracefully obliges, her eyes scanning the room.

She takes a moment, head tilted ever so slightly, her nose twitching as it picks up on the scent wafting from the kitchen. “Is that... goulash I smell?” she says, eyes twinkling in delight.

A pleased chuckle escapes you. “Someone's got a good nose.”

In the midst of tweaking the table's placements, you're painfully conscious of every inch of space between you and her. Wanda Maximoff, right in your apartment, seated gracefully on your sofa. The room temperature is already set at the lowest, but you feel unexpectedly warm in your clothes. 

You take a few deep breaths. Center. Ground. Every preparation led to this moment.

Distracted by your own thoughts, you almost miss the soft rustling from the living room. Wanda's eyes are now fixed on the elegantly wrapped gift resting on your coffee table. The parchment paper, crinkled just right, holds a tag with her name in your neat handwriting.

She arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “For me?” she asks, her finger running over her name on the tag.

“Uh, yes,” you stammer, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I thought...well, it's our first, you know, date... and I wanted to get you something.”

She gives you a soft, appreciative smile, her fingers deftly unwrapping the gift. The sight of the Sokovian cookbook draws a genuine, surprised chuckle from her. “You really did your homework,” she teases.

“You're worth the effort,” the words slip out before you can reign them in, and suddenly the room feels a few degrees warmer. But Wanda doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she seems... pleased.

“The jasmine rice will be ready in just a few minutes,” you mention, as you drape the apron on a hook by the kitchen entrance. Deep breaths, you remind yourself. It's just dinner. With Wanda Maximoff. No pressure.

You then make your way to join her on the sofa, deliberately choosing a spot that's comfortably distant. Not too close to be presumptuous, but not too far to seem distant. Or so you think.

However, Wanda doesn't let the spacing go unnoticed. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” she asks with a playful pout.

You blink, momentarily lost for words. “Oh, I just... thought I'd give you some space?”

Wanda smirks, tilting her head slightly, “You're sweet, but you can sit a bit closer if you'd like.”

Swallowing your nerves, you slide a tad bit closer, closing the gap. Now, your knees are almost touching. The proximity introduces you to more intricate details: the scent of her perfume, the subtle shadow on her lids, the faint tint on her lips.

She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Much better, don't you think?”

You gulp, trying to swallow down your body’s reaction to her voice. “Yes,” you breathe out, attempting to find your bearings again. “Definitely better.”

“So,” Wanda starts, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “How does someone like you end up as a dentist?”

“Well, my dad was one. After high school, I honestly didn't have a clear path in mind.” You shrug, your gaze distant as you recollect. “It was kind of a 'fall into the family business' scenario.”

“But do you enjoy it? Being a dentist, I mean.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice,” you confess, a far-off look in your eyes. “I had other hobbies—gardening, painting. There was a time when I thought of diving into the arts.”

“But you didn't?”

You shake your head. “Practicality won over passion, I guess. Dentistry is stable, and I do like it.”

She studies you for a moment. “Do you ever regret it?”

You ponder for a second, thinking about all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. But then, your eyes find Wanda's, and a smile creeps onto your face. “Well, being a dentist did allow our paths to cross. So, in that sense, I can't really complain, can I?”

Wanda's cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink, the faint blush enhancing her striking features.

You’re not entirely sure how you’ve survived so far on this date.

Clearing your throat to ease the building tension, you attempt to shift the topic. “Speaking of paths, how did you end up becoming an Avenger? If you don't mind me asking.”

Wanda's expression quickly darkens, and an immediate regret washes over you. You wish you could retract your question, hating the thought of being the one to bring such sadness to her eyes.

Wanda tells you her story with a distant look in her eyes, like she's replaying a bad dream. She tells you about the Battle of Sokovia, how she lost her twin brother in the midst of it, and how she felt totally alone afterward. With no family or close friends left, she ended up with the Avengers. At first it was a choice of convenience, but she soon started to think of them as her new family.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” you say, not knowing what else to say. You’ve never experienced such pain and loss, especially with your parents and sister living in different states, leading their own lives.

“Thank you,” she whispers, the edges of her eyes glistening. “It's... difficult. Sometimes more than others.”

