#also these spikes are fucking sharp
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It's been a while since I shared anything, so here are some pics of some costuming I'm working on for Dame Mandy Valentine.
Ramble about it under the cut
Okay, so I recently had a little extra cash to spend superfluously so I got myself a basic leatherworking kit and some bulk spikes.
While I generally support making punk stuff as DIY as possible, I also have a huge fondness for tree spikes. Plus, screw on spikes are so much easier to use and are nice and sturdy.
Both chokers are made of belts. The purple one just didn't fit, the red one is a belt I never wear. The buckles are really nice because spikes make this shit super heavy, like heavy enough that they would probably unfasten or break with any other type of closure.
I'm not gonna pretend these chokers are not also made with kink in mind. They're very sturdy.
The boots are a pair I've had for a very long time (a Christmas gift like 10 years ago). Added the chains and the spikes to them because I've wanted some stompy goth boots for a while, and this is both cheaper and I already know they're comfortable.
They're supposedly supposed to be snow boots, cause they're lined with flannel, but the traction isn't the best.
I also did a couple of other things in last night's crafting binge, but those things aren't done yet, so I'm not sharing yet.
#costuming#diy#punk spikes#punk#mandy valentine#larp character#larp#changeling the dreaming#world of darkness#ctd#redcap#oc#curse my desire to make characters with incredibly specific aesthetics#my thumbs hurt from pushing needles through denim#also these spikes are fucking sharp
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THEY could give me the surgurey i need
(inspired alot by evojellys designs for em. GREAT STUFF)
#THE SUCKENING IS S O COOOOL GUYS VIV N VEX ARE SO FUCKING COOL AND FUNNY... CHARLIES FLAVOR OF DERANGED IS JUST#SO PERFECT FOR THIS CAMPAIGN.. I LOVE HOW HE DOES HORROR AND EVIL AND SCARY AND AAUAUUUGHGHGUUHGHG#their teeht arnt spiked like normal vampires but theyre sharp n smooth like a Beak. in my beautiful heart#ALSO UGHGHGH BIG SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7 BUT#THAT THING WITH THE MAP. WITH THE DEMONS N VAMPS. THEYRE KEEPING TRACK OF THEM.#'so viv. was that one of mine or one of yours?' IS THIS A PET PROJECT OF THEIRS OR SOMETHING. ARE THEY PULLING MORE STRINGS THAN WE THINK#IS ONE TUGGING AT THE DEMONS AND THE OTHER TUGGING AT THE FANGS? PITTING THEM AGAINST EACHOTHER SO THEY KILL EACHOTHER?#AND THEN ITS EASIER TO TAKE THE BODIES FOR THEIR FUNNY CREATIONS?? IT PROLLY WASNT EASY TO GET SUPPLIES B4 EDWARD CAME INTO POWER#BUT OH MY GOD.. POOR EMIZEL.. THE MEMORY OF HIS CREW WAS TAKEN AND THEN HE WATCHES A BUNCHA THEM GET HORRIBLY DISMATNLED N DISTORTED#HE KNOWS HE CARED FOR THEM AT SOMEPOINT N HE KNOWS THE MEMORIES WERE TAKEN BUT HE JUST. CANT. AUAUUGGUAHGUAHGUAHGUHG#THAT SUCKS SO BAD FOR HIMMM EMIZEEEELL EMIZEL CMERE BABY BOY ILL SMOKE U OUT BOY. GET AWAY FROM THOSE EVIL GUYS I AM BETTER N CAN BE TRUSTE#viv n vex are so cool...theyre fuckin CRAAZYY N SCARYYY BUT ALSO. SO FUNNY... I LOVE A PUNNY JACKASS... 'LOOKS LIKE YOUVE BEEN: DISARMED!'#'IVE MADE THAT JOKE 6 TIMES AND ITS STILL FUNNY EVERYTIME' i gotta draw more of their bullshit...#im already doodling up the 'YOU CAN CALL ME MOMMY!!' bit. i gotta draw more o the monstors n the horrors too... especially emizels sire UGH#I LOVE VILLIAINS THAT ARE SO GENUINELY SCARY BUT SO FUNNY... charlie just does evil ppl like no one else idk what it ISSSS#okayokayoka y im normal im. relistening to the ep n im at the edward part. oh my god. i actually love him. he actually makes my skin crawl#IM DONEthats my rambles for tha day. back into my hole i go. also i have comms open. cmere pspspss i need moneyyy heyyyy cmereeeee#check out my main artblog. GO!!!
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going to murder anyone who shits on this image for being underwhelming. you people said the same shit about the first image of M87*. like, while space is often beautiful, the main goal of space imagery is not for aesthetic purposes. these images may look dull but they are much much much more monumental than Picture Of Orion Nebula #23049596. the hubble deep fields, and now this (first) webb deep field, are so fucking important because they show the sheer scale of the universe. what looks like a completely black patch of the sky even in the best viewing conditions on earth, actually contains thousands upon thousands of galaxies going back to only a few million years after the big bang. this is incredible. how dare you call that underwhelming. literally go look at Picture Of Orion Nebula #23049596 then if that's all you care about. fuck off lol
#brot posts#astro posting#jwst#sorry i am on twitter. because the jwst tag on twitter is a lot more active than on tumblr#unfortunately that is also exposing me to these people .#the hubble deep fields were like. taken in a patch of sky about 1/10th the size of the full moon i believe#this webb deep field? apparently the size of a GRAIN OF SAND . held at ARM'S LENGTH !!!#that is FUCKING NUTS !!!!!#and look at how many galaxies there are!! and how sharp the image is!!!#look at the diffraction spikes on the nearby stars !! look at the GRAVITATIONAL LENSING !!!!#im so glad they led with a deep field photo#btw idk if 'webb deep field' is the official name but thats what im gonna call it#along the naming scheme of the hubble deep fields
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Hey does anyone here know anything about modding balder's gate and is maybe willing to point me to some resources
No offense to larian but tbh i hate the dragonborn faces and I'd kill to be able to make some custom sculpts
#I know it might be hard w the horn shapes#but fuck man#they look so fucking doofy from the front#i just wanna fix them#also would probably change the teeth#maybe I'm being picky but i don't like that it's just like a random row of spikes#instead of like#actual sharp teeth
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ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)
read maknae line here
genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes
length: 12.8k
c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)
a/n: this has simultaneously been the pride and joy of my life and the bane of my entire existence for the last 2.5 months 🥴 and tumblr is an inept incapable CLOWN who cannot handle the full 24k worth of bullet points so here is the hyung line first - maknae line coming soon (yumi @sorryimananti-romantic can vouch for my unsuccessful 3-hour attempt at formatting them into a single post)
hongjoong
pov: you're the king's royal courtesan
“fuck,” hongjoong lets out a deep growl from within his chest as his head dips down to rest against the crook of your neck. “you’re just as tight as last time”
when your hips involuntarily buck from the pleasure, he nudges your thighs further apart and keeps your wrists pinned above your head
he can’t help but let out another groan when he feels your walls clench around his cock as you adjust to his thickness
“i thought- god,” a moan escapes you after he thrusts his hips against you, “thought you never fucked the same woman twice”
“i don’t,” he simply says
and it’s true
hongjoong is one of the youngest princes to have ruled during the kim dynasty, having risen to power after the previous king succumbed early to an unknown illness
he has the choice and selection of all the courtesans available within the palace and outside its walls
hongjoong also has a reputation of being highly sought after by everybody, not just amongst courtesans
it’s not only because he is devilishly handsome, knows how to properly fuck somebody dumb, and is the literal king
the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?
he never sees the same courtesan more than once
“yet here you are,” you hook your legs around hongjoong’s waist to gain leverage and meet his thrusts with your own hips, “between my legs for the second time”
you smirk when he curses and throws his head back
his grip on your wrists tightens and his voice drops dangerously low
“the first time doesn’t count because i was meant to see lady chae. so really, this is the first time i’m requesting for your services”
he silences you from retorting by pressing a bruising kiss against you, lips messily attaching to yours before trailing down the sharp angle of your jaw to bite your neck
you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status
part of the ‘house of flowers’ and commonly referred to as ‘flower courtesans’, you and the other women are highly-sought after for the companionship you offer
you are well protected by the house of flowers though - the services of companionship that you provide is requested by your client, but is ultimately accepted or rejected by you
lady chae, another of the flower courtesans and one of your closest friends, is requested by the king for her services
it is quite clear what it is going to entail and you both spend several of the following nights giggling and whispering scandalously to one another
whether the rumours about his stamina will be true
whether lady chae will be the first to break his one-fuck rule
except when the day of the meeting comes around, she spikes a sudden fever
lady shin, the head of the house of flowers, takes all but one look at her before ordering her to bed rest despite both of your attempts to, albeit unconvincingly, persuade lady shin that chae’s fever would only serve to help make the king’s dick warmer
lady shin is not amused to say the least
with the last minute hitch, the king agrees for you to be sent out to him as a replacement instead
and you end up being the flower courtesan who he breaks his reputed rule for
(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)
(but very quickly, she appears to be even more excited than you are as she combs through your undergarments for the “sluttiest set” that she can find)
your attention is brought back as hongjoong flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, continuing to drag his length in and out of you while your back arches off the bed
you tease in between short breaths, “are you really bringing up another woman’s name while you have your cock inside me?”
“you brought it up first,” he reminds you, accentuating his answer with timed thrusts
you grind your hips against his, chasing more friction against your clit as you feel your high approaching
“why?” he snakes one of his hands down between your connected torsos to rub messy circles against your clit, smirking as he asks, “are you getting jealous already?”
for that, you clench down hard on his cock, immediately feeling the way it throbs inside of you as you bring him closer to his orgasm too
“as if. fuck off”
your words are hardly audible from the whines that are leaving your mouth due to the added pressure of another finger against your clit from your retaliation
“i’m close,” hongjoong releases his grip on your wrists so that he can straighten his body, anchoring his hand on your hip instead so that he can fuck you and rub your clit with his other hand with renewed vigour
when you hear him groan, “cum for me,” the string snaps and your whole body quivers in his hold as your orgasm washes over you
hongjoong’s hips gradually stutter to a pause, an occasional thrust inside your clenching pussy as he milks out the rest of his cum inside of you
he finally eases himself out of you and hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you
hongjoong drops down beside you, toned chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat as it rises up and down with his pants
when your fuzzy mind has cleared a little from the blissful haze of your orgasm, he strokes his fingertips along the side of your thigh, along the curve of your ass, and over the dip of your waist just under your breasts as he says, “you better not be jealous. first one to get jealous loses”
“if anyone’s going to get jealous first, it’s you,” you scoff back
he raises an eyebrow
oh yeah?
he shoves his leaking cum back inside of you and fingers you to another orgasm
now that shuts you up
for a man who barks, he sure has no bite, because you find yourself being notified by lady shin several days later of yet another request for your services under the king’s name
and another request turns into another
and every single time, hongjoong makes sure that the only word leaving your lips for those many hours is his moaned name
but at the same time, the more you and hongjoong meet, the more he just savours in your simple companionship
he asks you to teach him how to embroider because you’ve mentioned before it’s how you like to spend your free evenings
he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring
you smack his hand away at the carelessness with which he’s upturning everything
“what’s this?” he holds up a large, wooden hoop before trying to fit it through his head, “a necklace?”
“i wonder if people know they appointed an idiot to be king,” you say as you gently unscrew the hoops and demonstrate how to align a piece of fabric between the rings
he watches with interest as you screw the outer hoop tighter until the fabric is nice and taut and then repeat the process so you both have one to work with
you have to help hongjoong thread his needle too, because apparently the king’s fingers are only good for scissoring you open
you weave your own needle through the fabric at a slow pace whilst telling him the different names and uses of the stitches you’re showing him
except, when you look up to see if he’s following?
his own hoop has been abandoned to one side and he’s leaning against his hand as he gazes cheekily at you
“were you even paying attention?”
he sounds a little too confident when he answers not at all
in return, hongjoong shows you how to write hanja the next time you meet
he positions himself behind you with his hand over yours as he guides you through different characters stroke by stroke
he claims that there are specific ways of applying pressure to the brush so he has to be holding your hand at all times
you most definitely roll your eyes several times but you indulge him anyway
there are a lot of giggles and teasing pushes when you accidentally dip the end of your sleeve into the ink and you try to spread it onto his robes too
(the calligraphy may or may not become forgotten when hongjoong pins you down to stop your cheeky behaviour, because things naturally escalate whenever he has you under him)
you two do eventually manage to finish one decent-looking scroll of characters which he ends up gifting you so that you ‘don’t forget’ about him when you’re not with him
when you walk back into the house of flowers, the hanging scroll perks lady shin’s interest as you walk past
“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”
lady shin waggles her eyebrows at you suggestively because of how casually you refer to the king, for which you nudge her with a shoulder
she laughs then asks to have a look
you unravel the paper to show her but then she makes a funny noise
“that’s not your name? these are the characters for- oh,” she cackles scandalously to herself, as if she has made a secret discovery
“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify
you wouldn’t put it past him to have taught you a crude phrase instead, like ‘best tits’ or ‘biggest ass’
lady shin lets out an amused exhale, handing the scroll back to you
“it says, my flower”
you’re looking at those exact characters from where you lay on your bed when a knock sounds on your door several days later
lady shin steps into your room with a warm smile as you greet her
“you have an appointment with lord min tomorrow, but the king has just inquired about your service availability for tomorrow,” she informs you. “would you like me to give him the usual answer?”
this isn’t the first time a clash has occurred, particularly with the increasing frequency with which hongjoong requests to see you
you have always told lady shin to ask for hongjoong’s pardon and to offer him an alternative time or day, because in the end, you still need to maintain a professional and admirable reputation as a flower courtesan
and as you open your mouth to tell her ‘yes’, your eye catches the scroll hanging on your wall
my flower
you hesitate
“actually,” you look away from the hanja, “i’ll see hongjoong.”
lady shin gives you a motherly smile as she nods in understanding and closes the door behind her
the next day you see him, he excitedly points out the large tambour frame in his room that he bought just a few days prior, claiming you two can work on a big embroidery patch together now
you give him one look then demote him back to the small embroidery hoop because he still hasn’t learnt his basic stitches yet
(that’ll teach him to not pay attention when you’re demonstrating, ha)
you relent and end up going through the different stitches with him again anyway
and you find that he’s actually not that bad with embroidery once he’s actually focused on the task at hand
it’s nice, basking in each other's presence while he threads his little square of fabric and you work with the large frame you have now essentially claimed as yours
not that hongjoong minds; he did buy it solely to make you happy
and then you offhandedly mention that someone had gifted you a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on one of the corners the other day
“i actually have it on me, in fact,” and you take it out from where it’s tucked into your waist so that you can show him
he juts out his chin as he peers down at the delicate letters, huffing, “it’s pretty, i guess”
then as an afterthought he tacks on, “bet i could do a better job”
“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”
said man is hellbent on avoiding your eyes as he picks up his needle and thread again
“no i’m not!”
“whatever you say,” you smirk
after that day though, you don’t receive another request from hongjoong to meet until two weeks later
which, in the grand scheme of things, really isn’t much
but in comparison to the frequency at which you are used to seeing him, the frequency at which your body is used to having him, it is much too long
you are almost beginning to wonder whether you shouldn’t have brought up the handkerchief gift
yet, he greets you with his usual teasing squeeze of your waist, dangerously close to your ass
you make a move to follow him through the doors to his chambers but he turns around to produce a silk cloth
he starts to blindfold you, whispering sultrily, “i have a surprise for you”
you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise at his tone
guiding you inside, hongjoong gently pushes you down so that you sink into the plush duvet of his bed
“do you trust me?” he whispers
trying not to dwell on the urge to lick your dry lips, you answer, “of course”
you feel him tugging slowly on the string that holds the front of your corset together, loosening your dress with tenderness like you are a fragile gift
you shiver when your shoulders are suddenly exposed to the cold air
and then the sensation is followed by the warmth of hongjoong’s soft exhales along the expanse of your collarbones as he leans closer to fully disrobe your shoulders
you have to remind yourself to keep breathing
“you can look now,” he tells you
you remove the silk cloth from around your eyes, unsure of what to expect
it takes a few blinks to readjust your vision to the room around you but then your eyes finally focus
and you gasp
there, hung on the wall with its striking viridian green, shimmering threads and intricate swirls on glorious display, is quite possibly the most stunning dress you have ever laid eyes upon
“try it on,” he encourages
but as you step closer, you realise the lacing across the front of the corset and running down the sleeves of the top dress is in fact, not lacing
it’s patchy
it’s uneven
it has empty areas
but it is no doubt embroidery
“did you…did you make this?” you reach out a hand to lightly caress one of the embroidered flowers, not quite daring to believe that hongjoong would go to these lengths for you
“of course,” he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a light kiss against your temple, “i’m not losing to a lousy handkerchief”
“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”
you let out a laugh, sinking into his embrace, because the image of the great king holed up in his chambers for days on end, hunched over your dress with a needle, thread and frown on his face is just too endearing
he lets out a warning huff as he turns you around in his embrace to face him
upturning his hands, he shows you the tips of his fingers and grumbles, “i poked myself so many times for you and you laugh at me?”
you bring his hands closer to your face, pressing light kisses to his fingertips as you smile, “thank you, joong. i love it so much, i really do”
he looks at you impossibly soft
under his tender gaze, something suddenly rushes to your very core
you hold one his hands steady in front of your lips then swirl your tongue out in an experimental lick over his fingers
it’s almost captivating how quickly his pupils dilate and zero in on your tongue
so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth
you suck on them a little harder
a little deeper
and then you moan around his fingers, “i want you”
he lets out a groan himself, feeling the front of his breeches tighten as his cock twitches
“i- fuck, i didn’t give the dress to you in hopes that it would lead to this,” yet despite his words he is stepping you backwards so that he can pin you against the wall
“i know, but i want you,” you palm his growing bulge, your knees going weak at how hard he already is. “and i need you. now.”
he doesn’t need further encouragement
he shoves the remainder of your clothes aside before inserting his fingers roughly between your folds
it doesn’t take long for him to bring you to your first orgasm, curling his fingers relentlessly as you ride them
he spreads your cum over your pussy and you buck your hips with a whine when he circles over your clit briefly
then he’s turning you around and bending you over, one of your hands bracing against the wall, your other arm held behind your back by hongjoong’s firm grasp
“fuck, you’re so wet,” his whole body shivers with pleasure as his cock slips right into you
the obscene sounds of his hips slapping against your ass and your slick being pushed back into your hole over and over again fill the room
and to the clenching of your pussy from another orgasm, hongjoong also cums into you with a guttural groan of your name
he gently carries you to his bed and lays you on top of the covers
he leaves your side for a moment and you listen to him rummage through something while you try to regain control of your quaking legs
when he comes back, you feel him gently spreading your legs and then the ticklish sensation of a soft cloth along your inner thighs
a whine escapes your lips when he rubs over your sensitive clit and hongjoong grips your thigh a little tighter
“be careful what pretty sounds you’re making if you can’t handle another round”
it isn’t until he finishes cleaning you up and lies down next to you to start wiping himself down that you look over and realise what it is that he’s been using this whole time
your mouth drops in disbelief
when hongjoong notices your expression, he smirks, “the man who gave you this has no idea his handkerchief is being used to clean my cum off your thighs”
“hongjoong!” you flush with a laugh. “you are definitely jealous, aren’t you?”
