#In messy pathetic doubles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mondaymelon · 28 days

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₊⊹ 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐩 ! ♡. | xiao, kaveh, gorou, lyney, wriothesley x gn!reader

⤷ art by @/grimruu on twitter... i added the boops :> .. fluff, established relationship. dw its an actual fic ( just trsut me )

" boop ! "

— 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

he's startled, that's something certain. xiao's not used to random actions like this; shouldn't one move with purpose...?

blinking at you, his round eyes are more so filled with surprise than disdain. "what... what did you just-" yet... well, you've just tapped your finger to his nose, and now you're grinning like an idiot... truly, the hearts of mortals were something he'd never quite understand.

"it's fun!" yet again, you move forwards, and while xiao is expecting another "boop" from your finger, he's caught off guard when you give him a small kiss on the nose instead.

"boop."

xiao's voice is uncharacteristically faint, quiet. "ah..."

he hides his face behind a hand, trying to evade his clear embarrassment before it catches your eyes. "you're so... stupid."

... and you'd almost believe it, if it weren't for the evident flush dusted across the tips of his ears.

" boop ! "

— 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

he's well into his third drink by the time you boop his nose, and it takes him another few seconds and a lethargic blink or two before he even registers the action.

when he does, a silly smile spreads across his face, his already drunkenly flushed cheeks warming further. "booop?" the word slurs together, and a slow finger moves to boop you on your nose as well.

too bad, it misses the mark, and he ends up poking your upper lip, frowning when he does so. "ah, oops... lemme try again..." this time, he manages to find your nose. a smugly proud smile appears on his features thanks to the success.

god, he was so pathetic. you loved him for it.

cupping his cheek, you sneakily lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. his skin is warm to the touch. "boop." before he can strike back, you hit him with a double combo, this time kissing him on the lips.

"whuh.. no fair," his eyebrows furrow as he pouts childishly. "i wan..na... too..."

he falls asleep before he can finish his sentence, slumping onto the table and conking out immediately. as expected. you tuck his messy hair behind his ear with a fond smile. he'd have a hell of a headache in the morning. ah, but... tolerating his whines would be worth it — you'd gotten to kiss him, after all.

... his lips tasted like wine.

" boop ! "

— 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔

he jolts like he's been shocked, and you have to suppress a laugh at the sight. "e-eh, what was-?" one of his ears twitches subconsciously, and you can tell he's trying to maintain eye contact to the best of his abilities. hey, it wasn't everyday your lover swung by camp just to tap you on the nose... were you teasing him??

"it's a boop." you state it, matter-of-fact, and gorou only grows more helplessly confused. "boop." just like that, you poke him again. his eyes widen in realization (though he's far off the mark). agh, could it be that more rumors had spread of his "good luck", except this time, instead of rubbing his ears for good fortune, it's tapping his nose instead..?

you watch his eyes swirl with perplexion — really, what was the point in watching those highly-acclaimed entertainment films from fontaine when an entire life's worth of entertainment was right in front of you? "c'mon, don't tell me you've fallen for it too?"

...what was he even talking about? no matter, it was cute seeing him panic (though he'd disagree). you smile at him cheekily, "fallen? why, gorou, the only thing i've fallen for is you ~"

silence.

then the sound of someone choking. gorou upright sputters, his face hopelessly red, before springing forward and getting his revenge; that is, kissing you on the tip of your nose, too embarrassed to keep his eyes open while doing so.

"ugh, you're such a tease..."

... how could you not be, when he was so adorable?

" boop ! "

— 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘

he smiles, his eyes twinkling as they become upturned crescents. "oh? a tap to the nose..." he seems oddly delighted in the action, and perks up not long after, with a strange, mischievous shine in his eyes.

he shuffles through his signature deck of cards with a grin. "love, why don't you pick a card? any card from the deck, whichever one you want~"

you eye him suspiciously.

he has the demeanor of a cunning cat, one that if you turn your gaze away from for a mere second, is sure to cause trouble. well... he was your lover, so you should have some faith in him. drawing a card from the ones he's presented in his hands, you receive the two of hearts.

before you can even properly glance up from your cards, you're met with a faceful of brilliant red roses, each delicate petal perfectly curving in place and green, glistening leaves healthy and lush. lyney's the one behind it all, a smug smile on his lips, and before you can even open your mouth to speak, he leaps forward and swiftly kisses your nose.

"boop."

and he sticks his tongue out, smoothly tucking a rose (without thorns, mind you) into your hair.

hell, he was so smooth. your brain wasn't even able to register half his actions until half a minute after, and when you did, your face burned.

"haha~ what's wrong, love?"

... this guy was seriously dangerous for your heart.

" boop ! "

— 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

he stares you dead in the eyes, in a sort of, "did you really just do that?" kind of way. it's not that he's disappointed, per say, but more so shocked; even siegewinnie wouldn't dare do such a thing like pokingg the duke's nose, (on second thought, maybe she would)... either way, he sits there in a sort of shell-shocked manner, the cup of tea he had begun to lift to his lips long forgotten. "you..."

"boop." you say it like it's all the explanation he needs. in case he doesn't understand, you'll be so generous as to say it a second time, nodding your head for extra confirmation. "boop."

he lets out a lighthearted sigh, one that makes it easy to tell he's on the edge of releasing a chuckle. crossing his arms over his desk and leaning over it, he grabs your chin with his fingers, gently lifting it to raise your gaze to his level.

"boop." this time, he's the one booping you, and he seems all too amused about it, a sly smile on his lips as he does it moves to do it once more. "boop."

hey, was he copying you-? the thought isn't able to completely form before your brain utterly short circuits; the reason? none other than the duke of the fortress of meropide kissing your nose, of course.

wriothesley's enjoying this way too much... yet he seems so utterly unaffected when he pulls away, settling back into his chair and taking a serene sip of his tea, like he hadn't just committed several war crimes against your heart.

... fuck, if it skipped too many beats, would you die??

(a/n) happy boop- i mean april fools dayyy !! mwah mwah watch me pull some "im quitting" shii next year :>

𝐭 𝐚 𝐠 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori ...

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crimsonbubble · 7 months

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cw. nsfw, afab!reader, implied thicker reader, threesome, double penetration, praise, nipple play, johnny has a daddy kink, creampies, oral, cum eating, handjobs, spanking *not proofread, just pure horny

[I NEED THEM IN A WAY THAT IS CONCERNING TO FEMINISM]

kinktober masterlist

MINORS DNI!!

It’s pathetic, really. The way you’re shamelessly fucking yourself down on their cocks. Kenshi’s hands squeeze your thighs, his lips pressed to your neck. You can feel the bruises forming on your hips as Johnny grips your hips tight, holding you steady as he rocks his hips.

“C’mon sweet girl, make a mess for daddy. I know you want to.” Your body trembled at his words, his tone patronizing. Kenshi seems to be doing just as bad as you, wanton moans falling from his lips. The fat of your thighs fills the gaps between Kenshi’s fingers. His lips trail further down your neck, pressing kisses to your chest. His hands slide up your body, groping and fondling your chest.

His tongue circles your nipple, leaving a ring of spit. He let out a short huff of air, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as he felt your body jolt and shiver. Johnny reaches a hand around you, dipping between your thighs. His fingers toyed with and pinched at your clit. With the added stimulation, your slick cunt clenched and gushed around their thick cocks. Both men groaned, their grips tightening on you.

“Doing such a good job, baby. Just like that, darling.” Kenshi cooed softly, his breathing laboured. He let out a soft whimper, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pumped you full. Johnny seemed to be closer than he thought, thick spurts filling you mere seconds after Kenshi. His hands are tight on your hips, giving you shallow thrusts as he rode out both his and Kenshi’s highs.

His skilled fingers continued to toy with your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in tight circles. Kenshi pulled your hips up, lifting you off their cocks. Johnny’s hands moved to your ass, spreading them apart and watching with hazy eyes as the mix of cum spills out of you. “Oh fuck, you’re so fucking hot.” Was all he said as he dipped down between your thighs.

A loud whine leaves your lips as Johnny laps at your messy cunt. Kenshi resumed the soft circles on your clit, sucking shades of deep reds along the skin of your neck and collarbone. A full-body shiver ran through you as each stroke of Johnny’s tongue pushed you through a wave of constant pleasure.

You slumped against Kenshi’s chest, heaving out a pleasured sigh as Johnny pressed a messy kiss to your sticky and sore clit. As Johnny sat up again, Kenshi stroked your back with his free hand, shaking his head as he saw that Johnny was hard again. “You filthy horndog.” Johnny quirked a brow at Kenshi as if he wasn't hard again as well.

“Says you. I’m not the only one who wants to go again, ain’t that right, superstar?” Johnny landed a quick smack to your ass, watching as your body rippled. He let out a short wolf whistle as he stroked Kenshi’s cock, a smirk playing on his lips as he twitched in his palm. “C’mon big guy, I know you want it.” Johnny languidly stroked Kenshi’s cock, roughly slapping his swollen tip against your clit.

You let out a low moan, wiggling your hips lightly. “Don’t think it’s just us that wants more.” Kenshi pinched your hips, landing a quick swat to your ass. You jolted against his chest, your hands fisting into the sheets. You hid your face in Kenshi’s neck, pushing your hips back again as Johnny parted your slick folds with his fingers.

“We’ll take real good care of you, honey.”

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hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 | ryōmen sukuna

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem/afab! reader - mosterfucking - double penetration (he got two) - biting - spanking - light choking - mention of blood.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: a quick something I wrote for Sukuna to take a break from writing a fic + I have jack shit for him in my masterlist, lmao.

Ryōmen Sukuna is most definitely a biter. There is no need to state this since it is obvious. But imagine him plowing you from behind, watching your ass quake under his erratic thrusts, forcing out choked moans from your writhing body moving to and fro with his. Tears roll down warm cheeks onto the cold cream sheets that cover the futon. Hands grip the material for dear life with every rut to your leaky cunt. And when he smacks the cusp of your ass, a shriek cannot be restrained from your lips.

Sukuna loves your screams. They please him to no end — a gorgeous tune to his devilish ears. As a sadistic man, nothing gives him more joy during these moments than inflicting pain onto your sweet tiny body forced to accommodate both his girthy cocks. A beast like him is allowed to use you as he sees fit. His little pet. His little toy. Not like you can refuse. Judging by how your body adapts to his dicks inside your holes, it is apparent that you're also enjoying this, too.

Two hands are stationed on your hips to propel you forward to him, and the other two hold your hands behind your back. You're left with nothing to conceal the whimpers and cries that fly out your mouth. He wants to hear it all — the sound of your ass meeting his pelvis, the choked sobs when his black fingertips dent into the depth of your hips, your pants for air as he takes them away. It turns him on so fucking much.

He can’t fight the urge anymore — the sight of your sweaty body quivering under his bow gets him riled up. Your skin, so beautiful and pure, displayed none of his markings from the times before now. Blue eyes narrow to your shoulder, clear of nothing but sweat. Well, he’s just going to have to fix that.

He comes down to your shoulder and sinks his teeth into your flesh. A sharp cry sneaks its way out of you.

“Eyyahhhh!!! Su-Sukuna, don’t, please! I can’t have any ma— Ahhaahhnn!!”

“Who told you’re in a position to order me, brat?” He gives the mark on your shoulder a slow lick, tasting the twinge of blood to engage his taste. One of his hands snakes its way to your throat to squeeze. Your mind plunging into a deeper haze than before. “Know your place. Don’t stop screaming for me.”

More chews to your shoulders prompt more tears to escape from your strained-shut eyes. And the pacing of his cock becomes unbearably fast for your brain and senses to keep up. The pain inflicted by his demon mouth, along with the tongue from his stomach licking the sweat of your back, coinciding with the erratic tempo of his hips — it’s all too much to bear. And your release hits you hard, your cunt and ass clamping onto his lengths that continue to rut into your now sensitive parts.

“Mmmph, haahhh…Heh, now you think you can come without my permission, huh?” Sukuna whispers dangerously to your ear, and you whine when his teeth catch your lobe. “Such a pathetic pet, aren’t you.” He pistons his dicks deep inside, churning your tender areas to the point of incoherent babbles. “A damn noisy one, too…Hmmgh! Oh fuck, fuck…”

Before he experiences his climax, Sukuna gives the back of your neck one last bite. Your final shriek signals the ingress of his warm load filling your holes. He keeps you pinned to the futon, making sure you stay still for every bit of his essence to enter within you. Your mind is too far gone to try and fight it — too occupied with the feeling of him corrupting your body internally. Just letting him ride out his own crescendo until he slowly dismembers his huge members off of you. Heavy pants are used to steady his breathing, and he examines his messy work on your body. Bloody bite marks, your ass trembling from the onslaught of ruts and slaps, and silent tears trickle down a dazed face. He snickers to himself.

“Perfect.”

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answer2jeff · 4 months

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break-up, make-up.

song : post break-up sex

warnings : fem!reader, porn with some plot, smut, unprotected piv, make-up sex, lip being needy, mentions of alcohol and smoking (tobacco), reader has scumbag friends, sad pathetic banging, intentional lowercase. (lip and reader are 18.)

word count: 3,707

authors note: this is only like my 2nd time writing smut.......

your abdomen felt cold pressed against the marble of your bathroom counter. pulling at the skin of your face, running your fingers through your messy hair, and picking yourself apart in the mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet. you didn't feel like yourself. you swung the cabinet open, reaching for a hard candy eyeshadow pallet, a black eye pencil so old the label had rubbed off, and a mauve-brownish lip liner.

your phone buzzed against your pocket. you groaned, dropping your products into the sink before snatching it from the depths of your jeans.

