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faithshouseofchaos · 3 days

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Good boy — Lando Norris x reader

Word count 1k

Warnings— sub Lando, dom reader , teasing, smutish

It’s three am right now I should definitely be asleep 🔪🔪 also I don’t know how I feel about this 😭

“You did so well today baby” you cooed with your hand around Lando’s throat lightly applying pressure just the way he likes. Lando wines his hips bucking up into you. Lando had his hands on your ass bringing you flushed against him. You had one arm wrapped around Lando’s shoulder and the other with his hair tugging at his curls letting out a moan as he kissed your chest.

Lando’s eyes roll back with the moans and praises coming from your mouth. Lando’s head leans back revealing his neck and the hickeys that lead to his chest. You took this as a chance to kiss his neck and create more hickeys. Lando moans your name like a prayer, the way you touched him was like worshiping a god, a god he worshiped. Lando’s breath hitches his tongue against his skin as you make a trail of fire across his collarbone. Lando grabbed your face and connected the two of you in a heated kiss. The kiss was hard and passionate. Lando’s hands roamed your body like your body was the entire universe.

The kiss continued on with Lando trying to take control and failing. You broke it off to kiss his neck and gently bite into his sensitive areas. Lando wined and whimpered his hands trying to take control again which you didn’t let him. “Uh uh.” you scolded, “who’s in charge?”

Lando tried to act defiant but you knew he loved this. He whined and whimpered before begrudgingly replying “You are…”

You smiled, “that’s right…now listen to me like a good boy.” You pulled back and looked down at Lando. He was panting and blushing, red starting from his cheeks and going down below his neck. He looked up at you with big eyes and nodded obediently, “Yes ma’am.”

Hearing him call you “ma’am” did things to you but you couldn’t let him know that. Instead you gave him a playful smirk and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “good boy.”

Lando’s breath hitched his hands clenching the sheets. He loved being called that and you knew it. You sat up and straddled him now, his hands going to your hips and gripping desperately. You looked down at him, seeing how he looked all flustered and flustered for you, you took it as a moment to admire the man below you. His hair sticking to his face in curls, his chest rising and falling quickly, and of course the pleading look in his eyes.

Lando looked up at you pleadingly, “please,” he whispered. You knew what he was asking you for but wanted to push him more. You tilted your head and acted clueless, “please what?”

Lando groaned in frustration before speaking again, “y-you know what I want…” he said softly refusing to meet your gaze. You gripped his chin and forced him to look at you, “Use your words. Tell me what you want, baby.” Lando squirmed under your touch, he was embarrassed but he wanted you and you knew that. “Please,” he said more firmly now, “I need you.”

He looked at you with pleading eyes, practically begging you to touch him, to give him the attention he craved from you. You took in a breath and ran your thumb over his chin. “You’re so pretty when you're begging darling. But you need to be more specific.” you said in a sultry tone, keeping your composure as best you could. You knew how much this was affecting him and that only fueled your desire to torment him more.

Lando's face flushed deeper at your words. He knew you were going to play this game. It drove him crazy how you could be so composed while he was practically falling apart beneath you, but he wouldn't put up a fight because he knew it made it even hotter.

“Touch me…please“ Lando pleaded looking up at you, his hands still on your hips not wanting you to move away from him. You chuckled, “There we go. Was that so hard?” but you didn't give him what he wanted yet. Not when you were enjoying this so much.

You leant closer to him, your chest against his now, “Where do you want me to touch you?” you whispered into his ear, letting your breath linger so Lando could feel how affected you were too. Lando's body shuddered under your breath, "everywhere..anywhere..just touch me..please" he pleaded, his grip on your hips getting tighter. Lando was practically writhing under you now, desperate for any sort of friction. He was starting to get impatient and you could see the want in his eyes.

You chuckled seeing how worked up he was getting and decided to finally give in slightly. You rocked your hips against his ever so slightly, the action rewarded you with a moan from Lando, his eyes shutting. “You want me that bad, huh?” you teased, your hands tracing up and down his chest.

Lando's moan sounded almost like a whine, “Y-yes..” he said quietly not even opening his eyes. His body was craving more of the friction from you but he knew better than to try to take control. He didn’t want you to stop this.

Lando’s hands moved to grip your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin leaving small marks. At the sight of Lando gripping your thighs, you felt your own need grow. You loved how sensitive he was to your touch, how much he wanted and needed you. It was almost intoxicating.

But you wanted to keep up the teasing for a little longer. After all, it was fun watching Lando fall apart beneath you. So you continued to tease him, slowly rocking your hips against his, never giving him the amount of pressure he really needed.

Lando was a mess under you, his breathing labored and shaky, a mix of moans and whimpers escaping his mouth every time you rocked your hips into him. His hands moved to grip your hips now trying to push you down onto him, "Please...need you..." he panted out.

He looked up at you with begging eyes, his cheeks flushed and his mouth parted, trying to keep control but slowly losing it. Seeing Lando beg like that was almost enough to make you give in, but you pushed through. It was just too much fun to make him fall apart like this. You grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand, stopping him from trying to control the situation. “I’m in control here. Remember that, darling, now remember no touching” you said with a hint of authority in your voice.

Lando's breath hitched when you pinned his wrists above his head. He loved it when you took control. Your tone of voice made his body shiver. He let out a breathless moan and nodded, “Y-yes…I won’t touch.” He said obediently, his eyes wide with a mixture of submission and desire.

You smiled, satisfied with his obedience. You rewarded him by slowly grinding your hips against him, giving him a taste of the friction he desired. Lando’s eyes closed as he let out a moan, his wrists straining slightly as he fought the urge to touch you.

“Good boy,” you purred, continuing to grind against him, “You always listen so well.”

Lando's mind was a hazy mess of pleasure and need. The combination of your praises and the friction you were giving him was driving him crazy. He wanted to touch you so badly, but he knew better than to disobey you.

Tagged — @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @67-angelofthelordme-67 @anedpev @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @alwayzbeenale @bblouifford @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @badassturtle13 @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @entr4p3 @embrosegraves @eugene-emt-roe @formulas-bitch @formulaal @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hangmandruigandmav @ironcowboycopnickel @jeffs77 @llando4norris @lightdragonrayne @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mrs-liebgott @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @raikkxz @sweate-r-weathe-r @swifth0lic @toasttt11 @the-ghost-lovwr @tallrock35 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere

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ghostkennedy · 1 day

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Leon's Special Recipes

~neighbor! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

randomly had to write this at 3 am last night. definitely leaves space for a part two if anybody's interested, but i do ask for an idea on how it should go! how would you react in this situation?

Word count: 1068

Content warning: nonconsensual cum eating, male masturbation

!!!!!GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+! MINORS DNI!!!!!

“Hi, Leon! Come on in,” You open your front door wide for your neighbor. You live in adjacent townhouses, him living on the end so you’re his only true neighbor.

He steps into your entryway and kicks off his shoes. “So, what brings you here?” He pushes a plastic container into your hands. You open it up and are met with the sweet smell of cookies. “What’s all this?”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Oh, nothing really. Trying new things; new hobbies and such. Trying my hand at baking and needed a taste tester. Luckily for me, I have a neighbor with a sweet tooth.”

You aren’t looking at him as he speaks, rummaging around in the container of freshly baked sweets. “Oh my God! Chocolate chip?” You pull a cookie out and take a huge bite, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the sugar and gooey chocolate hit your taste buds.

You moan out happily and Leon can’t help but smile widely at you, while also shifting his hips to hide his hardening cock from the sounds you’re making–but that’s not important right now.

You swallow the bite down quickly before taking another. You talk with your mouth full, doing your best to cover your mouth with your hand, but too excited to bother with proper manners. “These are amazing, Leon! How many did you make?”

“Oh, about a dozen. I did keep some for myself. If a man won’t eat his own product, then it’s not a product worth sharing,” He lies through his teeth. He made a half dozen cookies especially for you. They’re not for him, or anyone else at all for that matter. Only you.

You finish a whole cookie and lead him into the kitchen. “Thank you, Leon. That’s so thoughtful. These aren’t going to last long over here. Can’t control myself around sweets.” Perfect. Knew his girl was greedy and it’s working in his favor so nicely.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thinking about trying peanut butter, oatmeal, white chocolate, and sugar cookies. Gotta keep myself busy when I’m not working, you know?”

You reach into the container and pull out another cookie. “Sorry, my mouth started watering at the sound of all of those. You gonna stop at cookies or are you going to expand your baking resume into other goodies?”

He hums thoughtfully, “Maybe. You like cupcakes?”

You smile brightly at him, pure joy in your eyes, “I love them!”

He was hoping you would. He’s been looking at homemade frosting recipes and he thinks he could make a pretty good batch of it. It’d be easy to slip his secret ingredient into those. Yeah. Next time he’s at the store, he’ll buy them out of cupcake supplies. Gonna keep you fully stocked on them.

“I’m glad we can help each other. I got someone to eat my treats and you get treats.” You nod your head as you nibble on your second cookie. “Anyway, sweetheart. Can’t hang around long, got an early morning tomorrow.” More lies. If he doesn’t get his hand around his cock within the next 5 minutes, he just might come in his pants.

“Oh, of course. Let me walk you out!” You finish your cookie before walking over to the sink and washing your hands, drying them quickly on your pants before leading him back to the front door.

He’s slipping his shoes back on as you thank him again and he quickly heads out the door, for the safety and privacy of his own home.

He practically slams his front door and locks it before his hands undo his belt, yanking his cock from his jeans and groaning out as his hand squeezes the base.

He’s not sure where he read it online, or what he was even looking at to find such a thing. Probably a Reddit thread or some gross porn flick. But as soon as he got the idea to put his semen in food, he couldn’t keep himself from feeding it to you.

He was constantly popping an erection the days leading up to baking your special cookies. But he kept from touching himself so he’d be loaded and desperate when it came time for your filling. When he was finally ready to add his come to the batter, all it took was a few strokes for him to shoot the fattest load he’s ever managed by himself.

He quickly shoved his dick back in his pants as he stirred it in and poured them onto a non-stick pan. He was still so pent up, he was hard again before the cookies were even done baking.

He made 6 average size cookies and 1 mini one. He didn’t really enjoy the idea of eating his own semen cookies, but he had to try it to make sure you couldn’t taste something off. He didn’t think it would make any sort of difference, he maintains an okay diet so he doesn’t taste half bad. But he needed to be thorough because he was desperate for this plan to work out.

And as soon as he popped that mini cookie in his mouth and started chewing, he knew you were going to love them. So many chocolate chips and sugar, it’s a sweets lover’s wet dream. He laid them out to cool while he cleaned up and by time the mess was gone, the cookies were cooled down enough to bring to you. So he cleaned himself up, packed up the cookies and walked over to your place.

Within minutes of returning to his own house, he’s leaned back on his couch, shirt stuffed in his mouth as he shoots more come across his abs. His mind is filled with the fresh memories of you eating your cookies and loving them. Thanking him for his special little treat for you.

And the next day when he runs into you on the way to your car and asks if you ate any more cookies, he’s super pleased when you tell him they’re all gone. Ate another before you went to bed. Got up in the middle of the night, tummy growling for another one. And then ate the last two for breakfast. He tells you he’ll get to work on your next batch and you giddily tell him you just can’t wait to try more of his yummy desserts.

~masterlist~

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hitlikehammers · 2 days

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but consider: Steddie, except in the Bridgerton Carriage

for @hbyrde36, @pearynice, and @penny00dreadful—I've been kind of a shitty absent friend lately and I am stupid enough to apparently still think that WRITING SOMETHING FOR PEOPLE is like a gift or something instead of the exact opposite, but you guys seemed to not-hate the snippet of this so...yeah. I'll almost certainly still be an absent friend when this posts, and I do sincerely apologize that, please accept this distraction from that fact and a token of my affection also in advance of S3Pt2 later in the week?

(also: this gets 🔥spicy at the cut bc obviously)

it has a baby epilogue thingy and and a baby sequel thingy (?) if you...wanted that or something I guess also I will assume not unless someone says otherwise okay bye

Eddie throws himself against the seat, may cause the carriage to shift for it, may even startle the horses but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care because he was about to be engaged, he was going to be Lord of a house grander than he can quite fathom and yes all on his own and yes separated from all he knows but that would have included separation from—

Eddie pinches his nose to hold back tears, keep them just to stinging behind his eyes and then growls, throws himself across the cushion because he does that, Eddie learned to pinch his nose against weeping from him and of course the tears are caused now by him, too, by his interference, by his heartlessness, by his cruelty and his scheming to keep Eddie, supposedly his dearest friend, from any form of security or freedom or—

Eddie’s breath hitches: he may be enraged. Perhaps a little heartbroken. But he cannot think such lies about a man he’s held closer than any other in his life, his dearest confidant—his closest, most secret love.

Eddie bites his tongue this time against the tears that are building such pressure and shamefully, foolishly, he traces his lips. That one kiss. That one series of kisses. Just once.

Both wholly inadequate but beyond Eddie’s wildest dreaming.

It’s for tracing the bow of his upper lip, for losing himself in imagination and the single tear he lets slip, it’s for the pounding in his heart for so many more reasons than he has the energy or will to tease out: for all of it.

He misses the shouting until there’s a rapping at the hinges on the door, aimed to rattle. Forceful.