“yes, i’m fucking jealous,” he growls, “you’re the only one i want. you’re the only woman i’ve been requesting for since i’ve seen you. and i want to be the only one who gets to have you, too”
you confess, “well, you can have all of me. because i’ve started refusing other people just for you”
he looks at you for another moment before he’s suddenly straddling your hips
“change of plans,” he says breathily, “i need you again”
“very good plan,” you grind up against him
and then you pause, mirth starting to bubble in your throat, “one last thing though”
hongjoong looks down with amusement in his own eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny
“that handkerchief?” you start, struggling not to laugh when his eyes immediately narrow, “i never said it was from a man. it was a gift from lady chae”
seonghwa
pov: you're his royal guard
as soon as you notice the movement out of the corner of your eye, your body reacts straight away
you murmur seonghwa’s name with a tight voice and move to position yourself in front of him, unwilling to risk the prince’s safety
one of your hands grasps the hilt of your sword, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of danger, as your calculative gaze darts between the two young men stumbling closer on the dirt path and the line of forest trees from which they appear
they are wearing simple tunics and breeches with their colour faded and seams loosening from wear
from what you can discern, they are simply commoners, but that does not rule out the possibility that they are bandits
seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though
unsurprising but still grating
the prince places his hand on your shoulder gently in a silent reassurance and request for you to step aside
albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left
it becomes clear to you as the two figures stop just shy of a few feet away that the term ‘men’ was pushing it - their faces are young and they appear to be no older than seventeen or eighteen
the young strangers dip their head in greeting, one of them apologising as well as he pulls out a tattered map that he extends out for you two to see
“my companion and i are traveling to the village norshaw but seem to have lost our way. would you be able to point us in the right direction?” the one with the map asks
“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile
you watch as the three of them step closer together to look more closely at the map
on high alert, and just as you are predicting, you see the companion shuffle closer to seonghwa, hand inching towards the leather pouch that hangs from the prince’s belt
you catch the subtle motion of seonghwa’s eyes flickering down just an inch
because of how well you understand his body language, you know that it means he has already noticed the thieving intention
but because of how well you understand seonghwa, you know that he isn’t going to do anything about it either
so you strike in his stead
your hand darts out to snatch the thieve’s wrist, twisting his forearm upwards so that he is forced to lean awkwardly towards one side to prevent his elbow from snapping
his partner drops the map, letting out a string of curses and hesitating for all but three seconds before he turns around to flee
scoffing, you threaten the one who is still in your hold, who then bolts with his tail between his legs after you release him
"did you really need to scare them off like that? it's not like i had any money in the pouch anyway," seonghwa chastises with a chuckle
"yes," you deadpan. "i did not spend the last two hours of our trip pausing every fifty meters to wait for you to pick up a rock because you thought it looked pretty, only for them to be stolen by a pair of petty thieves"
"it would have been funny to imagine their faces after realising what they stole," seonghwa grins
“mhm,” you hum, “and the next thing you know, you’ll wake up to your palace ransacked, because word in town is that you can steal from the prince and get away with it”
he levels you with a boyish scowl, “you’re so dramatic. what are you, my mother?”
“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”
“exactly. you are my bodyguard, not my brainguard. if i am to be swindled of my pretty rocks, then so be it”
you roll your eyes out of exasperation, but everything is swiftly forgotten minutes later when you point out a heart-shaped rock and seonghwa rushes over to pick it up
it has been like this ever since the incident occurred - him, the sunshine; you, the sunshine protector
it has been almost four years since it happened
somebody had attempted arsenic poisoning of not only seonghwa, but also those working under him
you had noticed strange discolouring of the silverware in the kitchen and on the table serving his dinner, which prompted an investigation and subsequent discovery of the perpetrator
an act of betrayal and treachery by one of his closest relatives - his very own uncle
seonghwa was - still is - too merciful and tender-hearted to punish his uncle, even if the severity of his uncle’s crimes warranted execution
to have his trust broken so shatteringly hurt seonghwa more than if he were to actually have been poisoned
you still remember like it was yesterday; the sight of the prince slumped against the wall, weighed down by chains of turmoil and despair as whispers fly through the palace of the weak-hearted prince who is unable to deliver fair judgement
it is the sight of the prince looking so small and lost that drives your feet forward to stand before him
as the soft draught coming through the windows tugs gently on your tresses and the flickers of candlelight illuminate the glint of steel in your hand, you make a decision
“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge
not just as his royal guard, but as his haven when he is forced to face corruption and wickedness
and when you see the way his shoulders immediately sag with relief at your declaration, the way he nods like a child who has been reassured that everything will be okay, you tell yourself that seonghwa will never have to dirty his hands as long as you are with him
you will be the dark to his light; the yin to his yang
quietly, you see to it that his uncle is executed for his crimes - your statement to the rest of the palace that prince seonghwa is not to be mocked
neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows
he pulls you into a wholehearted hug, arms enveloping you securely as his chest shakes with shuddering breaths of thank you over and over again
you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly
it is an action that simultaneously reciprocates his embrace and his crossed line of professionalism
one that starts the shift in dynamic between you both, boundaries of sought comfort blurring with friendship and then something more
where seonghwa is too trusting and too soft-spoken, you become his skepticism and his voice
“you should be more wary of others,” you always remind him
“and you should be more trusty of others,” he’ll retort
yet, he will never make a decision that does not receive your input nor one that you do not agree with
where seonghwa is too gentle and too humble, you become his sword and his shield
you do not waver when you strike down foe, and friends turned foe alike
you speak up and establish firm boundaries when others take advantage of the respect he shows everybody regardless of their class or status
and yet, if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s condescension or discriminatory treatment, be it due to your rank as a guard or identity as a woman, seonghwa will be advancing forward to defend you before you can do so yourself
where seonghwa is too innocent and too bushy-tailed, you become his eyes and his caution
your morning walks together always last for longer than they are scheduled for
he stops to watch every butterfly and bumblebee that flutters along the flowery path, and he waits for caterpillars to crawl onto a leaf that he holds by the stem so that he can move the critters off the pathway
you love to watch him and his glittering eyes, his cheeks rosy from happiness and from the air still crisp with morning dew
but you also make sure to watch his surroundings with greater vigilance because the quiet peace that the freshly awoken sun brings simultaneously increases the likelihood of a targeted attack against him
as much as you rib him for being a marshmallow personified, however, and as much as he banters back that you are more than welcome to resign at any time, neither of you want it any other way
seonghwa carries out a lot of gestures that he justifies to himself as being eternally grateful for you and the things you do for him
he likes to gift you flowers he has plucked from his garden or the bushes he walks past that remind him of you
(“that’s actually just a very pretty-looking weed, but thank you, seonghwa,” you tell him on more than one occasion)
(it’s adorable, because the next time he finds a flower, he goes to the length of certifying that it is indeed a flower with the merchant who sells bouquets in the nearby town before presenting it to you, eyes gleaming with pride)
you stand still and let him tuck a flower behind your ear, sometimes braiding your hair gently so that he can weave and secure the stem into your hair, holding your breath as his features fill with the same enrapturement that he would admire a beautiful artwork with
after you voice this out one day, seonghwa supposes to himself that there is not much difference between an artwork and you
not that he’s attracted to you or anything - you just…have an objectively attractive face
yes.
especially when your usually-piercing expression is softened by fatigue, guard no longer up as you sleep slumped over a desk while accompanying him during his late night of studies
he does not realise his feet have moved until he is right beside your resting form, as if the soft exhales escaping from your slightly parted lips are a siren’s song
seonghwa tenderly brushes your stray locks away from your face and behind your neck
except he forgets to account for the fact that you are trained to sleep on the brink of consciousness
the squeal that leaves his mouth when your reflexes kick in and you almost slit his throat resounds at a frequency so high you almost believe it comes from your own mouth
you have a grand time watching his beet red face stutter out an excuse as to what exactly he was doing so close to you
needless to say, that is the last time seonghwa ever tries to do anything while you are sleeping
but as much as he bumbles around, he also reveals his perceptiveness when you least expect it
like now, as you accompany the prince to one of his meetings with numerous advisors and ministers
it is relatively dull and uneventful, mostly a cordial appearance to maintain amicable and loyal relationships with his subjects
conversation is limited to pleasantries and at one point, seonghwa even points out the calligraphy paintings hung at the back of the room
everyone nods with throaty laughs as if the paintings are indeed the most exquisite and tasteful artworks they have ever laid their eyes upon
when you and seonghwa arrive back at his chambers following the conclusion of the meeting, he walks over to his bed and shakes the sleeves of his robe over the expanse of his duvet
and out drops a neatly-wrapped sweet, followed by another, then another, until there are enough to amount to two handfuls
baffled, you look at seonghwa, because these are the very same treats that had been plated on the tables during the meeting
“you smuggled candy out of the room?” you try to keep the amusement out of your voice
he peers into his sleeves to ensure there are no more stragglers, before turning to face you as he waves his hands over the small collection of goods on his bed
as if they are-
“for you!” he exclaims almost proudly. “i saw you eyeing them during the meeting so i took some for you”
okay
most definitely proudly
you feel something tickling you from within, as if he has reached through your chest to directly caress your heart with a delicate finger
“when did you even…” your voice trails off when it comes out a little fonder than you are expecting it to
“remember the paintings i pointed out?” seonghwa giggles, and you think that the hand in your chest is now cradling your heart completely. “i swiped the sweets when everyone was looking back at them”
“thank you, hwa,” you settle on saying, because you do not trust yourself to say anything else
that is more than enough for him, though
which, of course it is - this is seonghwa, with his huge heart that fills easily with the smallest of things
he eagerly hands you one of the treats and you unwrap it to place into your mouth
you’ve had these before, but this one that he has specially grabbed for you tastes remarkably sweeter
you wonder if his lips will taste the same…
but then you accidentally bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, and you realise just how wrong you are for letting those fleeting thoughts into your mind
because while you navigate the world in thick droplets of red and sharp glints of silver, seonghwa sees the world in soft hues of pastel and gleaming rays of yellow
how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?
so instead, you grant yourself one last moment of selfishness and pull him into a hug, a gesture that toes the already shaky borders of professionalism yet can still be excused under the guise of friendship
you realise that he has always meant much more to you, but that is what this will stay as - a mere realisation
seonghwa wraps his arms around your form as he relaxes into the way your bodies naturally meld together
it’s strange how easily you slot into his life, his thoughts, his heart
he wonders whether it’s possible for feelings of appreciation to run so deeply and potently within somebody, like a drug that he cannot get enough of
and when you take a step away from him, leaving his chest feeling physically and emotionally empty, he wonders if he is perhaps…
in love with you
following that incident, it is almost as if a switch flips - both of you take several steps away from the line that has been danced around
but neither of you notice the distance because you are both consumed by your own thoughts
until one of your usual morning walks around the castle walls of his palace
seonghwa is wondering whether the bushes you walk past remind you of the flowers he used to gift you and you are debating whether to reach out to brush a petal out of his half ponytail
then, like deja vu, your eyes flicker towards the burst of movement as a figure covered in black comes darting forwards with their blade raised intended for murder
you immediately start to unsheathe your sword, feet poised and prepared to defend-
until you are harshly tugged back and the prince steps in front of you to parry the strike that the assassin tries to land
it takes your lifetime of training and experience to snap back into focus and thrust your sword into the enemy’s exposed side
when you are sure he is dead, you whirl around to descend upon seonghwa with a voice trembling from both anger and relief
“what in the world were you thinking?” you yell
“i-”
taking a step forward, you toss your sword to one side, “no, actually. you weren’t thinking at all”
“i was afraid that you would get hurt!” he takes his own step closer
“that is my duty!” the volume of your voice raises even more. “i am willing to lay down my life to ensure your safety! i have been guarding you for years now and you have never acted this way. what has changed?”
for a moment, the only sound that punctuates the silence is your harsh breathing
seonghwa swallows
“my feelings…” he whispers, a stark contrast to the peak of emotions you have been riding. “my feelings for you have changed”
your throat tightens at his words
it is your turn to whisper, a noise of confusion leaving your lips
he takes another step closer, bringing himself to stand right in front of you as he looks down earnestly into your eyes
“i’d rather be the protector, and you be the protected”
“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation
“because i’m in love with you”
right at the invisible border that has been separating you two for as long as you have been his guard, seonghwa now stands, hands wringing together as he awaits a response
“then that makes the two of us,” you confess
you step forward to take your familiar spot on the other side of the line, except this time you do not stop
you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side
raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you pull him down slightly by the front of his doublet so that you can press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips
it stretches wider and curves upwards under the nurturing of your own smile
you can’t help but give him another kiss on the other side of his mouth to match the one you just gave him
“from now on,” seonghwa starts, “i’ll be your sword”
you wouldn’t really, and you will fight him to let you continue being his guard, but that doesn’t stop one last teasing question from escaping you
“does this mean i get to retire?”
yunho
pov: you're part of a rebel group
the crown prince is not in his fucking library
for the past three weeks, the crown prince has always been in the royal library at night
until today
under normal circumstances, his royal guards and staff would be alerted to ensure that the deviance in routine is a conscious decision and not an issue of the crown prince missing
except doing that would make your job significantly harder…
considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.
you’re part of the ‘red sun’, a revolutionary movement aiming to overthrow the current monarch
following the debilitating state of the king after falling ill and the subsequent coronation of queen jeong into power, she has since then established numerous royal decrees to keep everyone under her reign on a tight leash
a leash made of barbed wire
people are quick to become resentful and thirsty for an end to the dictatorship and bloodline
although he has made limited public appearances, the crown prince has also developed a reputation rivaling the queen’s
within the second year of the jeong dynasty, red sun has already amassed a multitude of supporters
the focus is currently on growing in numbers, preparing for an imminent revolution and picking off corrupt royals and noblists, be it through incrimination or assassination
dealing with those in positions of higher power is a task only completed by an elite selection of red sun rebels who have distinguished skills and traits that set them apart from peasants and commoners
and you are amongst the elite team
which is why you find yourself staking out on the tiled roof of the imperial palace, clothed in black with a mask and hooded cowl covering your face that blends you in with the darkness of night, on the orders of a higher-up to assassinate the crown prince
except the target is missing; the information you were given is wrong
which never happens
you can’t risk staying around for much longer, especially now that the crown prince has broken his routine
he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards
you shift your body to a crouch and place your hands on the cool tiles beneath you, ready to leave
only to spot a figure, crouched just like you are, on the opposite side of the roof
their face is a black hole of nothing within the shrouded confines of their hood, but you can feel their gaze piercing into you all the same
you run
you scramble to the edge of the roof and nimbly leap off the curved eaves to the neighbouring structure of the study room
when you glance backwards, you see the man - physique now obvious - is keeping up easily along the stepping stones of roofs
this game of cat and mouse isn’t going to work for long
if you don’t get caught by him first, you’re both going to get caught by the palace guards
so you make a split decision and alter your next trajectory lower
keeping your arms outstretched for the eaves, you grab on tightly when your fingers touch the edge of the roof and use your core to kick your legs up to stop your body from slamming into the wall from the momentum of your jump
you let go and drop to the ground like a feline, noiseless, and slink towards a line of trees
then you wait
he’s good, you note to yourself, when the only sound that alerts you to his presence is the quick scuffle of his feet as he softens his impact against the wall and the muted thud of his body landing on the ground
“state your purpose,” he demands, voice low yet firm
you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”
now up close, you can see that the man is wearing attire almost the same as you are, identity also hidden by the his bandana and hood-
wait
even the dark red stitching that subtly replaces the original seam on the right shoulder of his outer clothing is the same
the same as those on the elite team
“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions
except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build
being one of the earliest members of the rebel organisation, you are familiar with all the members who carry out missions like yours
he is not one of them; not one you can trust yet
when you don’t speak, he adds on, “we need to go. the safehouse might be in danger”
we
he refers to the two of you so easily, as if you and him are an unspoken team
you cannot trust this man until you know for sure he is part of red sun, so you ask him
“when is red most beautiful?”