773-642-3719: party @ ashleys 2night. u coming? 2:36pm.

it must've been karina. ever since you gave her your number on your break during your waitressing shift at patsy's, she'd been trying to drag you out of the house. you couldn't blame her. mopey from your breakup, picking up as many hours as possible, spending your free time collecting coupons for shopping sprees you'd never go on to spend money you didn't have, she was sick of you ruining the atmosphere everywhere you went.

or, wherever you didn't go, more accurately.

"he's just a guy. just—go fuck someone else! who cares if he's a dick just like him. focus on the task at hand: getting laid," she told you, licking strawberry jam from the tip of her middle finger.

"i'm just gonna miss him more," you sighed, watching the clock tick as your 15 minutes of what was supposed to be relaxing free time, was going to waste.

"*** ******** is not some kind of sex god, okay? the sex was good. you can find good sex anywhere."

"whatever."

he was more than that. he was more than the sex. he was the kisses in the early mornings where you'd wake up with him in your sheets. he was the whispers of 'you're so beautiful,' and 'i love you,' whenever you doubted yourself. he was the shitty jokes and late night walks, splitting cigarettes and dabbling in gossip. he was your best friend.

but he was also the hands that slammed your bedroom door. he was also the alcohol on his breath. he was also the words that told you to 'get your shit together.' he was also the broken promises he could never keep.

but he was more than anything karina saw him as.

i'll be there :) 2:38pm.

773-642-3719: bring some1 cute with u! 2:40pm.

you stared blankly at her text.

👍 2:42pm.

bring someone with me? who the hell would i bring? daniel's working tonight. and he's not cute. well—he's not ugly, but...no. stop. just drop it. you don't need to bring a guy with you. jesus. you don't need anyone. relax.

i'm here. 12:37am.

you knocked about 3 times before a lanky, raven haired boy with puke all over his title fight t-shirt swung the door open. you looked past his shoulder to see a group of familiar faces behind him.

"please tell me that's not h—" a short blonde girl groaned before a redhead, eliza, butted in.

"there she is!" she yelled, calling karina over.

the warm glow of the living room complimented the post-punk rock that rang through the poster filled walls of ashley's house. you were met with waves from your friends. karina beamed and quickly made her way over to the front door to greet you. her chunky sandals boomed against the hardwood floor, her red solo cup nearly falling out of her hand.

"you made it!" she smiled, taking your hand and dragging you into the makeshift frat house, slamming the front door behind you. the atmosphere was uncomfortably warm. probably due to everyone sweating their asses off from drunkenly dancing and grinding on each other.

"uh, yeah—i'm kinda late. sorry."

"fashionably late," she corrected you as you followed her through dozens of other girls and into the kitchen.

you analyzed the space. you knew a couple people here, either from work or highschool, since it was the summer after senior graduation, but there were plenty of girls and guys you'd never seen in your life. for the first time in months, meeting new people was sickening. immediately reaching for the bottle of tito's to help ease your mind, eliza stopped you. she furrowed her strawberry blonde eyebrows at you, shaking her head.

"uh-uh. you're the designated driver, sweetie. we can't have you drunk, too!"

your mouth gaped open in disbelief. were you seriously dragged here just to play babysitter?

"but there's plenty else to do," karina peaked her head out of the kitchen and eyeing a couple of her friends that resided on the couch, beer bottles in hand. you couldn't help but turn your head to look, too.

"mikey's got weed," she pointed to a shirtless brunette, "and i think destiny brought some—fuckin, i don't know, xanax to cool your nerves."

you nodded, lips pulled tight in a painfully neutral expression that read 'okay' and 'fuck you i hope you break every bone in your body and live your life as a spiritless vegetable,' at the same time. your arms were crossed against your chest, your body pretty much caving in at the amount of sheer embarrassment that coursed through you.

"since you're, y'know, kinda losing it," eliza wiped the corner of her mouth where whiskey-soda had been dripping from it, pointing her finger at you. her messy red nail polish on healthy long nails taunted you.

you felt like a wad of pink chewing gum: slammed between teeth and tongue just to be spit out and drenched in spit. but you weren't useless enough to be thrown away. just stuck under a table for some gross, unsanitary bitch to pick it up again and stick it right back in her gossipy mouth. cursing yourself for being here, you stormed out of the kitchen and made your way toward the back porch.

if you left, you'd be a prude. but if you stayed and drank, kissing strangers and making up stories filled with little white lies, you'd be deemed a slut for the rest of the summer. your last choice was to stick around, being that annoying girl who smoked cigarettes outside of the party to freak people out.

and so, you did. you hung around outside, watching people come in and out. occasionally, someone would stop to ask if you were alright, if you wanted a drink, or just someone to talk to. you politely declined every time. almost like you were waiting for some other opportunity to spring up in front of you.

"hey," a voice behind you rasped.

it startled you. it was painfully familiar. so much it made your heart drop to your empty stomach. you turned yourself around, eyes met with blue orbs that stared directly into you.

there he was. lip. your lip.

except he wasn't yours. not here. not now. possibly not ever.

"oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me, gallagher."

your hands grabbed onto the wooden railing of the porch steps. hoisting yourself up, you brushed off any dirt that smeared onto your dark blue jeans. your eyes were glued to the ground as you tried to swiftly move past him the moment you could stand up.

"no, c'mon—" he pleaded, rolling his eyes and following you back into the house. he hadn't had a sip of booze. for once, his mind was completely in the clear.

eliza and karina sat on the kitchen counter, their shoulders pressed together while shared a beer bottle, possibly their 6th or 7th of the night. you seriously wondered what they even talked about. they didn't have much in common other than the fact that they both liked reeking havoc on innocent people. and you.

"did one of you fucking invite him?" you spat, stepping just a foot away from the two of them snatching the beer bottle from karina's hand, you held it tightly in your fist, your fingertips turning pink at the brute force.

"lip? yeah, i did! wait, did you guys break up, or something?" eliza laughed, twirling a red curl around her finger while she gave an obnoxious wave to lip as he stood behind you. he bit the inside of his cheek, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and balled into enraged fists.

your jaw had been nailed to the floor at this point. karina looked down at the ground in shame. she didn't care about your 'healing' or 'getting laid.' all she cared about was stirring shit. it was such a middle school stunt for a 19 year old girl to pull. finally snapping, you slammed the beer bottle onto the ground, watching it shatter into a million pieces. clenching your teeth, you looked back up to see the disturbed expressions on your 'friends' faces. they weren't allowed to make this decision for you. you would decide if and when you were ready to act like a normal fucking person around lip.

a boyfriend wasn't the only thing you lost. you lost a friend, a piece of yourself.

hot tears pricked at your waterline. you spun back around and darted towards the front door. shoving through people, your hands grabbing onto their arms and not-so-gently moving them out of your path. you could feel lip's footsteps behind you, his pathetic whines calling out for your name; calling out for his friend ex-girlfriend.

"hey, would you just fucking talk to me? please?"

you finally stopped, taking a deep breath and letting the salty tears that streamed down your face smudge your mascara before turning to face him. the angry knit of his brows from earlier was gone. his face relaxed, a breath of relief escaping his mouth when he could finally just look at you. he took in the sight of your tears, your swollen lips, your shoulders that tensed under your jacket, the way your jaw trembled when you cried.

"i don't wanna talk," you muttered as you shook your head, "i just—i don't wanna talk here. can we go upstairs, or something?"

you stared back, half of your bottom lip barred behind your teeth, analyzing every inch of him. the way his hair that ended at the middle of his ear had grown a bit too thick, the line that formed between his chin and his lower lip when he frowned, his short eyebrows, how prominent his philtrum was, and his blue eyes that caught your attention the day you met in 10th grade chemistry. you missed the way the top row of his small teeth would beam whenever he laughed.

"yeah," lip nodded, "we don't have to be down here, alright? c'mon," he reached for your hand, tilting his head as he tried to stare into you.

you worried about forgetting the feeling of his hands gently caressing your face, rubbing your back when he held you close, twirling your hair around his fingers, when his palms would indent the plush of your thighs, or when he'd grab onto your waist when you kissed him.

there was no way you'd ever forget now.

"jesus, lip—" you huffed through open-mouthed kisses, your fingertips digging into the flesh of his shoulders. the cold wall against your warm back made you shiver once he tore your shirt off from over your head, along with the jacket he zipped down and gently slipped it off from your arms as he trailed kisses from your jawline to your collarbones.

in the most needy, starved way possible, you tugged at his cotton t-shirt. almost as if he'd read your mind, despite him being on a completely different planet, he pulled away from your mouth and peeled his grey t-shirt off with the same hands that rubbed those fucking circles against your hips the way he always did when he kissed you again.

some things just never changed.

your fingertips pressed against his bare abdomen until they made their way up to his chest. you missed seeing that little triangle tattoo that tyler gave him in the school bathroom. kissing it, tracing your fingernails around the perimeter, occasionally biting and soothing the mark with your lips.

"fuck this stupid party," he scoffed, his hand getting a hold of your chin and tilting your head back up to face him. you looked into him through your lashes, lids low with desire. the look in your eyes ruined him.

"yeah. fuck it."

you glanced at his lips and back into his eyes, just for him to smash his mouth into yours again. it was a mess of teeth and tongue while you entangled your hands in his hair.

"shit—" lip detached himself from your mouth to fill his lungs with hair that smelled like your perfume and sex.

his hands cradled your face so gently it was like you'd break if he ever dared to let go. your hands moved over the groves of his arms and up to his shoulders over and over again, the feeling of soft, supple skin never getting old.

"c'mere, pretty girl," lip breathed against your ear, his hand wrapping your neck gently.

he desperately began sucking and biting the tender skin, coming back to comfort it with pecks and blows of fast, cool air. tuffs of curly blonde hair tickled your jawline every time. his veiny hands roamed down the sides of your torso, never traveling up, until you tried removing your bra yourself. lip shook his head, removing his hands from your hips and reaching behind you to unclip the uncomfortable fabric while you clung to his shoulders for support.

"lip—" you protested, slowly growing impatient.

"i got it, baby," he whispered, kissing your shoulder before carefully slipping the straps over your shoulders and off of your body. that pet name hadn't bounced off of his tongue and rang through your ears in weeks.

once he tossed the bra to the floor, your body relaxed as lip backed away just an inch or two to admire you. he smiled, teeth and all. maybe he really did miss you. your hands rested on his shoulders, slowly backing him up towards the bed of the guest room.

funny. you swore what you and lip had was more than the sex. and it was. you weren't lying about that. but my god, the crave for his skin against yours was unbearable. flashes of your hookups projected over your head. the moans that erupted from you while you tugged on his blonde curls for dear life as he pounded into your weeping cunt—you missed all of it.

"i can't believe you even showed up here," you muttered, using the pads of your fingertips to shove lip onto the soft mattress, silk sheets feeling cold against his back. he glared at you through furrowed brows, propping himself up on his elbows. but his expression softened when he saw you unbuttoning your jeans, zipping the fly down and hastily kicking them off.

"me? you—" he let out a shaky breath, gnawing at the inside of his mouth and sitting up right, "you haven't been out of the house for days."

he stared down at the white lacy underwear you wore, fighting the urge to get up and tear them down your ass until they fell at your ankles.

"and how the hell would you know that?"

you raised your eyebrows, signaling to lip to fall back again so you could reveal the aching bulge in his pants. that same bright smile of excitement made your stomach stir as you were unbuttoning and unzipping the denim that imprisoned his cock.

"been spyin' on you a little bit," he joked, but he wasn't totally kidding. for the past week and a half, he'd been taking 'shortcuts' to get to any destination just so he could briefly stop in front of your place. just to see if you'd ever come out and coincidentally run into him. he even started going to your usual hangout spots to see if you'd turn up.

but you never did. him even going to this party was solely based on the off chance that you might've been here. possibly with a new guy. but you weren't. you were alone. just like he often was.

"how sweet," you teased, tracing the tattoo on his chest. caving into your urges, you tilted your head lower to pet it with a kiss, your eyes closed before trailing your lips back up to his own. he huffed through his nose, laughing at your gesture. it was cute. you were cute. lips hands moved down to your hips, his fingers slipping underneath the waist band of your panties. that little puddle of arousal shining through the white fabric of your thong only egged lip on. he looked into your eyes for permission, not wasting any time to help you remove them the moment you nodded your head.

letting him pull them down the plush of your thighs, you turned just enough where you could slip them past your calf's where they pooled at your feet before finally slipping off onto the floor. a delicate hand reached to pull down the fabric of his boxers, his leaking, pink tip practically making you drool the moment his cock sprung out. the heat and humidity of the room making the thick vein down the side of his length twitch just the slightest. you felt a yearning heat build up in your core as you wiggled your hips closer.

"now," you reached between your thighs to coil your fingers round lip's hardening cock, "i need you to fuck me like you haven't gotten laid in a thousand years."

"that's pretty much what it's felt like." lip mumbled so quietly you barely caught it. he looked up at you, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before he used his thumb to caress your cheek.

"wait, you—you haven't been with anyone else?"

lip paused, realizing he admitted to not seeing a single other person since you broke up. it almost surprised you that you weren't the only one who was sex deprived.

"fuck would that do? bring you back?" he tried to laugh, accidentally gasping at the feeling of your wet cunt brushing past his throbbing dick. you noticed this, smiling back at him and slowly trying to position yourself perfectly.

"well, you have me now."

those words were all it took. with one swift motion, lip finally caught a grip on the fat of your hips, guiding you gently down his cock, your wetness making a makeshift lubricant.