The soft beep of the rice cooker slices through the heavy atmosphere. You turn towards the kitchen, then back to Wanda, offering an apologetic smile. “Looks like the rice is ready,” you mention, almost sheepishly.

She laughs softly at your politeness and says, “Good. I’m starving.”

-

Wanda Maximoff has a big appetite.

This becomes amusingly clear when she polishes off her plate and shyly requests more rice, eventually consuming the entire portion you'd prepared for the evening. Honestly, you hadn't anticipated this outcome, especially since you weren't entirely sure how goulash was supposed to taste. But seeing Wanda devour nearly all of it not only boosts your confidence in your cooking but also in how the date is progressing.

Honestly, it's been ages since you've been on a date. You keep wracking your brain for topics, wondering if you're saying the right things. But thankfully, it's Wanda who takes the lead, her inquiries steering the chat in various directions. And each time she poses a question, that unique Sokovian accent of hers tugs at you, almost hypnotic. With every word, every soft-spoken syllable, you can feel yourself being drawn closer into Wanda's magnetic pull. It's both exhilarating and terrifying—mostly because you're not sure if you ever want to resist.

Just as you're about to suggest some movies to watch, Wanda's phone rings. You watch her facial expression shift slightly as she answers, her tone professional and measured. “I understand. I'll be right there in an hour,” she says, ending the call and turning to you with a regretful look.

At least you both got through a nice meal. Still, you’re a little disappointed.

“It's the compound. I've got to head back soon. Not an urgent situation, but...” Wanda trails off, her eyes reflecting her regret.

“How long do we have left together?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“About thirty minutes?” Wanda estimates. She then glances at the aftermath of your dinner, “Let me help you clean up.”

“You really don't have to.”

“It's easy. I can just use my powers,” she says, beaming a little proudly.

“I’m intrigued,” you say.

The idea of seeing her powers up close excites you, but as she begins to wave her hand, intending to levitate the dishes, something goes wrong. A misdirected wave of her magic, perhaps due to her eyes being trained on you as she watches your every reaction, causes a sharp knife from the counter to fly towards you. You only realize what's happening when you feel a sting on your arm.

Blood starts to seep through your shirt and Wanda's eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god, I didn't mean to... I'm so sorry,” she stammers, her face pale.

You look down, trying to assess the damage. It's not too deep, but it's definitely more than a scratch.

“Don't worry, it was just an accident,” you reassure her, but the sharp pain suggests you might need medical attention.

Wanda immediately wraps your wound with a clean towel and offers to take you to the hospital. It's quite the unexpected turn for your first date, and as the evening winds down with you in a hospital room, getting stitches, you can't help but chuckle at the situation.

Wanda's face, however, is a picture of raw concern, which to be frank, you find endearing, albeit in a dire context. She stays uncharacteristically silent, her expressive eyes darting between the cut on your arm and the sterile surroundings of the hospital room.

“Hey,” you break the silence, “Talk to me.”

“You know... maybe it's best if we don't see each other again,” she begins, hesitantly. “It's just the first date, and I've already sent you to the hospital.”

Wanda Maximoff is breaking up with you.

Before you two are even an item.

And the first date hasn't even finished yet.

And you’ve yet to kiss her. 

(You really, really want to.)

“You can't break up with me,” you blurt out.

She looks bewildered, “Why not?”

“Because,” you smirk, wincing a bit as the doctor tightens a stitch, “We're not together. Yet. And if this is your way of getting out of a second date, you're going to have to try harder.”

She looks at you, searching your face as if trying to discern whether you're joking or not. But you're serious. Deadly serious. 

Then an idea comes to her. “Fine, then I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“What–”

“I mean, if we're doing this, it's so I can properly end—”

“No,” you say, your smile widening, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wanda Maximoff, I don’t want to be your girlfriend.”

Her expression grows more solemn, her tone somber. “You need to understand. Being with me is nowhere near normal. I’m dangerous. Everything around me, everything I deal with—it's all dangerous.”

The smile doesn’t leave your lips. “I understand,” you say, “But I still refuse to be your girlfriend.”

“You don’t give up do you?”

“Ask me again on our second date,” you suggest, nodding appreciatively at the doctor to subtly hint it's time for him to leave, as he’s been watching you both fall into each other a bit too long now.