it is a vague question with a fixed answer
one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself
during the sunrise of a new beginning
“during the sunrise of a new beginning,” the man says resolutely
the tension releases from your shoulders
“okay,” you opt to abandon your original mission. “let’s check on the safehouse”
the man offers you a hand to hike yourself up onto one of the outer walls of the palace before he jumps up himself with ease
you both flip over the top and land in unison
the moon illuminates the ground beneath your feet as you both sprint into the surrounding forest
the safehouse is really just a small hut situated far enough from the palace to stay inconspicuous, yet not close enough to the outer borders of the kingdom to risk discovery by the frequent border patrols
you both slow down as you approach the clearing, steadying your breaths and treading with cautious steps
and then you hear it
the shattering clang of a desperate parry
all it takes is a quick glance at the man by your side before your eyes harden with purpose and your steps are dashing in unison towards the hut
you’re both hit with the smell of a metallic tang in the air, and it’s not from your drawn swords
bursting through the door, you quickly take in the scene before you
several red sun members are scattered around the hut and slumped in varying degrees of injury
it’s easy to spot the intruder; they’re yanking their sword out of a body’s torso as they simultaneously turn to look at you
and it’s hard to miss the royal insignia of the jeong monarch on their chest plate
you have the element of surprise
but only for the next few seconds
you leap forward with the thud of footsteps of your partner following almost immediately, side-stepping once you close the distance to dodge a haphazard swing
there’s a brief break in defense when the enemy tries to aim for another strike that leaves the gap in the side of their armour exposed
you feel the slight resistance of your sword entering flesh as you thrust it forward into them
except when you try to tug it back out, a hand grasps your own and the hilt of your sword, stopping you from stepping away
the enemy has realised they are not going to make it out of this alive
but if they are to die, then they are going to take one last person with them
you.
you see glint of metal as they use their other hand to swing their sword down onto you, only for it to be deflected at the last second by another sword
the man you have met for barely an hour is now at your side with his towering protectiveness
in one smooth kick, his long leg sends the other careening into the wall of the hut with a mighty slam
you feel yourself jerking forward from the enemy’s grasp still on your hand
but the man next to you quickly tucks you into his side before you are also sent sprawling
“check on the others,” he briefly says, and then he is striding towards the fallen intruder
you only spare him another quick glance and then you rush to the nearest figure on the ground
you go around checking for pulses, and for those who are still breathing, the extent of their injuries
there are several casualties but nowhere near as many if you and the man had not come to check on the safehouse
which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks
how did he know about the attack in the first place?
you stretch your legs from their squatted position next to one of the red sun members and turn around to confront him
except…the man has disappeared
and so has the intruder’s body
days later, the question of whether you will chance upon the man again tonight flits through your mind when you find yourself perched in the very same spot on the tiled roof of the palace that gives you a clear view of the royal library
you have received another order to assassinate the crown prince as soon as you see the opportunity arise
this time, the note is accompanied by a cyanide capsule, a non-verbal message that this mission is to occur with your life on the line
you spot him
he’s preoccupied by the scroll in his hand as he makes his way through the shelves of parchments
you wait until he’s walked far enough into the library before you drop down from the roof, keeping your stance low to ensure you stay hidden as you silently move closer
you take out the jagged dagger from its sheath by your waist as you anticipate it will be too difficult to wield your long sword in the narrow aisles
and there the crown prince stands
he has his back to you, exposing him to your mercy
mercy that you have no intention of showing him
the cruel heir to the throne of an even crueler dictatorship deserves none
“it’s you again, isn’t it?”
you freeze
the crown prince still has not turned around to address you, but you can feel the dark gaze of his eyes on you as if he were looking at you
“you were here a few days ago”
fuck
how he knows you have no idea
what you do know though is that you have about two seconds to make a move before you lose this chance to assassinate him completely, and quite possibly, lose your life as well
the pill you have hidden in the breast of your tunic feels heavy
“you are part of red sun, are you not?”
this time the crown prince does turn around to face you, but it isn’t the nonchalance with which he reveals your identity that makes your head reel
it is the warmth and softness in his gaze and the hint of a smile on his face that does
what the actual fuck
you’re convinced that the crown prince is not only heinous, but also batshit crazy
“i am,” you spit out at him, “with orders to assassinate you, in fact”
his mouth thins into a tight line, “the orders you have received are false”
“sounds exactly like something a crown prince would say to avoid being assassinated,” you scoff
but then his next words change everything
“red is most beautiful during the sunrise of a new beginning”
before you have time to fathom the bomb that has just been dropped, your heads swivel simultaneously towards the entrance of the royal library when a voice calls out for the crown prince
“hide,” he hisses urgently
and then he’s stepping further away to conceal your presence as best as possible
you hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching before they stop, dangerously close to where you’re crouched behind a bookshelf
“apologies for interrupting your time, crown prince,” they say
from where you are you can see the crown prince’s expression clear as he lets out a small huff, “i have told you many times to just call me yunho”
“of course, crown prince yunho”
even though you can’t see the other person’s expression, you can hear the amusement in their voice
they continue, “i have the information you have requested for”
“thank you,” you see him - yunho - receive a small scroll. “the queen does not know?”
“no, i made sure to be as discreet as possible”
yunho thanks the other once again and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he bows his head in appreciation as he dismisses them
is this the same crown prince as the rumours?
and what is he doing behind his mother’s back?
you don’t realise you’ve been staring dumbly at him until he’s back in front of you with amusement on his face
he stands tall and proud, robes accentuating his stature and nobility
“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask
your voice is small - you feel small, crouched at his feet like a stark physical representation of the power he holds over you
but then he takes yet another step closer and kneels down so that your eyes meet at the same level
“i am the leader of red sun. the creator of the whole revolution”
your ankles actually do give out at that and you have to seat yourself on the floor
because how is any of this possible?
you must have voiced your thoughts out loud, because before you know it, yunho is crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor right in front of you
it makes you feel so strange
the crown prince’s willingness to make himself an equal before you - and even to his staff from earlier
yunho starts to explain
a change in monarch, particularly one of such dictatorship, requires massive momentum and synergy; something he cannot produce alone nor without the support of the people
thus, red sun came into existence for the exact same reason you and all the other supporters have joined
in hopes of a sunrise one day that marks a new beginning
a new leadership
except recently he has had growing suspicious of the presence of a traitor within the organisation, which were confirmed the night the safehouse was attacked
“that night…that man was you,” you realise, “and that’s how you know who i am”
he nods, “and that’s also how i know your orders are false.” yunho nudges you playfully with his knee, “pretty sure i never ordered for my own assassination”
yunho continues to explain that he had taken the intruder back for interrogation, but then you frown when he reveals the enemy had swallowed a suicide pill before any information could be gained
he has an inkling that someone in a high position of power is involved, since the pills are almost impossible to gain access to, but it cannot be ruled out as a coincidence
“hang on,” you pull down the top of your tunic in a hurry
yunho scrambles to cover his eyes and turns his head as he jokingly sputters out, “woah okay, this is moving a little fast don’t you think?”
you tug impatiently on the sleeve of his robe, telling him to look
yunho hesitates for another second before lowering his hands and realising you have-
“a suicide pill?”
you look at each other, because this can only mean one thing
the pills are not a coincidence; the enemy is much closer than yunho would like
you’re both unsure how much time there is until the traitor decides to order someone else to assassinate yunho, or worse, decides to finish the job off themselves
but from that very night of discovery, you and yunho work together incessantly against a ticking time bomb
it’s a delicate balance between finding as many leads as you can and spreading out your investigations to stay under the radar
yunho tries to look further into the cyanide pills while you try to uncover any information regarding the order you had been given
whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well
there isn’t much to report from either of your ends whenever you sneak into the palace to meet up with yunho
but he makes it very hard for you to feel discouraged when he makes your meetings seem like casual catch ups between - you dare say - friends
you have yet to catch him by surprise whenever you drop down from the roof in front of him in an attempt to scare him; he has an uncanny ability to sense your presence
except, you think you prefer being unsuccessful, because your indignant grumbles never fail to bring out his toothy grin and an excited body jiggle
other times he is the one trying to fluster you
“remember that time you literally tried undressing yourself in front of me-”
“i was taking the pill out to show you!”
you bring your thumb and index finger closer together in front of your face and squint at the gap
“i am this close to changing my mind and assassinating you after all”
he gets a kick out of it, pretending to beg for your mercy, “oh please spare me, your majesty”
other times, yunho teases you for always keeping your cowl and mask on
“bet it’s because you’re ugly or something,” he jokes
and you bite back that he had his face covered too when you both met, so you’re one to talk, ugly
“but since then i’ve always shown you my face as the crown prince. you can see me nice and clear,” he suddenly leans forward, so close you can see the dip of his cupid’s brow. “what do you think about me now?”
you swallow hard
you’re glad you have your mask on because you can feel your face rapidly heating up
“i think…” you gently cup his jaw, “you look better with your mask on,” as you nudge his face to the side
you cannot help but join in with your own chuckles at his laughter and boyish glee
and eventually, you two have a breakthrough
yunho manages to trace the cyanide back to a traveling merchant operating under the guise of selling rare herbs and medicine
in the transaction ledger, there is an unusually large purchase under the name of ‘lee minjun’
“i’m sure i’ve seen the name before somewhere, but i can’t remember where,” yunho huffs
you let out your own huff at his elbow that has very naturally taken a rest on your shoulder
pulling out a stack of paper, you spread it out onto the table before you two
they are past records of certain red sun missions that, upon looking back, seem suspicious
“i noticed a mark on a couple of them, a drawing or character perhaps? except none of them are fully intact. it’s almost like the paper was accidentally marked”
you point them out to yunho in hopes that he will have a better idea
he doesn’t - not at first
not until he chances upon two that vaguely align with each other to form a clearer image
“this-” yunho runs his hand through his hair, “this is butler lee’s stamp. my father’s butler.”
the king’s butler?
lee?
your eyes snap to yunho’s, just as his meet yours
“lee minjun”
you sink back in your seat
there’s now definite proof that the king’s butler is at the very least involved
the question of why and what for remains
in fact, you and yunho would not put it past the queen either to be involved too
there is a long moment of shared silence as you both mull over what this means for the future
yunho breaks the silence first
“after this all ends…do you want to work for me, officially?” he clears his throat, “will you stay by my side?”
after this all ends
you two must still uncover butler lee’s motives; likely part of a much grander scheme involving queen jeong too
you two must still bring down the whole monarch; with the support of red sun, yunho needs to sit on his rightful throne
the sun has yet to rise but you can see the faint hues of orange and twilight blue in the horizon
the new beginning is close
and at that, something in you relaxes
crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief
“it would be my honour to stay by your side forever, yunho”
and then you are removing your hood and mask, daring to breathe and feel alive and hopeful for once
ironically, yunho chokes on air
you glance at him to find that he is unable to meet your eyes
you think your eyes are deceiving you because-
the tips of his ears are a glowing red
you could definitely get used to seeing the usually calm and collected crown prince become a shy, blushing mess
the corner of your mouth rises with smugness, “like what you see?”
“you should really keep your hood and mask on,” he mumbles
“and why is that?” you humour him
he finally looks at you
and when he sees the shit-eating grin plastered across your face, his shoulders suddenly fill out again with confidence and cockiness to match yours
“because,” his voice deep and flirtatious, “with a pretty face like that, you’re going to distract me from my duties”
yeosang
pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him
ever since you could understand the words coming out of your parents’ mouths, you have known that you will be married to yeosang
it just made sense
for the respective princess and prince of two powerful kingdoms to join together, leading to increased power and stronger allies
it is tradition for the pair to meet their chosen spouse for the first time only when both parties have turned sixteen, and even then, subsequent meetings are rare until the time of the actual wedding
so you spend the first sixteen years of your life infatuated with the idea of your prince charming - of prince yeosang - wondering what he looks like, what his personality is like, and how you two will fall in love
and when you finally reach that long-awaited first meeting, prince charming is everything and more than what you have envisioned
if angels with broken wings were exiled to earth, they would look like yeosang
he is soft-spoken and slightly reserved, as any awkward teenager meeting their future spouse would be, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes overflow with adoration and his shoulders shake with exuberant giggles whenever his little sister, yeoreum, comes tottering into the room
he always bends down onto one knee to match her eye level, uncaring of the stains that mark his pants even as his mother narrows her eyes in disdain, and he listens with utmost sincerity when yeoreum tells him about the secret pink and glittery fairy she spotted in the courtyard
they remind you of the relationship you share with your own little brother, juwon, who is barely half your age and height, yet has you wrapped around his little finger
you lean down closer with a hum at the soft tug on your dress to hear your little brother whisper conspiratorially into your ear, “he looks stupid”
if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now
you stifle a laugh as you flick juwon’s chin affectionately at his sudden display of childish jealousy
if anything, you’re pretty sure you are the one who looks stupid
stupidly in love
because walking away from that first meeting with yeosang and his family, you know that you are absolutely smitten for the prince
unable to quell the restlessness of having to wait until the next unforeseeable meeting, you pick up a quill that very same day you return to your palace and start writing
it takes you all night, the gentle gleams and winks of the stars keeping you company until they rotate shifts with the songs of the waking world
but by the time you have crossed out and scrunched your way through rolls and rolls of parchment paper, you are satisfied with the letter you have written
the letter addressed to prince yeosang, which you task eunju, one of your maids, with passing it to the royal couriers for delivery to the kang palace
it is a simple letter, thanking him for the enjoyable day, yet it holds the deeper message that you are interested in him and would like to become better acquainted before your marriage
you wonder whether his cheeks will flush a pretty red as his butler hands him your letter
whether he will trace his fingers delicately over the curve of your words
whether he will bite back a smile as he pictures you saying the words to him
two weeks pass, and you approximate the letter to have just been delivered to his kingdom
and although you desperately wish for him to immediately sit down with a quill in hand to pen out his reply, you wait and give him a week before you eagerly start counting down the days until the arrival of his letter
your whole life you have been able to wait patiently
you wonder what has changed now that mere weeks feel like an eternity
the day yeosang’s letter is due to arrive, you are sporadic bursts of giggles, twirls and skips throughout the palace
even juwon is starting to become sick of getting swept up into a crushing hug to the cheery tune of i loveee youuuu every single time you pass him
nothing can bring you down from cloud nine
only…the letter never comes
not the day after, not the week after, not the month after
you’re disappointed, of course, but you busy yourself with reasons why yeosang has not replied, and you don’t give up
you send him another letter, and then another, and another
sometimes you just tell him about your day - what made you smile, what made you sad, something interesting you saw, something your little brother said
other times you tell him about yourself - your hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations, fears
and you also wonder about him
you ask what he likes, what he smiles at, what makes him sad, what his dreams are
with each letter that you hand over to eunju to be delivered, it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic - not even the words of encouragement from your favourite maid lifts your spirits
you continue like this for over a year, still yet to receive a reply
until-
you do.
it feels like you are brought back to that very night of your first meeting, feeling so very alive as hope and excitement cascade into your body the moment eunju hands you a letter with a smile
with shaking hands, you fumble to unpeel the wax seal and free the envelope’s contents - a single piece of paper, neatly folded
your mind races with anticipated words and explanations
perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier
or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit
you unfold the parchment as the hairs on your skin raise in anticipation, only to find it blank save for one scrawled sentence in the middle of the paper-
stop sending me letters.
and just like that, the clock strikes twelve
your carriage reverts into a pumpkin
and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes
you don’t write to him again.
years later, the stacks of parchment scrolls on the wooden desk of the guest room you are currently residing in feel like a fresh slap in the face each time your eyes land on them
they are a stark reminder of your very own letters, the cold rejection you received, and the irony of the only letter you ever received again following his being one from the kang monarchs, announcing the proceeding of the royal wedding between you and their son
now, only a few days newly-wed to yeosang, the king and queen are gracious enough to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms temporarily, under your claims of adjusting to a life in a new kingdom and as a wife
really, you are trying to avoid yeosang for as long as you can
you spend your time instead getting to know his little sister better, which is why you find yourself sitting side by side with yeoreum, legs dangling off the edge of your bed
she eyes the vase of flowers on your bedside table curiously, “did you buy that?”
“no,” you reach out to touch the baby’s breath, “someone delivered it to my room”
you had offhandedly mentioned to some of your staff the other day that flowers would make your room look more homey, and you had woken up the morning after to find the beautiful vase teeming with flowers next to you
“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully
“it looks just like the vase in my brother’s room, but he’s weird about it. yeo never lets anyone touch it, much less have it”
you blanch a little, “in that case i’ll give it back to him later then”
“you don’t like it? or…you don’t like my brother? my brother talks about you a lot, you know,” she reveals
caught off-guard by her perceptiveness, you reveal that you have been hurt before
you don’t specify by what exactly or who it is that you’re talking about, but she seems to understand regardless
later that night, sweet yeoreum barges into yeosang’s room and with as much feistiness as she can muster, she glares at her brother and interrogates, “what did you do to make her upset?”
before he can so much as blink, yeoreum concludes, “you boys are dumb. go talk to her and fix it or something,” and then walks out with a huff
there’s no one there to witness it, but yeosang nods anyway
heart feeling a little heavy after your conversation with yeoreum, you head towards the kitchen to seek solace in the sweet pastry you are usually served each morning
the first time you tasted the danish pastry, decorated with strawberries and cream cheese, was when you had traveled to yeosang’s palace at the age of sixteen for your first meeting
you remember the blissful expression that had bloomed across your face with your initial bite, and no dessert ever captivated your tastebuds quite the same way ever again
if there is one good thing out of this arranged marriage with yeosang, then it would be the reunion between yourself and the strawberry danish
“your highness,” the head chef bows, followed by the rest of the staff in the kitchen, “how may we help you?”
when you ask for one of the pastries, the head chef apologises that there are none
“but we can make you one now, if you do not mind waiting”
you tell him not to go to the trouble and ease his worries, “i just thought there may have been leftover pastries”
“we make only one fresh every morning, specifically for you,” the chef explains, and confusion must settle across your features because he adds on, “his highness has expressed that you may like them”
oh?
flustered, you can only muster a short response of, “i do, thank you,” before you smile once more and excuse yourself
because of all people to notice and remember such a small detail, and then to go out of their way to put in the request with the kitchen on the off chance that it was still true, it was yeosang?
first the vase, and now this
you feel something deeply buried inside of you start to stir but you rush to nip it in the bud
your head and your heart are beginning to wage war against each other and suddenly everything feels like it’s too much
when you reach your bedroom, you throw open the double doors to step out onto the balcony, welcoming the chilling breeze of the darkening sky
you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up
you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions
and on top of it all, you suddenly miss home and you miss your parents and you miss juwon and-
“are you okay?”
yeosang’s soft question startles you, having missed his knocking at your door
he walks closer to join you out on the balcony when he sees that the answer is obviously a no, and he prompts you again, “what’s wrong?”
thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind
you start with half truths
“just missing my little brother”
“you love him a lot, don’t you,” yeosang smiles sweetly, “i can see it in the way you take care of yeoreum”
you can’t help the heat that slowly creeps up the back of your neck and to your ears, because it implies that he’s noticed all the times you’ve showered his little sister with the same love you give to juwon
it implies he’s noticed you
“what’s your fondest memory of juwon?” he asks when you nod
something within you thaws slightly at the fact that yeosang remembers your little brother’s name
you step closer to the edge of the balcony so that you can overlook the garden outside your room a little clearer, resting your hand on the railing as yeosang waits patiently
“we used to have this game we played. we had a lot of gardenia flowers growing around our courtyard and juwon loved cutting some to make me a mini bouquet,” you pause to shake your head with a chuckle, “it drove our mother nuts”
“doesn’t sound like it stopped him from continuing though, did it?” yeosang questions with mirth
“no, it didn’t,” your heart aches with fondness. “he would use a certain number of gardenias and make me guess what phrase containing the same number of letters he had in mind”
it never failed to tug your mouth into a smile whenever juwon giggled at your attempts to guess the flower phrase, even when most times he would bound away whilst singing answers like y-o-u s-t-i-n-k or d-u-m-b d-u-m-b
yeosang supports himself on the railing with one hand as he nearly folds in on himself in laughter, and before you know it, you too are gasping for air and wiping away tears from your eyes
when you both calm down relatively enough, only intermittent chuckles leaving your lips, yeosang clears his throat and scratches his neck awkwardly
“i know it might not be much, but maybe we can go out into town tomorrow and it might take your mind off things? and we can bring yeoreum along if that makes you feel more comfortable, because you’ve probably spent more time alone with her than you have with me?”
you don’t admit it, but you’re already feeling a little better, so you decide to tease, “are you asking me out on a date right now, kang yeosang?”