"always so fuckin' wet for me," lip praised, smiling at the sight of how easily he filled you up to the brim of your cervix. watching your face contort from slight discomfort and into full bliss was his fucking kryptonite. you gasped, the immediate stuffed feeling hitting your stomach. lip winced at the tight sensation, already cursing under his raspy breath and whispering incoherent praises. "so—so fuckin' tigh...fu–ck" you gave him some time to adjust, propping your hands behind you so you could grind against him just right.

lip began rolling your hips back and forth, wet sounds of sex filling up the room. whimpers of "fuck, yes lip," and "just like that," only made his sexual frustration worse.

"'missed you so fuckin' much, baby. shit—you make me feel amazing. so, so fuckin' good." his hands dig deeper into your hips, making their way to your ass to squeeze and occasionally slap the flesh. you flinched with a moan, his dick hitting your gummy walls at a slightly different angle each time.

"m—fuck, missed you too, lip. you have no idea," your lungs begged for air, your tits bouncing slightly at the constant movement of your hips as you chased your high. you looked down at him, tears of arousal filling up your hooded eyes. lip marveled at the sight of your pleasure, inching closer and closer to cumming inside of you right then and there—but he had to savor this. grunting

how could he have waited this long to make amends with you? his groans felt like they practically echoed and bounced off of the walls. he needed to focus on your needs tonight. he pried between your crotchets, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing sloppy, rough circles against the bundle of nerves.

"slower, hun," you cooed, moving up and down his cock to keep his tip pounding right into your g-spot every time. the idea of staying quiet had never been this hard—but the music and shouting from downstairs was bound to cover for the two of you. lip nodded his head, slowing down his pace and gently grinding his hips into yours as his thumb remained at work.

after the few moments of pure bliss, moans and cries of lip's name coming from you that he wished would last an eternity, he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. similarly, you started forcefully catching your breath as you stared up at the ceiling. your head went foggy, every word that fell out of your mouth turning into messy gibberish. lip could tell you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to give up.

"i don't think i'm gonna last any longer," lip clenched his teeth, his hand aching from prioritizing your pleasure while his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier. he'd been fucked out without even finishing a single time.

"me neither—"

desperately trying to get a hold of yourself, your body gave out. your thighs began to shake, your cunt contracting. trying to muffle your shrieks, you cupped a hand over your saliva-slick mouth. your hips moved as fast as you could ever dreamed was possible, forcing you to grab onto lip's shoulder blades for support. lip could literally see his dick rolling up and down your stomach as he moaned your name, his eyes screwed shut. finally, just at the very last second, he took every bit of strength left in his body to flip you over, your back pressed against the sheets while you reached your climax. he pulled out with a groan, white ropes of sticky cum coating your lower stomach and the space right under your tits.

makeup sex was not how you envisioned this night would go. but how could you complain?

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader smut #oh my god he's so hot i cant #makeup sex trope #i need him biblically #lip gallagher x you #proud lip gallagher apologist #my man my man my man #hope y'all enjoy #idk what this is tbh

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jamminvroomvroom · 7 months

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here me out, friends and bennies with oscar, but you guys both secretly have feelings for each other, then a fight breaks out cause he gets jealous at a club or something, then an angsty fight breaks but it ends with smut or something 🤭

messy

OP81 x reader

ty for the request! big in my oscar feels atm <3 i don’t loveeee how this turned out but i think i wanna expand this trope with oscar at some point

warnings: minors dni! 18+! language, creepy man in the club, implied smut, alcohol, sl*t is used in a not sexy way, implied physical fight, minor angst, some fluff

you liked to pretend there was nothing going on, that the way he looked at you didn’t affect you and that you hadn’t gotten all dressed up for him.

your relationship with oscar was complicated, friends with a bit on the side when the stress of his job and life got a bit too much and you each needed the extra comfort.

oscar didn’t seem like the type to engage in this kind of thing, in fact you’d never even looked at him that way before, until the night he won the f2 championship and you’d taken a heated tumble into his bed. it didn’t happen again for a while, you’d both managed to keep the urge at bay, but when he woke up in the middle of the night to the alpine fiasco, you were the one he called. you were the one he flew out to bahrain at the beginning of the f1 season, and you were the one that occupied his bed on most race weekends.

it wasn’t a thing, or, to put it more accurately, you both pretended it wasn’t a thing. you viewed yourself as emotional support, stress relief, a very close friend. you viewed him as a person that you could easily fall in love with, but you couldn’t get into the habit of thinking like that.

nonetheless, there you were in a club somewhere in japan, looking far too good to act like you didn’t have a motive. lando had dragged you and some others out, a double podium in suzuka the perfect excuse for a messy night in a foreign city.

oscar may have been good at hiding just how elated he was, but you knew him better than the media did, and you knew exactly how ready he was to celebrate.

in the spirit of having a good time, you’d disappeared over to the bar, fully intending on starting the night off on a high. you were ordering a round of shots when it got messy. it just wasn’t the kind of messy you’d anticipated.

a hand on your waist lured you in, assuming it was oscar, considering how confident the touch was. you leaned into it, but the hand felt wrong, the mould of it against the curve of you waist was wrong.

“what’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” the mystery man slurred into your ear, making you shiver in all the wrong ways. the line was icky and the way you felt his breath hit the curve of your ear was just plain disgusting. he wasn’t oscar.

“not you, that’s for sure.” you mumbled, pulling away. the hand on the waist tightened and you panicked.

the next few seconds were a blur, a flash of indistinguishable words coming from the creep, oscar’s body between you and the man, lando stood assertively behind him. you couldn’t tell what was being said, the music too loud and the sick twist in your stomach too prominent to focus. all you caught was the delightful asshole calling you an “f1 groupie slut”, and that’s when everything slowed down.

oscar knocked him on his sorry arse, while lando tried to move you out of harms way. your best friend, who would never hurt a fly, as harmless as a person could be was furious, and you couldn’t keep up with his movements as he handled the situation. you caught lando guiding the less than impressed bouncers to the pathetic mess on the floor, while oscar turned to you.

“are you okay? i’m so sorry, did he hurt you?” he cupped your face, shocking you. pda was not his thing. you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, finally at ease.

“just… take me back to the hotel.” you sighed. the privilege of being an f1 driver, you supposed, was the way all he had to do was nod at the bouncers and they let him leave.

it was all too much, the unwanted attention, a new side of the usually monotonous f1 driver, the confusion. oscar had defended you like his life depended on it, like you were his to defend. it topped protecting a friend, he had been blind with rage until the guy was indisposed. oscar didn’t just do things like that, that’s what had shocked you more than anything.

you were in a daze when the fresh air hit you, getting into the car that pulled up. the ride back to the hotel was dead silent, the city lights being both a perfect distraction and a banging headache in the making. you couldn’t stop yourself from looking out the window, though, because if you did, you’d have to look down at his hand intertwined with yours, and you didn’t think you could face that quite yet.

you didn’t get it. were you falling for him? of course you were. but he’d never given even a smidgen of indication that he felt the same way, and now what? he was scrapping in clubs with drunken idiots? over you? it made no sense, you didn’t know how to make it make sense.

the car slowed and your door was being opened for you. you stepped out, finding your feet as you walked on shaky legs into the foyer. oscar’s hand found the small of your back and despite better judgment, you fell into step beside him. he was so familiar, so comforting, you knew you were too far gone.

the way he looked at you in the elevator was dangerous, like he was staring into your bare soul, like he wanted to take you apart and put you back together.

he stepped towards you in the enclosed space. you reached out for him meeting halfway and then it was blissful. his lips slotted over yours, fireworks, hands on your body, frantic. yours were in his hair, threading through his curtains, a symptom of too much time on the road without a haircut. you liked this look though, he looked older, more undone. your back was against the cold wall and you moaned when his lips hit your neck, marking you up for the first time ever. was he making a statement?

“oscar-“ you started, ready to open a can of worms and questions, but you were interrupted by the ‘ding!’ of the elevator. it seemed to break the trance you were in and you both shuffled out of the lift.

“i think i should go back to my room.” you said quietly.

“oh.” was all oscar could muster, not trying to hide his disappointment one bit.

“i’m just… oscar, i’m confused.” you averted eye contact, looking longingly down the hallway towards your room.

“about what? about us?” he sounded defensive.

“is there an us? i don’t even know what this is anymore.” you sighed.

“‘is there an us?’ are you joking?” the defensiveness progressed into a state of pissed off, another rarity for him.

“i’ve never seen that side of you before, we’ve never been like this before.” you pointed between the pair of you, the weight of the space seeming to heavy to bare.

“i couldn’t just let that guy freak you out, it scared the shit out of me watching someone make you that uncomfortable. the idea of someone getting into your space, touching you…” he trailed off.

“why? why do you care so much? because we sleep together? because you didn’t like that it wasn’t you touching me?” the frustration got too much and the words you’d been threatening to say for months came spilling out.

“because you’re too important to me! because you mean more to me than i can even begin to understand.” a raised voice that you couldn’t recall hearing hit your ears and your heart sped up, ringing in your ears.

“oscar, i’m scared.”

“of me?”

“of losing you. what we have now, well, it is what it is. but you’re my best friend and the idea of anything changing, as much as i want it too-“

“do you want me? do you?” his eyebrows furrowed and his voice wavered in a way that made your stomach drop.

your eyes betrayed you immediately and he was kissing you again, softer this time, passionately. the hotel corridor felt too exposed for such intimacy and he was leading you back to his room. the door shut and your clothes were gone, a trail of them formed from the entrance to the foot of his king sized bed.

everything about that night still lingered on your skin. his butter melting kisses, finger prints on your hips, the drag of his grown out hair tickling the delicate skin of your inner thighs. you’d made sure to leave your mark too, his thick neck bruised purple, the trace of your fingerprints right over his heart.

it was all permanent now, every kiss, touch, whisper of affection, and when you fell into bed with him, weekend after weekend, it was the bed that you shared. he was all yours and you were more than happy to let yourself fall in love.

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chaiifluuf · 25 days

Text

Underneath the stars, looking for a sign — d. osamu

synopsis. dazai stops by your apartment well past midnight, seeking out to you for solace

content. pm!dazai, pm!reader, fem!reader, angst(?), reverse comfort, unestablished relationship, a mention of double suicide

notes. my writing makes me want to sink six feet underground cuz this looked better in my head :,)

dazai thinks he shouldn’t be here.

not only was it past midnight but he has never appeared out of blue like this on your doorstep either.

with a quiet breath he knocks on your door. a moment passes and nothing happens. he expected this because why would you be awake right now? this must be his last chance to leave and the temptation to do so grows with each second. dazai doesn’t see a point in knocking for a second time if you really were asleep. yeah, he should go, stop bothering you and get a hold of himself. just what was he even—

as dazai is about to turn around, he hears the sound of fiddling from the door lock and freezes in place. were you not asleep?

the door opens and he’s greeted by your noticeably sleepy figure. so you actually heard his one time knocking through your slumber.

“osamu?” you break the silence with your soft, somewhat confused tone. while he did hear you say his name, all his mind could focus was on you. god how did you always manage to look so perfect? your hair is rather messy, your face seemed tired, you were wearing an oversized shirt with pyjama shorts that had strawberries on it. all of that and you still looked breathtaking to him. he then quickly realises that he needs to say something.

“hey, sorry i woke you up.” dazai responds shortly, hoping you didn’t notice his staring. you blink once then twice, his words not giving you any sort of explanation. “did something happen.? it’s the middle of the night right now…” you question while slightly leaning against the doorframe. he can hear the sleep in your voice.

“well, i guess i was wondering if you were feeling up for a double suicide?” a familiar, subtle yet playful smile appears on his lips, his tone calm. it doesn’t phase you in the least. your brows furrow and you give him an odd look, not falling for his antics.

“you think i’ll actually believe that? what’s the real reason?” you respond with a tired sigh yet the small concern is there. of course you wouldn’t fall for that, you knew him better than anyone else. but it was worth a try.

dazai isn’t certain what answer to give you right away. he swears his mind has gone blank the moment you appeared before him.

“can i stay here tonight?” he asks instead, dodging the question. his voice came out softer than he expected and he’s sure he seems pathetic now, the regret coming here slowly returning.

your brows raise a little in surprise. you were still sure something is up but the way how different he was acting from his usual self made you even more worried.

“you can but I can’t guarantee that my couch is the comfiest thing to sleep on.” you say after a moment, a yawn escaping past your lips afterwards. dazai lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. he couldn’t bring himself to care where he was supposed to sleep, if it was at your apartment that alone is already enough for him.

he comes inside and when he makes it to the living room, you speak up: “i’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.” you mention before going to the bedroom.

dazai returns his gaze to your living room, noticing all the small parts of you decorating the space: different scented candles on your window sills, fairy lights hanging on the wall, a phone charger laying on the floor, a vase of lilies placed on the table and next to it a plate with a few muffins on it. reminds dazai of the time you told him how you sometimes liked to bake in your free time and that he should definitely taste them on another day. you really had a bright personality for someone who works for the port mafia.

even from far away and the room still being rather dark, he could tell they looked delicious and probably tasted even better. dazai believes anything made by you would simply be perfect. he has seen the way your eyes shine whenever you talk about things you’re passionate about and he feels like he could listen to you forever. just your voice was enough to make his day better.

you come back with the bed linen that you promised to get, setting it down on the couch. you almost immediately notice dazai’s glance directed to your muffins and a smile grows on your face.

“go ahead and try it, i promise they’re the best muffins i have ever made.” you say with a pleased tone, clearly proud of yourself. he turns his gaze back to you, letting out a soft chuckle. “i’m sure they are, i just don’t really have an appetite right now.” he’s aware that he hasn’t eaten anything in the past few hours because he just can’t bring himself to do so.

but dazai regretted saying that instantly, seeing how your smile faltered.