“And I can’t have you blasting ‘Lips of an Angel’ throughout the compound if we call it quits now, can I?” 

Wanda's eyes widen in horror, her hands flying to her face. “How did you even know about that?”

“Vision,” you chuckle. At this point, you’ve totally lost it for this girl. “He sent me a message, thanking me on behalf of Natasha for finally getting you to switch off that track.”

Wanda groans, her face still partially hidden behind her hands. “I can't believe he did that. I'm never going to hear the end of it now.”

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, leaning in closer. “I think it’s adorable.”

Still, Wanda remains quiet, and even though she’s the one who can read minds, you can hear just how loud her thoughts are. Gently, you grasp her hand and stand, pulling her up with you.

“What are we doing?”

“I’ve been patched up,” you note, motioning to your arm. “I’d rather not end our date inside a hospital. Come on.”

-

You insist on driving her back to the compound, despite Wanda's deep concern that you’d be able to handle a stick shift given your recent injury. However, after teasingly reminding her that she’s technically "in debt" for the unintentional knife incident, she finally gives in.

You really just don’t want the night to end with her simply walking away.

And while the two of you bickered over the technicality that Wanda can't really break up with you, there's an underlying fear in you that perhaps this might be the last time you see her.

The drive ends up being a quick one, and in just fifteen minutes, you’re pulling up the compound’s spacious driveway.

Both of you sit there for what seems like an eternity, neither willing to make the first move. Your heart races, beating loudly in your chest, as you keep stealing glances at Wanda, trying to read her expression.

“I... um... had a good time tonight, despite the… yeah,” you stammer out, trying to fill the silence. “Thank you for being there, Wanda.”

She nods, lips parting as if she's about to say something but doesn't. “Thank you for the meal and the cookbook,” she finally says, her voice soft, almost fragile. “And I'm really sorry about your arm.”

“You're welcome, Wanda,” you reply, your heart heavy in your chest.

She offers a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and opens the car door. For a fleeting second, the thought of pulling her back crosses your mind, but you squash it down, not wanting to push your luck. As she steps out, you hope for a 'see you soon' or even just a casual 'later'. But nothing comes. And with a quiet thud, the door closes behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel, mentally kicking yourself for letting Wanda do the dishes. Maybe none of this would've happened, and she might still be looking forward to another date. You're so lost in your ‘what-ifs’ that you almost miss the sound of hurried footsteps approaching.

Suddenly, the passenger door swings open, and before you can react, Wanda is back inside. She leans over the center console, gently cradling your face with one hand and pulling you into a soft, tentative kiss. 

It's over in a heartbeat, leaving you both breathless.

She pulls away slightly, cheeks flushed, and her eyes brighter. “I didn't want to leave things like that,” she admits.

You smile, still in shock from the unexpected moment. “I'm glad you didn't,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

Even if Wanda had thrown every knife in the room at you, it would still rank as the best date ever.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader

[wokeupdreamy]

Strawberries and Cigarettes.

Theodor Nott x Hufflepuff!Reader

summary: you and theo had never talked much, hell you two were complete contraries. he was a stoic, cold slytherin and you were a giddy, always friendly hufflepuff. but what happens if through fate you run into each other one night and it makes you realize that you had never want anything more than to figure out the confusing riddle ‘theodor nott’.

authors note: hi, this is the first fanfiction i am writing (if you don’t count what my fourteen year old self wrote on wattpad, lol) and i actually don’t even know if i am going to keep writing this. i don’t even know if anyone will see this, i still have no clue how tumblr really works…anyways got the idea when i was listening to strawberries&cigaretts by troye sivan.

(also english isn’t my first language so bare with me!)

i don’t even know where this little fanfiction is even headed yet, but i guess we’ll figure that out on the way! alright, that being said, i hope you enjoy this first chapter and let me know if i should continue this little series! <3

warnings: none yet, probably some angst and violence in the later chapters, but the first one is just harmless fluff and theo being mysterious lol

find chapter two here: https://www.tumblr.com/wokeupdreamy/734705717659025408/strawberries-and-cigarettes

word count: 1.9k

Chapter One:

It was late, almost too late at night when you left the greenhouse. Working on your little extra credit project for Professor Sprout, not that you needed better grades as they were already perfect, you had completely lost track of time.