One might even suppose it to be desperate.

Eddie cannot deny curiosity—even in shame and ruin it has always been the root of his nature—and so he takes the fact that the driver stops at all as an omen for the positive, can’t be a threat or a vagabond, and he moves to check but is too slow, the door wrenched open to—

“Eddie.”

Gods be damned.

“I do not wish to speak with you,” Eddie bites out, refuses to make eye contact and focuses on gratitude that he’d already wiped his eyes.

“Please!” and oh.

Oh, but Steve knows Eddie would give him the world. Always has. Cannot deny him when he asks, but:

This isn’t asking. This is pleading.

“Let me in,” and he’s so breathless, chest heaving, eyes too wide and Eddie can feel them fixed upon him even before he turns to meet them and perhaps he’d been wrong before, to have called the shade of those eyes remarkable, especially when kind.

They are indescribable when, when…

Whatever Steve is now.

Eddie swallows hard, fixes his eyes opposite the door as he moves for Steve to clearly have the space across and diagonal from him to occupy. As far as Eddie can place space between them.

“We will stop at Harrington House first,” and damn but Eddie is proud of the strength, the evenness in his tone when he calls out and the horses take up again.

He prays it will hold when he eventually has to break the silence, and address the reality of the situation he’s in.

“What do you want?”

Strength enough, then.

“Did Lord Alexei propose?”

Eddie cannot help but leave his mouth to drop; his eyes to narrow.

“And exactly what business is that of yours?” because truly. The nerve. The pomposity, the presumption—

“I need to know,” and lord help and forgive him, Eddie cannot write off this man who’s been his friend, but who’s also taught his heart to swell for so many years, now; whose taste on his lips still lingers—

Eddie cannot deny him wholly when his eyes gleam, and his hands tremble. When he looks fit to shake from his skin.

“Did he propose?”

Though: even if Eddie can’t deny him, that doesn’t not require him to make any of it simple, or easy. He is not beholden to shy from the bitter sting of the evening, of the lack of a ring on his fourth finger.

“It is odd, isn’t it?” Eddie huffs a mirthless laugh. “When I asked for your help in finding a husband, I did not realize that also meant you claimed the prerogative to deny me one as well.”

Steve looks near-slapped across the face as he reels back the slightest bit and holy hell, but Eddie cannot even take more than half-a-second’s satisfaction in it, in something sharp in the truth of the consequences in Steve’s callous, thoughtless interference—no, Eddie gets his half-second, and then all he wants is to reach and soothe the wound.

Gods be damned for the heart he has, for the heart that this man’s stolen without knowing—he’d never be so cruel if he was sure how wholly Eddie’s affections were lost upon him—and more tragic yet: stolen, and unquestionably unwanted.

But Steve doesn’t require Eddie’s intervention to compose himself and regroup to the task he’s set himself upon, and his shoulders are squaring again in an instant it seems, leaning once more into Eddie’s space so as to flavor the air Eddie breathes in far too fast—so sweet.

“It is my business because I care about you,” and it is sincere, to be certain, and Eddie will not permit himself to look farther than the words themselves for nonexistent hints and pathetic yearning scraps. He must be grateful. His affections may be undesirable but there is a part of his heart that still may be given to this man in a certain, sensible way and Eddie must appreciate this as enough—

“You cannot marry that man.”

Eddie is the one who reels back this time; he blames this entirely for the lapse in his response, the sharp incredulity that rises in him at the persistent audacity, the sheer presumption—

“He will leave you for his voyaging,” Steve begins in earnest, certain in his tone, but Eddie wastes no time to scoff:

“Says the man who spent months frolicking the continent—”

“And he is far too particular with his, his strawberry varietals,” Steve continues as if Eddie’s said nothing, but there’s a subtle flustering at the edges of each word—he’s not been ignored.

“Cherries, actually,” and Eddie can’t help but prod further, it’s in his nature; “it’s truly remarkable to be so agitated that you can’t even be bothered to be correct—”

“And he is…” Steve cuts Eddie off proper, then, the flustered edge turning half toward desperate, perhaps beseeching:

“He is just not right for you, Eds.”

And Steve has always been a man of action, of resolve once he’s set upon a clarity of conviction. It does sound as if he’s found such a point to lean into and hold.

Just Eddie’s luck that when the issue to hand is his own holy matrimony, it’s merely a point, and involves someone else.

“He did not propose,” Eddie surprises himself for how flat his tone is, because Lord Alexei is witty, reserved in an endearing way, strange perhaps in a different vein to Eddie but: like courts like. He would not have been less than pleasant to grow old attached to.

“In fact,” and here Eddie surprises himself with the tone that escapes him, less anger—though still anger—than it is chiding; “he rejected me because of you.”

Steve’s eyes don’t widen, or drop in some emotion tangential to shame. If they do anything, they grow brighter; intensify.

If anything: Eddie burns with it, and tries like hell to shove it away—because he is angry. He could have lived a quiet life of freedom and cordial camaraderie and as many goddamn cherries as he ever wished to eat. He had a chance, his first and only, and this man saw fit to—

“Because the scene you caused led him to believe you have feelings for me,” Eddie’s indignation, his hurt and his pride and his heartbreak and his anger all coalesce to rear their head again as he narrows his eyes to remind Steve once more:

“An idea so preposterous, I do not know what to do besides laugh,” which Eddie cannot even manage, so the joke may be on him in the end, regardless. It’s the last straw of a sort, though, and he deflates, suddenly bone-weary, and heartsore.

“Now,” he breathes in deep, forces himself to straighten his shoulders and lift up his chin, to have some goddamn dignity: “will you please let us ride home in silence and leave me alone.”

It’s not a question.

“I cannot.”

It is not a question, so of course he doesn’t get a real answer.

“Please,” and Eddie tries to pack a lifetime of friendship into a single word, tries to raise the banner to summon some long-crafted pity if nothing else will suffice.

“I cannot,” Steve leans forward, and his eyes are…other, somehow. A certain glow about them in too little light.

“Because,” and he breathes, and stares, and Eddie’s almost afeared for his well-being when he whispers: “Eddie,” his name like a prayer to a god Eddie’s never known to name, before he may well speak in tongues for how much sense he makes:

“What if I did have feelings for you?”

Eddie…can only blink, and think to feel Steve’s forehead for a fever, and ignore wholesale and entirely the rabbit-beat his heart’s leapt to all at once.

“What?”

Steve stares a bit longer, lets Eddie’s heart really build a momentum, threaten the integrity of his ribcage like it’s a trial to be passed but then Steve sucks in a deep breath and the slightest hint of chest hair peeks out on the inhale and good god—

“I have spent so long trying to feel less,” Steve finally speaks, his voice low and breathy, like maybe his heart’s in a marathon too, but why, when what he says makes no sense:

“Trying to be the kind of man society expects me to be, and for a moment, Eds, for scarcely a moment I thought I had succeeded, for one time in all the failures and disappointments I thought maybe, though it clenched sour in my chest,” Steve rushes out, near trembling, and Eddie…cannot comprehend. He just, he can’t.

“But these past weeks, and more if I’m truthful, have been full of,” he licks those gorgeous lips, struggling, while Eddie struggles for…other reasons: “full of these confounding feelings, like a total inability to stop thinking about you,” he pauses and his glowing gaze drops to Eddie’s mouth, drops a kick to Eddie’s pulse as it trips, as Steve speaks again:

“About that kiss,” and how absurd, that Steve should have any thought of it, this man who’s known more lips than Eddie’s known people, that he might so much as think twice about the most perfect moment in Eddie’s life, that could not have been more than a casual obligation to an old friend from Steve’s view, it was—

“Feelings like dreaming of you when I’m asleep and gods, preferring sleep with all that I am because that is where I might find you,” and it’s so frustrating, because Eddie’s known Steve his entire life. Eddie knows his expressions, his tones, his hidden meanings.

He cannot find the latter. The first two, though, he, they…

There’s no sense, and Eddie’s heartbeat only rises.

“A feeling that is like torture,” and Eddie can agree upon the word, for the ache the pounding of his pulse is demanding, but the tone Steve speaks in is…it borders on reverent.

“A torture,” he repeats, words panted out close, high in his chest; “but one which I cannot, will not, do not want to give up. Not ever.”

And he looks…so honest. And Eddie knows what he sounds like in a lie—there is none here. He also knows what Steve looks like when he thinks he is in love.

This is…very close to that, but also: different. A wanting that Eddie’s never borne witness to before. A fire in it still but something violent, magnificent to the scope it could unleash.

“Please,” this time, Eddie does beg. Because the fire he sees in those eyes—nonsense, all nonsense, he reminds himself—but that fire is starting to spread and he’ll burn inside it wholly if he cannot stop it now:

“Do not say things you do not mean.”

“But I do mean it,” Steve is so quick to correct, to look wounded for being doubted and to look truthful to his bones; “this is everything I have wanted to say to you…for weeks. For longer than weeks.”

“But…” Eddie worries his lip, heart caught up now in his throat, a task to speak around at all but he must, he must.

“Steve, we are friends.”

“Yes, but we…” Steve starts, but then it is as if the glow in him dims, fades, withers before Eddie’s very eyes and it takes all that he is not to whimper at the loss of it.

And then Steve passes a visibly-unsteady hand over his face, between his eyes; pinches the bridge of his nose like he does to keep from—

Oh god, and Eddie loves this man. And he’s caused…

“Forgive me, um,” Steve looks down, anywhere but at Eddie and it’s in the loss that Eddie processes how warm it felt to be beneath that gaze; how cold it feels without. “I do not know what I was thinking,” and his tone is drained of color, deadened leaves before the snow and Eddie’s pounding heart cracks wide and for all that Eddie has labored under his feelings so long, alone in the shadows, his bond with Steve was always one of equals, no matter how much of a lie that spelled to the world around them. They stepped together, side by side. And here, Steve leapt without him, and somehow for him; is tumbling to crash.

Eddie cannot bear it. His heart will shatter in an impact more dear than his own could ever be.

He has to try.

“But I’d very much like to be more than friends,” Eddie exhales, desperate, trembling in every part of him. “So much more.”

Eddie can barely hear anything beyond his heartbeat now, the way his heaving breaths strain the lacing on his patently-unusual shirt, his waistcoat tight for the overtaxed burning in his lungs, in his veins, in his skin, like the blood in him’s turned molten and with every pulse he—

He looks to Steve, whose eyes no longer glow but have turned molten, too, and Eddie’s breath catches as Steve stares at him, incredulous, as if he is the unbelievable one and what nonsen—

Eddie can scarcely believe that he can think, that he can feel anything, for the way he knows his heart to burst wholly when Steve surges in and captures Eddie’s lips: not like their first time. Not even like the way that first time crested toward something: no.

No: this is…

Perhaps he lives still, as his blood still races and his lungs still burn and he rises to meet Steve’s lips yet: oh. Oh, but his heart has burst and whether this is to last, whether this is once and never again, Eddie does not need his heart to be anything but blown and spilled inside his ribs, warm and glimmering in a way he’s never known, alive in a way he’s never felt, and the way they move.

Oh, but how they move like a dance known not to men nor angels, known only to something primordial and wholly other, a secret to their souls alone in the dark and Eddie reaches to cup Steve’s face, trace his hairline and ease him closer, deeper, and wonder at the sweetness of his taste; just how Eddie recalls it, would know it on his deathbed but heated, thicker, stronger now as Steve slides his tongue between Eddie’s lips where Eddie opens, arches into him, body to body until his eyes flutter open and Steve almost seems to feel it, for how his own blink open the same and he pauses, pulls back the slightest bit, Eddie’s hand at the side of his throat now where his pulse thunders into Eddie’s palm, the tumult of the elements themselves in Eddie’s ill-suited hands but now he’s touched the heart of this man, this man, held it in this way Eddie dares to think means something more, and—

Their eyes meet. Steve’s still aflame, but the glow lived again below the inferno and it’s like he marvels, it’s like he sees Eddie as something wholly new yet forever dear, as if he cannot fathom the simplest truth Eddie’s ever known:

All of him, is Steve’s.

Steve’s lips are wet, sloppy, mesmerizing as he gapes, looks upon Eddie like a sculpture or a masterwork somehow and Eddie slides his hands into Steve’s hair the way he’s always dreamt: sinuous and sensual and Eddie may be gaping, mesmerized himself as he fights shaking his head in sheer dumbfound shock because: Steve is real. Steve is full of only truth, here.

Eddie knows what Steve looks like when he believes he is in love.

This look now isn’t merely other. This is, dare he even think it—

This is more.

He watches as Steve’s lips quirk, a punchdrunk giddy sort of thing that Eddie feels himself return because perhaps it is Eddie who’s feverish and delusional but he has never felt this, he has never known this: touch and desire and want in his limbs but returned in equal measure somehow, unthinkable.

And yet.

Steve kisses him, and to kiss through the curve of joy on their mouths is a potent thing, slips down Eddie’s throat and catches in his wild-thrumming pulse, puts the whole of him off balance in the most perfect of ways and Eddie has to balance himself upon Steve’s chest, feels the firm muscle beneath layers but then the pounding muscle at the center ripples out, his heart as unsteady, as affected as Eddie’s own and it’s…it is a miraculous sort of gift, to be in such resonance with someone, anyone—but to spell a symphony, beat for beat, with the person you’ve long given your heart to?