“that’s fine.” you tell him calmly and shrug it off but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. he really hoped you didn’t take this the wrong way since the last thing he’d want is to upset you. his lips part to say something but no words come out. however, you have already decided to change the topic.

“so, are you going to tell me why you’re actually here?” your eyes are tender yet a little serious at the same time as you look at him. you really weren’t letting that question go but he couldn’t blame you. you had every right to ask that.

a moment of silence passes before dazai replies: “felt like it.” it’s not like he can tell you the real reason. he’s not ready to explain how corrupted his thoughts were back at his dull and cold shipping container, how his own mind started overwhelming him and how he needed to leave from there just so he could breathe normally again. everything seemed meaningless and tiring before the thought of you entered his head.

he found the fact that thinking about you helped him calm down kind of ridiculous. over time he has gotten more attached to you than he likes to admit. you are the only person who has managed to get this close to his heart, heart that he thought was incapable of feeling anything other than emptiness.

your features softened after hearing him. dazai is not sure why because surely you have no idea what he was feeling. did his expression give him away? he hopes not.

“if you don’t want to tell me then just say so, okay?” dazai will never comprehend how understanding you were. he was being unfair to you and yet here you were not pushing anything out of him with that kind look in your eyes. making it seem as if he deserved any of that.

“anyways i’m going back to bed now. good night, osamu.” a yawn leaves your mouth as soon as you say that and you send him one last glance before walking to your bedroom. dazai replies with a quiet good night as well and you close the door behind you.

he sighs before putting his black coat away and deciding to lay down. he stares at the ceiling and even with closing his eyes from time to time, falling asleep is near impossible as always. and you were right, this couch is starting to feel uncomfortable. dazai lifts himself up and looks at your closed door. he guesses that about half an hour has passed since you left, you must be asleep by now. dazai can’t help but envy you for getting sleep so easily. the rest he receives is usually by passing out from exhaustion.

staying the whole night here was hopeless, he’s already aware of that. but then he gets a new idea. he stands up and stops in front of your door. dazai hesitates because what if you were awake? that would make this more awkward but he could complain about the couch and that’d give him an excuse. an excuse to sleep next to you.

he stops himself from dwelling on the matter too much and very gently opens the door. the moment he steps in, he’s greeted with your peaceful state, vague moonlight shining down on you. dazai can feel his heart swell because how is someone simply sleeping able to look this stunning? he slowly moves next to your bed, to the left side that had more space and, as carefully as he can, slips between your sheets. this is much more comfortable in comparison to your couch.

dazai lets his head rest against the pillow, his eyes locked on you since fortunately you were facing his side. there is a soft glint in his eyes as he gently tucks some of your hair strands behind your ear. your face features were even prettier close up and after a while he realises something. a part of him wishes to wake up like this everyday, your face being the first thing he’ll see, the chance to be this close to you. a true luxury that dazai thinks he would never be deserving of. after all, why would a person like you be with someone like him?

a subtle noise from you is enough to snap him out of his trance. he wonders if you’re about to wake up but before he could come to a conclusion, you shift a little and slightly nuzzle your face to the palm of his hand that was laying beside you. dazai’s body tenses as he isn’t sure if he should pull his hand away or not. there was no way that you knew he was here. looks like you just stirred in your sleep. he let out a relieved breath, gradually relaxing again. just the warmth radiating from you is more than enough to ease his worries.

dazai wonders if you know how much you mean to him. probably not. he could never express it enough anyway. but it also scares him because that means the world can rip you away from him in any moment and he literally doesn’t know what he’ll do if that were to happen. dazai told himself from the beginning that he should avoid you at all costs but he has already failed that part. you had him hooked around your finger in a way that you didn’t even realise.

he closes his eyes, now focusing on your touch and faint breathing. maybe if you are right next to him he could doze off for a little while. he can imagine your reaction once you’re aware he’s in your bed in the morning but it will be worth it. anything is worth it as long as it’s with you. dazai decides to make one small promise before trying to focus on sleeping.

he will definitely try your muffins later.

hope this was okay, thank you if you made it this far ^^

#𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ maeve writes . 🖋️#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #dazai x fem reader

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fleurrreads · 2 months

Text

the love you give . rhysand x reader

an: i absolutely love rhys and would absolutely burn down the world for him. god knows he deserves someone who would do for him what he’s done for others.

based on this request

your relationship with rhys is complicated. you’ve been having this friends-who-coincidentally-make-love type of thing going on and you really don’t know how to talk to him about it. yes, he’s told you multiple times during sex how he loves you. but that can all just be the heat of the moment, right? surely the flutter in your heart didn’t mean anything?

just like today is no different. you watch rhys sit up from the bed, grabbing his pants and walking over to your dresser to get one of his shirts that he has recently started leaving in your room. ‘i’m here so much i might just as well start leaving my clothes in here’ he said one afternoon after your activities. it made your heart race, those silly little words.

“what’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours, angel?” rhys moves to sit down on the bed, caressing your hair. you’ve been debating telling him. telling him that he makes your world spin. that he basically *is* your world. the suppressed feelings bubbling over in your heart wasn’t going to be kept dormant for long. you know you have to let it out eventually. what better time than now?

“i’m just thinking about something i’ve been meaning to talk to you about. something i’m not sure i know how to say.” you’re fidgeting with your hands, a nervous tick you’ve acquired through the years. “i don’t know how to phrase this other than saying it flat out, rhys. i like you, a lot. we’ve been friends for so long and i’ve felt that you’re more than just my friend. i love you, rhys.” you don’t dare look at him, too scared of the reaction he might have on his face. you feel the tension before you can look at him, and then he does the unimaginable.

he laughs.

a loud, cackling laugh. you feel your whole body go cold. rhys stands up, nearly doubling over as he tries to gather himself. “post-sex emotions really got you bad today, huh? you’re even confessing your love to me now. that one is new right? we should add that to the list.” he smiles and you feel your whole world spin, not in a good way anymore. you feel like the air has been stolen from your lungs and tears prickle at your lash line. is this what he thought this was? your post-sex hormones being heightened and you confessing out of lust?

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, standing up from the bed and grabbing the nearest piece of clothing to make yourself decent. you need to get out. right now. “you’re right, this was a stupid idea to say this to you and think you’d care. hormones right?” a pathetic excuse for a laugh leaves your lips as you move to the door. you don’t see the smile drop from rhys’ face as you shut the door, making your way to your apartment, away from the townhouse, away from him.

it’s been twelve days. twelve days since you’ve been near the house of wind, the townhouse, and anywhere near him. you couldn’t stand to see his face after he basically insinuated that your confession was that of lust and that you weren’t thinking straight. when in fact you were probably never thinking more clear than that moment. you love him. with your entire heart. it never occurred to you that your heart would be crushed by him too.

a hard collection of knocks rip you from your thoughts as you make your way to the door. amren always had a way of knocking like hell was at her tail, which it probably was now that you think about it… “yes, dear mother, amren you don’t need to knock the door down i’m-“ your voice is cut off as you’re face to face with rhys, a disheveled messy version of him at least. “what do you want, rhys?” your tone is cold, causing him to wince. he nods towards your living room, “can i come in, please? i need to talk to you.”

you nearly give him the loud and obnoxious laugh he gave you twelve days ago when he dismissed your feelings like that so easily. but you push the anger and hurt down, nodding. “make it quick.”

a homemade cup of coffee in hand, rhys sits down on your couch with you on the opposite side. you don’t dare get too close. rhys meets your eyes, trying to decipher what might be going on in your head right now, what you must think of him. he’s had the roughest twelve days. he went over the conversation you had with him at least a hundred times, and each time he relived that look on your face he nearly cried. “i’m sorry for how i reacted that night. i should’ve never let you leave like that. i just didn’t want to believe it.” he says softly, softer than you’ve ever heard him speak. “believe what, rhys?” you tilt your head. “believe that you’d actually love me. this version of me. the one you get to see and others don’t. the side of me that makes me scared, and the one that i can’t show anyone without showing them i’m vulnerable. i couldn’t believe that you’d love that… that ugly part of me. i shouldn’t have said it was just lust clouding your mind. you and i both know you’re much smarter and more thoughtful than that. you wouldn’t just say things like that without meaning it and i should’ve told you this a few days ago already but i was afraid. afraid i messed it up before it could happen. before i could love you and declare it from the top of the snowy mountains.”

your tears are flowing as you look at rhys, really looking at him. he’s shaking, that nervous tick of yours now prominent on him as he’s picking his nails. your heart and mind is running at a million miles a minute and you take a deep breath to ground yourself before you take his hands in yours.

“rhys, i know this took a lot for you to say, and i know that you’re scared. i’m scared too. i’ve never felt like this with anyone before. i love every part of you, especially the parts you don’t show anyone else. it’s like i get a piece of you all to myself. that part of your soul. it’s more intimate than sex, it’s so raw and pure and natural that it feels like someone completely different. not the high lord of the night court, not the rhysand your family sees, just rhys. my rhys. those things don’t make you ugly, rhys. they make you strong, and powerful and amazing. that’s why i wanted you to know that someone can love those parts of you too. not just the charismatic, sarcastic persona you put on for your friends and loved ones. and not the cold, ruthless leader that the court of nightmares believes you to be. but just you. the true you. i love everything about you, all of it.”

rhys kisses you, passionately. you’ve never had a kiss like this with him. never one with such meaning as this. this one was different. as to say ‘thank you for loving me even when it’s hard to see why’ and you realise that you’d burn the world down for him if he asked. he deserves the world, and so much more. everything he has sacrificed for his people and his family, he deserves that same sacrifices made for him tenfold.

he cups your cheek, whispering so softly you nearly don’t catch it but it makes all the heartbreak and doing it all again worth it, “i love you. until my last dying breath.”

i do not allow my works to be copied, put into any ai website etc.

shares and reblogs are highly appreciated! ♡

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand comfort #rhysand fic #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader

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jeanboyjean · 4 months

Note

I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER ONE👀👀👀

What do you think jean’s reaction would be if he likes you but yall aren’t together, and he catches you staring at one of the other guys after a workout, or something like that (I just know he’d be so dramatic lmao) feel free to pick one person, give a general reaction or a list, whichever you want, no pressure ��🥰🥰🥰🥰

asjkjskj OKAY so i just started writing and this is what i blurted out akjsdfnsd he is actually so dramatic i love it when he’s a little pathetic like let me love you u silly man. this became 500 words HAHA

Jean knows.

He’s an idiot but he knows he shouldn’t be jealous. In fact, he has no right to feel anything at all. He shouldn’t even be looking to be honest. And yet, he can’t help it. Not when his world slows to a stop, walls caving in, vision tunnelling to zero in on you every time you’re in the same room together.

His grip tightens on the dumbbells he’s holding, knuckles white, teeth clenched. The sound of his blood pumping roars in his ears, silencing the music blaring in his earphones.

Why the fuck are you staring at him?

There you are, sitting on a bench across the gym in your cute little workout outfit and instead of looking at Jean, your eyes are locked on his friend in front of you. Reiner’s deep in a squat, with at least three plates on each side like the miserable show off he is. You must be between sets, with your water bottle in hand, but your gaze is fixed on his form as he grunts out another rep.

Honestly, Jean can’t even blame you when Reiner’s out there throwing around weights like it’s nothing. If he was attracted to men, he would probably be checking him out, too.

Jean huffs in annoyance. He looks down at his arms and flexes his triceps. Sure, he may not be as beefy as Reiner, but he’s no slouch himself. Why is it that you never seem to notice?

Sometimes he’ll feel a glimmer of hope when you smile at him the way you do with that little twinkle in your eyes as if laughing at an inside joke only the two of you share; only to be shattered in a second when you turn that same look on someone else. There’s only so much more of this he can take before he feels like he’ll be about ready to burst.

Jean knows he should just look away and focus on himself. But how can he when you’re right there, looking as perfect as ever despite being sweaty and messy from working out. Hell, it only makes him want you even more. He wishes it could be him making you sweat. You would never need to go to the gym with the way he knows he could work you out. If only he could just muster up the courage to tell you how he feels. All he wants is to just make you his. He swears he would do anything to give you everything.

He’s burning holes into Reiner’s body with his eyes and the other man must be able to feel it because he halts, looking up into the mirror to make eye contact with Jean. Reiner double takes and racks his weights. Clearly confused, he slides his headphones off his ears and turns to face Jean with his eyebrows raised. The movement catches your attention and you stir from where you’re sitting on the bench across from him.

Your eyes follow Reiner’s gaze to land on where Jean is standing, seething, still gripping the dumbbells like his life depends on it. And then, Jean’s heart stutters and the air leaves his lungs in a whoosh … because there it is. Your smile. You've got that smile lighting up your face and now all the tension is escaping his body, leaving him weak in the knees. What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him and only him that way.

When you lift your hand up in a small wave, it's the nail in the coffin. That's it. He’s going to have to make you his now.

teehee!

jean’s out here simmering thinking you’re staring at other guys … which true bc they’re also pretty hot … but in this instance you were actually zoning out and reiner just happened to be in front of you.

i chose reiner #1 he’s gym dad #2 i can’t keep making every situation jean x reader x eren.

#THANKS FOR THE ASK IDK WHAT CAME OVER ME I REALLY DIDN'T MEAN TO WRITE SO MUCH #jean x reader #jean kirstein #✉ chlo answers mail ✉#aot x reader #this was one sitting LMAO #reiner braun #jean kirschstein #✎ . chloe wrote smth #໒꒰ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱১ . moots

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pro-mammonologist · 1 year

Text

Duality

Based on this ask!

Fem!Mc x Leviathan

This is my first time writing Levi so he might be just a little ooc but I tried my best!