Only when the faint moon had been shining in through the windows, illuminating the room in an eerie light, you had decided to call it a day, or better a night.

Brushing off the dirty from your uniform, brows furrowed at the stain on your skirt, thinking about how difficult it would be to get out, you nearly collided with the tall figure in front of you.

Shutting your eyes, mentally preparing yourself to hit the cold, grassy ground. But to your surprise a strong arm caught your waist, just in time.

As soon as you had regained your balance, your eyes shot up to see who your mysterious savior was. And almost immediately your eyes were met with his sharp, blue ones.

Theodor Nott.

“Careful where you’re going.” he snickered, his face almost stoic. If you would’ve looked closely, you would’ve seen the faint smirk on his lips, but you were busy catching your breath from the shock.

“Nott.” you stated, a hint of annoyance laced in your voice. It wasn’t that you disliked the brown haired Slytherin, no. But you’d always tried to keep your distance from him, you being a Hufflepuff and him being a Slytherin helping tremendously with that. Sure, you were in the same year, a few boring words and ‘hi’s being exchanged between the two of you when paired up to work together in class but never more.

You doubted that he even knew your name, of course not, why would he? It wasn’t like you were particularly popular, well liked but not popular. Hell, you were the complete opposite of the grumpy boy, always being nice and friendly, offering your help to those who needed it.

“Didn’t see you, I am sorry.” you gave him a small, apologetic smile, realizing that picking a fight with a Slytherin, alone and in the dark, wasn’t probably the smartest idea.

“Of course.” he scoffed, letting go of your waist. The smirk he had worn a minute before had turned into a flat expression, the corners of his lips still turned upwards but the rest of his face being utterly blank, unchanging.

“What were you doing in the green house, at this time of night?” he asked, his eyes wandering down to the mud stains on your skirt.

You looked down and quickly realized how dirty you had actually gotten. The soil from the gardening, together with the mud on the ground, had left a mess of dirt on your usually clean and neatly pressed uniform.

“I was working on my herbology project.” you answered.

“And what are you doing in the grounds at this hour?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

Once again his eyes seemed to look directly into yours and once again the same smirk appeared on his lips.

“Oh, you know.” he murmured, his voice low.

“Can’t sleep.” he added, his arm gesturing to the night sky.

“Have to get some fresh air.” the rest of his face was indifferent, as if nothing and no one was of any significance to him.

You felt like telling him that the Headmaster would surely not be pleased if he caught a student in the grounds at this hour but decided to shut your mouth. It was not like the Slytherin cared for rules, no, you’d seen him go to detention enough times over the years.

The two of you stood there in silence, the wind rustling the trees breaking the still.

And in some stupid way, you couldn’t help but admire the way the faint light from the moon above seemed to cling onto his perfectly sculpted figure. His messy, dark brown hair blowing in the wind and the light shining on his high cheekbones.

He was truly a beautiful specimen that looked like he belonged on the covers of the muggle magazines you read. But you knew that the moment you would have admitted that to him, he would probably laugh it off.

As much as you would have loved to keep looking at him, the cold was starting to seep into your bones. Shivering slightly, you pulled the sleeves of your robe over your hands. The dirt under your nails was still visible.

“Well-“ you started, “I’m afraid I should be going, before someone sees me in out in the grounds at this hour. Professor Sprout wouldn’t be to pleased either.”

You expected him to turn around and go his own way but he just shrugged. “True.” he chuckled, once again surprising you.

And just as quick as the conversation had started, it was over. The boy had turned, his back now to you.

Without looking back, he gestured to the side, as if to invite you to walk beside him.

There was no sign of annoyance or boredom on his face, as if you being there wasn’t that big of a deal.

You hesitated for a moment, before walking up next to him. And as you both walked in silence, you realized just how fast paced he walked.

The grounds were eerily similar to the greenhouse, empty and still and quiet. It felt peaceful, the only sound being that of your footsteps along with the wind. There wasn’t the slightest hint of voices talking or laughter. It felt like you were alone in the world, both of you.

As you walked beside him, you found yourself sneaking peaks at the boy. His hands shoved in the pockets of his robe, his face turned to the path ahead.

Even if you wanted to strike up a conversation, you had no idea how you could do that without it being awkward as hell. So you decided to enjoy the silence for as long as it would last.