“oh, well, we’d be doing things a little backwards since we’re already like, married…but, yes? maybe? is that okay?”
it’s yeosang’s turn to flush a deep red as his usually composed demeanor is reduced to stutters, but you don’t notice under the faint glow cast by the moon now reigning the sky
“yeah, that’s okay”
you and yeosang smile fondly as your little trio stroll through a nearby town the following morning, his younger sister skipping ahead to peer at the colourful trinkets being sold at the market stalls, and your own small squad of royal soldiers following behind at a respectful distance
it’s kind of endearing how yeosang points out item after item, asking whether you like it or whether you find it pretty, in a not-so-subtle attempt to learn about your preferences
you have to stop him from buying you something from every second stall you both pass, but you’re unable to convince him from purchasing a small wooden toy as a gift for juwon, insisting that you give it to your little brother the next time you see him
the more you actually interact and talk with yeosang, the harder you find it to associate him with the memory of the yeosang in your rejected letters
because the equation of the letters, the vase and the pastries just does not add up
as you two sit under the awning of a small shop, watching yeoreum play with the shopkeeper’s dog, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore
“why didn’t you reply to my letters?” you break the silence, trying to hide the hurt laced in your voice
yeosang looks at you with wide eyes as his mouth stutters open
and in the smallest voice you have ever heard him speak with, he says
“you wrote me letters?”
your eyebrows knit together as your eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deception
“too many to count,” you confess, “until you sent a letter telling me to stop…”
“impossible. i never got your letters”
your head recoils back as you try to make sense of his words, “but-”
“wait,” he interrupts
yeosang reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, wooden block, extending it out closer to you as he asks, “do you recognise this?”
upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a square seal stamp
it has the character ‘姜’ carved into it and you’ve seen it enough times to know it represents the kang family name - but the inscription that stylises the border is unfamiliar
“not the seal, no”
he swallows apprehensively, “i stamp all my letters with this to certify authenticity”
you let his words sink in as they throw you into a sandstorm of bewilderment
“but then-”
but then who wrote the letter?
and where did all your letters go?
the only people who would have known about them would be the royal couriers and…eunju
a memory flashes through your mind - the moment she handed you a letter with a smile
no, not a smile, you realise
a smirk
you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness
yeosang doesn’t push you for a response, and you come to recognise that you are also grateful
“i’m sorry for doubting you,” you tell him
it’s nowhere close to the amount of things you want to confess, but it is a start, one that yeosang picks up on and understands immediately
“no, i’m sorry you felt the need to doubt me,” he offers. “that i didn’t make you feel loved enough”
“but i did, actually. the vase and the pastries, then our conversation last night…and even today”
he blushes a deep red as you list the things off with your fingers
“you weren’t meant to find out about the first two,” yeosang admits as he ducks his head shyly
then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought
he ruffles inside his satchel that had been abandoned to one side, mumbling, “my sister said i did something to upset you…so i um, got you these”
he turns around to reveal a bouquet of flowers, looking a little rough for wear after being hidden in his bag all morning, but his clumsy consideration only serves to makes your heart skip dangerously
“forgive me?” he asks cheekily, and you both giggle at the absurdity of his question because it should very well be the other way around
“if you insist,” you take the bouquet into your hands
and finally, you allow the chains around your heart to fall away, “i can’t say no to my husband, can i?”
yeosang lets out a little squeak as you look at the bouquet more clearly, counting the number of flowers
you turn to ask if he remembers the game you told him about, but the way yeosang suddenly finds the patch of dirt near his foot absolutely fascinating tells you everything that you need to know
eight flowers
eight letters
i l-o-v-e y-o-u
#loren writes#ateez fics#ateez smut#ateez x reader#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong smut#hongjoong scenarios#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa scenarios#yunho x reader#yunho scenarios#yeosang x reader#yeosang scenarios#ateez ot8 x reader#ateez fluff#ateez angst#ateez crack#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez headcanons#ateez au#royal ateez#prince ateez#prince!ateez
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Pins n' Needles
Pairing: Chris x fem!reader
Contents: piercing shop, piercer!Chris
Warnings: SMUTTYYY / blowjob / public sex (kinda) / male stimulation / throat fuck / praise / pet names; (ma, mama, sweetheart, sugar, doll, good girl) / begging if you squint / switch Chris / Chris + vertical labret, eyebrow & tongue pierced / implied aftercare
Summary: The reader has a booked appointment with Chris to get a new piercing, you’ve become a regular at his shop from the few piercings you’ve gotten before. Unbeknownst to you, he’ll be doing more than just sticking a needle in this time.
Author’s note: Hey y’all, this is my first ever fic I’m posting on my blog. I’ll keep this note short n’ sweet but I hope you guys like it!! Please also give me feedback/constructive criticism because I want my writing to be 100% satisfactory for you all. This is also VERY long; apologies in advance, but again I hope you enjoy it!! From Maxine, with love ❣.
“I wanna put you in my mouth… I wanna crush you in my jaws.” - IN MY MOUTH, BLACK DRESSES
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
You were full of anticipation while dreaming of getting yet another piercing done. You really loved your others you received before, and you never once had an issue with them rejecting or becoming infected. It’s what made this particular location your favourite.
As you climb down the steps to the bottom floor of a punk-rock, alternative store; it reveals a funky, LED-lit piercing shop. To the right, there stood a desk with posters of underground grunge bands that mixed soulfully with big and upcoming rappers and R&B artists hung up on the brick wall.
There’s a mellow softness of music in the background. From what you can hear, it sounds a lot like FE!N by Travis Scott and Playboi Carti. On the opposite side; there were satiny, leather black couches that hung low from the weight of many customers who had sat there before. The place was desolate and quiet, aside from the tunes muffled in the back.
You naturally assumed it was empty and you were simply a bit early, until you heard a door barge open.
As you turn your head 45 degrees to look back at what the sudden clamour was, you see a silhouette of a man staring at you. His brunette hair hangs low over his eyebrows in heavy contrast to his icy blue irises.
The dimness of the room brings shade over his profile but a glimmer of light shines at you from the centre of his lip and eyebrow. He’s dressed up in a plain, black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had the words “FRESH LOVE” embroidered into the fabric. The Vivienne Westwood orb necklace hanging around his nape glistened that matched his diamond earrings.
The fashion statement he obtains makes you come to the realisation that it was Chris, your body piercer.
Suddenly his cold gaze wipes away once he gets a good look up and down at you, he curls his lips up into a friendly grin and inquires; “Hiya sweetheart. How can I help you today?” The low deepness of his voice makes you jump slightly.
“Hey Chris, I have an appointment booked for 12:30 to get my piercing done.” You reply trying to hide the trembling in your question from the painful mixture of excitement and nervousness.
Chris peers down at the nimble clipboard of names and dates. His slender index finger slides down the paper, he shoots his eyes back up at you for a split second giving you a smirk.
He looks back down to the clipboard and spots your name and taps his finger on it.
He turns his head back up at you with a toothy leer as he states “I always look forward to writing your name on my clipboard, y’know.” The stubble resting peacefully on the sharpness of his cheekbones spike up beautifully. He feeds his bottom lip into his mouth while he beams a smile at you and he grits on the metal ring with his enamels.
You say nothing because you’re too flustered to muster up consonants or vowels. A flush of cherry blossom pink pours over your face in embarrassment at his casual compliments and nicknames.
You’re too sheepish to admit it but you have a massive crush on your body piercer.
He gathers up a long piece of paper that looks like a waiver, he hands it to you as he states; “I need your signature here, as per usual I will be your body piercer for today. If you could be a doll and read the terms and conditions along with the do’s and don’ts that are listed above that would be great. You can follow me into the back once you’re done, sweetheart.”
He stares at you patiently with a light beam on his face while you swivel the pen around on the paper.
You plop the pen down on the hard wooden desk and hand the waiver back to Chris. “Perfect. Thank you sugar. If you could just follow me in here, please?” He makes a beckoning gesture with his hands, his eyebrow ring almost fully hidden under his hair.
“Okay”. You respond, giving him a smile as you walk over to him and make your way into a room behind the establishment you were just in.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Moments later, you’re sitting peacefully on the flat bed. Admiring Chris while he slides on a pair of black latex gloves with his sterilised equipment laying still next to him.
Soon after, he pops open an alcohol pad and sets it down in the metal tray with needles and studs. He turns his body around to face you and he grabs the tray. He approaches you with the alcohol pad in his hand, his figure leaning into your face to wipe at the skin where you wanted your piercing to be.
Chris then acquires a sharp pointed pen and a long needle, he marks your face with a purple line.
“Go and look in the mirror and tell me if you’re happy or not with the position.” You get up on your feet and stroll over to the mirror and turn your face to where the mark sits.
“Mmm, can I have it more to the left please?” You ask him softly, while you stare at your reflection. “Of course, of course. Lemme get that off ya real quick”. You go over to the bed and sit back down in your original position.
Chris is laser focused on your face and he semi-consciously grips your chin so you look the right way and he can mark your face correctly.
This makes your heart almost explode out of you chest. You can feel yourself shiver but you try to refrain from it for you to stay stable under Chris’ touch.
He lets go of your chin and grins ear to ear at you again. “Happy now, sugar?”
You glance over at your reflection, you can clearly view where the mark is. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you.”
“No problemo, sweetheart.” He utters while he positions the needle where the mark is.
“This will hurt..obviously, just take a few deep breaths for me. It will go in on three, one. two. three…”
Instantaneously, you feel a harsh, sharp pain. The needle slithers through your skin smoothly. You hiss at the sudden sting and your eyes start to water. You open your eyes to see Chris admiring you.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it sugar? You did so well for me.” He tugs on his lip ring with his teeth again, showing you how pearly and light ivory white they are.
“Hold on for another second, the jewellery is going in.” You feel another slight pinch, it wasn’t as bad as before yet you still flinched. But Chris’ reassurance made the soreness fade away seconds afterwards.
“Try not to touch it too much, clean it with salt water every day and night and avoid sleeping on it. Leave it in for 6 weeks before getting it replaced and you should be golden.”
You glance back at yourself in the mirror while tears are rolling down your cheeks from the pain earlier. Your face lights up as you see the new shard of stainless steel dug into your skin. “I love it! Thank you, Chris.” You exclaim at him with pure joy, giving him a big smile as you wipe the tears off of your face.
“No worries, sugar. Anything for my favourite customer.” That phrase makes your stomach tingly all the way down to in between your legs. You had to squeeze your thighs to secrete the euphoria Chris’ comments and sweet nothings made you feel.
“How much is this again? I’ll pay you in cash.” You query him. “Oh, you won’t need to pay me with money, sweetheart.”
Your eyebrows furrowed at this statement. You look up at him through your eyelashes for a few seconds with scepticism.
“What do you mean?” You mumble slowly at him while he gazes tenderly down at you.
“You can either pay me a different way, or you can walk out of here with a free piercing. This is sudden, I know that, sugar. But I’m not really feelin’ receiving money from my prettiest customer today.”
Your stomach churns and twists at Chris’ words. The butterflies are scrambling around inside you, to the point where the sensation spreads down to your core. Causing you to become slick with your juices beneath your clothes.
“I-I don’t get what point you’re trying to make, Chris..” You stutter and fumble on your words. Your veins are surging with tension and hesitancy.
“Jeez. Do I have to spell it out for ya, ma?” Ma? That’s a new one. Very similar to the other plain jane nicknames, and yet so different and fulfilling to hear.
Abruptly, Chris starts to inch towards you. You two are only centimetres away from each other, practically breathing on one another.
You feel your heart start to quicken and your breathing pattern to become heavy and irregular. Your heat starts to soak even more as you gawk and admire Chris’ lip piercing now wet with his spit.
“Don’t you have other customers after me..? I’m not sure if this is a good idea Chris..” You break eye contact with his blue rings and start to fidget and twiddle with your fingers.
“Do you not want to..? Shit, I’m sorry ma I didn’t mean to come onto you like that I was just really lookin’ forward to see ya today and I just thought y’would be okay with it like how you’re okay with me calling you sugar n’ stuff like that and-”
You gape at Chris, dumbfounded for a second. You start to hear his Boston accent the more he rambles on in embarrassment. “Chris it’s okay, trust me. I-I do want to… I’ve just never done something like this in a public place.”
His ears perk up and his central lip ring glints, his eyebrow piercing hidden under his locs.
You mentally scream at yourself saying: what the actual fuck is wrong with you?
“We can do whatever you want Chris, does this door have a lock?” You question him poking and prodding at the handle. “I wanna make sure we really, really have privacy.”
Your mind is zooming and sporadically muddling up millions of thoughts. You were asking yourself; Why aren’t you walking out? Why are you doing this for him? He said I could walk out with a free piercing.
“Yes, ma. It has a lock. Also before you ask, I have no other customers after you for today. Did you not notice the poster I put outside? I’m closing up earlier than usual today.”
You feel your face become hot and your body starts to sweat out of every crevice. The colour of your cheeks go scarlet when you realise he did all this for you. He planned all of this out, since the jump. Ever since you put the phone down on him once you booked the appointment.
“Chris..”
“I know, sweetheart. It’s very unexpected. Like I said, you can walk out with the piercing for free. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not forcing you.”
Somehow, the tenseness in your body loosens. Your muscles stop clenching.
You rush to Chris’ face and pull his lips into yours. Your teeth almost clash into each other. Your puffy, red brims of your mouths intertwine together almost like tying a tight and rigid knot.
You then pull him away from him, both of you trying to catch your breath. Chris ogles at you with his mouth agape yet curved up into a slight smirk.
“What?” You ask. “Didn’t you want this? If you want me to pay you this way, then c’mere. I hope you don’t take cash or card, pretty boy.”
Chris hums in severe approval at your words. He then clasps at your waist and pulls you into another sloppy kiss. More wet and passionate than the one before.
Chris grovels his tongue in between your rows of teeth and you let out a surprised moan at this manoeuvre. Your tongues dance gracefully against each other.
You feel a freezing cold sensation on your lips. The taste of metal consuming your palette. You slowly open your eyes to gaze down at Chris’ mouth… Chris has a tongue piercing.
Your core drips in the slickness of your juice after this information was revealed to you. You no longer held back the temptation and tugged at his lip ring with your teeth.
A choked whine crawls out of Chris’ throat, the grasp on your lower body now tighter and more aggressive. His hot breath combines with yours and condenses the air above you. Making the atmosphere humid and thick. Harder to breathe under your utmost desperation.
“Fuck, Ma. I wanna feel my dick inside your mouth so bad after what my tongue got out of it.” He chuckled, gasping for a breath. Chris’ mouth circling these filthy words on the tip of his tongue to spit them back at you pulls at the tendons of your chest. Your folds become velvety and drenched, almost like his words are casting spells over you. Your mind goes foggy as you both are intoxicated by a horny haze of each other’s presence.
“C’mon then baby, get on the bed.”
“Yes, sugar.” Chris obliges obediently. He rushes to the bed with no delay.
You follow behind and lower yourself down until your full weight is rested on your knees. Focusing on Chris’ craving and horny scrutiny. You slowly part his legs and he lets out a long sigh, throwing his head back and breaking eye contact at your unexpected but swift touch.
“No baby, look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes.” Chris whimpers at your command and drops his head down to take in your eager stare.
You push the hem of his shirt further up his body, leaving his lower abdomen fully exposed as you tangle your fingers around his drawstring playfully.
Chris writhes with impatience while you teasingly remove every article of clothing on his lower half slowly. His chest slowly rises and falls in an irregular pattern. His prick aching to be set free from the enclosure of grey cloth.
You use your teeth to grip onto the material and loosen the knot in his drawstring, the very act of you doing this to Chris makes his dick twitch constantly.
You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants to steadily pull them down. Chris lifts his hips up gently to allow you to pull them off briskly.
What once were his unseen Calvin Klein boxers, are now fully revealed. He kicks off his sweats for them to fall on the floor. Your manicured hands rub and slide leisurely across his hairy thighs. His happy trail carved out like a perfectly sculpted statue. Curved and slimmed in all the right places.