Cw: Double penetration, demon form, mild degradation, teasing, mild sadism, the rare dom Levi

——————————————————————————

You put your hand on Leviathan’s chest, gently pushing him back. He looked at you, eyes wide and body sweating. You smirked at him, trailing up and down his figure as you remained situated in his lap on his clothed, hardened cock. Levi grasped the sides of his chair, white-knuckling as his insecurities all ran through his head.

Truth be told, horny as you were on top of an even hornier demon Leviathan… it was so hard for him. He wanted to feel you rock back and forth on top of him, to have you torture him with too much yet too little friction. He wanted you to call him pathetic for being so desperate. He wanted you to ride him and to make him get off on you taking all the pleasure he could. Levi wanted so much but to speak aloud was too hard, he was too scared.

“What’s wrong, huh?” You ran your hand underneath his top, stroking his chest with your bare hand. “You’re so shy now. A second ago you weren’t afraid to touch me. Now, you’re gripping your chair like I’m some scary human.” You raised a brow.

“I—uh—you are scary. It’s… I didn’t…” He was almost trembling.

“It’s what? You didn’t what?” You teased him, tilting your head to the side.

“I didn’t think you were going to like it so much. My demon form.” He whispered, flicking his exposed tail around.

“There’s just something about having a big, strong demon like you fold so fast, don’t you think?” You removed your hand and wrapped your arms around his head.

“I didn’t finish, Mc.” He whispered. You squinted, confused. “I’m not squeezing the chair because—“ He sighed, breathing in deeply.

On one hand, he wanted you to dominate him. To use him. To get off on him and leave him hanging like the toy he is for you.

But on the other…

“I’m squeezing the chair because if I don’t, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to look at me the same ever again.”

He wanted to make you beg, to make you completely lose yourself and submit to him completely. He wanted to see you covered in his cum and to watch tears fall from your eyes as he fucked the back of your throat like you were his toy. To call you a nasty slut and make you ride his cock, tail, and tongue.

You stiffened. “So if I keep this up? You’re gonna flip me and fuck me raw, Levi? Take control?” Levi still kept still all except for his nodding head. You felt your heart begin to race. “So if I do this?” You rocked your hips on top of him. “You’ll destroy me? Wreck my pussy?” You pushed him, deepening your face and rocking harder. His eyes dared to move to watch you rock against him. “What would you do if I wanted that? If I wanted you to fuck me? For you to lose control?” Leviathan slowly moved his eyes back up to your face, this time, instead of wide-eyes and terrified, his gaze was half-lidded and low.

“Mc. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt, just a little.”

Suddenly, you were on your bed lying on your back with Levi hovering on top of you. Levi was blushing madly, but his growing erection prompted him to connect your mouths. You reached up to cup his face while he practically shoved his tongue down your throat, eager as he could be to have you. Levi retracted and watched as you removed your clothes. He was dumbfounded before he also started to follow suit. You could tell he was embarrassed but also trying to take the lead, which was undeniably challenging for a horny and somewhat inexperienced Levi. Regardless, watching him unwind was charming and seeing his shift from submission to dominating created heat between your legs.

Levi sucked around your neck, nibbling at the flesh and being very attentive to your reactions. He was eager to please you and found himself rushing almost. He was messy but passionate. He left trails of spit down your body, coating your breasts and stomach with teeth marks. As your sighs increased in volume, so did his confidence. He wasn’t gentle, but it made you all the more wet, especially with the way he handled you.

Levi was feeling himself strain against his pants, especially as your thigh ran across his groin, pressing his already pained erection. He was desperate for more friction, to feel your hands run across his cock, to feel your mouth, and your cunt squeeze him. Levi had a million ideas running through them. He wanted to see you gagging on his tail as he fucked you senseless. Or maybe he wanted to see you fuck yourself on his tail, while his cock rubbed up against your clit with each bounce. He had too many ideas and all of them made his mouth water.

Eventually he took to asking you what you want. “I’m going to give you a few choices.” His voice was a lot more stern, the nervousness has faded and you were now faced with a Leviathan you weren’t the most familiar with.

“Okay.” You responded, clenching your legs together at the growing heat.

“Do you want to suck me off while I fuck you with my tail? Or do you wanna ride me while I gag you with my tail?” He was breathy and his eyes were dark, staring into you with a dangerous gleam in his eye. You watched his tail wiggle from behind him and sweep around to tease in between your thighs. His tail felt scaly, but smooth and slick. He swept up from your inner thigh to across your crotch, rubbing through the fabric.

“I wanna suck you off while you fuck me with your tail.” You answered, tempted by the look of his scales laid across his tail. He blushed, looking down to your begging wetness. His hands hovered over the hem of your pants, he pulled them down slowly to reveal your arousal stained underwear. His mouth went agape at the wet spot, making you clench them back together.

“Oh! No, no, no! I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you’d get so wet this fast.” He ran his thumb over the hem. “Can I… feel you?” He breathed in, taking in your scent.

“Yes please.” You responded, shocked he would even ask. Levi pulled down the remaining piece of fabric and you kicked it off your legs onto the floor. He pressed his fingers in between your labia and you spread your legs. His fingers ran across your vulva, pressing into your clit. You arched into his touch, pressing him for more. Levi was mesmerized by your wetness coating his fingertips, his mouth was open and he was admiring the slickness with curiosity. He was wondering what else he could do to make you feel good, to make you wetter.

“Mc, I can’t believe I’ve got you like this. I always fantasized how you’d look under me.” He tentatively raised his fingers to his lips, as though he was indulging in something he shouldn’t. “It’s sweeter than I thought it’d be.” You could see his tongue swirl around his digits, a tongue that you only just noticed was much longer in length. You were hypnotized by his movements, but he was far more hypnotized by you, even if you were just eyeing him desperately while you were almost drooling at the sight of him.

Levi began to push his spit coated fingers into your tight hole, causing you to call out. He moved them in and out, focused on the way you clenched around them, pulling them back in. You mewled beneath him, rubbing your hands across your breasts. Levi’s line of sight shifted to your chest, watching how you fondled yourself. His cock was begging to break free, to feel you wrapped around it.

“Mc, I’m sorry, but I just gotta feel your pussy. To feel inside of you.” He used his other hand to free himself from his pants. Anxiously undoing the button and yanking them down just enough so that his cock could spring out. You focused on his length, shocked by its appearance. It looked ribbed almost, an extra texture accompanying the veins that stretched from the base to the tip. He quickly realized that you were fixated on it. “Ah, I can change forms! I—“

“No, I wanna feel it.” You interrupted, leaning up to press his tip against your entrance. He inhaled sharply, shocked by the sudden stimulation that he craved.

“Ah!” His hand, now removed from your cunt, placed itself on your stomach, pressing on your abdomen. “You sure you want me inside you?” He questioned, once again.

“Yeah. And I wanna feel your tail. Fuck me with it, too.” You told him, unphazed by his inhuman features.

He gaped for a minute. “Same hole?” His tail whipped behind him, a ‘whap’ resounding.

“Mhmm.”

“You sure it’ll fit?”

You blushed, now thinking of all the times you pleased yourself to the thought of him, all the times you tried to fit in more than one toy, thinking of this exact moment. “I know it will. I’ve done it before while thinking of you.” You admitted, wanting to see his reaction.

He couldn’t help but grin a little. “You’ve really wanted this then? You like the idea of getting fucked by some demon? Some monster?” He slowly pressed into you.

“Yes! I’ve been wanting your demon cock so bad. I wanna feel you fuck me raw, Levi.” You told him, egging him onward. His cock slipped in, stretching you as it pressed against your g-spot, eliciting sounds Levi thought he’d only ever imagine. He whined as he filled you, furrowing his brows and pressing on your abdomen. His tail swept around, tracing your outer thigh and dipping in-between your thighs, and then brushing against your outer labia. He started to thrust, slow and methodical, building up to tease before he used his tail to play with your clit.

“Don’t tease me!” You whined, wanting him to let loose. “Fuck me properly, please.”

He giggled, a confidence in him that you weren’t used to. “Aw, you sound so cute. I have to prepare you, it’d be so mean if I just thrusted in my tail!” He moved a little bit faster. “It is really hard to hold back, you feel too good!”

“It’ll feel better when you have me crying out for you, Levi!” You tried to, suppose you could call it, reason with him. You reached up to his jacket and tugged. He blinked before realizing he was mostly clothed and he shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the side so that now only his tank top remained. You pressed into his abs from underneath his top, tracing the pattern of scales that formed underneath. He shuddered at the touch, your fingers cool and teasing.

“Hey, that’s mean! Can’t tease me like that!” He smacked at your clit with his tail, making you jump.

“Hypocrite.” You muttered, still tracing his scales.

He smirked at your comment. “Guess it is a little unfair, maybe I’ll treat you.” He picked up the pace and started to plow into you, showing no mercy. Your body bounced and his gaze remained focused on your breasts, watching each jiggle as he pounded at your insides.

His hand remained pressed into your abdomen, further stimulating your g-spot, making your eyes roll back. His tail worked at your clit and made your body tremble, making you grip the fabric of his shirt. You listened to the sounds of your cunt around him and focused on his breathing and breathy groans. His other hand braced himself as he leaned forward for more leverage, enabling him to thrust much harder. You cried out his name at the position change, the cry shooting straight to his ego.

“Doesn’t that feel good? And I haven’t even put my tail in.” He was laughing, almost mocking you.

“I want your tail in me, please, Levi!” You begged him, spurring him into more laughter. He watched you moan beneath him, putty in his hands.

Levi struggled to hold back as he tore into you. Despite wanting to hear you beg a little more, he knew he needed to get his tail inside of you. He slowed for a second and lifted your hips. “I’m about to stick it in, Mc.”

You nodded and pulled even harder on his tank, bracing for the sting. He started to insert it from under his cock, sticking it in, just slightly. You ground your teeth together, the sting increasing as your hole opened for him. He could feel your pussy pulsate around him, clenching and struggling to acclimate the foreign object. He stopped for a second when you started to move away. You breathed heavily and then nodded for him to continue.

After the initial struggle, eventually it slipped in just like he normally would. You were stuffed to the brink, should you try to fit anything else, you might tear apart. You could feel the texture of his tail, the scales rubbing against the walls of your pussy in such a delicious way. He started to move his tail at a snails pace, watching for any discomfort from you. You still could feel the sting but it eventually faded and now you could only feel how he stretched you so perfectly.

“Move, faster, please.” You pleaded with him and his grip on you tightened, telling you he was about to comply. His hips started to move with his tail, following at the same rhythm. You called out in a frenzy, wrapping your legs around him. Levi fucked you like a rabid animal, throughly enticed by your submission beneath him. He found this side of you, this side of you that was turned on even by the most monstrous side of him, so erotic. He never would’ve imagined that this sweet human would be so dirty and perverse like him. He couldn’t help but already think of what he wanted to do next time. Did he want to dominate you again or did he want to be completely at your disposal? Oh, the thoughts in his head…

He repeated your name, attempting to remain quiet, but his own pleasure betrayed him. He was in ecstasy, the most sensitive parts of his body now being swallowed by your tight, wet cunt. Your pussy that begged for him to cum inside you, to paint your insides with his seed.

You were no less in ecstasy. You loved the pressure of his cock bearing against you, his tail rubbing against your g-spot that he probed at with precision. You could feel your orgasm approaching and he could tell as well. You squeezed him tighter than he had ever felt and he was desperate for more.

“Levi, I’m gonna cum!” You arched your back, feeling as waves of pleasure swept through your whole body. He continued to move, attempting to reach his high and ride you through yours. His cock only needed a few more seconds and then… just as he came he pulled out his tail and swiped at your clit again, overstimulating you just enough to make you clench around him, as if you were milking his cum out of him.

“Mc! I—Mc! It’s so good!” He cum shot into you and you felt as more cum than you’d ever taken fill you. He pulled out, but his focus remained on your pussy, watching his cum spill out of you, the excess of it.

You trembled as you came back down, suddenly aware of how much cum he shot inside you. “That’s a lot. But it’s good. It felt good.” You panted.

His face became flushed. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you. It’s a lot.” He wiped his face. “Was it really good?” His question was quiet, his usual timidity returning.

“Yeah. It was really good.”

He smiled, suddenly a mischievous glint in his eyes. You knew what he was going to ask. “Well. What do you wanna do next?”

Clearly, he needs to learn that he can’t go around calling all the shots.

#obey me #leviathan x mc #obey me shall we date #leviathan smut #shall we date leviathan #obey me smut

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rowniebow · 1 year

Text

mercy | newt scamander x male reader

Summary: You and Newt have been put in a sticky situation. Newt has been the hot commodity lately, but you were all too ready to bargain.

Warnings: Angst

Reader: Male, muggle

Parining(s): Newt Scamander x Male Reader

Word Count: 1.9k+

masterlist

Your eyes focused on the cold cement ground you sat upon. Your knees were pulled to your chest. Your head was pounding from all the stress and commotion. You couldn’t help but wonder where you would be as of right now if you had denied the strange British man and stayed working at your nine-to-five factory job. Would you still reside in your pathetic, run down apartment across from Gerda who shared her butter and you shared your eggs with? Would Jerry still be belittling you about how lazy you are at your job? Yes. Most likely Jerry would still be an asshole.

But, most of all, would Newt be in this situation if it weren’t for you? You can’t help but think he would be sitting at home taking care of his creatures if it weren’t for you agreeing to join him. That, at least, is what you said to convince yourself you were okay with what was all happening. Convincing yourself you were at fault for the bad things so your “solution” to the issue - this decision you were making for the both of them - wouldn’t be as painful.