It threatens tears to Eddie’s eyes for reasons that fill his chest but know no name; that transcend words.

And for that moment in time: he can believe if it is wanted, if this is real, if this could possibly be real: to lose his heart in Steve’s chest would be no loss at all, merely a homecoming. To songs made to sing in tandem, close enough to touch.

Their mouths don’t break apart when they gasp, when they moan and pant: they just tip the barest angle fit to breathe and then dive back, but when their hips slide together, hardness prominent at either groin they gasp harder, deeper, and come apart to stare at each other, to try to read universes as much as the simplest questions, the most obvious of assent between eyes alone.

Steve makes his way downward by way of Eddie’s neck, lavishing it with the talents of his lips as he makes quick work of the fastenings on Eddie’s breeches, clear that he must know them well enough on another’s body, practiced, and it maybe lights an ember of jealousy to feel proof in the flesh of Steve’s poorly-veiled breadth of experience, but as Eddie is trembling for the spoils, he can’t acknowledge that flicker of envying for long, not for the sake of the proper fire that alights in him now to the tips of his fingers; not least for how Steve cups his palm so perfect, so exquisitely slipped beneath the heavy weight of Eddie’s manhood, lifts it tenderly in a way Eddie’s never bothered to touch himself, leaves his last two fingers to linger gentle attention for the briefest moments, a whisper of touch against Eddie’s straining sac as he eases Eddie’s full length from his drawers and Eddie’s hardly bare to the free air before he’s gasping, panting hard enough that he suspects a weather eye could pick the shape of his torrenting heartbeat through his skin between his ribs for how it pounds, and how his lungs squeeze it unforgiving to the wall of his chest and—

Steve’s hand upon his cock is transcendent, even without any motion, doing nothing but to touch yet Eddie is greedy. Eddie wishes Steve’s hand could also press to his chest, not least because he fears it could crack under the blatant assault; he trusts Steve to hold his wayward heart where it absolutely must stay at least a little longer, to see out this…this.

Wherever it leads.

As if beckoned by sheer desire, Steve lifts, looks Eddie in the eye and balances himself upon his sternum, rips the lacings fully free and slides his hand skin to skin above Eddie’s heartbeat and holds there, holds there while he teases the exposed slit of him to draw a whimper, only to abandon it and trace the sharp-raised vein below, back and forth as if he plays the strings of a stronger song, as if it’s but an idle whimsy, a pleasant pastime on the way to greater indulgences and Eddie’s gifted a moment to feel undiluted bliss at the sensation, the languid romance near saccharine in the connection of Eddie’sheart bounding unbridled against Steve’s strong, steady palm, so broad and so warm and safe, so so safe and Eddie melts for it, for a whole moment at least before Steve’s stroked the same bulging vein one too many times and Eddie feels himself tense—

And then Steve halts, his hands both still save maybe not, for the one at Eddie’s chest, he watches it shake a little out the corner of his eye, for the force of the blood-beat below or something primal and overcoming in Steve’s own veins; Eddie catches Steve’s eyes, blown full to black now, and strains his neck to kiss the tip of Steve’s finger, the closest part to reach and Steve shivers, and then he’s—

Oh.

Oh, but then, but then it may well mean the end of Eddie Munson because Steve moves his hand to kiss Eddie’s chest one time, enough to trip the heart beneath, and those same lips kiss the tip of his full-flushed cock as Steve glances up, wanton through those lashes and it’s not even in askance, it’s…surveying.

And Eddie feels a tingling pleasure spark through him, to know in that instant how Steve knows him, knew his heart before ever he reached to take where it was offered, knew his mind from the very start, and now needs only glance to check without a single word to speak: his hand never leaves Eddie’s chest.

But his mouth takes in the whole of him.

He spares less than a single thought that he hopes Steve knows what he’s doing—beyond the fact that it feels like nothing less, feels like Steve is truly a god among men beyond even Eddie’s lovesick notions—but if Eddie felt ready to loose himself with mere-perfect touch, the sweet silk of Steve’s mouth, the soft suction just so: Eddie won’t last. He can’t: he’s only a man.

He can glimpse heaven as a gift, perhaps; he can fly to the sun only a moment before he falls.

He does not process Steve preparing to move, too lost to notice, but he cries out, muffles it as best he can but he barely can when a wet finger swirls upon the rough pucker of his untouched hole, where he knows pleasure lies but has never…never made the attempt and yet just the hint, the fact of it so delicate and only just slipped between the cleft of him where Steve eases him up enough to slip a hand behind and circle once before withdrawing because it’s all Eddie needs, all Eddie can stand: it is but one touch. Not even inside him—though now there is another thing he will long for, for all of his days, with all of his being.

But the longing is for later; just now Eddie is coming apart, splitting at the seams.

Falling though, he finds, is an ecstasy of its own, as Eddie sees either the backs of his own eyes, blown beyond redeeming in the spindly trace of delicate-webbed light, or else he finds instead the face of god incomprehensible when he spills, faster than he’d ever hoped he’d manage should he find himself unthinkably in such a position, but harder than he imagines Steve can possibly expect, certainly with a force Steve can’t have predicted save that Eddie can feel his throat work tirelessly, dedicated singlemindedly to not merely taking all that Eddie gives and leaving none to waste like he relishes it, like he craves it with the wholeness of himself somehow—but then further still Steve moves to milking Eddie dry, sucking every third breath in as more a rhythmic excuse to take back in Eddie’s softening, emptying member in turn: insistent. Devoted. Greedy in the most awe-inspiring sense because this man, this man—

This is his wholesale devotion; aimed at Eddie Munson, and him alone.

He barely feels as Steve touches lips to the tip of him, a soft adieu to mirror his brazen hello, and tucks him gently, carefully back into his trousers, slides up Eddie’s chest and, careful once again, laces back his shirt to the neck, one hand pressed to the center of his chest where Eddie’s heart has yet to receive the notice to calm, perhaps because there is no calm, there is only…Steve.

Steve Harrington. Atop him. Adoring him. Hard still for him where his legs are spread now to near straddle Eddie as he tends to him, but never once does he sacrifice Eddie’s pleasure for his own. But Eddie so wants to return the favor.

By then, Steve’s composed Eddie back to something only generally debauched—there’s nothing to be done with the way Eddie imagines the haze in his eyes is drawn in the shape of hearts, pulsating mad and riotous and still disbelieving because how, how did—

Before Eddie can collect his mind as well as Steve’s collected his appearance, before he can plan a way to repay Steve, to ease the low-slung strain caught tight between his legs—before any of it, Steve’s lips are wide against Eddie’s, like he aims to devour but like this, Steve’s tongue can immediately lick into Eddie's mouth, where he's welcome, where Eddie has never tasted himself before but he knows instinctively where he ends and Steve’s savour begins already: he’s had two, admittedly thorough, chances to memorize that flavor, and let the almighty strike him down in his mindless, unthinkable bliss if he’d been fool enough to waste either opportunity to remember every hint, each subtle note of Steven Harrington’s taste upon his teeth, delectable across his soft palate.

It is maybe the certainty of that knowledge, his own devotion, that makes him bold, then, that makes Eddie slide his tongue back and deepen the kiss and revel in Steve's moan before he rocks his hips upward and—

“Oh!” Eddie gasps, breaks away as he hears by pure coincidence, his heartbeat still heady in his ear but it knocks differently, in a wholly different register, than a knock at a door.

Of a carriage.

One that he’s been recently, gloriously defiled in, and where he had been just about to stage a reprise in reverse, and oh, oh Steve’s leaning back in, Steve is no fan of Eddie breaking from his mouth and neither is Eddie, not in the least, but—

“Steve,” Eddie tries to keep his wits but they were scrambled already before Steve pulls at his lip with his teeth and Eddie moans and tries to pull back, a little hazy on the why until Steve pants hoarse:

“What?”

And oh. Right. Yes.

“Steve, we are at your house.”

And they both part, spit-slick mouths shiny and bruised as they stare at one another, gasping.

Before Steve huffs, eyes wide , and whines so fucking deliciously:

“Oh, God,” he laments, glancing out the quite-poorly-curtained window. “Could the carriage driver not keep on driving?”

He turns pleading eyes on Eddie who chokes on the bubble of laughter that rises in him—and when Steve loses the battle against his own giggling Eddie’s got no chance, they’re both falling into one another, forehead to forehead and shaking with…joy.

Just such a joy, the sort Eddie’s never felt. Never knew could even be.

“Do you think anyone saw us?” Eddie asks idly, now glancing out toward Steve’s home. “I was not paying much attention to…anything,” Eddie chuckles, tries to process the notion of having paid notice to anything but Steve, and Steve, and Steve, and—

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, cold shooting suddenly through his body because Steve is climbing out, Steve is leaving and Eddie, he, he thought? It had felt so, so real and it’d…Steve hadn’t looked like he looks when he thinks he’s in love, he looked like he really could be—

“Steve?” Eddie fights the way his heart tries to jump anxious to his throat or drop leaden to his shoes, he fights to speak evenly, to ask without fear or audible heartbreak, to trust this man who’s held his heart and still does, and Eddie did the same, was allowed, it can’t have only been him, it—

“Are you coming with me?”

Eddie’s pulse trips. Hard.

“What?” he asks, blinking, lost, but Steve holds out his hand and smiles small but so soft, so fond, so…safe.

Eddie’s heart doesn’t slow but it settles a little. Back toward the space that’s meant for it in his chest.

“Your,” Eddie licks his lips and oh, dear god, he still tastes of Steve, of him-and-Steve; “your family will see me.”

Steve wastes no time rolling his eyes but…but again: so fond.

So far beyond how he looks when he thinks he’s in love, and—

“For God’s sake, Edward Munson,” Steve huffs with a grin as he shakes his arm out at the wrist, beckons Eddie more clearly as he speaks the unthinkable:

“Are you going to marry me or not?”

And Eddie’s jaw drops, and his heart surges again, tries to soar, flutters wild as he doesn’t even think before taking Steve’s hand, and maybe his heart lands there too, and it’s impossible.

Save that Steve’s leading him to his home. Steve’s walking hand in hand in the night. With him.

If it is a dream, Eddie has no desire ever to wake.

read about the morning after ✨here✨>>>

yes Lord Alexei is a shoutout to this adorable man and his love of cherry Slurpees🍒

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

divider credits here and here and here

💫 ao3 link here

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kteezy997 · 8 hours

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The Heart of a Bene Gesserit-Part Five//Paul Atreides//Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

Warnings: cursing, light violence, brief mention of smut

“A true friend? Is that why you sent a spy for me?” you asked, glaring at Paul.

He let out a small breath but didn’t speak. He looked away from you. He couldn’t deny it. He had underestimated you.

“Everything I have done since I arrived here has been for you. Look at me.”

Slowly, his gaze returned to you with an angry glare. “How dare you use the Voice on your Emperor.”

“The Emperor continues to disrespect me, so I will do as I please. Why are you spying on me? What do you need to know that you cannot ask me directly?” your words were biting.

“I knew you would try and speak with Feyd-Rautha. I wanted to know how it went. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

“What can I do for you to trust me? You know I can handle myself; I don't need to be treated like a child, Paul.”

"I trust you, but I don’t trust him. He’s an animal. He deserves to be where he is, as I’ve told you before.”

“And as I told you, he didn’t kill your father. Whatever you have against him, is not his direct doing. He deserves better treatment. At least better food and shelter, if you refuse to have him on your council.”

“Oh, I do refuse to have him on my council.” he said firmly.

“You’re not even willing to give him a chance to prove himself.”

“And why should I?!” he raised his voice at you.

You stepped closer to him, eye to eye and only inches apart, “Because your roles could have very easily been reversed.”

His bright blue eyes flared into yours, his jaw tightened, “The Bene Gesserit made us both freaks.” he spoke much softer than before.

“Then maybe you should take some consideration for him.”

“Hmm.” he sighed, “Y/n, I don’t want you to see Feyd anymore. He is dangerous. I know that you are capable of taking care of yourself, but this is the one thing I ask of you.”

“He is no more dangerous than you are.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, you could be playing with fire.”

For some reason, you really felt the weight of his warning.

He looked down the hall, “It is getting late. We should both get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.”

You were tired of this conversation, and mentally drained, so you said, "Goodnight, my lord."

Paul acted as if he was going to say something else, but only said, “Goodnight.”

.........

The next morning, a servant knocked on your door as you were getting ready for the day. "Yes?" you answered.

"My lady, you have been summoned to the slave quarters, if you so accept."

Feyd.

You made your way down to the slave housing, and there he was, waiting for you.

"There you are my darling. I was worried you wouldn't come." boomed his raspy, growling voice.

"I'll not stay long, Feyd-Rautha. It's not safe, us meeting, I fear it could get one or both of us hurt."

"Well then," he started to close the distance between you, "I'll make this short and sweet. I have a proposition for you: get me back to Giedi Prime, and I'll give you a Harkonnen heir. This way, we both get something out of it. The sisterhood would reward you, would they not?" he leaned in toward you, cocking his head to one side.

You trembled, "I was wrong to come here and speak with you. To get your hopes up. I cannot get you off-world, as you wish. But what if I set something up with the Emperor? Play your cards right, and you find yourself in better conditions with better food and sleeping arrangements."