You then make your way to the throbbing bulge creating a tent in the jet black fabric. Your hands clasp at the tip making Chris jolt and his hips buckle up into your hand.
A quiet “F-fuck..” could be heard spilling out of his mouth. You hum at the pleasurable sight of him. Your body piercer who sticks needles in your skin for your money and satisfaction, has his dick in your hands.
You start to make your way down his shaft. Chris hisses and covers his mouth with his hand while the other grasps at the edge of the bed. Fully concealing his lip ring.
A slow up and down motion is created by your hands on Chris’ cock. His hips thrust upwards again, basically fucking your hand.
You swallow thickly with restlessness and take your hand off of his dick. It sits there pulsing a beat every now and then.
Chris groans dismally. “Please don’t stop mama, you were doing so well. It felt so good..” Chris spews out of his mouth mixed with his loud and rowdy moans. It’s very clear to you that he isn’t ashamed of how good you’re making him feel, so why should you?
You hastily rip off his boxers out of pure greed which makes his dick come sticking out immediately. Smacking his abdomen.
The lust in your eyes intensifies as you stare with your mouth wide open practically drooling and fawning over the thought of what he tastes like on your tongue. The shape. The colour. The size. Holy fuck he had the whole package. Just you imagining him slamming it inside your pussy made you grow carnal with desire.
The vein popping out the side fleshly. His dick practically begging to be sucked and licked at.
You pepper small kisses around his shaft. Chris heaves as his eyes roll into the back of his skull.
“That feel good, angel?” You ask him tantalisingly knowing damn fucking well the answer is yes.
Chris is completely unable to muster up sentences or even words to the point where he just mumbles an “Uh-huh” of approval.
You lick a long stripe up to his tip, making him squirm and whine underneath your touch.
On the spur of the moment, you feel two hands grip onto the back of your head as they force you down onto Chris’ cock. Your lips clench around the very base of his dick.
“Oh, fuck yes.” Chris exclaims. “Your mouth feels so fucking good… yeah take that fucking dick like a good girl.”
Your head bobs up and down on his length at a rapid pace. The tip of his cock grazing the back of your throat makes your eyes water again and your makeup comes running down your face.
“Yes, yes, yes. Oh, sweetheart.. I’m s-so close..” you feel Chris’ fast rhythm start to quiver and twitch uncontrollably. His hips locking into place as his cock sits inside your mouth balls deep.
“I-I’m gonna cum ma.. I’m g-gonna…” at that moment, Chris spews his white load into your mouth. It squirts out of his tip in long, thick ropes as it paints all over your mouth and on your tongue.
He pulls out immediately afterwards. You’re both trying to catch your breath. You feel Chris’ thumb graze against your lip. Your entire throat still coated in his seed. “Swallow.” He commands spitefully.
You close your mouth and gulp down Chris’ warm cum. You have trouble consuming it all in one go from the amount and how thick it was.
Soon after, you stick your tongue back out to show him that it was all gone. You took it all.
“Good girl.” Chris states smiling down at you, pulling his boxers back up. Moments later he reaches to the side counter to get tissues and a hot towel.
“No more money from you, from now on.” He declares.
“No more money.” You repeat, gazing up at him. Still on your knees.
“Good. Now let’s get you cleaned up, sugar.”
.・。.・゜✭・✫・゜・。.
Author’s note no.2: WHEW.. done and dusted. This was actually uber fun to write. Ofc i’ll be writing TONS AND TONS more for you all. I hope you had fun reading this and i’ll see you again soon!
༝༚༝༚, Maxine.
#chris sturniolo smut#smut#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut
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eddie being the speaker for venom’s adoring rant he eventually goes on at the end of your date when you’re just slowly strolling through a park, taking the long way home just to draw the evening out (but also eddie filtering it because some of the points are VERY INAPPROPRIATE and so venom gets mad and eventually takes over even though you are in public)
This post is 18+, minors dni.
"You're very pretty," Eddie narrates the voice in his head, but he shakes his head and tries again, "Pret-ty. He says- He says it weird, like prit-ty."
"Pretty," You try, voice low and gruff in a poor attempt to match Venom's, "Like that?"
"Spot on," Eddie laughs, and you let your chest shake with giggles as you roam down the sidewalk, "And he says your dress makes him think of blood, which," Eddie grimaces, "I'm sure, in his mind, is a compliment."
"Hm," You hum, glancing down at the red fabric you're draped in, "Yeah, I'll choose to take that kindly."
"And he wants to- woah," Eddie's eyes go wide and his hand tightens around your own momentarily, "Uh, hold your hand."
"What?"
"He wants to hold your hand!" Eddie insists, "And- Jesus, Venom! And tuck you into bed."
"I said fuck!" A voice roars from deep inside of Eddie's chest, and before you know it black ooze is emerging from your boyfriend's skin. You panic, yanking Eddie-turned-Venom into an alleyway between two apartment buildings and praying that no one is watching you.
"I said I wanted to fuck you into the bed," Venom clarifies, towering over you in the dark alley. If you didn't know him, in any other scenario, you'd be fainting from fear. But the hulking alien doesn't bother you now, and you put a hand over his mouth full of sharp teeth to try and get him to quiet down.
"Okay," You soothe, trying to acknowledge him so that he doesn't feel so misinterpreted, "Okay Venom. That's very- uh, nice. But you can't be out right now, you know that. Please just go back inside Eddie?"
"He is lying, I cannot trust him!" Venom huffs, voice not quieted at all, merely muffled by your hand, "I did not say I wanted to hold your hand. I said I wanted you to fuck my tongue!"
"Charming," You spit, face flushed with fire matching the heat in your belly, "Really, Venom, I- I'd like to, but- but we're out now, and I need you to quiet down and go back inside."
"Eddie does not deserve to take you on dates like this. He does not tell you how good you look."
"Yes he does!" You insist, still clamping your hand desperately over Venom's mouth. It does nothing, but you can't stand the thought of letting go.
"He uses words like gorgeous and beautiful. They are true," Venom promises, "But he never says sexy or delicious. Those are true, too, and you should hear them."
"Thank you, Venom," You croon, moving your hands to his cheeks to tug them closer to your face. He accepts a kiss to the teeth, seeing as he hasn't bothered to give himself lips in this form, and it's a rather odd sensation on your own. But it quiets him down, and he's calm under your touch.
"I'm happy you think those things," You grin, and you can't deny that you're flattered, "But if you want to say those things, we have to wait until we're home. I promise, as soon as the door shuts behind us you can join Eddie and I, okay? He'll say beautiful, you can say..." You fumble for a term, inches away from Venom's face, and he offers a helpful hint.
"Hot stuff!" He roars, definitely loud enough to be heard from the street.
"Okay! Okay, hot stuff," You nod, peering horrified at the mouth of the alleyway to make sure no one is coming to investigate, "That's very nice Venom, I'd love to hear that later."
"I will go back inside now," Venom tells you, and your heart rate spikes when you hear rushed footsteps coming your way, "But I will see you later."
"Later, later!" You promise, and the symbiote can't seem to melt into Eddie fast enough. As soon as the face in front of you is tan instead of goopy, you surge for it, locking lips with Eddie in a gesture you hope looks passionate and not rushed.
The man doesn't know what you're doing, but he doesn't care. He lets you slam him against the wall behind him with a soft groan, and you shut your eyes just as the footsteps thud beside you.
"Oh-" A resident of the nearby apartments scoffs, "Gross. Get a fucking room or something, you'll get an infection out here. Perverts!"
You flip the man off for good measure, and wait until he's a safe distance away to part from Eddie. He looks dazed from the kiss, but as soon as he comes to, he's got a message from Venom.
"He wants to know if he can bite that guy's head off," Eddie drawls, and you sigh, typical.
"No," You scoff, grabbing Eddie's hand and leading him back out of the alleyway, "But we should get home, he's got lots to say to me."
"And do to you," Eddie's face scrunches as he listens to Venom's rambling, shaking his head slightly at a suggestion you don't hear, "I- I don't think that's possible, buddy."
#eddie brock x reader#eddie brock imagine#eddie brock scenario#eddie brock oneshot#eddie brock one-shot#eddie brock one shot#eddie brock headcanon#eddie brock headcanons#eddie brock hc#eddie brock hcs#eddie brock fanfiction#eddie brock fanfic#eddie brock fic#eddie brock x you#eddie brock x y/n#eddie brock x reader fanfiction#eddie brock blurb#eddie brock drabble#eddie brock dialogue#venom x reader#venom x you#venom x y/n#venom fanfiction#venom oneshot#venom imagine#venom drabble#venom blurb
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𝐖𝐇𝚬𝚴 𝐘𝚶𝐔 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝚰𝐑𝚻 𝐅𝚶𝐑 𝚻𝐇𝚬 𝐅𝚰𝐑𝐒𝚻 𝚻𝚰𝐌𝚬
ft. bokuto, tsukishima, iwaizumi, akaashi
cw: 18+ mdni, squirting (obvi), unprotected sex, allusions to overstimulation, oral (f receiving, fingering
a/n: just a quick little something for y'all (repost on new blog)
❁ bokuto
at this point, you lost track of how many times he'd already made you cum. it was all you could do to grip the sheets while he held onto your hips, legs resting on his shoulders as he fucked roughly into you. his thick cock stretched your pussy, hitting every spot to have your toes curling.
he's focused, eyes trained on the way your pussy sucks him in with every thrust. it was the same look he had whenever he spiked a ball. you were on the cusp of yet another orgasm. he could tell, too. the grip he had on your hips tightened, his pace getting ever so slightly quicker.
"come on, baby, give me one more."
you moaned, unable to get any words out. so consumed in your pleasure, you failed to notice the difference in your impending orgasm until it was too late. you were squirting all over his chest and stomach, coating even your own thighs. it dripped down his body.
he pulled out of you, the hold on your hips slackening. "if you had to pee you could have said something."
heat flared in every inch of your face, hands coming up immediately to cover it. you had to pretend he didn't exist for a moment in order to get your bearings again. explaining to him that you didn't pee on him was not what you had planned for the night.
❁ tsukishima
he's always been pretty plain in bed. rarely deviating from missionary and keeping the same pace. sure he'll spice it up a little bit from time to time, but you wanted him to let loose. it took some time to get him comfortable with the idea. and you didn't regret it.
with your legs pressed up near your head, he was hitting spots he'd never even come close to before. his thrusts were faster, rougher. it wasn't long until you were seeing stars. it seemed it was having a similar effect on him, as well, if the string of swears and groans was anything to go by.
you gripped onto his forearms, nails digging crescents into his skin. your former vanilla boyfriend was now wholly relentless. never slowing for even a moment. never faltering as your pussy squeezed around him. that's when you felt it. a budding orgasm with something else lurking within it.
before you could say anything, a moan erupted out of you as you came. you felt something releasing from you, but only distantly caring until the height of your pleasure subsided. it was only then that you realized what had happened. your squirt coated the plane of his stomach and yours. had stopped his thrusts, looking blankly down at you.
"warn me next time," he said. his words were sharp but the twitch of his cock was unmistakable. you really didn't regret anything.
❁ iwaizumi
in all the time you've been together, not once had he made you squirt. he made it own personal goal to make you. a nice challenge--that he eventually forgot about. that is, until tonight.
in front of a mirror on the floor, you were on your hands and knees, barely able to hold yourself up as he was pounding into you. he loved taking you from behind. it allowed to play with the soft flesh of your ass. but he also loved watching your face as you fell apart beneath him. this was his genius solution.
you were a moaning mess as he hit that one spot repeatedly. your arms were shaking with the effort to keep yourself upright. the tightness in your core built up, along with another semi-familiar feeling. you tried to warn him, but the words died on your tongue as he slammed his hips into you. it was the last push you needed.
your orgasm washed over you, accompanied by a rush of liquid. his thrusts paused as he watched you in the mirror, collapsing onto your forearms. his cock throbbed in your tight walls. he groaned at the sight.
a moment later he was picking up his rough pace again. he snaked an arm around your waist, holding you up. "shit, baby, do that again."
having finally realized his goal, he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. it would be a while before he was fully satisfied.
❁ akaashi
he came home from a long at the office, and all he wanted was to relieve was a bit of his stress. that was how you found yourself with him between your thighs, your hands buried in his hair.
he alternated between sucking on your clit and giving it little licks. his slender fingers curled inside your pussy. he wasn't in any rush tonight, taking his time with bringing you to your high. it was torturous for you. you were so close to that edge, needing just a little more to get there. it took a good amount of begging to get him to increase the speed of his fingers.
when he finally did, the force of your orgasm surprised even you. squirting on lower half of his face. but he didn't pull away, didn't stop the movement of his fingers until your trembling body calmed down. he wiped his face clean and looked up at you.
"i'm sorry," you said, covering your face with your arms. it was too much to even look at him. "i'm sorry."
he crawled up the length of your body, gently moving your arms away from your face. he placed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. "don't apologize," he whispered, kissing the other corner of your lips. "you're so pretty when you cum for me."
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu headcanons#haikyu x reader#haikyu smut#haikyu headcanons#hq x reader#bokuto x reader#bokuto smut#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima smut#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi smut#akaashi x reader#akaashi smut#゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟlyn writes
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Fun & Games
☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader
rating. m
word count. 3.3k
synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. but it's truly all fun and games until you manage to get your hands on an interdimensional device.
✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, possessive!hobie, public sex, y/n is a real hoe and I love her for that, odd love hate relationship, clit slapping, Gwen's here very briefly, wall sex, bondage, mentions of injury, just me being horny so it's kinda horribly written, lemme know if I missed anything
"She's gotta be somewhere." Gwen sat perched on a ledge, the eyes of her mask wide and alert for any sign of the anomaly. In other words, you. You had somehow managed to get your hands on a interdimensional device of Miguel's making and have been hopping all around the multiverse causing mayhem. "You sure you have no idea where she's at? She's from your dimension after all, not to mention-"
The thing is, the devices don't show exact locations. They just tell you what dimension others are in. Leaving Gwen and Hobie hopping about right after you to put you back where you belong.
It was Hobie's fault after all. Being the Black Cat of his dimension meant you were good at sleight of hand. A single run in with you and next thing he knows his device is gone, his cock is hard, and he misses you so fucking much.
"Yeah, yeah, i's my fault or whateva." He spoke over the communicator, his eyes scanning across the streets for just a peek of that brilliant white hair of yours. "I'll keep an eye out, jus' stay where you are and don't underestimate 'er. She'll put you on ya arse before ya know it." He's gone toe to toe with you plenty of times to know that you're rather skilled in combat. And for reasons he'd also know that you're flexible.
He cut off his device, the one Miguel reluctantly gave him after laying into him over his incompetence. "You're gonna deal with this mess you've made!" He almost crushed the device in his hand from gripping it so hard as he pushed it into Hobie's chest. "You get her back to where she belongs then you're out. You're done."
Hobie honestly couldn't give less of a damn about being booted from the society. Taking orders and being a part of a team was really cramping his style. Preferred it when it was just him and his own dimension's problems.
He hopped between buildings in this dimension looking for any marker of you. Your cloud-like hair done always in wild, untamed curls that somehow manage to sit perfect around your face. You wore black leather, nice sharp spikes, claws you made yourself that left their scar against his chest as well as down his back.
Hobie liked how complicated your relationship is. How you constantly kept him on his toes, remained so inconsistent that he never got bored. One second you were on your knees, his cock weighing heavy on your pretty tongue, just narrowly missing the angel bite piercings you had with fangs in, and the next, you were trying to claw his eyes out of his face. You were batshit fucking insane and he was absolutely in love with you though, he'd never admit that.
He hoped he found you before Gwen did— it's been just a little under a month and he's been feening for you, spending his lonely nights when he doesn't have a million wounds and a few broken bones to tend to with his hand wrapped firmly around his cock and your name wetting his lips with prayer. He's fucking pussy-whipped, desperate, absolutely nuts for you.
And when he finds you (which he always does somehow), you're hopping across a rooftop and sliding down a gutter into a nearby alleyway. He follows you stealthily, lingering in the shadows as he rounds the corner and drops into the shady alley. But he finds you aren't there. He pauses, talks a moment to let his instincts take the lead.
It just took a second, a small tingle, the hairs on the back of his neck standing but he hardly had any time to react before you were on his back with your claws pressed against his throat. "Ya missed me?" You whispered in his ear with the touch of a smile in your voice.
Hobie moved quickly, pushing the both of you back until your back slammed against the jagged brick wall and your grip loosened just enough for him to pry himself out of your clawed hold. He webbed you up with your hands trapped above your head. Your goggles were already pushed up into your wild hair and your cat-like eyes gleamed at him. "I'd say you do."
Hobie reached up and pulled off his mask. “Nice to see ya too, Y/N. We can have our reunion once ya back where ya belong.”
“Never took you as the type to join a committee of interdimensional spider fascist.” You scoff, wriggling your wrist against the binding of his webs but you know all too well how strong they actually are. Many times have you been caught in his web, bent in all sorts of positions. He’s always been your favorite toy.
“No’ by choice. You did me a fava’ actually, they gave me the boot ‘cause of you.” He came close, his tall, lean stature looming over you as he removed the watch from your wrist and deactivated it. Hobie looked down at you, looking into your sultry eyes that told him you just wanted to sit on his dick then make your grand escape. You’re always dressed in leather, your shorts so tight and small it leaves hardly anything to the imagination. You were wearing those torn up, distressed tights he loved so much and that he’s definitely torn his own fair share of holes in.
“Don’t you want to know why I went to the places I did?”
“There’s a reason?” He thought it was just you fucking around, trying to cause as much mayhem as possible, begin a nice little collection of diamonds stolen from different dimensions. Your motivations were always a bit hard to decipher.
You leaned in as close as you could in the position you were stuck in and whispered to him, “All the dimensions I went to had a version of you in them. I wanted to see which one was my favorite.” It was a confession of sin just between the two of you in this dark little alleyway he had you stuck in. “Would you like me to tell you about the other yous I’ve met?” You took his stoic silence as answer enough.