What were you to do, though? When someone shares their most vulnerable feelings with you, and you share your own, are you really supposed to just watch them up and leave without you when their hand is extended as Newt’s was? When they’re offering you an out of your miserable life, and instead an invitation to what you assumed would be a nice quiet life with someone you loved and doing things you loved with them? Are you supposed to say no to joining the person you have grown to care the most about?

You were yanked out of your thoughts as the loud metal doors were peeled open by two large, muscular men clad in armor and wands out ready to strike if you made even one off move. You couldn’t help but wonder if all that was truly necessary for you: a small man with no capacity to fight back. Good lord, you couldn’t even get rid of spiders. All you could do was ignore them and wish them on their merry way.

You stood, the shackles hung off of your wrists and ankles. The rusted chain clattered against the cement floors, scratching against your already pounding head. You trudged with the two large men trailing close behind you. They poked at your back every once in a while when you were dragging from exhaustion.

You three arrived at the large wooden double doors. They creaked as the men opened it to reveal you to the man that hasn’t left your mind in years.

You took in every aspect of Newt with a gasp. His arms were limp and pale from all the hours they had been hung up against the wall. He was on his knees, but his ankles, bloody and bruised, sat chained to the wall just as his wrists were. Blood drained out of them, you were sure they were tingling with discomfort. He didn’t look up, leaving you to look at his knotted, messy hair. Strands flew everywhere, it didn’t even have its usual shape and part. His dozens of layers of clothes had been removed. He stood limply in his tousled white button down and brown straight legged pants. Both clothing items were ripped at the seams and ruffled beyond the familiarity of Newt’s well-dressed and ironed appearance.

“Oh, Newtie,” You groaned at the sight of him. Rage filled your veins. You suddenly began to rethink your bargain, wondering if these awful people who had already done this to him would keep their part and let him go after all this.

Newt looked up with wide eyes at the sound of your voice echoing off of the brick walls. His eyes were swollen and red. His cheeks were patterned in purple and red. Hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He struggled at the chains, trying to stand up and move towards you but, of course, he was to no avail. “Y/N,” he called out hoarsely, tears threatening his eyes. You ran towards him, the guards obviously wanting to stop you but they let it happen knowing what was to come.

“Newt, goodness, my sweet,” You cooed, lightly rubbing your hand over his wounded cheeks as you examined him. He winced slightly as you grazed the open skin but overall he refused to look away from you, shocked to see you in front of him. “Are you okay? Lord- obviously you’re not. It’s okay, alright? I-It’s gonna be over soon, okay?” You hushed your tone, wanting to save all your words for him and only him.

His bloodied wrists caught your eye, “Can we- Can we please get this bullshit off of him? God,” You hollered out into the echoed room. The chains released themselves, magically, of course, and Newt fell into your arms. He struggled to snake his own limp limbs around your waist. You felt his shaking body and breath and nearly broke down.

You continued to hold him close, a hand keeping his head in the crook of your neck and another keeping him upright in your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you continuously whispered into his hair that was still soft as ever despite it all. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”

“Now,” A voice boomed from behind you. “Would you like to break the news to him, dearest? Or, shall I?”

You ignored the threatening voice - the voice from the man who’s at fault for the crimes committed against the two. You only continued whispering your hushed apologies. You reassured Newt, in between quiet sniffs, that he was going to be okay and that it would all be over soon. That he wouldn’t have to worry anymore and he could continue to forget this.

Newt, listening to your every word and absorbing it (grateful that he gets to hear it again at all), peaked over your shoulder at the presence who had walked in. Neither of the two had seen the man’s face. He stayed hidden under his black, hooded cloak. A mask sat over his face, keeping anyone from seeing him.

Newt watched the man, blurred from his tears, take several steps in the room. After hours and hours of the torturing done to him by this man, he couldn’t even find the strength in him to do much more than look and groan. He happily let you rock yourselves back and forth as you chanted comforting phrases into his ear for only him to hear, and ran your fingers through his hair, and left your warm heavy hand in the middle of his back and rubbed it in small circles.

“I suppose I’ll take that as a plea for me to tell him.” The voice boomed out once more.

Your eyes couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. You quietly sobbed, muttering, “Please, don’t be mad. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”

“The little muggle has offered himself in exchange for your peace. For your freedom.” You could hear a smile in the man’s voice as he spoke of your bargain. You could also very clearly hear a sharp gasp from Newt, as he began to moan in disagreement. “Yes, we haven’t decided what to do with him, yet, but-! I am a generous man, myself, so I have decided to make the deal with him.”

Newt struggled but managed to push himself away from your loving hold. “No, I-I don’t agree with this.” He managed to squeak out. His ragged voice from all the screaming you had heard him do from down the corridor shook and let a cold shake travel through your spine.

“Yes, well,” The man with the booming voice behind you turned and made his way out of the door. “I thought I’d be kind and let you say goodbye. We’ll be back for you soon enough.” His uncaring voice sent rage through Newt. His fist clenched but he was too weak to do much of anything.

The door slammed shut leaving you two alone with one another. “No,” Newt began but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“Love, I can’t let them hurt you anymore than they already have. Or the creatures. You get to leave with them, I made sure of that.”

“N-No, but,” He gulped, doing his best to soothe his scratchy throat. “I-I don’t get to leave with you,”

“That’s okay-,”

“No! It’s n-not okay.” His eyelids fluttered and his mouth twitched at the ends.

“Yes, it is,” You moved your hands to hold his cheeks. His head struggled to stay up with the weight of gods pushing him down. “You’re gonna be okay and the creatures are going to be okay and that’s what matters.”

“No! I-I-I won’t be okay!” He let out a pained sob. The waterfalls escaped his green eyes.

“You will. And you’ll live a nice quiet life like you said you would.” The smile that graced your lips was filled with nothing but pain and Newt saw right through that.

He stayed silent for a moment. “I don’t want to be okay without you. I don’t want to live a ‘nice quiet life’ without you. That-That is just no life at all, one without you.”

Salty drops of water streamed down your face at his words. What could you even say to that? You’ve been telling yourself you are doing this for him but it’s not as if you would be anything less than angry if he were doing the same for you.

“There-There must be a-another way.” Newt shook his head, refusing to believe this was the reality he was going to have to accept. He kept his eyes trained on you the whole time as he took in every detail, anxious this was going to be the last time he saw your face. He absorbed your skin and where it wrinkled. He memorized every divet in your imperfect perfect complexion. How your eyes were swollen and red from rubbing them all day. The way the light reflected off of your mesmerizing eyes. How insanely beautiful you looked in every way all of the time. He couldn’t believe he scored someone as gorgeous as you, inside and out. Fully and completely beautiful.

“Newt,” You whispered his name, afraid if you said it any louder then the name would escape the two of you and run off somewhere it shouldn't be. “I love you. You are going to be okay. You are resilient and stubborn - I know you can do it.”

“I-I don’t want to, Y/N.” He sighed taking you in.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You whispered as the doors burst open again with a slam. You rushed back into his arms for one final moment where you could feel safe.

“Please, don’t leave me. Don’t do this to me,”

“I love you so much, Newtie. To the moon and back.”

“I-I love you, too.”

The hushed words exchanged between the two were cut short as the big men came to pry you and Newt off of each other. You continued to fight to reach him, but your strength was nothing in comparison and you were only left reaching your hand out as the space between you two grew. Newt continued to scream and holler, even gathering the will to stand and jog after them. But, of course, he was overpowered by yet another unnecessarily strong guard.

The last thing you saw of Newt was him on his knees, screaming your name and pleas for mercy.

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theapangea · 1 year

Text

Hawkins High Confessions

Characters/Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader, Billy Hargrove, Robin Buckley

Summary: You accidentally confess your feelings for Steve Harrington in front of the whole school.

Warnings: None, Embarrassment??

A/N: I really really like this fic so I hope you do too!!

Request me anything in my bio <3

Hawkins High.

Home of the Tigers.

The typical middle American high school, stuck in the suburbs, decaying away as the years continue to pass. The weather stained panel ceilings and worn outer bricks hold the next generation of citizens practically begging to not be there.

The bell blares through the speakers of the hallways and courtyard, signaling to all students the beginning of the 7 minute long passing duration to get to first period. Suddenly the school becomes overwhelmed with laughing, shouting, shuffling kids trying to move their way through the cramped, long hallways.

Eyes wandering along the dozens of passing faces that you’ve known for most of your life. You and Robin maneuver your way through the herd of students. Saying your goodbyes before parting ways, counting down the minutes until you can regroup again at lunch.

Strolling your way to the front office, taking up as much of the passing period as possible before your inevitable morning with the one, the only, Billy Hargrove. Your face contorting in disgust at the sheer thought of him.

Hawkins Morning Announcements was not your first choice for extracurriculars. You would have much preferred photography or theater or literally anything else besides having to do this silly little talk with Billy every morning. But you guessed this is what you get for getting caught smoking behind the bleachers. Though the punishment could be worse. The foul taste of Billy sitting by you every morning for 180 days out of the year makes you want to barf.

Well actually has made you barf. Beginning of the semester, right after he tried to kiss you, right into the principal's trash can. Not a pretty sight.

Walking through the open double doors into the front office area, minding your own as you observe your shoelace becoming loose.

And then it hit you.

Stumbling back, your textbooks suddenly falling all over the floor.

He hit you. Your mind racing at the abrupt collision.

“Shit, sorry.” The voice says, just audible enough not to be considered a whisper.

Regaining your balance as you follow his movement to the floor, piling the textbooks and loose papers. Racking a hand through his brown locks as he straightens up, handing you the collection of school supplies.

Steve Harrington hit you.

“Y/N, right?”

Steve Harrington is talking to you.

Nodding your head in affirmation to his question, eyes immediately darting away. You haven’t had much interaction with Steve other than giving him a pencil in math class when he forgets (which is almost every other week) or a quick smile while passing in the halls.

He shoves his hands into his front pockets, rocking back on his heels. His demeanor is friendly, his lips lifting up slightly in the corners. He wasn’t as cold as you had imagined. And oh did you imagine being this close to him often . “I’ve got to go.” He utters after a couple of silent moments, flashing another sweet smile before walking past you.

“Yeah.” You breathe as he is already gone.

Pathetic .

How pathetic can you really be is all you can think. To basically have Steve Harrington standing right in front of you and barely be able to speak a single word to him. Slumping your shoulders as you continue on the way to your final destination.

The chatter filling up the space as the room is full of middle-aged women attending to students and daily duties. Your mind is still floating as Steve Harrington swirls through your thoughts. Turning the handle of the door marked Announcement Studio , flicking the lights on in the enclosed room before placing the messy stack of books in your hands on the table where two microphones and a switchboard station sit on top.

Overhearing giggling coming from the front desk area, you stick your head out to investigate, only to see Billy Hargrove, in all of his unwanted glory, flirting with the office secretary. You really can’t believe these women fall for his act.

You watch as Billy winks to the secretary before walking your way, the light giggles still follow even after he is standing right in front of you. His walk is confident and maybe, just maybe, if you were completely drunk you would give him a chance. But sober you has full control now and doesn’t want anything to do with him.

He is irritating, persistent and overall probably the most annoying person you have ever met. And for some reason he seemed as if he enjoyed sitting in the cramped room with you every morning. Shoulder to shoulder for the first 10 mins of the school day.

Leaning against the door frame as he passes you. Walking closer than he should have been, pressing your back against the cold metal that seeps through your shirt. The heat radiating from his body, your noses almost touching

“You love me.” He whispers, his breath of pure cigarettes. His mouth pulled into his annoying signature smirk.

“Let’s just get this over with before I barf… again .” Your voice follows him into the room. Plopping into his designated seat while pulling your seat open for you. His arm finding its final resting place along the back.

“ Baby ,” the words falling so easily from his lips, “how about you just stop with this whole act of you not liking me and we go take a trip out to my car after this little party.” His pointer finger waving in the air as if he is trying to cast a spell on you. You smile and then laugh. Really having to hold in any amusement that you were having at Billy trying to make advances at you again .

Sitting down in the empty seat, prepping the switch board and microphones as the seconds grow closer to morning broadcast across the school.

“You’re killing me.” His head tilts back, the subtle whine in his tone as the word drags, echoing more in the small room. “Come on, you know you want me.” His fingers play with the ends of your hair that fall down your back.

“That’s definitely a negative.” You shake your hair, wiggling out of his grasp.

“Fine then who do you like?” He crosses his arms over his chest. Puffing that his usual tricks weren’t working on you.

You straighten up at his words, side eyeing as he watches, “None of your business.” You freeze for a moment, just a moment , hoping that it wasn’t long enough for him to tell.

Oh but he did . He can tell how anxious you got over the little question. Could tell how you swallowed abruptly, your brain going a hundred miles per hour trying to think of a good answer. Any answer to get him off of your case. Leaning forward, his head resting on his knuckles as his elbow rests on his knee. Studying your face. “Tommy Hagan.”

“What?”

“The guy you like, Tommy Hagan.” He sounds almost proud of himself.

You’re now looking directly at him. “ Ew , gross. No.”

“Patrick…” He stops to think for a moment, snapping his fingers hoping that will somehow make him remember, “Patrick Wright.” His pointer finger aimed in your direction.

“No.”

Then it was as if a light bulb had switched.

“Steve Harrington.”

“Ok we’re so not doing this.” You basically snap, fixing the pieces of paper with the announcement script in front of you.

“So you do like Harrington.” He laughs. Laughs . At you for liking Steve. How could he laugh? How could he not realize that before his sorry ass got to Hawkins that literally every girl would pay anything to sleep with Steve.

“I-never-said-that.” You say right away. Barely any breath between your words.

“You didn’t have too.” The melody of his words string your lies together.

“Shut up,” was all the comeback that you could think of.