But soon, Nott started to talk.

“I’m bored.” not a question. A flat, monotone statement. “I like being around plants.” again, no question.

The boy just wanted to state facts.

The silence lasted for a few more seconds and the you decided to respond. “Oh, yeah?” you asked. “But you don’t even take Herbology?” you furrowed your brows in confusion. Theodor Nott liked being around plants?

“Doesn’t matter. Plants are peaceful.” he stated, his voice just as quiet and flat as before.

“And the greenhouse doesn’t have any people in it.”

You couldn’t help the fact that a small smile crossed your lips. The boy wasn’t that intimidating after all.

“You don’t like people, do you?” you asked, the question coming out before you could even stop yourself. You could’ve cursed at yourself for being so blunt, already mentally preparing yourself for a snarky comment or a rude insult.

But nothing of that sort came.

Theo looked at you, blue eyes piercing into yours as if looking at your soul in particular.

His expression was blank, but the smirk was still playing on his lips.

“What makes you think that?” was his quiet response.

The silence was almost loud, but you felt it was your turn to talk.

“You’ve never exactly been interested in having a conversation, have you?” you questioned him. “In all those Hogwarts years I’ve only seen you talk to a handful people for longer than five minutes.” Again, he just shrugged.

You were expecting him to be annoyed but strangely enough, that wasn’t the case.

A smirk still on his lips, that didn’t seem to go away anytime soon, he looked straight at you.

“Is that bad? Not talking to everyone I see?”

Another long silence fell between the two of you.

“You know, I find it quite amusing. You trying to figure me out.” he finally broke it. His voice was still quiet and emotionless, as if talking was just a chore.

As much as what he said was kind of insulting, it was true. Not to your credit but you didn’t know much about Theo, at least not in comparison to how much you thought you knew others. About your friends and the other students in your year.

“What is there to know about you?” you asked, trying to keep yourself from rolling your eyes at his remarks.

His cold eyes were on you again, he was the one not answering you immediately, as if thinking about his response longer than necessary.

“There is nothing about me.” he finally muttered.

Once more, you were stunned into silence.

His answer was the last thing you expected.

Your brain was racing, asking if there was more to the story.

Maybe the boy really was a loner, you thought.

Before you could find the courage to open your mouth, Nott started over.

“So, you like plants?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit more curious and lively than before.

“Uh- yes.” you answered, your arms crossed in front of you to protect against the cold wind.

You had always liked plants.

There was something very calming and soothing about them. Their quiet energy and their almost peaceful presence.

When you were having a bad day or you felt sad or tired, the greenhouse was the place to be.

It was the one place in Hogwarts where the chaos of everything and everyone was non-existent.

Once again, a silence took over the two of you.

You wanted to say more. Ask him more questions. Be intrigued in what kind of person he was and if there was more to the story about the boy with the cold eyes.

But suddenly you knew that doing that would be useless.

He wouldn’t tell, not to you. Not now, not ever.

And so you kept quiet. Not speaking a word until you reached a familiar spot, the entrance hall.

Unsure of what to do, you entered the castle behind him, hands nervously fumbling with the hem of your skirt as the two of you just stood there.

He would have to go down to his common room, while you would make your way to the Hufflepuff common room near the kitchens.

Once more you were both alone, in silence, both facing the stairs which would lead to your separate paths.

You hesitated, not knowing what to say, what to do, how to take your leave as it seemed like he had no plans on speaking again.

The boy had one of his elbows on the wall and was leaning on it, not looking at you. His hands still in the pockets of his robe.

The longer you stood there, the more uncomfortable the moment became.

“Well…uhm good night to you?” you mumbled, finally mustering up the courage to break the uncomfortable silence.

Theo tilted his head as he looked up at you, his eyes now curious as he stared at you. His face suddenly showing more emotion than before. His smirk was gone.

Silence once more.

But after a moment of thinking, his face once again looked blank.

“Good night to you too.” he muttered, his voice as monotone as before as he started descending the stairs.

Shaking your head, still trying to understand this strange encounter, you started your own way to your common room.

If you had learned one thing tonight, it was that Theodor Nott was a fucking mystery.

And you had never wanted to solve a mystery this badly before.

#theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #harry potter #theo nott x y/n