“There was one with the prettiest eyes. One blue and one brown. I got to look in them while I rode his pretty face. He made me cum so hard.” Your voice was so heavy with the memory of it but you didn’t linger. “And the other one, nice, long locs. He fucked me so good my legs were shaking. Oh- and the other one made me squirt for the first time-”
Your descriptions sparked something primal in Hobie, something carnal and possessive. A part of him was aroused at the thought of your pretty little cunt he was absolutely addicted to getting ran through by different versions of himself. Maybe you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you, why else would you do something like this?
“You a lil’ whore, ya know tha’, kitty?” His hands were already at the waist of your shorts, undoing the makeshift button you had made after he broke the original one a while ago. His lips were on yours, licking and biting feverishly in attempt to get a taste of you. “Guess I gotta remind you who you belong to.” He needed to tame your pretty little pussy, domesticate it, make it purr for him.
“I don’t belong to anyone, you know that.” You murmur against his lips, shifting your hips to make it easier for him to get your shorts out of the way. He pulled them down to your knees just above your boots and shifted away from you to duck under and slot his way between your nylon-clad thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of your body as he made his way back up, shoving your torn shirt up so his lips could feel your heated skin. “I’d beg to diffa, luv. I think you know ya slutty pussy belongs to me because why else would you hop aroun’ the multiverse just to hook up wit’ me ova and ova again?” He forced your shirt up over your tits, leaving you nice and exposed, unable to do anything about it even if you wanted.
“I’ve just gotta show you tha’ the original is always the bes’.” He had no time to take his time, to worship every inch, every curve, every dimple. He wanted his cock in you, he wanted to fuck you hard, fast, and deep. He wanted to destroy that pride of yours and force you to admit that he will always be your favorite.
He knows that's just how you like it. Rough, quick, and almost animalistic with a hint of risk. You can't get off without it.
He tears a new hole in your tights right that the crotch and finds that your panties are already soaked, the vague outline of your plump pussy pressing against the fabric that clings to you like a second skin. He gets so hard at just the sight of it, so hard it becomes painful. "I's been a long fuckin' time." Hobie breathed out under his breath. "Ma favorite girl missed me I can see." He pressed the bulge of his cock against your wet, desperate cunt.
Your muscles tense and shudder uncontrollably as your lips attempt to contain a horrid little whimper. You weren't usually so sensitive, Hobie could feel your thighs clamping at his hips in an attempt to close your legs. His fingers slid past your panties and pulled them to the side just to find that your pussy was already pink and swollen, abused and misused by all the cocks you've already taken. You were so damn sensitive, your bud throbbing and engorged.
Hobie couldn't help but let out a chuckle, a smirk framing the scoff he let out. "A fuckin' slut, I tell you. You've already been so damn ran through." He slapped your pussy nice and firm and your whole body jolted with the pain and pleasure it caused and you cried out a little too loud.
"Migh' wanna be quiet. Ya don't wan' someone coming down and seeing your poor cut gettin' abused." His fingers slid between your slick folds, every part of you tender to the touch, every movement leaving your body trembling. It's pathetic how quickly he can have you and squeaking, whining, crying mess. A street cat tame by those long, slender fingers of his as he plays in your mess, a reminder of all the other hims you've had. You had been out on a conquest and somehow it's ending with you getting conquered.
It was easy for him to glide his fingers into your heat, the pad of his thumb drawing circles on your poor clit while he used his other hand to grab your chin and force you to look him in the eyes. "Can you feel tha'?' Your cunt was swallowing his digits down to the knuckle and squeezing. "Nice lil' kitty is purrin' fo' me. Think I migh' make 'er a house cat."
"Go fuck yourself." You manage to choke out between the strangled moans of your throat. Hobie chuckled and kissed you, nice and hard with his tongue against yours and his fingers playing your pussy like a fiddle. God, he was so good at what he did, knew just where your sweet spot was to have you crumbling in his hold.
He pulled back a little, both of your lips wet with saliva, and nipped at your bottom lip. His fingers pumped in and out of your trembling pussy that wept for him, your slick dripping from his knuckles. You writhed against your restraints, claws sawing at his webbing to little avail. And you knew his fingers were nothing compared to that gorgeous cock of his that fit in you so snuggly and touched places that, before him, you hadn’t even known existed.
But his fingers were so good, able to caress your walls in ways his length couldn’t. His thumb rubbed your clit ferociously, sending spiked balls of pleasure to every muscle in your body. You spasmed, back arching off the walls, eyes rolling, vision blurry. “S-stop fuckin’ with me.” You manage to spit out at him in a shaking gasp.
“But fuckin’ wit’ ya is my favorite part.” Hobie slipped his fingers from your messy hole and took it upon himself to get a taste. “Plus, i’s no’ like you show me any mercy when ya in one of ya moods. I’ve gotta point to prove here.” His hands began to undo his belt with rushed persistence.
“And what point is that?” You watch him pull himself out, the length of his cock pressed against your pelvis. Prettiest you’ve ever seen, nice and long with subtle veins and dark brown tip beading with pearls of precum that weep from his tip and roll down the underside of his shaft.
Hobie maneuvered (more like manhandled) your fame so that your legs were up over his shoulders. He spat on his fingers, used it as lube to spread down his length. “Tha’ you ‘n I both know you can’t replace me with some off brand version.”
“Oh, I’d argue they were very on brand. All had that pretty face of yours. That prettier cock.” Your words faltered a bit as he pushed into you without so much as a warning, jealousy getting the better of him. His fingers grip your thighs, body pressing you into the wall while his hips rutted against you. He fucked you like an animal, his teeth gritting, his cock brutalizing your used up cunt. And the position allowed him to sink so deep you felt him in your gut, in your throat, in your very head. He fucked the air out of your lungs but that didn’t stop your cries of pleasure.
And as pretty as they were, Hobie didn’t need the two of you being stumbled upon. He placed his palm over your mouth, kept you placid and quiet white he fucked you with intention. He was gonna claim your pussy, paint it white, make it his, let you know that no matter how hard you try the two of you will always find yourself dancing to this same song. You’d fight, you’d fuck, you’d fight again, you’d fuck again. Sometimes you were allies, sometimes you were enemies, but at all times you were lovers.
He spanked your swollen clit while he fucked you in such a brutal nature. There was no sympathy for you, no mercy, no kindness offered. Just carnality unmatched by any of your other affairs. It might be the spider venom bound to his DNA making him this way. Hobie– normal Hobie, rational Hobie– was not a jealous person, especially not towards someone who, in all cases, did not belong to him.
The emotions of it were conflicting. The mixture of jealousy and arousal at the thought of you with another version of himself because in all the ways that made him who he was on paper was, he was with you every single time. Genetically, generally, the vague outline of himself. But the experiences were different, slightly tweaked in a way, and in the way that matters you had fucked entirely different people. And that was the fun of it. What would be the point of sleeping with the same person over and over again if not for the slight differences every time.
Hobie wondered if they made you feel this way, your back arching so dramatically off the wall, your eyes going cross with pleasure as your moans are contained behind his palm. The two of you had so much shared history that even if they were better, it still wouldn't compare. He knew you like he knew many things, on a level balanced by emotion and technicality.
The two of you were never meant to be anything more than this, a quick, filthy fuck in the back alley of some random place and yet you both were sure you were soulmates in some sick twisted way. You'd both go around in these pointless circles having the most fun with never making the effort to define yourselves or restrict yourselves to something that wasn't completely and entirely you.
Your toes curled in your boots as you felt the brutality of an orgasm coming your way. It built within you, clawing to get out like you clawed through the webs. It seized you like being strangled, curled around your body, left you warm and fuzzy and delirious.
"Look a' me, luv. Look a' me with those pretty eyes of yours." The way he fixed your face forward, made you look him in the eyes. "Nice lil' pussy gonna make me cum." Your walls spasmed, hugged him, squeezed around his length, molding to every curve, every vein. If only his hand weren't over your mouth, you'd kiss his pretty lips and tell him to shut the fuck up and just fuck you, just lose himself in you.
And oh, was he losing himself. An orgasm quickly approaching on the horizon. Hobie pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes low and sultry as he removed his hand from your mouth and gripped your thighs once more. "Fuck-" Hobie gasps and shudders, his abdomen tightening with the beginnings to a climax.
"Go ahead, pretty boy. You said you have a point to prove, right? Go ahead and prove it." You watched in breathless pants as he takes his pleasure in you, comes undone for you, his fingertips pressing bruises into your supple skin. "You're my favorite, my pretty boy." You confess to him. In all versions, you were simply looking for him, something you didn't find, no matter how eerily similar they all were.
Hobie murmurs something incoherent under his breath as he cums. He's swift with pulling out, just in time to spill his hot semen all over your heat. He claimed you like he always wanted to, with the way his hands left bruises in your skin, with the way his trembling cock spread his cum all over you, how his lips claimed yours in a moment of passion.
"You can stop pretendin' to be trapped now." Hobie murmured against your lips, pulling away and running his thumb across your kiss-swollen bottom lip before making himself decent. You had long sawed your way through his webs, they never last that long. You let your arms drop. "Finally, they were startin' to hurt."
Hobie removes himself from your body, letting you take the time to get yourself together. "How much time do I have this time?" It was back to business as usual, not that either of you minded. You both enjoyed your games.
"A minute before I call my partna. Two before I start chasin' you myself." He always gave you a bit of a head start, maybe out of some soft spot he had for you. Sometimes he caught you, sometimes he didn't, it was all up to chance.
You pull your goggles out of you disheveled hair and fix them over your eyes. You lean into him, close enough that he thought you might kiss him. "I'll try not to break your nose this time, lovely." You peck his lips as a distraction as you slip your hand into the pocket of his vest and attempt to steal your stolen watch back.
Hobie's already thinking one step ahead of you. His hand grasps your wrist. "No' tha' generous. An' you've got 'bout 40 seconds lef'. Better get goin'." He's dealt with your bullshit more times than he can count. He knows what goes on in that pretty head of yourself, how you're always scheming, even against him— especially against him."
You scoff then chuckle. "Fine— c'ya 'round, Bee." You turn and rush off, grasping a gutter to leap up on the rooftop and run off.
You both love your fun and games.
#across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#hobie brown#atsv#spiderman#hobie brown fic#hobie brown smut#spider punk#black cat#hobie x reader
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heyo!!! here for the prompt game!!!!
can i have 19 with monster au ghost and soap (make em trans if ya can).... reader is male and a top/dom and he's an older dragon hybrid so he has a bit of a dad bod and is a little insecure about his looks and also his age affecting his performance (two lizard pp) i want the boys to comfort their dilf
Ngl this took me so long to do as I just couldn't figure out how to write it 😅 Play the game HERE.
Prompt: Becoming self conscious after the clothes come off
CW:NSFW, monster 141 au, FTM wraith Ghost, FTM werewolf Soap, M!dragon reader, afab language, double dick, oral, double penetration, body worship,
Dragons only stop growing when something kills them and you're old enough to have shed blood on Jerusalem's walls; you know how you look — fat widening your frame and hiding the sharp musculature you possessed, old age muddling fogging the gemstone like shine of your scales until they look like low quality stones, wing membranes dotted with holes and broken horns capped with gold and iron again and again and again throughout the ages.
You watch Ghost and Soap disrobe after a long day of running drills, Simon periodically giving one word answers to Johnny's insistent but welcome chatter as he helps Soap take off his gear after he'd sprained his back. It's domestically calming, watching your boys—your hoard— take care of each other, Soap's eyes settling on yours as he licks his lips; dread stabs your ancient heart. It picks a new spear morning you wake to find them huddling next to you when you expected them to be long gone, sharpening it throughout the day until you find yourself back in your bedroom with them so dark dread can stab your heart once again.
How can you even call them yours?
You're not dumb. You know no partner deserves to doubt their own abilities when you fail to become hard immediately like they do, hairpin triggers that they are. Nor do they deserve to be left needy and wet, bodies rearing to go again quickly while exhaustion claws at your eyelids after just one orgasm; curse your draconic blood for turning more than just your body lazy as the years go by.
You're so deep in your head you don't notice them until four hands grip you and before you know it you're being flung onto the bed. You land with all the grace of a mountain, the bed's groaning under your weight not helping to stop the thoughts in your head. They're on you like wolves, straddling your thighs as if mortal men can pin a dragon down.
"Now whaet's gotten yer tail in'a twist?" Soap asks, greedy hands sliding beneath your shirt to trace the swell of your firm stomach. Your heart preens at his touch before your mind can remind you that in society's vain eyes-their eyes- you're less, just bragging rights, a notch on the bedpost.
"I'm fine." You growl, pulling Johnny's hands out beneath your shirt. He looks defeated like a child deprived of a toy, though your sharp senses pick up a spike of arousal.
"Sure," Ghost's sharp eyes track your every movement, blackened hand gripping your forearm, claws tracing the place were muddy scales melt into human skin. Even completely nude atop your thigh his form strikes a sharp image compared to you. "What, did you get a shite tatt while we weren't lookin'?"
"Is it a tramp stamp?" Johnny perks up at that, a low sound coming from him and his thighs clench around your own, slick dampening your skin. "No, no, a dick tatt." And suddenly his hand's at your groin, fondling the smooth surface of your pelvis over your boxers in an attempt to coax your cocks out of your genital slit. It doesn't work, like usual.
"Fuck's sake," You growl and grab his arm, trying to ignore the swell of your heart when your rough action makes Johnny's arousal spike. "I'm fine, really."
"Mhm, and I'm the Queen." Ghost snorts, using your temporary distraction to lean in and lick a long stripe up the side your neck, nibbling on your ear until a treacherous rumbling purr leaves your chest. Your body doesn't care of the shit going on in your head, only recognizes the sweet arousal of your hoard and the soft touch they leave on your body, rough hands sliding across your skin and feeling the hard muscles beneath the fat.
"More of a princess, sure 'r bossy like one." Johnny pipes up and ducks to escape a swat over the back of the head from Ghost, unperturbed by your grip of his arm Johnny slides his other hand down your front, sharp claws shredding your shirt before you can stop him. "What's wrong bonnie? Not 'nough that this handsome knight comes t' lay yea?"
You suck in a sharp breath, eyes closing to escape their gaze, "I just-" You breathe out, "-just don't know what you see in me."
Silence follows your words and you're sure the next moment they'll get off and this thing you had will just be over. Then a hand grips your hair, your eyes falling open just in time to catch Simon's before he roughly kisses you. Soap is close behind, tail wagging rapidly as he licks the side of your lip and taking Simon's place when you seperate.
"How about we show you, yeah?" Simon growls, briefly groping the firm swell of your abdomen then sliding his hand down to cut your boxers away with his claws, leaving you as bare as they are. Ghost's clever fingers sneak down further to slide across your genital slit, sharp claws tenderly scratching the smooth scales around it and fingers spreading it open, thumb rubbing the head of one cock as it's starting to peek out.
"Not going tae stop us will yae?" Johnny's hands wander over your exposed chest, roughly groping your fat pecs as you both groan into the kiss. "Cause ah been wantin' to do this for a while," Then he pulls his head back and pushes it between your pecs, a low sound escaping him as he shakes his head.
A surprised laugh leaves you as you realize Soap's fucking motorboarding you, nipping and kissing your fat chest. His touch makes fire burn in your stomach, the way both of their hands roam across the wide expanse of your body making goosebumps pop up on your skin.
"Way to ruin the mood mutt," Simon chuckles alongside you, then his eyes go down. "Oh, like us being sweet on you, huh?" He smirks, fingers wrapping around your cock as you only now realize you've gotten hard, "Want us to keep going?" The sharp scent of their arousal is impossible to miss, only making both of your cocks just that much harder.
"Yeah," You breathe out, letting them maneuver you however they want. You end up flat on your back with Ghost stradling your face, cunt leaking slick down on your face. Soap's between your legs with his plump lips already latched on your lower cock, sucking and licking your cock like it's a popsicle.
"Fuck-" Simon yelps when you follow Soap's lead and pull Ghost down firmly on your face, your obscenely long tongue sliding out to lick a fat stripe across his folds. "-just like that. Shit, you take such good care of us." Ghost groans, his voice stroking that draconic need to guard your hoard and making you worm your tongue inside him. The sudden intrusion of your tongue inside his fluttering walls makes him double over you, but soon after you feel him latch on to your second cock.
Even with all your senses consumed by them you still catch the slight whine in Johnny's chest, already imagining him roughly fingering himself as he sucks you off and watches Simon's eyes grow bleary every time you twist your tongue to hit that special spot inside him. Without thinking you slide your tail between Soap's legs, mind flooding with endorphins at Soap's pleased groan around your cock before he's roughly grinding against your tail, cunt wetly pulsing and drawing more sounds from him each time his clit scraps against your scales.
You don't know how long you float in a fog of pleasure, Simon's sweet slick flooding your mouth, skin feeling hot like magma from their hands wandering and groping your flesh like you're some god, mind buzzing from the sound of their collective pleasure and the sweet tight heat of their mouths on your cocks. At some point you become aware of the orgasm steadily encroaching towards you and you'll be damned if you cum before them.
Giving Simon's sweet cunt a final lewd 'slurp' you pull your tongue back, jaw and throat covered in his fluids. Ghost slumps against you, breathing hard while still continuing to suck you off, his eyes meeting Soap's while the Scott desperately humps your tail and whines because it's not enough.
"On the bed." You growl, low and possessive, your strength still surpassing them as you maneuver them. Simon ends up on his back with Johnny pressed up on top of him, both bodies flush with heat and sweaty.
"Fuck, bonnie-" Johnny sucks in a sharp breath and grinds his hips against Simon, biting his shoulder and groaning as the motion makes their cunts rub together, mingling their slick. "Come on, fuck me-us, just-"
"I know," You chuckle, wings subconsciously spreading out to show how big you are, how strong, how you can take care of them. "Need me to fuck you boys good and hard huh?" You let out a low rumbling growl, draping your body over theirs and not holding back so they can feel your weight. You don't miss how their scents sharpen with more arousal.