"Hm." Feyd backed away from you, "If that is the best you can do, then yes. I accept. But how will you accomplish this? I am a slave, after all. They'd never welcome me with open arms."

"Just trust me."

..........

That evening, you were the last person to arrive at dinner. "I have brought a guest. I hope that is okay?"

Blades were drawn from Stilgar, Gurney, and all men around Paul as Feyd-Rautha made his way into the room. He had the tiniest of grins on his face.

"Hold." barked Paul, signaling the men to retreat.

"Paul, I require a council with you and the slave." you said. The dining room had gone so quiet, you could hear the drop of a grain of sand.

Paul was shooting daggers at you. How dare you be so bold as to bring Feyd-Rautha into his royal house. "Very well. Gentlemen, as you were."

As the three of you enter the same room together, you felt the shivers of remembrance of that dream. Paul between your legs, Feyd in your mouth. You tucked the image away in an instant. This was business and given the two men in the room and the intensity from both sides, things could turn savage at any moment.

"What the hell are you doing bringing this animal into my house, y/n?!” Paul yelled at you. His eyes practically throwing flames at you.

“Calm down, Paul. Feyd-Rautha is only here to show peace. He is not the animal you think him to be. If you will not upgrade his position, the least you can do is upgrade his living situation. What he has is not enough."

"Why should he get special treatment above the other slaves?"

"You know why: Feyd has superior intelligence-"

"I can speak myself, Atreides." Feyd's deep voice boomed into your ears.

You and Paul both looked at him.

"I can be useful to you, cousin. I hear talk of assassins, conspirators, nearly every day. I'd be an asset to your team. I'd kill any man that threatens the empire."

Paul eyed his cousin, squinting and holding himself a part, "And what must I do for you?"

"As the lady has probably discussed with you, a more accommodating lifestyle. Good food, nice bed, maybe a woman or two to keep me company. I do miss my darlings. Life is so lonely without them. I'm sure you know all about that."

Paul clenched his jaw.

Feyd smirked, then continued, "Your Fremen woman has been gone awhile now, and who is to keep the Emperor company?" The Harkonnen's gaze then turned to you. "Tell me, cousin, how is it that you've had this beautiful woman sent here to secure your seed, and yet you haven't fucked her?"

That final remark threw the Emperor into a blind rage, targeted at his enemy, his cousin. “Bastard!” he shouted, fiercely hurling himself at Feyd, grabbing him by the throat, his other hand wielding his crysknife. “I will kill you, right here.”

Feyd only grinned as he held Paul at bay.

“Stop!” you needed to use the Voice, otherwise one of them would be dead. "You're acting like children. Can we not talk like adults?"

"Did you not hear what he said about you? Why do you defend this animal?"

"Feyd, this was a bad idea. Please, go back to the slave quarters."

"You made me a promise, darling." Feyd sang, walking toward you.

"Stay away from her." Paul warned, grabbing Feyd.

"Oh, so you do love her." it wasn't a question, it was a realization, and something Feyd thought he could hold over his cousin's head.

Paul held the Harkonnen back, looked at you, "Of course I love her. I will kill anyone whom I deem a danger to her. If you want to keep your life, cousin, I suggest you go back to where you belong. Mind the spice, keep the other slaves in line. That is how you will prove yourself to the Empire. Rewards may find you then.”

You were taken aback, impressed by Paul's now calm demeanor. He was able to regulate his emotions after looking in your eyes.

Feyd-Rautha looked to you as well, and you gave him a nod. He then left quietly.

This shift in the room once Feyd was gone was much softer. You gazed over to Paul, trying to gauge him. "That was remarkable of you. You showed him kindness." you stepped closer to him, "And here I thought you did not have any for a Harkonnen." you smiled.

“Why did you show such obligations to him, huh? When it was I that walked with you as a child. You used to come into my room at night because you were afraid of the dark. Gurney Halleck taught us both to skip rocks on the water. Do you not remember any of it, y/n?”

“Of course I do. After all this, I cannot understand my own actions or thoughts any more.” you put your hand in your head.

You heard Paul inhaled deeply from his chest. He said, “Please, rid yourself of these thoughts of him. Stay with me.” he took your hand.

You looked at your interlocked hands, then in his eyes, wordlessly saying, ‘Paul, what are you doing?’

“He was right, you know.” Paul said, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. This was a vulnerable moment for him.

You sighed, “Do not pay Feyd any mind. He was only saying things to anger you. It’s in his blood to bring out the worst in others.”

“No, he was right. I do love you. And I’d kill for you. I want to keep you safe forever.”

You took a deep breath, knowing that he meant every word, “And I for you, my lord.”

“Your presence calms me, your eyes bring me back into focus,” he took a soft breath, “ I love you, y/n, but it is deeper than friendship.”

“Paul,” you shook your head slightly, “do not say things you cannot mean.”

“I do mean them. I have seen you in my visions. It’s confusing. I see various futures, lines in time, but you are always there. No matter the path I take, I want you here with me. Will you do that for me?”

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothée imagine #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides imagine #paul atreides #paul muad'dib #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune fandom #dune part 2

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rninies · 5 months

Text

✮ pampering a giant baby - gojo satoru

synopsis: gojo satoru rarely gets sick, but when he does, he acts like a child (you don't mind that because when will you ever get the chance of taking care of gojo?)

warnings: sick gojo, fluff, gn!reader, gojo is stubborn (hates being taken care of) — wc: 528

notes: IM BACK YEAHHHHHHH im almost finished with my finals so here we are :3

“y/n, please leave.” satoru blocks the door with his tall figure, leaving you unable to enter his apartment. “i’m begging you.”

you huff, standing your ground. “i am not leaving until you let me take care of you. you’re sick, toru! your body is heating up as we speak.”

“i’m fine-” satoru lets out a cough. “seriously, just go home! i can take care of myself.” as soon as he says that, he sneezes, knees feeling weak. you quickly catch him before he falls.

“‘i’m fine’ my ass. come on, let me take care of you for once.” you mumble, helping satoru inside. you gently lay him on the couch, to which he instantly rests his head on the pillows. “i’ll go make you some porridge, yeah?”

satoru nods, too weak to speak. you instantly got to work, cooking up a porridge as quietly as possible to not disturb his rest. as soon as you finished making the porridge, you brought it over to satoru, gently waking him up. “toru, wake up. you need to eat.”

satoru reluctantly opens his eyes. “can i eat later? i feel sick.”

“you have to eat now so then you can drink some medicine. after that i promise you i’ll let you sleep as much as you want.” you softly say, helping satoru sit up. “just eat a few bites and i’ll be happy.” you hold the spoon full of warm porridge in front of him and he opens his mouth, just wide enough to eat.

after a few bites, satoru mumbles about how full he feels and you stop, quickly grabbing medicine from the drawer and a cup of water. “here. drink this and you’ll feel better.” satoru drank the medicine and you smiled. “there.”

instead of laying back down on the pillow, he lays his head on your lap. “sorry.”

you tilt your head in confusion. “hm? what are you sorry for?”

“don’t know… just feels annoying being sick.” satoru mumbles, hiding his face in your shirt. “i hate feeling like this.”

“mm, i know, baby. everyone has their sick days. you know how it is.” you say, gently caressing his head. “i don’t mind taking care of you for once, though. it’s a good change. i like it.”

“i should be taking care of you, not the other way around.” satoru complains, finally meeting your eyes. “it’s like- i don’t know. it feels weird.”

“hey, don’t feel bad. i like taking care of you, don’t worry.” you leaned down and gave satoru a quick kiss on the lips, to which he immediately covered his lips. “what?”

“i’m sick! you can’t just kiss me! what if you get sick too?” satoru’s voice is muffled behind his hands. “i don’t want you to get sick too.”

you smiled. “i won’t. trust me. now you go back to sleep and you’ll feel better in the morning because my porridge has magical healing powers.”

satoru laughs and closes his eyes, quickly falling back to sleep.

(the next day, you were woken up by a scratchy throat and blocked nose — to which satoru was delighted because he can finally take care of you).

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ageofstarkey · 7 months

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hi, baby ✰ m. sturniolo

pairing: bf!matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: you wake up grumpy after a nap & matt knows exactly how to make you feel better

warnings: some swearing, not rlly anything else??

note: i’ve loved the sturniolo’s for SO LONG n i’ve always wanted to write for matt (the love of my entire life <3) so this is me testing the water hehe, lmk if u enjoy/want to see more!!

comments & reblogs are so appreciated! <3

✰ ✰ ✰

“oh my god she’s alive-”

with an intentionally audible sigh, you head towards matt on the couch - ignoring chris and nick in their entirety as you pass them in the kitchen.

matt smiles fondly as you approach; reaching for your hand when you’re close enough to touch. “hi, baby.” his voice is soft as he tugs you onto his lap - one hand immediately coming up to smooth your sleep tussled hair away from your face. the subconscious action forces a stubborn little grin onto your lips. “good nap?”

with another little sigh, much quieter than the first, you drop your head against matt’s shoulder. “mhmm. ‘m still tired though.” the words are muffled by the fabric of matt’s hoodie - your heavy eyes falling shut as he begins to smooth an absentminded trail up and down the length of your spine.

“do you want to get a coffee and go for a drive?” he offers - voice soft and fond as he looks down at you.

“really?”

“sure - i need to get gas anyways.”

“are you kidding me?” the sound of nick’s voice is unmistakable, and you bite back a little laugh as he speaks. “i literally just asked you to take me to target and you flat-out refused like four fucking times.”

with a roll of his eyes that you can almost feel, matt turns his head towards his brothers in the kitchen. “nick - that’s different and you know it.”

“different? how is it different, matt? because i actually don’t know and i would love for you to enlighten me.”

“because you’re not my fucking girlfriend, nick - jesus christ.”

“no, that’s true, but i am your brother - your triplet no less. does that mean nothing to you?”

“at the moment? no, it really doesn’t.” decidedly done with the conversation, matt turns his head back to you. “you ready to go?”

with a soft little laugh, you stretch up to press a lazy kiss against his jaw. “we should take nick to target.” you say quietly.

“i’ll take him tomorrow.” he says back, tilting your head up with two fingers so it’s level with his own. you can’t fight your silly little grin when he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “i’ve barely seen you all day.”

“but i feel ba-”

matt kisses you again, effectively silencing your feeble attempt at a protest. “don’t feel bad.” he says, lips still brushing softly against yours as he speaks. “he doesn’t even need anything - the kid just wants to look around.” with a gentle pat to your thigh, he’s maneuvering the two of you into an upright position. “now c’mon - we’re going to starbucks.”

#ageofstarkey writing <3 #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x y/n #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo fic #sturniolo triplets

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marvelouslizzie · 7 months

Text

Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.

You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard.

Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.

“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”

His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order.

“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.

He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”

He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.

“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.

“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features.

“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”

That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.

“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”

“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.

He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.

“For how long have you been working here?”

“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.

“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”

“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…

His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.

“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.

“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”

You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.

“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”

“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”

“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.

“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”

“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.

“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”

The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right?

“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”

“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”

“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him.

“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.

“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.

You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.

“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.

“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”

“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”

“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”

You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved.

“How does that taste?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.

“Yes, I am curious.”

You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down.

“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious.

“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.”

You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.

“So considerate of you. Thank you.”

You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that.

What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.

“Your hands are still so cold.”

“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”

“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.

He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.

“What do you want then?”

It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.

“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.

He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.

You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck.

“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.

But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.

“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.

“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.

“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”

“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”

“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”

For him? Sure. But for you?

“The bed is better.”

“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.

He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.

You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.

“That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”

You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.

He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.

“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.

“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”

“But you kinda are.”

“I am not. Believe me.”

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.

He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.

His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.

He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you.

“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”

You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.

When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.

He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.

“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.

“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”

Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”

“I told you, I am not.”

He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”

“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”

“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”

“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”

You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”

“I just know what I want.” And this is it.

He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.

“You’re taking me so well already.”

“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”

He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.

“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”

“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”

“That I am not made of glass.”

“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”

“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.

“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess.

“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”

“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.

“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.

“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.

“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.

“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.

“What do you want?”

“Just… harder.”

“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”

“This! Yes! Just like this!”

“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”

You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.

There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.

His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.

You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”

He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too.

“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.

“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”

You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”

“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.

You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.

“Now, I can get used to that.”

“Say my name again, please.”

You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”

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lydiimae · 3 months

Text

Jealousy

A.N: OMG I am finally starting this blog. I am so so excited. This is a Benedict Bridgerton fic ofc. The true loml. I'm still debating if I will write only Bridgerton orrrrrr others? I dunno... but for now, here is a lovely, smutty, cutie, Ben fic hehe <3

Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal sex, drinking, dirty talk, heavy praise, talk of public heavy petting ;)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Minors DNI!! 18+

He sighs from beside Eloise, shifting on the picnic blanket for what has to be the millionth time. "Brother, you worry too much about that woman." She mutters with an amused glint in her eye, taking a bite of one of the strawberry tarts the family maids had made for the occasion.

A family picnic was not a rarity during the social season, especially for the Bridgerton's. What was a rarity is that Benedict had invited a woman along, an incredibly important woman at that. Y/N L/N, a daughter of an influential Viscount. The woman he found himself to be head over heels in love with.