Billy leans in close, “Just admit it.” Grabbing one of the microphones to plug it in. Adjusting it to side perfection by his mouth.

“I will not,” speaking through your teeth.

“Can’t say he’s my particular taste.”

“Well no one asked you, did they?” Rolling your eyes.

The bell blares again through the now empty hallways. The hundreds of students packed neatly within the closed classrooms.

Steve finds his normal seat in the back of the full class. Sliding into his desk as he lets his backpack hit the floor. His fingers lightly tap against the wooden desk as he glances at the clock.

Another dreaded Monday morning. His tired eyes fall heavily as the conversion between the two of you fades quickly. The chattering of the students falls silent as the intercom comes to life. The static filling the classroom before Billy’s voice plays throughout the school.

Billy: Good Morning Hawkins High. It looks like it’s going to be a great day in paradise. Please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance.

The class of students stand, lazily placing hands over their hearts as they all face the flag near the door. The groggy voices follow along to yours and Billy’s voices.

You and Billy: I pledge of Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands. One nation, under God, individual with liberty and justice for all.

You: You may now be seated.

The students shuffle back into their desk. The squeaking sound of the metal stoppers against the panel flooring sounding through the small room.

You: This is a very special week for Hawkins as the winter formal is just around the corner, do you know who you’re asking yet?

Billy: I sure know who I’m going to ask. Say, Y/N, any idea on who you’re going with.

You: I guess it’s still too far out to know yet, Billy.

Billy: I can surely think of someone who should ask you.

Kicking him instantly after his comment. The words shut up following just under your breath before you continue.

You: Principle Coleman wanted us to remind you all to remember to throw away all your trash in the yard after lunch.

You and Billy: Let’s keep this school clean!

Billy: We also want to give it up to the Tiger’s Basketball Team for a great game last Friday. Though we lost 3-7, it was still a great game.

You: I agree with Billy. Our Tigers are not ones to miss.

Billy: Especially a certain player.

The inaudible words of I am going to kill you towards Billy fall from your lips. The speakers hold the moment of silence as the hundreds of kids can hear some kind of commotion on the other end.

You: Well that’s all the news for today.

Billy: We hope you have a great day Hawkins High

You: I’m Y/N Y/L/N

Billy: And I’m Billy Hargrove,

You and Billy: Signing out. Go Tigers!

The static immediately disappears as the switch is turned off.

The teacher stands from his deck, chalk in hand as he begins to write on the board. The class settling in for another uneventful history lesson. This was definitely not going to help Steve stay awake.

But just as the words of some war were leaving the teacher’s mouth, the intercom comes to life. The static quickly fading as Billy’s voice fills the hallways and classrooms once again.

Billy: Ok, seriously just admit it.

Dozens of students are looking between each other trying to figure out what is going on.

You: Admit what?

Billy: That you like Steve Harrington and maybe I’ll leave you alone.

The class practically gasps in union as all students, including the teacher, turn to look at Steve in the back of the classroom. His face washes white, hues of soft red forming on his cheeks as he sinks lower into the plastic seat.

And as much as he was embarrassed by the whole interaction, he had to admit that he was a little bit curious. He hadn’t talked to you much in the past but he couldn’t say that he didn’t at least find you a little attractive.

You: I’m not going to admit anything if it isn’t true.

Billy: Baby, It’s just you and me here. No one's gonna know outside this room.

You: Ugh, fine.

There is a pause. The entire school on the edge of their seats as they wait for the next words to come out of your mouth

You: Yeah, I like Steve Harrington.

—

“Happy?” You question. Almost happy yourself to finally get that secret off of your chest, even if it was to someone you despise.

But before Billy could answer, the door frantically flies open to showcase a heaving Robin. Her face bright red, her body heaving from the loss of breath as she points towards the dashboard.

Following her pointer finger across the room to the small table where the dashboard sat. Realizing then that the small red light signaling that your microphones were on. The small red light signaling that the private conversation that you and Billy just had was broadcasted across the entire school.

The color in your face completely washing away at your realization that Steve just heard your confession.

“More than ecstatic.” Billy’s grin overcomes his face, his teasing laugh playing in your ears.