"Stop talking," Simon growls, brown eyes meeting yours and urging you to press your slick cockheads against their wet holes, each cock almost tailored just for them. Simon groans as you slide in, your first cock not as long as your second one but fat and Simon relishes the burn as you spread him to his limit.
"Shite," Johnny grinds his hips back to meet yours and whimpers when your cock head brushes his cervix, both of their bellies bulging from you being inside them. "God, fockin' love you for this,"
Another small laugh escapes you, "Love you too," making a few short pumps of your hips to get them acclimated to the stretch of you inside them you start making deeper thrusts. "Love you both so much," Your confession is honest from the deepest part of your heart, a deep draconic groan leaving your lips at the way they clench so wonderfully around you.
You see Ghost open his mouth but words escape him as your cock saws into him, all the bumps and ridges on your shaft scraping their soft walls until they're both shaking, soft little moans and deep growls leaving them. You pick up the pace, sharp had thrusts into their pliant bodies making the bed smack against the wall.
You fuck them hard and fast until they're shaking with an orgasm but you don't stop, teeth bared as if to scare off your own pleasure so you can fuck them over and over and over again.
#Gnome's prompt game#cod mw2#x reader#gnome correspondence#top male reader#male reader#john soap mactavish#ftm character#ftm sub#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x male reader#john soap mactavish x male reader#john soap mactavish x reader#sub john soap mactavish#sub simon riley
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i think bakugou likes to be babied a little bit.
nothing too drastic, of course, i'm thinking about some simple cuddling behind closed doors after he's had a very long, very tiring day at work. with him pressing you tightly against the mattress of your shared bedroom late at night; your legs comfortably spread just wide enough for him to fit his burly body in-between, and whose hefty weight you can feel resting on your stomach and chest the moment he lands it there.
so all of it is so simply cozy; intimate. your souls are merging without either of you putting in the effort to actually meld them, further strengthening the bond between you. running your fingers through his thick hair that's still slightly damp from the shower he's just finished taking, you stare at the dark ceiling with a sleepy smile ghosting over your lips as you listen to your boyfriend's breathing. it's turned slow, almost languid.
peaceful.
moments pass as the shadows continue to dance on the bedroom walls, and your sleepy smile breaks into a grin when he inhales deeply and sighs in the exact same way most dogs do when they're tired from a long day of playing outside. his skin is completely bare underneath the thin duvet; so warm. he's got nothing else on except for the thin golden chain that you've gifted him as an anniversary present for your fourth year together, and that's now dangling loosely around his neck.
the pretty jewellery is also warm to the touch as you untangle your hand from the ash blonde spikes to stroke down the back of his neck instead. there's no pendant. you didn't want it to be too tacky because you know he prefers to keep things simple, but who knows... maybe he'll add to the gold by hanging a ring on it someday. maybe.
the corners of your mouth twitch at the thought as the heel of your palm glides along the valley of his spine, following along the subtle dip in-between his broad shoulders which you've completely memorized by now. your fingers trace the familiar remnants of his past scars; some thin and barely visible, others so deeply etched into him that they'll surely brand him until the day he dies.
rubbing his bare skin like this fills the room further with his potent scent. he smells fresh; like citrus and something pleasantly sharp that you can't possibly pinpoint for the life of you, but you know it barely matters because it'll all be overtaken by the signaturely sweet smell of caramel at some point anyway.
all that matters is the touch you give. the contact you provide.
so neither of you talks as you hold him like this. you just anchor him; petting him all over, and allowing him to piece himself back together in the dark in his own pace. he's content with just listening to the sound of your heartbeat as it gently lulls him to sleep, is satisfied by feeling your hands stroke him all over his back; coaxing the strained, aching muscles there to finally relax.
he loves you so much, he hopes you know that. you're the only one who gets to see him so vulnerable like this. who still hears him even without a single word uttered into the darkness, who gets to hold him like he's a small kitten in dire need of help, instead of a supposed brute of a man, who's inching towards his thirties and who should apparently serve as his own pillar as far as social norms go.
but fuck social norms, truly. he holds onto you a little bit tighter as sleep begins to creep up on him, calloused fingers sneaking underneath the hem of your dynamight t-shirt just so he can stroke your sides a little bit before he passes out. he does it so that he can pay you back, at least in some way for staying up so late and waiting for him to return home safely. for actually giving him a sense of home to return to in the first place.
and oh, how sweet; your heartbeat quickens at his touch, he can hear it. it kisses his cheek, repeatedly pecking the skin that's been tinted with a shade of soft pink because of the warmth shared between you. it's calming and soothing to him, just like your doting hands are. just like your very existence is.
so bakugou finally allows himself to fall asleep because of the comfort your existence provides, with his consciousness ridden of the many horrors his job brings. nothing matters but you and your touch, and the sound of your heart, and your breathing, your warmth and your scent. all of it together wipes his mind entirely clean.
still, there's only one more fleeting thought that flashes through him before he fully succumbs to his dreams. one that brings a mere hint of a smile upon his lips.
you love him, too. you truly do.
#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo fluff#bnha x reader#biscuit drabbles#bakugou x reader
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Mike Schmidt x male reader pleaseee. Begging him to go to work with him, only to end up blowing him under the desk and maybe getting bent over by him🤭
•.* Sugar | M.S •.*
Summary - Just one night you promised, knowing the dangers, Mike put rules in place to make sure you were constantly monitored, he should of know why you had asked to join him…
A/N - I’m fucking obsessed with this man, like he could defile me in ANY WAY POSSIBLE and i’d thank him, please enjoy me spiralling for this man- (ALSO NOT PROOF READ)
“Please?”
You almost began to beg, gripping onto his baggy grey hoodie which captured the slight annoyance written against his features, the constant tugging on his sleeve resembled a hyperactive child but it had Mike question just how far you would go with the begging.
“Why? Why do you wanna go so bad- it’s a rundown shit hole”
He mumbles gruffly, hazel eyes darting down to meet with your own, trapped within a everlasting battle of a shared gaze, his eyebrows furrowing when finger tips graze just above his groin.
“I just wanna keep you company…is that such a bad thing?” Your words were a mere whisper, goosebumps now present over his cloth-covered skin, could he be so harsh to deny you? You were the only source of his happiness, just one night wouldn’t be so bad right?
He sighs, eyes shutting as he groans once you go lower, massaging the spot next to his growing ache. You had a way with not only words but it always seemed to work, each touch, each blink you gave had your lashes flick ethereally.
“Fine- but you better stay in the office, by my side at all times, you don’t know what’s lurking in the dark there”
An eager “yes” escapes your parted lips and it warmed his heart, that certain fuzzy feeling that left him daft and in love lingered and he couldn’t help but pull you into him, it had taken time to get to this point, especially for Mike, you had opened so many doors for him, his arms squeezed you close against him, lips placing a soft, chaste kiss to your temple in silence.
“Thank you Mikey, I appreciate it…”
He smiles with certainty downwards, his hold had loosened now but just enough so he could see how your cheeks grew with scarlet blossom, how timid you had gotten underneath his stare.
“Anytime…”
Knowing how easy it was to get underneath his skin like a blue beetle had a certain grip on you, thoughts about making it worth his time had riddled your brain, confusing both kindness and lust all in one.
Mike had his own ideas to pass the time, yet they were still for you to uncover.
• • • •
The night was quiet.
Mike questioned the silence at points, it was unusual for the place to stand still, slightly ominous in it’s restlessness, in it’s abandonment.
“So…is this what the job is?? To sit and watch camera’s?”
You sassily remark, eager to get a reaction from him, his office chair swirled as he span slowly, eventually facing your slumped frame, his eyes scanned your body from head to toe, slightly annoyed that you weren’t taking this seriously.
“No, I do actually have to check around, see if anything or anyone gets in, hence this-“
He poked the heavy golden badge latched onto his attire, just above the bold letters “security”. You couldn’t stop the laugh that rattled from the base of your chest, glancing over the cutesy child’s toy.
Mike’s brows furrowed, slightly confused but he understood, it was slightly silly, what else was he going to do with his time here? Sit in the same chair for six hours straight whilst going slightly insane?
“Really Mike? Where did you even get that?”
He glared with a certain tone, almost studying you.
“I found it out back…with everything else”
Interest spiked within you like the love you had for Mike. You reach over, hands gripping onto the warmed arm rests of his chair, pulling him closer until your lips were mere inches apart.
“I admire your bravery…”
His breath was sharp, taking in what he could before he dipped slightly, latching his own onto yours, the kiss was slow, played with the imaginary heart strings you conjured up in your head, a professional guitarist lingering the tips of his fingers amongst them, twanging each one as he pushed for it, pushed for more.
He pulls away, just enough to break it, break you out of it. The office was cold, the concrete checkered floor doing nothing to secure the heat in, Mike was your only source, not that you were complaining.
“Why did you ask to come tonight?”
In all honesty, you had nothing in your roster to fight back with, instead, a wandering hand of your own timidly trails down his denim clad thigh, rubbing the area earning a soft grunt, one he tried holding back.
“I’m not sure…but I can show you-“
That drew Mike’s attention back to your face, his lips slightly agape, jaw slack when you gravely reach for the spot you grew quickly acquainted with.
It was a surprise…he was already half hard, almost bursting at the seems once the continuous rubbing began, your palm was a source of comfort and desire for him.
“Yeah?…”
Mike still questioned himself, he shouldn’t really be distracted on the job, he had so much to uncover but the stress, god, it riddled every muscle and organ he had, he ached for it, yearned for something warm and wet.
“Is this okay, Mikey?”
He nods, almost to eager for it, you understood though, kicking your own chair behind you whilst lowering yourself, knees folding once you hit the hard floor with ease, it wasn’t the first time.
His eyes bore holes into you, like a scorching fire, they glowed with uncertainty and lust which served as a hard time, you weren’t entirely sure if Mike really wanted this.
Laying your head against his thigh, your hands slowly figure out the zipper, tugging the small piece of metal down before fingertips dig into the small opening created, pushing the thin material of his white briefs, unveiling the very source of your own impulse.
Glaring with both anticipation and admiration your eyes flicker, darting from certain points of his thick cock, his head a deep crimson, tints of purple like it had lacked something, a singular vein ran thickly on the underside from base to tip, it stood tall and proud, it always had and will for you.
The view you would never ever get use to, he always surprised you, how could it be both so beautiful and…big.
“Think you could help me out baby-“
The question lingered in the air for sometime whilst you hands began to work over him, both fists enclosed over it, jerking back and forth, watching excess skin slip back and forth, uncovering the tip once again.
“Yes Mikey- fuck, look at you…”
A few more wrist flicks you give, just to get him there, just to allow him to taste it in the air, to taste just what your about to do.
Your Eager lips wrap sultry around his pre-slicked head, engulfing the first two inches whilst using a hand to massage the rest, the other fondling the heavy sack just below, thumbing the spot between both testicles.
“Fuck- I gotta, we can’t be-“
He groaned before restless hands ran through your hair before resting at the base of your neck, pushing you down, this was now beyond your control, you were his to use, freely.
The last few inches slip inside, past the corners of your stretched lips and into the back of your throat, there the tip lingered and the heaviness on your tongue grew, chin resting lightly against his balls.
That’s when you choked and gagged, a thick layer of saliva trickling from the corners of your occupied mouth, gathering at the base, joining the thin layer of brunette hair.
The man above you groaned so loudly that it rattled the thin walls of the room. You could feel a gush of fluid dripping out of your throbbing cock which began to seep into the denim of your trousers, Mike was to busy rolling his hips into your throat to focus on anything else but his release, you wanted him to know just how much this got you to.
With a loud slurp and pop, you sucked and lapped the head of Mike’s aching cock, you wrap an eager hand around his length, squeezing and pumping as you mouth at his balls, slurping them both into your mouth and licking the underside.
“Baby- fuck, I’m so fuckin’ close”
Mike gripped at your now matted hair, forcing you back into his length, pushing you down as far as possible until he settle himself fully down your throat, watching as you begin to struggle, choking and sputtering for air.
His eyes focus on the tears slipping from your damp lids. Watched the copious amounts of saliva drip and leak from his balls and chair to the floor, you proved to be a mess and it had his insides churning and his cock jump and twitch.
“Baby-“
He came with a shout, hands still buried in the thickness of your hair, holding you there, making sure to take every single drop, in which you do, before proceeding to suck him dry, pull off with a hungered gasp.
The point yet again was proven, Mike needed you by his side constantly, the time flew and if anything, the stress seemed to subside, replaced with a certain lightness he compared to bliss.
You tuck him away, secreting the mess within his briefs before scrambling up into his lap, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He held you for a while, kissing softly at your ear.
The ache, the one from before hadn’t really fully disappeared and he felt guilty, yet he wanted more, craved more, this was nice and all, he loved this usually but…he wanted more of you.
Wiggling slightly earns a rumble of a grunt, he still wasn’t ready to leave this office, not until he had his fair share.
“Mikey…”
You trail off, feeling him grow harder by the second, it hadn’t even been ten minutes, what have you gotten yourself into?
“Why don’t you get undressed and bend over my desk, all pretty for me baby, I gotta have you…”
#male reader#x male reader#fnaf#mike schmidt#smut#fluff#MIKE IS A BIG BOY#like-#HELP#he can rearrange my guts DAILY
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Blackmail
Kaz Brekker x fem!Reader
Summary: Reader gets kidnapped by the Crows
Word Count: 3k
CW: swearing, abusive parent, blood
She used to live her best life; a daughter of a council’s member, an heir to the ground so big she couldn’t even begin to comprehend its vastness. However, when she finally came to the age where she was to come into own money and ground, she was kidnapped. By one of the gangs violating the streets of Ketterdam, nonetheless.
“Who, the fuck, do you think you are?” she pulled on the ropes binding her wrists. The room was so dark that she wasn’t able to see a person standing by the wall opposite of her. When she’d been dragged through the part of the city she hadn’t ever visited, she’d been hearing two voices behind her, one female and one male, bickering back and forth about trivial matters. Yet, when the bag had been removed, she took notice of another girl, sitting on a window sill, her legs loosely dangling over the edge, her face didn’t convey any feelings, only cold indifference. She also noticed two men, one looked as if he was Fjerdan with his blonde hair and strong face features, whereas the other had brown skin and a little smirk was pulling at his lips. He looked like he was having the time of his life. She counted four of her captors, but she quickly realized who had taken her. She sighed and when she felt her wrist start bleeding, she stopped trying to get free.
“Well, well, aren’t you a little feisty?” the pale-skinned girl teased, her brown hair fell loosely on her back, and she was leaning against the brick wall of the warehouse. “I told you she wouldn’t be willing to cooperate.”
“Tell me one person who would be, if they were tied up and kept against their will,” y/n spat, sweat coating her forehead. She was trying to come up with a plan that would let her run, but not when all of their attention was on her.
The girl rolled her eyes, “But for Kaz’s being late, you need to be patient, yes sweetheart? You will hear a reason soon,”
“It’s ridiculous,”
“Tell me about it,” the brown-skinned boy remarked, when he came closer to her, and the light from the street fell onto him, y/n noticed his belt with two revolvers, they shone. She swallowed a big lump of saliva, her anxiety spiking. “It’s never fun, when we kidnap someone,”
“So you’re telling me it’s not the first time?”
“Love, we’re professionals, of course it’s not our first time,” the boy smirked into her direction, making her frown. What did they want from her?
Suddenly, she heard a rather loud clicking of something. The warehouse must’ve been empty, since the echo of the sound matched the loudness of her own heart beating in her chest. She cursed when she realized what Kaz the girl meant. Her father would warn her about the nightmare of Ketterdam, a boy who had deceived her father more than once, and the boy who was a top priority to her father. Since Brekker had robbed him for the first time, messing with his books, her father wanted nothing more than to catch him. He’d never accomplished that. Obviously.
“You have her? Good,” his hoarse voice matched his looks. He had a sharp jawline and his brown eyes were set on the chair she was sitting on. “I hope you’ve heard of me, it will be easier to make an introduction. I’m sure your father has told you plenty of me.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, lifting her head so as to look at Kaz, who had taken a step closer to her. “Careful, because your hat might not have more room for that ego of yours,” she heard a surprised gasp of someone from behind Brekker.
“She came for his hat,” the boy who had talked to her earlier whispered.
“I heard that, Jesper,” the other girl, who was sitting at the windowsill answered.
Kaz didn’t look like her words made any impression on him, he simply leaned on his cane further, looking y/n into her eyes. She held his stare.
“What do you want, Brekker?” she asked, her voice still.
“We need a Squaller for our job,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Then go and find yourself one, I don’t see how this concerns me,” she still tried to keep her face as impassive as she could.
“Oh, I think you know exactly how this concerns you,” Brekker smirked. “You and your mother are clever, I need to give this to you, but nothing goes past my Wraith. Your little travels to the countryside, your mom’s forged papers. I know everything,” he emphasized the last word, his unsaid threat making her shiver.
“And what would you possibly need from an untrained Squaller?” she asked, “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“You are a descendant from a powerful line of Grisha, y/n. With a little more training, you could control clouds and weather, am I right?”
She kept silent, weighing Kaz’s words. She was fucked, no matter what path would she choose. Working with him and his gang came with a strong possibility of her father finding out and his wrath. However, not working for him and letting him go the stadwatch with the intel he had would put into jeopardy not only her, but her mother as well.
“I don’t know if I could control the weather,” she finally whispered, giving up. She could hear breaths of relief from the others. “I haven’t really tried doing more than controlling and bending the wind.”
“Well,” Kaz smirked, his cane clicking as he was walking toward the exit. “You’d better be a fast learner,” his final words echoed in her mind.
Few days later, she still couldn’t get rid of Kaz’s words. The littlest sound startled her and she’d lost her appetite. She was in the library, when one of the servants came to her with a little note. The boy left the piece of paper on the table she was sitting at, and left.. She took the note, the paper was cream-white and the scribble looked as if it had been written in a hurry. The location that had been written told her nothing. She wasn’t familiar with other districts in Ketterdam. She sighed and got up to take a map. She had an hour to find the place and get there.