"I am not worried. I am merely observing so our brother does not make a fool of himself in front of her." He replies with a huff, taking a sip from his flask before tucking it back into his pocket.

You were merely speaking with his brother. His happily married older brother. He has no reason to be jealous, really, but something in him still tugs painfully at the sight of you speaking to another man. It is only when Kate comes to steal her husband away that you scootch back over to him, a bright smile on your face.

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You move back over to Benedict and look up at his cute pouty expression, smiling at the warmth that blooms in your chest as a result.

You wished to get to know his family before the inevitable happens. Marriage. You know, as well as he does, that you were both going to tie the knot as soon as it was acceptable to do so. You also know that he would scoop you up and marry you tomorrow if he had his way.

At the very first ball of the season, Lady Danbury insisted that she had someone for you to meet. Someone who enjoyed painting just as much as you did. So, she took your arm and led you away from your father to the Bridgerton family. You were confused, at first, when the already happily married Viscount, Anthony, turned to greet you. And then, as if the sea was parting, he appeared. A crooked grin on his face as he moved to see you. Benedict Bridgerton, although he is a second son, stole your heart as soon as you saw him.

From then on you waited with bated breath for every dance you would share, dreamt of him in your bedroom when you got home, and thought of nothing but him in between. You shared stolen glances at every event and even snuck off to any hidden corner or garden you could find for breathless kisses and entirely impolite words that sent your mind into a whirlwind you could not explain.

Soon enough, he started inviting you on promanades and even sooner he wished for you to dine with his family. Get to know his life outside of the stuffy ballroom, to which you found yourself falling even deeper in love than you could've ever imagined.

"You're pouting, Ben." You hum, taking a sip of your lemonade with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Indeed. Perhaps if you were not so caught up with my brother I would not have a reason to pout, hm?" He returns, moving to take another sip from his flask.

He was jealous? Of his married brother? You sigh and move your hand over his, shaking your head slightly. You hand him a glass of lemonade. If he truly is jealous, the last thing he needs is whiskey.

"If you truly wish to hear what we were talking about, I shall tell you." You return as he takes a sip of the lemonade you gave him. He moves his hand over yours, just out of sight of his family. A possessive gesture that makes your heart flutter.

"Yes, in fact, do enlighten me." He grumbles with a sigh. "His wife, Benedict. He was talking about his lovely wife, which if you have forgotten, happens to be my dear friend." You sigh, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He looks over at you, his green eyes sweeping down to your lips, then your chest, before finally looking back up. "I care not of what you were speaking about, I should like you to speak with me when it is I who invited you." He practically growls, the tone of his voice making the place between your legs heat up and dampen instantly. A feeling that only happened with him, something he had explained as both desire and arousal.

"You know that I-" You begin, but are cut off by him pulling you to your feet. The glasses of lemonade are now completely forgotten. "Mother, I should like to promenade with Lady Y/N." He fibs.

What he would really like to do is rip the skirt of your dress open, spread your legs wide, and plunge his cock so deep inside of your soaked cunt that you forget everything else. He wants to paint your insides with his seed right here, in front of the whole ton, so that every man can get a glimpse of who you truly belong to.

"Of course, dear. We shall not keep you." Violet replies with a smile before delving back into conversation with Eloise, who also looks up with a confused expression but quickly rolls her eyes and continues to speak to her mother.

You shoot him a questioning look to which he just raises an eyebrow and offers his arm. You take it and he begins to lead you away from the picnic canopies that many families have set up to dine under.

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"Where are we going?" You question after a moment, realizing that you are not following the path around the lake but rather the path to the carriages.

He stops and tugs you behind a tree, pushing you up against the trunk. The bark bites into the little exposed skin the back of your dress grants you and your cunt flutters when you see his expression.

Desire is different for men, he taught you. You can see it in the way his trousers tighten at the front and in the way his eyes haze over. His hands move to your waist and he bends down, pressing kisses all the way up your neck until he reaches your ear.

"Agree to marry me and I shall show you." He whispers, biting the soft flesh beneath your ear causing you to shiver and whine. He grins and licks over the tender skin, soothing the sting.

"You already know very well that I would say yes to any proposal you give me." You breathe, leaning your head back as your eyes flutter shut. His hand skates over your stomach, running up the smooth fabric of your dress until he meets your breast. He cups one and swipes his thumb over your hardened nipple through the fabric.

He pulls away, swiping the saliva off his bottom lip with his thumb before picking you up. You squeal and he chuckles, paying the driver of his carriage off before tucking you inside. He closes the door and the curtains on the window, darkness enclosing the both of you.

"Benedict." You whisper as he lays you back on the velvety bench. "Hush, my love. I shall not do anything before asking I swear it." The title makes your heart almost burst out of your chest. He dips down once more, pressing his lips to yours briefly.

You pull him back down before he gets very far, chasing one of those open-mouthed kisses he gave you at the last ball. He groans, his tongue swiping over yours. He grins over your lips at the sound that escapes, moving his hands to yours where they rest on his chest before breaking the kiss.

"Ben please." You whine, wanting him to continue so desperately. He only smiles, taking off your gloves. "You must have patience, my sweet girl. I am going to ravish you in due time." He assures, pressing soft kisses from your palm all the way up to your shoulder as he takes off his gloves as well.

He reaches your neck, to which he takes a deep breath. Taking in your scent of lavender and citrus, making him groan as it always does. "Do you remember when I taught you to ride my thigh?" He whispers, running his tongue down to your collarbone, nipping the skin.

The memory makes you flood your underwear. You remember well, how could you not? He had lead you to the garden at one of Lady Danbury's balls and sat you down on his lap on the edge of the fountain. He hiked up your skirt and led your hips back and forth until something inside of you snapped so hard you saw stars and stained his trousers. That is where he taught you about his arousal, about yours.

"Yes." You breathe, your eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands moves under your skirt. His slender fingers skating teasingly up your thigh. "Good girl." He praises. He cups your cunt without warning and you cry out, your hips canting.

"Fuck. You are absolutely drenched." He whispers, relishing in the moans he draws from your body just from keeping a hand over your cunt. "And I told you about sex, do you remember that darling?" He murmurs, watching your eyes flutter.

He slowly pushes your skirt up so he can slide off your panties. He tucks them into his pocket, smiling to himself. "Yesss." You moan as the air hits your bare sex. "You told me it happens when we get married." You whisper between whines as his hand comes back, his fingers curling into your pubic hair.

"Such a good listener. So good for me." He praises, sliding two of his fingers along your drenched slit before finding your clit with expert touch. He rubs a slow circle on your button and you moan loudly, throwing your head back. "Now, when a man has honor he waits to take a woman's innocence. But my honor disappeared when I saw you with my brother," You try and protest but he pinches your clit and you cry out before you can get so much as a whisper out.

"So I will take you now. In this damn carriage." He growls, moving his free hand to your hips to hold you down. You whine when his fingers move down. "Fuck you are perfect," He breathes. "I'm going to slide one of my fingers inside now, darling, alright?" He murmurs, the switch from possessive to sweet sending your mind reeling. So overwhelmed, so mindless Just how he likes you.

You nod tentatively, your heart rate spiking which he picks up on. He shifts so he is over you, and kisses the crown of your head. "I'll go slow, hm? Nice and slow. All you need to do is pat my arm twice and I'll stop." He assures, calming your heart. You nod and nuzzle his neck.

He slowly plunges a long finger into your weeping cunt and you whine at the invasion. "Good girl, fuck you are so tight." You gasp and writhe as he curls his finger, the feeling sending a shock straight to your clit. He slowly adds another finger and you moan loudly, your eyes rolling back.

"Ben... so good. Feels...." You cry out when his fingers curl into a spot that sends waves of pleasure through you. He grins and begins to rock his fingers, drawing heavenly noises from your soaked cunt. The carriage filled with the sound of your moans and the squelching of your pussy.

He licks a stripe up your neck, beginning to suck as he rocks his fingers. You curl a hand in his thick curls and tug, your hips desperately trying to move against the palm of his hand.

He kisses your jaw, and then your chin, before finally capturing your lips. His tongue immediately sliding past your swollen lips and tangling with yours. You moan into his mouth as his thumb presses down on your swollen clit, moving clockwise as he rocks his fingers into your body.

He breaks the kiss and pulls out his fingers, much to your dismay, before unbuttoning his trousers. "Benedict... why did you stop? It felt so very nice..." You whine, grinding on nothing to try and gain some sort of feeling.

He groans at the sight, bending down and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. "My harlot of a fiancee. So needy for something she does not even know the half of." He praises as he slowly frees his cock, the sight along with his filthy words making you gasp.

He pulls back and strokes himself with the help of your delicious wetness, before looking back at your sweet face. All flushed and wide-eyed. He moves his free hand to your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

"It will not fit, Benny." You whisper, suddenly frightened. His eyes soften and he moves down pressing a swift kiss to your lips. "It will, my love. We will go slow, I promise. Remember what I told you, two pats on my arm and we will stop." He hums, peppering your face with kisses which causes you to giggle and calm a bit. "Perhaps one pat for apprehension, hm?" He murmurs with a smile, pulling back. You nod.

"Good girl." He hums. He leans in and runs his length through your soaked folds drawing moans from the both of you. "Fuck. God, I love you." He grunts and you smile, draping your arms over your eyes to cover your blush. "I love you too, Benedict." You whisper back.

He slowly pushes into your body, throwing his head back at how tight your pretty pussy is. You cry out at the invasion, your hands shooting down to grasp at the edges of the carriage bench. The feeling is a strange mix of pain and something different. A tart taste on your tongue paired with a tingly feeling in your already hot womb. "Fucking hell." He groans before tucking his face in the crook of your neck, stopping halfway so you can adjust.

You whine and wrap your arms around his neck after a moment. "P-Please..... more. I need more, Benedict." You gasp after the pain subsides. God, he almost comes right there. He wants you like this all the time, mindless for his cock. Begging him to fuck you.

"Good fucking girl, Y/N." He grunts before bottoming out inside of you. You moan and toss your head back into the seat cushion and he groans at the feeling. "You feel so good, my love. So ripe, so wet. God, so very tight just for me." He praises.

He begins to move slowly, the slap of thighs meeting thighs filling the carriage. The feeling is so foreign but fuck you never want it to stop. Moans and whines slip past your lips before you can even begin to try and stop them, and you cry out as he speeds up. The noises he is drawing from your body would embarrass you if you didn't adore the way he feels inside of you to the point that you can think of nothing else. You wish to be like this as much as you can, full to the brim with his cock.

"Benedict." You moan and he stalls, gritting his teeth. "Never ever stop moaning my name, you vixen. God, I am a lucky man. The luckiest man in the world." He praises you as he begins to slam into you.

You grip his coat so hard you are surprised the velvety fabric hasn't torn. You cry out when his thumb finds your clit, the feeling sending you up to the clouds. "Come for me, my love." He grunts from above you with a slight slap on your thigh. That sends you over, your vision going white as you scream his name.

He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and pumping himself. He releases with a groan onto your stocking-covered thigh before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he lifts his head to look at you, brushing your fallen hair out of your face. You smile, almost drunkenly, as you look at him. "That was heavenly." You whisper and he smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Just wait until we are married. I cannot wait to fill you with my seed and see you plump with my child." He murmurs. resting his head back on your shoulder. Your hand absentmindedly finds his hair, running through his messy curls.

"We have to go back." You whisper to which he shakes his head. "Not yet. I paid off the driver. We have as much time to rest as we wish, dearest." He hums, his eyes closed. You grin and close yours as well, slowly dozing off with him.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.

#benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #fanfic #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fic #smut #fem reader #imagine #x reader #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #fic #benedict bridgerton fic

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fir3flytv · 1 month

Text

JASON TODD didn't want a dog. He lived in an apartment with you, with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a living room that looked like the furniture decorated in it would fall apart at any moment.

But one day, he comes home to you, sleeping in your bed with a little bull mastiff puppy on his side of the bed. He stares at the dog for a few moments, before going to take off his Red Hood outfit, as though that would make the situation disappear. When he comes back, the dog was still there. Of course.

Gently, Jason shakes you awake, giving you a pointed look. "Got anything you want to share with me, babe?" He asks, eyes trailing down to the dog, still asleep on the bed. A sheepish smile crosses your face. "I can explain?" You say, though it comes out more like a question. "I was volunteering at the animal shelter and found him. He didn't like being with the other dogs in cage but they didn't have enough space to isolate him." "So you thought the best plan was to bring home a dog that can grow to be 150 pounds?" I scoffs lightly. "No, no! I'm fostering him. Just for a little bit," You say quickly. "I thought since he's still a puppy he would be adopted quickly, right? So we won't have to make space for when he gets that big." Jason lets out a soft sigh and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before speaking again. "You're too good," He murmurs softly. You smile up at him and return the kiss onto his cheek. After a few moments, Jason clears his throat and looks down at the puppy, still sprawled out onto his side of the bed. "So where am I going to sleep?" ... JASON TODD sucks at being a foster. He's terrible, horrible, even. If you were to look up 'How to not foster a dog', they would just show his face. It wasn't that he neglected the dog. He could never. He took him out on runs, fed him good food, washed him, played with him. Everything a dog owner could do. No, the reason Jason was so bad was because his first ever foster dog turned out to be a foster failure. Every time someone came by interested in adopting the puppy, Jason would be in your ear, whispering to you that it didn't seem like they knew what they were doing, or that the puppy wouldn't like living with them. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn't till the three month mark of fostering the pup, having moved to a more spacious apartment, that Jason popped the question.