And all you could think about at this moment is Oh shit.

~~~

Part 2???? Let me know what you think!

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fanfic #Billy Hargrove x reader #Stranger Things x reader #Reader insert #Stranger things #Robin Buckley #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem #Hawkins High Confessions #Theapangea

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chittaemin · 11 months

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okay im going through my felix feels rn and i simply can’t get baby boy felix outta my mind

warning: nsfw under the cut. minors dni

imagine tucking him between your legs, his back against your chest, as you run your hands down every inch of his skin, placing small fluttering kisses along the length of his neck.

he would make such pretty noises, soft gasps and pathetic whimpers that only send the heat simmering hotter in your stomach. just imagine the way his breath would hitch as you circled closer and closer to the sensitive skin of his nipples, touch so feather-light he arches against you just to chase more of the feeling. his voice would ring so prettily in the otherwise silent room as you finally give him what he wants, thumbing the buds with the utmost reverence because he is your precious boy and deserves to have every inch of him worshipped and cherished.

he would get so worked up from just those little touches, his cute little cock rigid and flushed in the open air. your fingers trace lightly down his stomach, taking pride in the subtle flex of his abdomen and the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, to circle loosely around the base of his length.

oh, the way felix would look at you, chest heaving with the effort it takes to breathe and eyes sparkling with adoration as if you’d hung all the stars in the sky. he’d look so helpless and yet so pliant and trusting, more than happy to give over control to you because he knows you’ll take care of him.

when you finally do give him what he wants, when you decide to finally wrap your hand snuggly around his dick and start stroking, he’ll let out the loudest moan yet. throaty and guttural, his voice might even crack as he writhes in your arms, desperate for release.

it’s so unbelievably hard to stop yourself from teasing felix. he likes it fast and messy, so that’s what you give him. up and down you stroke him, collecting the pearlescent beads of moisture to aid the glide, alternating your pace between hard and fast and slow and steady, wrist twisting up at the head just to hear him gasp wetly into the skin of your neck. you want to give him the world—he deserves nothing less after all—but it’s just so fun seeing his hips buck up subconsciously, hearing the gravelly tone in his labored breathing as he struggles to keep the frustration at bay, knowing you’ll reward him for being a good boy. for being your good boy.

you’ll know he’s ready to cum by the way his moans devolve into whines, sobs wracking his small frame as his body launches itself closer to climax. he’d be so sweet in those precious moments leading up to his release, needy whimpers of your name interspersed with i love you and please please please let me cum.

and you’d let him, of course you would, especially after hearing such beautiful sounds in the throes of his pleasure. he’s your darling baby boy and you’d give him anything he asked for. and so you grant his desperate pleas, hand doubling the speed from before. the change is so sudden felix finds himself flailing in your embrace, arms clawing at your wrist, your thighs, anything to anchor himself to you. panting, he turns his head to face you, pushing forward to kiss you as you lead him closer to orgasm. it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, full of tongue and teeth, but it’s perfect because it’s him and you have to bite back a smile.

soon his pleasure crests into an electrifying, toe-curling climax and he can do little else but groan, pretty pink lips falling open in an adorable 'o’ shape as his body goes taut and rigid. you stroke him through it, ensuring he rides out every last wave until he’s shuddering from overstimulation. as he comes down from his high, felix would gradually become more relaxed, body sagging bonelessly into your arms. he would turn lazily toward you, head lolling against your shoulder, as he tilts his head up for another kiss, this one sweeter and more controlled than the last.

when you pull back, he’d take a second to savor the taste of your kiss before opening his eyes, his beautiful, sparkling eyes, to look at you again with such adoration and love that your heart soars. i love you’s are exchanged, soft and sweet, and you relish in the warmth of your most precious boy.

#this…..is so unbelievably soft #but i mean that pretty much sums up my love for lixie so 🥺#felix smut #felix #stray kids #stray kids smut #felix imagines #felix x reader #stray kids felix

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wildlyglittering · 4 months

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Illyrian Comfort Pie

I shared a post with some Christmas OTP prompts and asked if anyone wanted any for Nessian and @dustjacketmusings chose:

"Every country has different traditions for Christmas when it comes to food: trying something new when they have always eaten the same dishes for the holidays feels wrong at first. But when it’s cooked with love by their favourite person, it can sure taste like new traditions."

I don't know if this entirely fills the prompt and it's a lot rougher than I'd like but please enjoy!

Illyrian Comfort Pie

“Fuck you, Morrigan.” Nesta wiped her bare arm across her brow, spices and herbs transferring straight from her forehead onto her forearm, the little green and orange specks dusting her skin. “And fuck you Rhys come to that.”

The alarm on her phone screamed and Nesta whirled around in her small kitchen space. She’d put the device down earlier, stabbing at the timer with a flour covered fingertip whilst trying to shove her pie into the oven.

Where the hell had she put the damn thing?

On the counter stood an open cookbook entitled ‘Recipes from the Heartland of Illyria,’ a bottle of wine which doubled as a rolling pin and cooking motivation, and Nesta’s pathetic pastry attempts one, two, and three – each one slightly less gloopy than the last - until she finally made semi-successful attempt number four.

No phone.

Nesta let out a noise halfway between a screech and a yell, her hands reaching either side of her head, ignoring whatever food stuff would end up in her hair.

“Shit!” At least she managed to remember what the phone alarm was for, swivelling behind her and yanking down the oven door, reaching for the mitts as she ducked a plume of smoke.

This one didn’t smell too bad. Nesta grabbed the pie and shoved it onto the trivet on the counter. The crust was a little singed on one side but, if she was careful, she’d be able to scrape that off.

Her movements jostled a reem of paper towels and as they fell to their side, they revealed the object of Nesta’s irritation. One phone.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her eyes drifting upwards to the ceiling as she turned off the alarm. Her thanks was to whatever cookery god was willing to listen and half to the smoke alarm not going off.

Three notifications waited for her. She took a breath in and hit open on the first one.

Hahaha. You agreed to what?! Even *I* run from making that dish. Pretty sure my *grandmother* ran from making that dish and she used to be a baker. Anyway, are you coming Thursday?

Emerie. Not providing the answers Nesta was so desperately hoping for, instead reminding Nesta she had yet to confirm drinks with her and Gwyn. Nesta typed out a quick response.

Yes to Thursday. Any chance your grandmother would attempt making this again if I paid her?

Sent. Nesta moved onto notification number two - Feyre.

Did you want me to see if the Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street will do a delivery? If you put it in the oven for a bit and burn the edges no one will know.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. The audacity of her sister to assume Nesta would need assistance and that she’d burn the pie. She had burnt the pie but still, the audacity.

She chose not to respond to that one and instead moved to the final notification. Cassian. Nesta took a deep breath and hit open.

Are you having as much fun as I am? Thinking I could do this as a side hustle.

There was a photo attached. Cassian had taken a selfie of himself standing in front of his obnoxiously large quartz kitchen counter. His dark hair was tied in a messy bun and he winked into the camera. He wore an apron Nesta had never seen before, deep red with candy cane striped ties and in Christmas style writing was embroidered ‘Kiss the Chef’ underneath a sprig of mistletoe.

Nesta squinted at the image, zooming past Cassian himself to the dishes behind him slightly out of frame. Was that a bowl of perfectly glazed parsnips? A tray of immaculate shortbreads?

She let out another noise and flung the phone back onto the counter so she could press her palms into her eyes. At this point she was covered in flour, meat juice, and soggy pastry pieces. Sweat gathered under her breasts and trickled down her back from the constant heat of the oven.

Nesta had been baking for over six hours now and though there was a small part of her which wanted to cry, she refused. Although she’d cursed Morrigan and Rhys the biggest ‘fuck you’ should have been delivered to Nesta herself.

She’d agreed to this when she should have declined, and now her pride would cause her to take a fall.

There had been five of them for drinks at Rita’s. Should have been two – only Nesta and Cassian for their quiet post theatre drinks, but Morrigan had been there with other friends who she swiftly abandoned as soon as she saw Cassian arrive.

Within minutes Morrigan had called Feyre and then before Nesta knew it, she was being squished into a booth, Cassian to her left and Feyre to her right, while she sipped her chilled white wine and counted the minutes until it was socially acceptable to say her goodbyes.

“Oh my god,” Morrigan had been saying. “That was the best dish I think I’d ever eaten. Do you remember it Rhys? The caramelised onions and gravy? What was it called again Cass?”

Cassian groaned and lolled his head back. “Illyrian Comfort Pie. My favourite.” He took a sip of his beer. “The Illyrian army did a version with off-cuts, almost ruined a perfect dish.”

“What’s this pie?” Feyre asked.

“Only the best pie in the world,” Cassian replied, his eyes misting over. “Imagine thick tender beef soaked in its own juices for hours, drowned in rich gravy and embedded with caramelised onions all under a cover of hot crust pastry.”

“You need a room, Cass?” Rhys laughed.

Cassian raised his middle finger to Rhys but joined him in the laughter.

“Cassian’s ex made the best version,” Morrigan said, her eyes sliding to Nesta. “Honestly no one would be able to top it. Bri wasn’t even Illyrian but it was spot on.” She took a long sip from her own glass of red wine. “I guess it doesn’t need to be your own tradition if you care enough to put in the effort.”

There was a heavy silence which would have lingered if not for the clearing of Feyre’s throat. “Who’s got who for Secret Santa?”

“Oh, I’m sure if Nesta put in the effort it would be just as good. Right?” Nesta looked up and met Rhys’ eyes as he ignored Feyre’s question. He smirked as he finished speaking, cocking his own beer bottle to his mouth.

Three more pairs of eyes looked her way. Nesta felt the slight, almost imperceptible tensing from Cassian but it was Feyre’s eyes which widened the most. There was a kick against Nesta’s shin under the table.

“I’m sure it would,” Nesta said, “if I had the time.”

“Cassian was telling us at the bar you’re now on vacation. All your gifts already wrapped and under the tree. Sounds like you have time.”

“Rhys...” Feyre began but Morrigan jumped in.

“I think that would be a lovely Christmas present for Cass. You can start your own tradition now you’re official. Illyrian food is so hearty.”

There was a part of Nesta which was too stubborn for her own good. Rhys’ smirk and Morrigan’s too-wide grin opposite her, the meeting of the cousin’s eyes like this was some in-joke they had just started. Feyre kept kicking her under the table, the jostling movement irritating Nesta further.

The flash of irritation was the problem. That, and the second glass of wine she’d drunk on a half empty stomach fuelling it. Her temperature rose and her skin prickled and instead of counting to twenty like she’d been practicing in her apartment Nesta opened her mouth.

“Fine,” she said, “this whole thing sounds great. One Illyrian Comfort Pie it is. When do you want it? Day after next?” Nesta quickly grabbed her glass to take a swig of her drink before she agreed to anything else.

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up but she didn’t want to meet his eyes, he was probably thinking how Nesta wasn’t implementing those ‘take a moment’ techniques. But his hand reached down to clasp her free one under the table, giving it a squeeze.

“You know what?” he said, looking at the group. “I want in on this. New traditions sound great. You’re making mine so how about yours. What’s the Archeron family dish of choice?” He asked this looking at Nesta but she still had the wine glass clamped to her lips. No longer drinking, just holding it there to feel the cold.

“Ooh,” Feyre said, clapping her hands and jiggling a little on her seat. “Roasted venison, but that’s quite tricky. We haven’t eaten that since Elain went vegetarian. We also had roast potatoes and honey glazed parsnips. Green beans. There was a cheesy mash and – oh, oh, the shortbread biscuits with a chocolate drizzle and the Prythian Pavlova. That’s Nesta’s favourite.”

Cassian laughed. “You want to take a breath there, Feyre?”

In response, Feyre’s stomach grumbled. “No, but I think I need some dinner.”

Aside from Nesta, the table laughed. Her wine glass was now empty and back on the table, her fingers toying with the stem, her mind too preoccupied with the thought of this pie and how the hell she’d even find the recipe.

As the chatter resumed, now about where Rhys and Feyre were going for dinner, Cassian’s weight shifted against her, his arm casually slinging around her shoulders.

“You ok?”

She glanced up at him, plastering a smile on her face. “Absolutely fine.”

“Hmm. Is that genuine fine or Nesta fine?”

Cassian was staring at her intently, concern swimming in his dark eyes. She knew if she immediately conceded he’d let it go, their friendship group knew Nesta wasn’t known for her domestic pursuits and Cassian could whip up a mean dish filled with flavour.

If she really wanted to, Nesta could cheat her way out of this. Getting Elain to bake the pie for her would have once been a consideration until Elain and Lucien’s diet change. No meat, no dairy, no sugar.

No flavour, Lucien had added, ignoring Elain’s frown.

Still, there was something else shining in Cassian’s eyes. Excitement. He was pleased she’d agreed, he relished competition in all its forms and he seemed eager to do this with her.

Nesta’s smile melted in a more genuine one and she squeezed his hand back. “Honestly, it’s good. Dare I say I may even find it fun?”

That was two days ago. Two long days.

“Ha!” She now shouted to her cramped kitchen. “Two drink Nesta has no concept of what the fuck fun is.”

Everything was a mess, even the edges of the cookbook were singed and Nesta cringed at the sight. Gwyn had managed to track down the edition on her behalf and Nesta hated to see a book suffer.

She looked at the clock. Two hours to go – plenty of time to shower, dress up and cart the pie to Cassian’s where they would have a grand unveiling in front of their friends. Her phone pinged and Nesta glanced down to see a reply from Emerie.

She says no chance.

“That’s not a problem,” Nesta said, wiping her hands on her thighs and staining her jeans further. “Because I now have a half decent pie.” She picked up the sharp knife. “Just scrape some of the black bits off and we are good to go.”

The knife slid through the crust and Nesta lifted some of the burnt pastry off using the blade. Odd. What was a deep and crispy brown on the surface seemed pale and soft underneath. Almost as though the pastry hadn’t fully cooked all the way through.

“It’s just this bit,” Nesta told herself. “I’m sure the rest is just fine.” But as she gently lifted the pie-top she could see the same pale colour underneath. Worse was the distinct lack of steam rising from the filling. “No, no, no, no. You’ve been in the oven for almost two hours.”

Grabbing a fork, she stuck it into the dish and scooped out a lump of meat. Juice, which looked far too oily for her liking, dripped off the prongs. Nesta placed the meat on the counter and cut through it with a knife.

She was met with resistance. The beef was still cold. A noise left her throat unbidden, something akin to a half sob. Nesta had researched the best meat cuts for the pie, she’d made sure to go to the best butcher and spent no less than forty-five minutes asking the rather exasperated man behind the counter questions from her list.

Her eyes flew up to the clock. Less than two hours to go. The time she’d budgeted to get ready and go to Cassian’s now shrivelled up. Just like my hopes for this pie.

She peered into the dish, the caramelized onions bobbing in the gravy like some apple bobbing contest gone wrong. “You’re mocking me,” she said and then groaned. They wouldn’t be the only ones.

Nesta sank down onto her floor, ignoring the drip of gravy she sat on and put her head on her knees. She could imagine it all now; Feyre, Rhys, and Morrigan all dressed up, swanning around Cassian’s apartment waiting to be served their multiple courses.

Feyre’s eyes would go wide at Nesta’s attempt but she’d try and make Nesta feel better and yet somehow by trying, she’d only make Nesta feel worse. Cassian would likely tuck the monstrosity – if she even bothered bringing it – behind some extravaganza he’d made and perform an elaborate distraction.

Rhys and Morrigan would probably just snigger behind their drinks and tell her that ‘at least she tried.’ Patronising fuckers.

A tear dripped from the corner of her eye down her chin.

Nesta had tried. Had really tried. She’d memorised the recipe from back to front before she even started, she’d gone out into Velaris Market with a clipboard, she’d called Elain early for pastry tips ignoring Lucien joining the call to ask Nesta if she could describe what real food tasted like because the memory of butter was fading fast.

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, knowing she must look even more of a state than before. But wait – there was an option open to her. Hope flared yet.

Nesta grabbed her phone from the counter. What had Feyre said? The Illyrian restaurant down Sidra Street might be able to deliver. If anyone served an Illyrian Comfort Pie, it would be them. She scrolled through her favourites for the number. Her and Cassian had eaten there so often, she practically had them on speed dial.

The phone answered after the second ring.

“Hello? Hi. I know it’s late notice but I’m in a bit of a bind and hoping you could help.”

She explained the situation, confirming that yes, her pie request was for that Cassian, the one with the tattoos and arms.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Nesta said, eyeing up the clock and tapping her foot against the cupboard. “I’ll ask him. Some kind of protein shake, I think. Yeah, it’s really glossy hair. I’ll ask him that too. Anyway – the pie?”

They were regretful. Truly. Nesta could almost feel their sorrow down the phone. They didn’t have any pies pre-baked and they wouldn’t have one ready for the time she needed it by. They offered Nesta and Cassian a discount on their next visit and Nesta thanked them before hanging up.

“Well. Shit.”

Her eyes itched and she wanted to cry again but this wasn’t the Archeron way. She shook her shoulders and cleared her throat. There would be no pie but Nesta would be damned if she turned up without bringing anything and looking like a chaotic mess.

The kitchen horror show was a problem for future her, but in less than an hour, she had showered, dressed herself in her most confidence boosting little black dress and practiced her affirmations in front of the hallway mirror.

“You are a calm, confident, capable woman. You did not achieve the pie. Others have probably not achieved the pie. You have achieved other things. Like your best friends, two degrees, and this awesome looking pavlova.”

Nesta held the covered bowl to the mirror as though to show her reflection the cream and meringue evidence. Her lipstick red smile shook a little but the taxi driver was calling to say he was downstairs so there was no time for doubt to creep in.

On a usual night it took too long to get to Cassian’s. The drive was less than fifteen minutes from one end of the small city where Nesta lived to Cassian’s address and every second stretched out painfully slow.

Tonight, it was as though all roads had cleared especially for her just to say ‘look, you can get to your ritual humiliation even earlier.’

“It’s not like I’ve ever seen Rhys or Morrigan cook,” she mumbled to herself as she exited the cab and entered Cassian’s building. The porter nodded and buzzed her in and then Nesta was counting the too-quick numbers on the elevator.

Cassian’s apartment was one of two at the top of the building and though the sound-proofing was excellent, which they could attest to personally, Nesta was surprised at the distinct lack of any festivities sounding from behind his door when she approached.

He answered after one knock, hair freshly washed and dried. His white dress shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top buttons were undone, swathes of black swirling tattoos on display.

Cassian let out a low whistle and grinned like a wolf when he saw her. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite lady, in my favourite dress of hers, with my favourite dish.”

He leant in to kiss her and Nesta winced at the mention of food. Cassian’s lips met hers in a chaste kiss but he must have noticed her response as he was frowning when he pulled away.

“Come in,” he said with a light tone. “Let me take that.” He held his hands out for the bowl she was carrying but she clutched it tighter to her body.

“That’s ok, let me find a space to put it.”

“Sure.”

Nesta stepped further into the apartment. Everything was chrome, quartz, or wood but Cassian couldn’t help himself when it came to Christmas. What was once an interior designers dream for a ‘bachelor living’ magazine spread was now a grotto fit for the dreams of any eight-year-old girl.

A smile lifted the corner of her lips. She’d never begrudge him this. Foster care and ten endless churn of care homes hadn’t left Cassian with any sense of home and the orphanage tried their best but lacked the funds.

Cassian had told her that his best Christmas eventually came in the Illyrian military and all that involved was eating dry turkey from paper plates and reading stupid jokes from cheap crackers. But he was with people that felt like family and that’s what mattered the most.

Now, garlands hung from the oversized windows, a tree larger than Cassian himself stood by the fireplace decked with shining ornaments. A range of presents piled up under the tree to the point where they spilled across his floor.

Stockings on the mantel, rugs everywhere, gingerbread houses which increased in number each time Nesta was over. Candles on every surface.

“Wine?” Cassian asked as Nesta slid the bowl onto his counter. She nodded while taking a breath in. Ham and apricot, honey, a distinct scent of rich chocolate. All the food laid out but under coverings to keep them fresh.

Her stomach stank. She’d failed him so miserably.

Her face must have painted a picture because Cassian moved beside her. “Hey, what’s up.” His fingers tucked under her chin, tilting her face to his. Those deep eyes of his, again swimming in concern.

She hoped the best Christmas present she could get him was honesty.

“I fucked it.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“The pie, I completely fucked it up.”

His confused blank expression immediately melted and he laughed, his head thrown back and the column of his throat on display. His face in laughter was a delight, he was young and happy and in love with life. “Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“There is no pie. I botched it.”

He looked down at her, his expression softening, his smile gentle. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t. That pie is an art only the devil knows how to get right. Did you know Emerie’s grandmother won’t even make one and she won Illyrian baker of the year for fifteen years?”

Nesta coughed and reached for the wine poured out for her. “No, I didn’t know that.”

Cassian moved round the counter to Nesta’s dish. “So, what did you bring?”

“The only thing that didn’t involve my oven. The meringue isn’t even home-made. I’m such a sellout.”

He peeked under the covering and exhaled. “Oh, thank the Mother.” He stepped back, his hand over his heart. “I fucked it.”

Now, Nesta blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“The meringue for the Prythian Pavlova. It was the one thing I wanted to get perfect but do you know how hard meringue is to make? I couldn’t even make it to the store.”

He shook his head, grabbing his own glass of wine. “I even rang Elain to ask her for tips but Lucien answered and begged me to tell him in great detail how the filo wrapped parcels were smelling. He said, and I quote ‘go low and take your time’. I’m not sure how comfortable I am having them over for New Year.”

Nesta laughed, shaking her own head, glancing around the apartment. It had taken her long enough but something finally dawned on her. “Am I early? When are the others arriving?”

Cassian paused, swirling his glass. “Yeah, about that... I thought ‘fuck ‘em.’”

Nesta’s eyes bulged. “I think I’m missing something.”

Cassian put his glass down and leant back against the far counter.

“You know Bri’s pie wasn’t all that great. Mor was being...” he trailed off, scratching his eyebrow the way he did when he was uncomfortable. “Mor was being difficult and it was unfair. Rhys too. But I liked the idea of you and I doing our own holiday tradition so I guess I thought I’d see where we ended up.”

He gestured to his apartment and the dishes before them. “So, we ended up here. Just you and I, a bottle of wine, lots of delicious food and a very comfy rug we’re fucking on after dinner.”

“Is that right?” Nesta said, putting her glass down. She walked over to him. “Have you seen what you’ve made? We are not fucking after dinner.” She placed her hand on his chest, his heart beating a rhythm against her palm as she ignored his disappointed face. “We’re fucking before dinner.”

That wolf grin was back on his face and he leant forward to kiss her but Nesta stopped him. “I feel bad, everything here is an Archeron dish. You didn’t get your pie.”

“Oh, I’ll get to eat my pie.”

“Cassian!”

He laughed again, his broad arms wrapping around her body. “The fact that you tried means everything. I promise. This is a great start to our forever tradition.”

Nesta looked up at him; the hours of failed baking, the constant smoke alarms, the mess she had to clear up tomorrow. Worth it. All of it. “Forever you say?”

“Forever.”

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