"You know," He starts suddenly while the two of you were on the couch, eating Chinese take out with the dog resting on the floor nearby. "No one here seems to be right for Buster." Buster, his name for the dog. He's used it so much he actually started responding to it. "There's someone, I'm sure," You counter, taking a bite of your food. "I know there is," Jason counters. Just as you open your mouth to tell him that makes no sense, he cuts you off. "Us. We're right for Buster." "Think," He says, reaching out to grip your hand. "For three months, we've had him, we've moved with him. He has his spot in the bed, we've worked him into our schedule. He's happy. Why ruin that?" "So you want to adopt him?" You ask, making sure you understood just exactly what he was saying. It felt too good to be true. "Yeah, I do," He says with a small smile. As soon as he finishes speaking you practically lung at him, tackling him into a hug while whispering small 'thank you's. The action makes Buster jump up and want to join in on whatever is going on, leaping onto the couch and sniffing at the two of you, his massive head bumping you both. In that moment, Jason knew he made the right choice. This felt right. It felt good. It felt like home. You, him, and your giant dog.

#my old boy just passed so this is so fucking self indulgent 😭#storm speaks ⛈#storm shorts ☁️#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #I know in some runs he does have a dog just shhhhhhhh #let me live my fantasy life #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #dc #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #This is literally so long 😭

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 2 months

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Read your post about something other than angst for Simon so I have a thought that needs to get out. Morning routine with Simon. Obviously, the man is military and has a strict routine but that all goes to shit with you. Sleeping in, lazy lunch, all that cute couples shit but with Simon.

hello! tyvm for sending this idea! cute and silly couple’s domestic fluff is sweeettt!! I hope you will enjoy this :D 💖

A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple - Simon Riley*Reader

[6:00]

Simon doesn’t need an alarm, he automatically wakes up at 6 am.

Jogging is an important part of his morning routine when he’s on leave, a nice way to maintain his stamina, and to keep him from getting too loose.

“Where you... going...”

Oh, he forgets he has an unavoidable barrier, between him and his morning jog.

Simon looks down at you, clenching at the hem of his shirt. Your eyes aren’t even open, you just catch him in instinct and now refusing to let go.

“Go for a jog, you know it, love.” The calmness of morning makes him explain in a soft tone unconsciously.

“Stay... please...”

“You can hug your blåhaj first, I will be back soon, yeah?”

“You feel better than blåhaj...”

“...”

It’s too cruel for him to just leave you here, not when you choose him over that bloody shark you always squeeze against your body.

Simon secures the curtain so the room won’t be too bright after the sun fully rises, and lies back on the bed.

Your limbs immediately twine around him when you sense his figure is nearby, and scoots closer to him.

Jogging is important to keep him from getting loose... it’s a must for him to be strict with his morning routine...

The voices in his mind are gradually replaced by the little snores of yours as he drifts back to sleep.

[12:00]

“Can we eat fries for lunch?”

you yell at Simon who’s preparing lunch in the kitchen.

“No”

“WHYYYY!”

“UNHEALTHY!” He shouts back so his voice won’t get covered by the noise of the range hood.

okay then... you feel a bit disappointed, but you can’t come up with a convincing reason, so you just back to sweeping the floor.

just as you’re cleaning the last few spots, a scrumptious smell catches your attention, it’s not those chicken breast or salad or scrambled eggs that Simon deems healthier.

“Do you make fries?!” You knock open the kitchen door with excitement.

What you see is Simon sprinkling some salt and pepper on a bowl of fries, and he turns to you when you rush in like an energetic child.

“A few fries are tolerable” He shows you the bowl, and you can’t wait to reach out and take a bite on the crunchy and golden fries.

“Thank you, baby.” You press an open mouth kiss on your lover’s cheek.

“Don’t kiss me with your greasy mouth...”He growls, but you’re already leaving the kitchen, lilting an off-key song with the bowl of fries in your arms.

Simon just shakes his head and starts cleaning the countertop. If some fries can make you this happy, then fuck those healthy diets.

[18:00]

You two sitting face to face on the couch, the air is full of tension when you speak first.

“Mushroom”

“Mango”

“Oreo”

“Orange”

“Egg”

“g...”

“It’s over 2 seconds! Go take out the garbage, silly!”

“Fucking hell...”

Snickering at Simon’s loss, as he grumbles and on his way to grab the garbage, you add another star under your name to ‘the winner of the week’ sticky note that’s pasting on the fridge.

[23:00]

“Time to sleep.”

“but I want to watch this movie.”

“You can watch it tomorrow.”

“pleassee I want to watch it nowww Simonnn”

“...Fine.”

(00:00)

Simon looking at you sleeping like a log, whole body leaning on him and tangling him like an octopus, totally ignoring the wretched screaming from the movie, sighs and turns off the TV.

He leaves a night lamp for you, in case you need to get up for water during the night, and adjusts you two into a more comfortable posture.

He hears you mumbling something like donuts or maybe your favorite character, and chuckles quietly at how silly you are.

He already knew you would fall asleep during the movie, so that’s why he gave in, and time proves that his prediction’s correct since he’s looking at your serene face now.

“Goodnight.” Satisfied with you resting safe and sound in his arms, Simon plants a kiss on the top of your head and closes his eyes, hoping for a sweet dream that has you in it.

a/n: blåhaj sorry I love u I don't mean to harm u

#cod imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley fluff

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frannyzooey · 9 months

Text

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E

A/N: Thank you to the incomparable @bageldaddy who not only looked this over for me, but who also inspired the entire idea by being such a inspiring, delicious Joel Miller whore. This one is for you ❤

“Stop squirmin’,” he scolds, a hard hand on your hip.

You’re trying not to, but tension builds between your bodies, the solid wall of his chest rising and falling along your spine. So close you can feel heat leeching through his clothes, his warm breath skims along the nape of your neck and a damp throb beats thick and distracting between your legs.

Slow, steady breaths are all you have, and so you take them.

In and out. In and out.

His hips shift when he zips up the sleeping bag along the side and when his lap nudges you from behind, you hold your breath and clench your eyes tight, your thighs squeezing together.

The masculine scent pressed into his clothing fills your senses, the strength in his solid form enveloping you in a protective press when he slings his arm around you in an attempt to get comfortable, and struggling to quell the need building deep between your hips, you squirm.

Waiting a beat, you do it again.

“Come on now,” he scolds, impatience slipping into his tone. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s all we got. You need more room, or somethin’?”

That drawl of his is driving you crazy, just as arousing as the constant frown you know he has on his face right now. His sternness shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, and yet it constantly plagues you: is he always this stern? In every situation?

“No, I’m good,” you reply, letting out a sigh.

You’re really not, but in order for you to be okay, he’d have to be outside the sleeping bag, and so you try to still yourself again, focusing on the sounds of the night.

Weeks spent traveling together, it’s now a familiar background that often lulls you to sleep: the soft chirp of crickets, the rustling of leaves, the creaking of trees as they sway gently in the breeze. Up until now, you’d gotten away with sleeping separately on the ground but tonight marks the first truly cold one of the season and when he rolled out the single sleeping bag, you bit your lip.

“It’s a double,” he said gruffly, kneeling to spread it out. “Plus, it’s all we have.”

You knew it would be a tight fit, but this is unbearable.

His hand twitches, the heavy weight of it brushing just underneath your breasts and your nipples tighten into sensitive peaks underneath your layers. His hand is so close, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel if he slid it up just enough to touch you.

Taking another slow breath, you try not to move.

“You sure we can’t light a fire?” you ask.

“Now why am I gonna tell you no?” He sounds exasperated, a tone he uses more often than not with you.

The closeness of his mouth to your ear has his deep voice sending a shiver through your torso every time he speaks and needing him to be quiet if you’re going to survive this night, you don’t answer.

He lifts his knees, the front of his thighs coming in contact with the back of yours and the brush of his lap against your ass has you biting back a moan that almost crawls out of your throat. You fit the cradle of it perfectly, and if you really focus, you swear you can feel him through your layers of clothing.

With that image filling your mind, you try to press your thighs together in hopes of relieving the ache between them, but not only does the squirming ratchet the heat higher, it earns you another scold.

“You gotta stop.”

A slight plea to his words, his hand settles on your hip again, but this time his fingers accidentally brush the hem of your shirt up in his haste to stop you from moving and you bite your lip at the warm, dry heat of his palm on your bare skin. All sensation centers on that point of contact, and you feel a fresh wave of dampness creep into the crotch of your underwear.

“Sorry,” you apologize quietly.

Restless with want, arousal blooms through your system: starting slick and sticky between your thighs, it spreads low and heavy between your hips, travels with tingling heat through the tips of your breasts, and envelopes your head in a dazed cloud of need. You close your eyes, attempting to will it away, but it only makes all your other senses heighten.

You feel his presence even more: the weight of his arm around you, the damp heat of his mouth near the delicate skin of your neck, the sound of his breathing. Moving on their own accord, your hips shift again, connecting with his and he lets out a sigh.

“You sleepin’ on a rock, or somethin’?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow. Taking the space he’s left, you roll onto your back to face him and instant recognition registers on his face. He frowns, his stern expression causing another wave of sticky wetness to gather between your thighs.

“That why you’re so squirrelly?” The register of his voice has dropped lower, more intimate in the darkness yet no less forgiving. “If so, you’ll just have to deal with it later. You ain’t the only one who’s uncomfortable here.”

Your eyes drop down from his face to where you think his crotch must be, automatically seeking confirmation of his words as if you could actually see anything and his head tilts in silent reprimand at the action, his frown deepening.

“I told you no.”

He did. He said it weeks ago after you kissed him by the fire, again after you took his hands in yours and pressed them along your body in the saddle, again after you kissed him with urgency after a close call in the last town. Every one of those times he responded with his own need: blatant and wanting, all low groans and rough lips and hands and touches, until he pulled himself back.

“Wouldn’t be right,” he said.

“I’d be takin’ advantage of you,” he said.

Like you didn’t know your own body. Like you couldn’t make up your own mind.

He looks down at you for a long moment, the silence heavy between you in your wordless standoff and right when he’s about to lay back down, you speak.

“Please.”

You almost don’t recognize your voice with how helpless it sounds, breathless with need.

Dark eyes searching yours, they study your own for a weighted beat and the thing that’s been growing for weeks between your bodies pulls taut: a string, ready to snap.

You throb and ache, squirming next to him. So, so empty.

“If I do it, you’ll go to sleep?”

“I promise,” you hastily agree.

His jaw shifts under his sparse beard, his expression contemplative and then his eyes scan the darkness around you for a moment, making sure it’s all clear.

“Undo your pants.”

You’ve never obeyed a command faster in your life, already reaching under the covers to fumble with your belt. Your fingers trembling, his dark eyes drag down the parts of you he can see and his hand covers yours, stopping you.

“So needy.” The words are said to himself with a slight shake of his head that has you squirming again, and he pushes your hands out of the way, making room for his own. There is a weighted feel to them against your skin where his knuckles brush against your belly, his fingers working open the button of your jeans and you let out a shuddering breath, the liquid heat between your thighs flaring bright.

Jeans open for his access, he keeps his eyes on your face when he slowly slips his hand down the front of them, pushing beneath the band of your underwear. When his fingers find the damp, warm heat that greets him, a pained look crosses over his features.

“So fuckin’ wet, and I ain’t even hardly touched you yet.”

He is touching you, you want to argue, but the words are caught in your mouth when he slides his hold lower, his broad hand cupping you wholly between your legs. The thick tips of his fingers press heavily against your entrance, and you widen your legs to give him more room.

“Goddamn,” he breathes out, swallowing hard.

His middle finger dips into your slick seam, immediate wetness covering the digit before he drags it through your folds with a testing stroke and your back nearly arches off the ground, needing so much more yet not being able to breathe with what he is doing. He slips it inside you, just down to the second knuckle, and then he’s sliding his soaked finger up to your clit, finding it with ease.

Your hips jerk up to meet it, the calloused pad of his finger providing instant relief. Your head falls back, your throat straining with the effort to be quiet.

“Feels good, huh.”

There is a smugness to his tone that you think faintly should bother you, but it doesn’t. Instead, your body responds in a wholly different way, wanting nothing more to find out what else he seemingly already knows about how to make you feel good.

“Tell me, or I stop.”

The harsher tone of his words brings you back to the present, and you frantically nod, eager to obey.

“Yes. Yes, it feels good.” The roughed pad of his middle finger is swirling firm, neat circles just over your clit, the texture and intensity just right and when you answer him, he rewards you with a second finger. Arching your hips into it, your mouth drops open, a silent cry forming in your throat.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, his hooded eyes looking down at you.

His fingers speed up, quickly slipping down between your thighs to coat his fingers with arousal before bringing them back up again and your hands find his wrist beneath the sleeping bag, holding on while he swirls, swirls, swirls.

So wet you can hear it, you’re sticky and slick underneath his touch, and it’s almost clinical with how quickly he’s going to make you come. Your thighs starting to tremble, his dark eyes never leave your face and chasing his touch, you focus on the centered need he’s building deep within you.

Still so empty you could cry, your breasts tighten under your sweatshirt, and when you imagine how the cold air would feel on them paired with the contrast of his hot, wet mouth, you pull tight with your release, your hand tightening in its hold on his wrist.

“It’s –,” you beg him, “I’m so close.”

Your mouth slack as his thick, calloused fingers work, work, work, he dips his head, his mouth resting just beside your ear.

“Come on, honey. Just give it to me. I know you want to.”

The rough rasp of his voice is deep enough to pierce through the fog he’s built in your brain, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt to hold onto something as you start to tip over the edge. Right when you’re on the cusp, he slides his fingers lower and fills you swifty with three and the startled cry that breaks free from your throat doesn’t even hit the air before he covers your mouth with his.

He swallows every low moan, every hitch in your breathing, every hot puff of air you let out as he pumps his fingers to wring every last drop of release from your trembling body and even when he slides his fingers out, his mouth still doesn’t stop. Coated with your slick, his hand smears damp across your jaw as he presses you into place and takes, his tongue sliding hungrily against yours.

Your own taste is thick on your tongue when he pulls back, and breathless and spent, you’re finally blissfully pliant and loose beside him in the sleeping bag - but not for long.

Slipping his fingers into his mouth, you blink your damp eyelashes up at him as you watch him suck on them with a low, satisfied groan. The lewd action paired with the deep sound, his eyes are still on your face when he pulls them from his mouth to reach back down into the sleeping bag.

“Feel better?” he asks, and though you don’t even know how to begin to answer that question, you find yourself nodding anyway.

As if nothing happened, he grasps your jeans and gives them a perfunctory, swift tug, putting you back together. Lifting your hips in a daze, you let him.

Satisfied, he positions you on your side again, facing away from him and settling down behind you, he drags you tight to his chest with a thick arm banded around your waist.

A thick, solid heft is felt between the two of you, pressed against your ass and his usual gruff voice softens, but only just.

“Good. Now go to sleep.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 months

Text

this is a lil part two for this lil request fic i wrote about katsuki takin' care of a drunk reader ! yall rlly seemed to like it n asked for a part two so, here it is !! hope yall enjoy !

no pronouns mentioned, just pure fluffy katsu, microscopic angst maybe kinda and if you squint HARD (reader gets a little bit upset), soft katsu but he's also an asshat but we love him anyways, mentions of food n eating, mentions of bein drunk, lemme know if i missed sum else !

"ya told me you loved me yesterday."

it's all katsuki utters in the quiet of your apartment as he looks out the window.

you promptly choke on your toast.

you manage to cough down your bread. clearing your throat as you try to speak as naturally as possible. “oh yeah ?”

katsuki grunts in response, taking a sip of his orange juice and smacking his lips before speaking again. still looking at the window and away from you, it makes you nervous. “yeah, thanked me for always takin care of ya, r’something”

katsuki is trying his very hardest to speak casually and he’s praying to every god there is you can’t hear the slight quiver in his voice or see the slight shakiness of his hand when he brings the glass of juice to his lip.

“oh.” your heart beats so loud you can hear it in your ears. you try to salvage the situation and you force out an awkward laugh. “ i mean—i am thankful to you, y’know.”

“ya should be, nobody else could handle takin’ care of your ass.”

“hey !”

you think this is fine. you were drunk and stupid and you’re fine with him brushing off your accidental confession like this if it means it won’t make things awkward. if it means he’ll keep coming over to your house like he owns the place and cook for you because you apparently don’t know how to cook for yourself well enough for his liking. as long as you can keep hanging out with him and going out for drinks and having him take care of you. though, you might not drink as much next time you two go out.

after a minute or two he speaks again “did you mean it ?”

your hand is already reaching for his half bitten piece of toast when you freeze for the second time “did i mean what ?”

katsuki scoffs, smacking your hand away from his toast with two fingers, you let out a little whine “ i know you’re not dumb, so quit actin’ like you are.”

“but i don’t know what you mean !” you inwardly cringe at your dumb response.

“when you said you—“ katsuki cuts himself off with a quiet groan, grabbing his toast and splitting it in half, chucking one of the pieces onto your plate “whatever” he mutters to himself. your heart squeezes when you see the sad frown on his pretty face he doesn’t seem to realize he has.

you don’t know if you’ve still got alcohol in your system, you don’t know if you’ve fully slept it off yet, if you’re fearless or crazy or just plain stupid, but after taking a bite of the toast he’d given you you blurt out something you were sure you would’ve only had the courage to say if you were black out drunk.

“i did.”

katsuki turns to you the moment you finish your sentence, bright red eyes widened as he tries not to let his surprise show, he fails to though. “ you did what ?”

in the back of your mind you want to pout at him because you know he knows what you mean. you know he just wants to hear you say what he wants to hear and it makes you a little grumpy because it’s early in the morning and you don’t look your best at all right now. you’re too embarrassed to even look him in the eye yet his bore into you so hard it feels like a magnetic pull, like you’re being forced to look at him despite your best efforts not to. you want to be at least a little mad but you can’t blame him, you feel like you owe this to him in a way.

“ i did mean it..when i said..” you’re incapable of looking at him as you feel shame creep onto you, clinging onto you like a sweaty shirt, you manage to swallow down the piece of toast“ when i said that.” you trail off quietly.

no sound is made and no voice is heard for at least a minute, but you feel yourself wanting to cry more and more with each second that passes.

you get the courage to look up at him and instantaneously which you never had when you see a smirk on his annoying face.

“that ? that, what ?” he jeers with a grin bordering on evil, sharp teeth on display.

you throw your head back and groan “katsuki, oh my god !” leaning forward across your table you try to pull his nose after you hear him chuckling. he swiftly dodges you, grabbing your wrist and then your other one when you try to pull a fast one on him, unsuccessfully. you grumble as you sit back down and if you weren’t as enamored with him as you somehow ended up being you’d have knocked that stupid smirk off his face. everything seems to be against you, including your heart.

he hums once you’ve sat back down “ooh, you mean when you told me you loved me, right ? s’that what you meant ?” he snickers, shit eating grin on his face. asshole, he’s not even trying to look innocent.

“you’re not funny.” you huff, crossing your arms and glaring at him. “ like, at all.”

“you’re right, i’m not.” he responds, leaning his forearms against your table “ i’m hilarious, actually.”

a part of you wishes you could punch him. hard. another louder part of you just wants to kiss his smug expression off his face, both options sound extremely tempting but one of them more than the other.

“hilariously stupid.” not your best retort, but you’ll take it. katsuki huffs out a laugh as you pout and look off to the side, you’re so fucking cute.

his smirk doesn’t fade as he keeps staring at you but his eyes soften as he leans in to rip your arms away from your chest “ relax, m’just fuckin’ witcha.”

“yeah. haha. funny.” you spit. katsuki starts getting actually worried he’d hurt your feelings and quickly tries redeeming himself. he pokes at your cheek once, twice and you swat his hand away when he goes for a third poke. then he leans forward so he can tickle your side and inwardly sighs in relief when you swat at his hand trying to hold back your laughter. the way he’s leaning against the table is a bit uncomfortable for him but as long as he keeps that warmth on your face he couldn’t care less.

he gets up and grabs his chair, dragging it against the floor causing it to squeak and making you cringe, you let out a noise of displeasure but katsuki doesn't look the least bit phased as he bring his chair to sit next to you.

his cheeks are red, you realize it now that he's sitting so much closer to you. he speaks after a moment of silence "so you meant it, yeah ? when you told me you.." he trails off at the end of his sentence. he's quieter than you're used to. there's a certain hopeful urgency in his eyes that has you shyly nodding your head in response.

he’s looking at you and you’re looking right back

“i meant it.” you whisper.

“i know.” he whispers back after a beat, before pressing his lips to yours.

the kiss lasts about 10 seconds before he pulls away, then leans in again for another, slightly longer one. when you separate your breathing a little heavy. you place your hand on his face and rub his cheek, admiring the way his eyelashes flutter slightly and how the feeling causes shivers to run up his spine. you can't help the goofy smile that pulls at your face and neither can he, you both chuckle slightly.

then you take a breath as if contemplating if what you were about to say was worth it. but katsuki knows you don't care and he's right because you say it anyway.

"we should go out for drinks to celebrate !" you giggle. he playfully rolls his eyes, pinching your side making you let out a squeal.

even though you call it a celebration katsuki knows it'll be the same charade as usual. you'll drink until you pass out and he'll bring you home. he'll help you clean up and take you to bed and have breakfast made for your hungover ass in the morning. but this time, you'll be his. and to katsuki, that's worth so much more than the headache he knows you'll give him.

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rinneverse · 3 months

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pspspsp,,, do you perhaps have a spare boothill thought or two ,, sfw or nsfw,,,

i most certainly do have a few spare boothill thoughts! mostly nsfw ( ¬‿¬) walk with me nonnie… heheheh this got a wee bit too out of hand and i dropped WAY more than a few thoughts (and i am also tipsy, so i apologize in advance if something doesn't make sense) regardless, i hope u rlly like this :3

cw. assorted boothill x f!reader thoughts, manhandling, biting, improper use of a lasso (bondage!), mentions of overstim, lack of stamina is a foreign concept to boothill, talk of cyborg dick and artificial cum, creampies. not proofread in the slightest if there are typos no there's not

𓆩♡𓆪 the thing about boothill is how unafraid he is of manhandling you. while he's aware that humans are much more fragile than he, he knows your limits like the back of his hand and he knows what you can handle. you can take him like a big girl, can't you?

𓆩♡𓆪 he'll fold you in half, put you in all sorts of positions, toss you over his shoulder and pat your plush ass with a smug laugh. if you decide you want to ride him and get all tuckered out, thighs burning, the moment you're whining and babbling for his help he's already on it. big hands envelop your waist as he moves you to his whims.

𓆩♡𓆪 boothill likes to see you pleasure-drunk, entirely fucked out by the time he's done with you. he can go for as long as you need, baby; you just have to say the word. he can eat you out for hours, fuck you for double that, and still have enough energy to take care of you afterwards.

𓆩♡𓆪 cyborg sex has the potential to really get freaky tbh... he's definitely had chats with you about different 'attachments...' whatever you're into. he's definitely figured out which size makes you cum the most, and will indulge your every whim—especially when you shyly ask him "baby... can we go bigger?" (if he still had a human body, his dick would be rock fucking hard right now.) he's definitely looked into vibrating attachments. great heavens.

𓆩♡𓆪 SPEAKING OF attachments he's looked into: boothill has definitely found a way to creampie you. the tipping point for him deep diving into this was when you were just whinin' so pretty for him, begging for more, and you had let it slip that you wished so bad for him to be able to cum into you. lo and behold, he finds a solution and he surprises you by cumming deep in your aching cunt one night. the two of you definitely make a mess of your bedsheets by the end of the day (and you probably had the most earth-shattering orgasms you've ever had in your life).

𓆩♡𓆪 the day you finally asked him what his teeth would feel like, boothill's grinning like a maniac. he won't bite so hard that it hurts too much, but he knows how much you like the power he holds over you. sharp teeth sink into flesh, followed by a hot tongue that laves over the mark adoringly.

𓆩♡𓆪 another day he indulged you... there was one time he noticed you eyeing the lasso that hangs at his hips. he smiles wolfishly at you and asks, "like what you see, darlin'?" he's surprised when you shyly nod your head and look up at him with sweet doe eyes and asks if maybe... he'd consider using it in the bedroom?

𓆩♡𓆪 and oh, he did. he considered it maybe a little too hard (he jerked himself off far too many times that day). when the time came for him to use it on you, he was fiending. he ties your wrists to the bedposts and just goes to town, treating your cute body like a pretty little cum dump. he's definitely a big fan. especially when you can't run away from all the pleasure he wants to give you <3

𓆩♡𓆪 he doesn't look it, but i think he provides good aftercare. he knows how fragile the human body is firsthand: that's why he's a cyborg now. he'll take care of you. without fail, every time he's done with you, you're practically a puddle, exhausted and jelly-boned, and boothill is scooping you up into his metal arms. and yet despite the cool metal pressing against your flesh, you feel warm. maybe it's just the love pouring out of his every action, the way he treats your body with absolute reverence and adoration as he cleans you up and gets you ready for some rest.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

#☆ oakie writes #boothill smut #boothill x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #star rail x reader #star rail smut #oakie answers #anon <3

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rafeysdoll · 2 months

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when you want space from rafe cameron.. ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

authors note: request can be found here. this prompt gave me major situationship with season two rafe. he’s trying so hard to put on his best charm, holding back his darker side cause he so desperately wants you to lock in with him— so when you suddenly ask for space he thinks he’s blown it and completely panics. freaking out at reader. if you enjoy this please reblog with feedback or maybe drop a follow/ like!

“s-so youre done with me? wanna break this off? that’s what all this is about?” rafe asks, head tilting to the side as he squints his eyes, trying to figure you out. he breathes deeply through flared nostrils, holding back a meltdown. “what? nooo, papi, don’t say that.” you speak calmly, approaching him and placing your newly manicured hands on his chest, rubbing him softly. “i don’t want that, that’s not what i’m saying.” you correct, getting on your tippy toes and pressing a small, chaste kiss on his lips, leaving behind glittery gloss on his lips.

he looks up at the ceiling, unable to look at you. he chews at the inside of his cheek, getting frustrated. he didn’t understand. “then why, are you asking for space?!” he questions, his voice raising lightly.

you sigh, fighting the urge to start biting your nails— a nervous habit rafe made you quit. well, at least when he was around. which, although you loved him and his company more than anything, seemed to be a lot. “papi, jus’.. calm down please.” you ask as softly as possible. “its.. i jus’ want.. to be alone for the next couple days, wanna have some time to miss you is all.” you give him a nice smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as sign of reassurance that everything was fine between you two.

“a-alone?” he whispers, looking down at you. “mhm, we’ve been together everyday for the past week, and i’m happy about that really i am, papi. ‘ts been so fun, but i’m just..” you pause, trying to find the right words.

“kinda.. burnt out. not that being with you burns me out, it doesn’t papi, it’s just a me thing—“ “oh, cmonnn baby. gonna say ‘it’s me not you’ situation now? i don’t buy that shit. you’re lying to my fuckin’ face ma.” he cuts you off, your lips now being tugged into a deep frown as he takes a few steps backwards from you, crossing his arms and turning around to give you his back.

“papi, jus’ listen to me!” you whine, quickly trailing behind him, almost tripping over your pink mary jane’s. “it’s not you, i promise it isn’t!” you could feel your vision blurring as tears started collecting in your eyes. you bat your wispy eyelashes, trying to control the tears from falling. “i-i know it sounds cliche to say it like that but,” you bite your lip, fighting a whimper.

“i jus’ wanna take a few self care days—“ again, he cuts you off. “you don’t think i can do that for you? that what you’re trying to say?” you clench your fist, stomping your foot against the floor. you were starting to get overwhelmed, he just wasn’t listening.

“i didn’t say that!” you cry, your nose starting to twitch. “i know you can take care of me, and i love that you do but i jus’ wanna do it myself! for myself!” you whine, feeling stuck, laying your head on rafe’s chest. it was silly almost, the way you were seeking comfort from the man who was getting you all worked up in the first place.

“i still like you rafey, i really do. i jus’ wanna be by myself, doesn’t mean we won’t see each other ever again.” you prompt, trying to rub your cheek against his polo. “please understand, papi. you told me you’d give me anything i want, remember? what if i want a weekend to myself, can’t i have that?” you request, looking up to bat your little lashes to him, trying your hardest to persuade him.

you could see the exact moment rafe gives in as he bites his lips and runs his hand through his locks. “i.. i guess i understand. you need space.. you wanna miss me and shit. i get it now.” he admits, stroking your cheek. “but you gotta promise you’ll come back to me first thing monday, alright ma?”

you give him a cheeky smile, nodding. “course, papi.”

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t4rt4gl14 · 10 months

Text

SOFTIES GONE HARD!

❤︎ warnings: fem!reader. meandom!chara. spanking. bondage. manhandling. praise. degradation. size kink. cockwarming. overstimulation. edging. cum stuffing. breeding(kink). claiming. dacryphilia. marking.

❤︎ FEATURING: ZHONGLI. KAZUHA. THOMA. KAVEH.

❤︎ authors note: this one is about genshin men who’d usually fuck you softly but they’ve decided to fulfil their own desires today, using your body of course. ASKS ARE NOW OPEN. 18+ MNDI.

ZHONGLI.

calm, collected, ravishing zhongli, who always fucks you nice n slow, taking his time, softly trailing his fingers over your body. it was until a certain young man working in the market decides to flirt with you each time you go out, despite reassuring zhongli that you weren’t interested he was adamant on…reminding you who you belong to.

pinning your wrists above your head using one hand, the other circling your clit, fucking you into the couch as his tongue roams in your mouth, he usually speaks words of praise and reminds you how he adores you but this time? nothing but his promise to claim you. “you whore, you’re liking this arent you? a-ah fuck— i’m going to make sure your body remembers who it belongs to”. he hisses when your walls clamp down on him like a vice; halting right against your cervix and spilling all of his cum inside you. you both moan in unison and he doesn’t move until he’s let out of every drop- only then, does he slightly pull out and fuck up into you again.

KAZUHA.

now you can’t tell me this wouldn’t be hot, kazuha who’s given up on being so nice to you when you’ve kept teasing him on board the crux, he drags you into a storage room and whispers right into your ear whilst grinding his erection against your clothed pussy. “i am sick and tired of your endless teasing, i’ve spoilt you, haven’t i? seems like i’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

your knees can barely hold you up at this point, with yet another rough thrust into your wet cunt, a soft thwop thwop thwop heard from the storage room. he covers your mouth with his hand, uttering pure filth into your ears, “can’t even keep your voice down…do you want the others to hear how well i fuck you?”, you shake your head, whining and mewling against his soft palm, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. his thrusts pick up the pace, signalling his own orgasm. “mine…minemineminemine..”, he moans, biting down on your neck to keep himself quiet as his cum shoots into you, he softly rides out his orgasm, more of his seed leaking from the tip with each hump…”let’s go again, shall we?”

THOMA.

thoma is still surprisingly nice even when he is jealous, but boy he gets freakkyyyyy; kissing you softly as he blindfolds you, laying you on your tummy as he grinds his long thick cock against your ass, smearing his pre cum against your skin, “m’so hard for you, wanna fuck you..wanna show you much i love you”. and god does he prove his adoration for you.

you’ve already orgasmed yet he keeps fucking into that tight hole of yours, shamelessly bending down to your ear and moaning out, your juices making a sloppy mess and he can already begin to see the ring of cream forming at his base. when you cry and mewl, when you keep telling him your sensitive, he just keeps mindlessly rutting into you, whimpering soft apologies, “m-m’sorry…m’sorry— i-i know you’re s-sensitive you just feel— anghh~ s-so good, good girl..”, he gets lost in the pleasure, cumming into you again and again, using you for his own satisfaction, his brain registers that he, himself, is also extremely sensitive but his hips don’t know when to stop, his heart yearns to breed you, to make sure by the time you’re done; his cum leaks out of your cute cunt….thomaaaa <333

KAVEH.

ohh kaveh, sweet sweet kaveh who’s just lost his temper with you, he’s just gotten this overwhelming urge to just fuck you so hard, i mean it’s only natural right? he just wants to have you dumb on his cock, that’s normal…right?? but alas who are you to deny him? what was meant to be a fluffy cuddle session turned into full blown sex…

you shift slightly, pulling the blankets off you; it was getting way too hot, especially with how you’ve been sitting on kavehs cock for the past 40 minutes, ass cheeks red from his spanking. i mean honestly why was he being so rude? each time you asked him if you could move, “zip it will you? i know you like this, you’ve been twitching around me the whole time”, he teases with another spank, thrusting up just slightly; small tuft of hair tickling your clit. then after 20 minutes he sighs, “ride me like a good slut eh?”, and with shaky arms you grip his shoulders as support and start bouncing on his cock, ass slapping against his thighs— his dick reaches so deep when you ride him like this; you moan out as your back arches, calling out his name again and again..kaveh!..kaveh!~ he won’t deny how much this turns him on but eventually your pace doesn’t satisfy him, so he grabs you by the hips and flips you over onto your back, absolutely railing you, a pace that you’ve never experienced; you didn’t even know he had this side to him! and honestly…it was really hot.

MEANDOM THOMA AND KAVEH ARTGGGGGJDHHDJDJSJSB

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melzula · 3 months

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zuko confiding in sokka to be his wingman to try to get together with you?

a/n: sokka sharing his back bending skills with zuko we love to see it. also this takes place post-war

summary: Zuko isn’t sure how to tell you he likes you, so he looks to Sokka for guidance

Zuko watches longingly from across the room as you dance with Katara and enjoy the night’s festivities. Your eyes sparkle with joy and your smile is so infectious it has everyone around you beaming. Everyone seems to want your attention, and so he hadn’t been able to speak to you much since the party began, but he desperately wants to be near you.

“You know you look like a total creep when you stand in the corner and stare, right?” Sokka notes, interrupting Zuko’s sulking.

“I’m not staring!” The Fire Lord says defensively, but he knows he’s not fooling anyone.

“Come on, buddy, it’s a party! Lighten up! Go mingle!”

“I don’t want to mingle,” Zuko grumbles indignantly, “I just want to talk to y/n.”

“Then go talk to her!” Sokka encourages as if it’s the most easiest thing in the world. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to her before. She’s our friend!”

“I know that,” the boy bites irritably. Deflating, he sighs, “But it’s different this time.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka says, his demeanor morphing into that of a more serious tone.

“I… I think I have feelings for her.”

“You what?!” Sokka exclaims, earning a few puzzled stares from nearby partygoers. Zuko sends his friend a harsh look and urges him to be quiet.

“I know, I know. What am I thinking? She’s perfect, she’d never go for someone like me,” he admits in quiet defeat. “It’s stupid of me to feel this way.”

“What? No way, that’s not true,” his friend insists encouragingly. “You’re a great guy! You just need to work on your romance game.”

“My what?” Zuko retorts skeptically.

“Your romance game! Look, if you want y/n to like you then you have to work your charm.”

“I don’t have any charm to work.”

“Sure you do, it’s easy! Take it from your old buddy Sokka, the ladies love me. Just follow my advice and by the end of the night y/n will be dying for you to ask her out!”

Zuko is skeptical of his friend’s words and hesitant to take Sokka’s offer of help, but he knows he’s hopeless on his own and there aren’t many other options. With a relenting sigh, Zuko gives his friend an agreeing nod.

“What should I do first?”

“Just follow my lead,” the boy says with a wink before loudly calling you and his sister over. Zuko does his best to mask his embarrassment and puts on his best attempt of a smile as you and Katara saunter over arm-in-arm.

“Hi, guys!” You greet cheerily. “King Kue really knows how to throw a party, doesn’t he?”

“He sure does! Say, that’s a really nice dress,” Sokka compliments before harshly elbowing Zuko’s side. “Don’t you agree, Zuko?”

“Uh, yes, it is,” he stammers nervously, his face immediately turning red. “You look very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a bashful smile. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Not at all,” he says earnestly. “You could never be too much.”

“You know, y/n, Zuko here was just telling me how much he wants to dance,” your friend informs you much to the Fire Lord’s dismay.

“What?! That’s not-“

“Oh, well, would you like to dance with me, Zuko?” You ask with a careful smile, delicately holding your hand out for him to take. His protests immediately die in his throat as he takes in your gentle features, the world almost seeming to come to a halt as he focuses on you before him. Your beauty almost physically pains him, and he wished he knew how to tell you this without coming off like a total creep.

Zuko hesitates before taking your hand, knowing that whatever happens next could alter your friendship forever, but the idea of physical touch is almost too tempting, and so he gently grabs hold of your hand and guides you back to the dance floor.

The musicians play a melody of traditional Earth Kingdom waltzes, and despite knowing nothing about dancing Zuko does his best to match your pace. His hands are suffocatingly warm against your skin, but you never once complain. You say nothing when he steps on your toes repeatedly or gets caught on your dress, and in spite of how awkward you both look compared to the other couples on the floor you seem to be having the most fun out of them all.

“You’re doing wonderful,” you encourage, giggling when he missteps and nearly trips over his own feet.

“I’m awful at this,” he argues exasperatedly. “I’m sorry you got stuck with such a lousy dance partner.”

“I don’t care about how good you can dance. I’m just happy you’re dancing with me,” you admit, looking away bashfully to hide your smile. “I haven’t really been able to speak to you much tonight, so I appreciate being with you now.”

Over your shoulder, Zuko spots Sokka from across the way. The water tribe boy waves his arms frantically and gestures for Zuko to make his move. The Fire Lord simply scowls before swallowing down his nerves and looking back to you.

“Y/n,” he calls faintly, gently guiding your face to look back up at him. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all night, but it’s been hard. You’re so full of life, you draw people in with just your smile, and so I didn’t think I’d get the chance to finally be alone with you and tell you that- well, that I have feelings for you. I want to be the one that makes you smile, the one that dances with you at every party.”

“Zuko,” you murmur softly, taken aback by his confession. He takes your surprise as rejection and looks down with a dejected smile.

“I know, we’re friends. It’s strange of me to think we could be more, but I just needed to tell you.”

“No, that’s not it,” you quickly correct him, “I-I’m just surprised because I didn’t think you felt the same way I did.”

"You mean… you like me back?” Zuko asks in disbelief.

“Of course I do! What’s not to like?” You tease with a smile. “All night I was hoping you’d come up to me, and even though Katara said I should be the one to make the first move I was too scared to try. I’m glad you told me because I feel the same.”

You feel as if your heart could burst when he carefully tilts your chin up to meet your lips in a kiss. Ever since he joined your group you’d wanted nothing more than for him to see you as you saw him, and after months of what you thought was one-sided pining it seems Zuko has felt the same way about you all along. It took some time for things to come out in the open, but now that they are you couldn’t be any happier.

And unbeknownst to either of you, Katara and Sokka share high-fives behind your back in celebration of their successful plan.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

#melzula writes #request #zuko #sokka #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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