After finally finding out that the location of the meeting was outside the city, she cursed at Kaz for leaving her such a short time to arrive there. She quickly changed for her outdoor clothes and left.
When y/n eventually showed up, she saw that everyone was already there and she noticed a new face. He looked very young, his head full of red curls and a face full of freckles. He smiled kindly at her.
“You’re late,” Brekker commented.
“And you’re unbearable, yet I don’t go around stating the obvious,” she remarked, her hair being lifted by the wind. “Of course I’m late, I live on the other side of Ketterdam,”
Kaz wanted to answer her, but when he opened his mouth, the white-skinned girl interrupted him and clasped her hands.
“I think we should begin,” she came closer to y/n, her hand outstretched, “My name is Nina, the one with the guns is Jesper, the one with the best arms is Matthias,” Nina winked at him, making the Fjerdan’s cheeks tint pink. “The redhead is Wylan and Inej is probably somewhere on the roof.” At the girl's last words y/n turned around and tilted her head up in order to see the Wraith somewhere.
“Are you a Grisha?” y/n asked, letting Nina lead the way towards the area that was more vacant. They were on the field, only buildings that were in the close vicinity were factories or empty warehouses.
“I am a Heartrender,” Nina replied, motioning for y/n to stay in her place. Then Nina took a few steps back and stretched out her arms. “Show me what you’ve got.”
The weather was mostly sunny, with some clouds floating on the sky. It wasn’t very windy, but it was enough for y/n to work with. First she bent the wind into a small whirlwind at Nina’s feet. Then she made it a bit bigger, but still safe. She could feel her face getting some color on it. Her mom had said that she had been looking like a ghost for the past few days. At last, y/n gathered more of the air and she made a show of disheveling Nina’s hair, blowing wind under Jesper’s coat and, her personal favorite, she flew off Kaz’s hat. She heard Jesper and Nina’s silent laugh, however Kaz was looking at her with an indifferent expression.
“How long until she can control the storm?” he questioned, his moves smooth as he used his cane to lift the fallen hat. He put it back on his head and shifted his way back onto the stick.
“A week, tops, she has a huge potential,” Nina answered, her eyes glimmering with excitement.
Y/n rolled her eyes, she could feel the troubles she was going to be in, were their little scheme be found out.
It took much more than Nina assessed. Only after two and a half weeks was y/n ready to call a small lighting. It wasn’t big, hell, it couldn’t even hurt anyone, but it was something. And she was proud of it. Nina happened to be a good teacher, partially because she herself had been studying in the Little Palace once.
“Good job, y/n!” She exclaimed, the wind created by the Squaller carrying her voice. “Now call for something bigger,”
“Nina, you know I can’t,” she breathed, her heart beating so fast and loud that she couldn’t differentiate if the last thud was her heart of the strike of lightning she did.
“One last time, you have so much undiscovered power! Imagine what you could do once you finally grasp it!.”
Y/n breathed a pant, her forehead and the nape of her neck was covered in sweat. She could feel her eyes burning from it, even though she had been using the wind to cool her down. She called for the clouds above her head once more time, gathering the electricity sizzling in them. She pressed her palms together and focused on the tree standing mere meters from the pair. Then, y/n let out a small gasp and shot out her palm into this direction. Neither of Grisha expected what would happen next. Y/n didn’t think her powers could be so grand. The alone tree that was standing in the distance was now on fire and both of the girl’s eyes widened in shock.
“Shit,” Y/n mumbled, she rushed to somehow pull out the air and put out the fire. It cost her even more energy than creating the lighting. Fortunately, the fire was extinguished and only dark strokes of smoke were coming into the air.
“That was amazing!” Nina giggled, her face brightening in the smile. “Let’s go eat something.”
Y/n let Nina lead the way to the Crow Club, where hopefully they would serve her some food. She was starving. She had never used her powers so much that she felt famished. When the two girls finally arrived at the Club, y/n noticed how much commotion there was. People were everywhere, occupying the poker tables, playing black jack or sitting at the bar. She couldn’t glimpse much more, because Nina was pulling her to the staircase. Upon arriving on the first floor, where there was a room big enough to accommodate seven people she saw a couch and, with a long sigh, sat on it.
“Any progress?” Kaz asked, while making his way into the room and then towards the desk that was facing the couch and two armchairs. Y/n looked at him and rolled her eyes, refusing to answer his question before putting food into her mouth. She first smelt then saw waffles, her head shot in the direction of the door that was being opened and closed by Nina and Jesper on her hills. Y/n smiled when the Heartrender handed her the plate with hot food and started eating it like she had never seen food in her life.
“Someone would think that your father is starving you,” Brekker remarked, his voice hollow.
“Someday, I will put this cane straight into your-’” she was interrupted by Jesper putting a waffle into her open mouth, shutting her up. She rolled her eyes again, but didn’t say anything more. She was focused on eating her lunch, zoning out when Nina informed Kaz what her teachings brought.
After the afternoon and a part of the evening spent with the Crows, y/n got up and made her way home. She could glimpse Inej a few times, while walking down Ketterdam’s streets. She knew that the Suli was just making sure that y/n wouldn’t spill the secret, but it made her feel better that she had company, nonetheless.
When she eventually came home, she was met with silence. Lamps were lit up, however she couldn’t hear any talking. She silently creeped over to the living room and she saw her father sitting in the armchair, looking into the fire.
“My dearest daughter,” the man started, placing his cold gaze upon her. Y/n knew he somehow had learnt what she had been doing for the past weeks. She swallowed, but kept her face straight. “Do you want to explain why people saw you with those brutes?” He got up and made his way towards her.
His breath reeked of alcohol, but he still came close enough to grab her chin and tilt it so she could see straight into his eyes. She tried to explain herself, but her father lifted his fist and punched her. She was blinded by pain, she could feel hot blood coming from her nose to her mouth. She couldn’t brace herself for another hit, this time his fist connected with her stomach. Y/n doubled over, breathing hard. Her father used this as an advantage and struck another hit to her face and the girl fell to her knees.
“Get up, you pathetic girl,” he crouched and his face was at the same level as hers. She spat at him, saliva mixed with blood. Her father made a disgusting noise and wiped his face off with the sleeve of his shirt. He roughly took her arm and lifted her up. He swung once again, but his blow never met y/n. She used her desperation and power and hauled her father straight into the window that was behind him. There was a lot of shattered glass and she could glimpse a bit of blood on the pieces that stayed in the window. Y/n didn’t think longer, she made her way towards the door, stumbling.
She didn’t know if Inej was still somewhere on the rooftops, but still y/n ran into the direction of the Crow Club. Her feet heavy and her face swollen, but she kept running until she saw the familiar building. She barged into the club, running for the staircase and making her way to the top of the stairs. To Kaz’s room.
She opened the door, noticing the dimmed lights and Kaz sitting at his desk. He lifted his gaze and the only thing that indicated his surprise was his frown.
“Rough night?” he asked, getting up from his desk. He walked closer to her, looking her up and down. “Please, do say that the other guy looks worse.”
She breathed a small laugh but only shook her head. “I didn’t know where else to go,”
Kaz sighed, going to the small, adjoined room, y/n suspected it was a small bathroom. A moment later, Brekker emerged with a small kit in his gloved hands, he handed her the kit and motioned for y/n to the room he had just left.
“Go clean yourself, I’ll tell Inej to fetch you some clean clothes,”
“Thank you,” it was the first time she let herself be that vulnerable in front of someone. She wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation.
Y/n went into the bathroom, her limbs heavy and her head hurting. She took a look at herself and she spooked herself. Her whole left cheek was swollen, her eye nearly shut, her lip cracked and blood was marking its way down her chin and neck. She swallowed and started cleaning herself. When she mostly got rid of the blood, she lifted her shirt and saw a big, purple bruise on her ribcage. She had a hard time breathing. She felt the room swirling around her, but she strove to pull herself together. With as deep breath as she could take she left the bathroom.
Kaz was sitting at his desk again. He lifted his head when she stepped into the room and observed her when she took the fresh set of clothes from his bed. She walked towards the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” his hoarse voice came from behind her. She turned around and saw him frowning even more than before.
“I don’t know, maybe Nina has some room on her floor,” she remarked, hugging the clothes to her chest and turning her face back to the door.
“Stay,” Kaz whispered, his voice barely audible. Y/n stopped in her tracks, her spine straightened. Did she hear correctly? “You can take the bed,”
“Kaz, you don’t have to,” she started, but was promptly interrupted by Brekker’s voice.
“Shut up and lay down, you stubborn girl,” he came back to whatever work he had, y/n heart grew and she smiled for the first time in hours.
“Who would’ve thought there’s a heart underneath all of those layers,” she teased, laying down on his bed.
“Such a pity your father didn’t knock your teeth out,” Kaz said, but the small smirk on his face hinted that he wasn’t serious.
“Asshole,”
#kaz brekker my beloved#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker x reader#six of crows one shot#six of crows#crooked kingdom#grishaverse#nina zenik
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down on all fours (90s au rockstar a. turner x reader)
smut.
warnings: overstimulation, praise, degradation (yes, both of them), aly has dacryphilia <3, dom!al, spit :)
word count: 2.1k
everyone thank @psychedelicrocker for telling me to write this instead of f1 alex again, also it's not v obviously 90s au whoopsies
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alex was fucked.
he had been trying to write one simple song for hours now, and nothing seemed to stick. either a lyric would be too complex for the tune or he'd dumb it down too much. there really was no in between.
in his defense, though, he was freshly free from the harsh confines of a world tour and had lost all semblance of sanity.
he kept pacing around his office until he realized something. through all of the fans and drugs and groupies, he remembered one thing that was a constant.
you.
you met alex at the new jersey show he did with his band and he was intrigued, to say the least. he brought you backstage and had his way with you, sure, but he wanted more. he needed it, or rather, you.
he got you tickets to their next show and told you to come if you could, and you did. you thoroughly enjoyed the show, just as much as you enjoyed the way he destroyed your cunt before it and the way he fucked you til you cried after. the cycle repeated, they'd finish a show, he'd give you tickets to the next one.
the boys hadn't really tried forming connections with the girls they took back to their hotel rooms because to them, it was just a one time thing, they were high and their girl of the night would be starstruck and it was a fun way to unwind post-show. alex had the same mindset for years. until you. you ruined him completely. as much as he adored tearing you apart with his cock, he obsessed over the way you'd laugh breathlessly after a good fuck. he knew he was gone the moment you kissed him, the way your lips felt against his— soft, gentle, caring— it changed him.
the feelings alex had towards you could be described in many ways. an obsession, a need, a want, a love.
he couldn't care less. as long as he had you.
he crumpled up the messy, inked sheet of paper in his hand and tosses it into the trash and runs over to his untouched suitcase and digs through it until he finds the note you gave him at the last show he'd perform before moving to the european leg of the tour. the note had your phone number along with your address and the words 'don't forget me' written with a heart.
he realizes that you only lived a few minutes down the road. he decides to take the risk and punches your number into his landline and holds the receiver up to his ear. you take your time to pick up, but he let it go, it was half past two anyways.
"um, hello?" your voice called out, almost instantly making the hairs on the back of his neck stand and his cock harden.
"hey, doll. been missin' you. been missin' your cunt, to be real specific. come over, i need my muse back." his voice is as sharp as it had always been, hearing it sending you into a frenzy. you were well and truly speechless, and he knew.
"i'll see you here, bunny."
you were still half asleep but the familiar warmth of alex's voice woke you up and you instantly got on your feet and began running around your room, scrambling around for anything to make yourself look more presentable for alex.
you quickly try fixing the mess that your hair was and apply a quick swipe of the red lipstick of yours that alex adored so much.
you threw on the first things you could find and decided you'd rather walk to his instead of driving, because all the thoughts you were thinking would not lead to a safe drive.
you showed up wearing his band's shirt and a leather jacket with spikes around the neck that almost resembled a collar.
he has to take a second to take all of you in.
he pulls you in by your waist and shuts the door behind you and gives your lips a quick peck.
"i've missed you, doll." he murmurs against your lips, "you always were my favourite from the lot."
he kisses you again, deeper this time, less sweetness and more desperation. teeth clashed, his slight stubble scratching your face, adding to the stimulation and making you hum into the kiss.
alex slips his hands from your waist to your ass, cupping the flesh and massaging it, also pushing your hips into his waist and grinding his cock into you. he pulls away, breathless.
"you know the drill. everythin' off, except that jacket. i expect you on all fours by the time i get to my room."
you open your mouth to retort but decide against it and tiptoe past him and run up to his bedroom. you get undressed and forget to put the jacket back on.
alex, still downstairs, fixed himself a drink and almost finished half of it before he was upstairs. his cock throbbing at the sight.
you were on all fours on his cozy, pristine bed, your back arched so perfectly.
"where's the jacket, doll?"
"'m sorry, al, i forgot."
alex discards his clothes slowly, leaving himself in his boxers. he crawls onto the bed and kneels in between your legs, his hands running up and down your back, pressing it into more of an arch.
"it's alright, angel," he presses a kiss to your soaked pussy from behind, "next time, hm?"
you grind against his face, trying to tell him what you need without irritating him. you hear him swear at himself before his tongue delves into your core, lapping at anything he can get. his fingers come to your front and play with your clit as he devours your dripping cunt. you feel that knot in your stomach threatening to snap as he pulls away, whining at him stopping so suddenly.
"al, please, i'm good, i need you, please—"
you moan excessively loudly when he pushes two fingers into your cunt with no prior warning, feeling your eyes rolling back into your head as his fingers thrust in and out of you, curling and hitting every spot you needed him to get to.
"what did i tell you about doubting me, sweet girl?", he asks sweetly as he spreads his fingers as far apart as he can, watching your hole gape as you scream out his name.
"never doubt you, al, never ever doubting you," you trail off as he continues his relentless movements.
alex suddenly stops all his movements, taking his hands away from you, licking his fingers clean.
"taste as good as you did the first time, doll, fuck, you're takin' me back."
alex's mind flickered back to tour, how despite you both considering your interactions as a rockstar and one of his groupies, there was something different. it wasn't just sex, at least, not to him. he constantly fantasized about taking you out, buying you anything you ever wanted and more, treating you the way you deserved.
but he wasn't sure if he deserved you at all.
he saw himself as a pathetic excuse of a man who thrives on the validation of strangers and crumbles with the slightest criticism, but that also led to him imagining how you'd comfort him in these moments of devastation.
but that wasn't important to him now, he couldn't care less.
"you ready?", he asks, finally freeing his cock, pumping it slightly while watching his pre-cum spill onto your ass and then aligning it with your aching pussy, running his tip through your folds.
"mm, yes, please, fuck—"
alex slides into you before you can finish speaking, your words turning into a choked moan. alex doesn't even hesitate and begins thrusting as fast as he can, jaw hanging open as your cunt squeezes him. his writer's block disappears, everything does. you're all he saw at that point and he didn't mind it at all.
you almost scream his name as he fucks into you with no hesitation, going as fast as he can.
"just as good as i remembered baby, god," alex groans as he runs his hands up your sides, grabbing onto your hair and tugging it so he has your back pressed against his chest. you actually scream this time, the stinging feeling of his cock stretching your cunt and the pure euphoria of the act being almost too much to handle. you throw your head back to rest on his shoulder as he keeps fucking into you, one of his hands slipping to your clit, playing with it as he littered your neck with kisses.
"takin' me like a champ, doll, so so good. perfect lil toy, aren't you? fuckin' soaked too."
his fervent thrusts get slower and sloppier as you squeeze around him. "fuck, al, 'm gonna cum, please," you beg mindlessly as he brings his other hand up to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly as he nips at a spot under your ear.
"hm, not yet."
you whine in response, your moans getting louder and louder by the second.
"good girl, keep waiting for me, perfect lil slut," alex mutters as he slows down slightly, leaving small kisses of appreciation on your cheek as tears well in your eyes. he notices this and you can feel him twitch inside you as you tighten around him once more, unable to hold back any longer.
you scream out his name as your back arches against his chest, one of your hands flying to grasp at the back of his hair, pulling as you shake and moan until your voice is completely hoarse.
alex stills after you stop shaking and gives you a few seconds to compose yourself.
"you enjoy that? filthy fuckin' whore."
he pulls out of you roughly and flips you onto your back, almost instantly pushing his cock back into your sore cunt.
tears stream down your face as he bottoms out, you're desperate for him to stop and give your ruined pussy a break but at the same time, you can't stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to get him even closer. you dig your nails into alex's back as he pounds into you relentlessly, the sting of your nails scratching along his back making him hiss and go even faster.
alex's hands push your legs even further apart and he lifts them up onto his shoulders, his eyes fixated on the way he could see the outline of his cock filling you up.
"fuck, doll, you're gonna let me fill you up, aren't you? you gonna take it for me, baby?"
alex moves your hair out of your face as you nod pathetically, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he dips his head down to take your nipple into his mouth and slows his thrusts to synchronize with tongue swirling around it, humming softly. he pulls off and latches onto your neck, his teeth clamping down slightly as he picks up his pace again, making you see stars as he fucks his cum as deep into you as possible.
alex collapses onto your chest, breathing heavily. he waits for a while before pulling out and looking at your ruined cunt, smiling as he sees the mixture of your cum and his seeping out of you.
"perfect, bunny, so gorgeous."
two of his fingers circle your aching hole once more and he pushes them into you until they only part of them he can see are his knuckles. he scissors his fingers and spits directly into you, pulling his fingers back out only to scoop up everything and push it back into you, he keeps playing with you like this until he's satisfied enough. he pulls his fingers out and taps on your lips with them and you open your mouth, sucking on them until they're clean.
"good girl, you did so well for me tonight."
he presses a gentle kiss to the space between your tits and moves upwards, leaving a kiss on your collarbone, your jaw, your cheek and finally kissing your lips.
kissing you feels liberating to him, it doesn't feel forced or purely driven by his need to fuck you. but there is something wrong.
"we can't keep doing this."
alex rested his chin on your chest and looked up at you as he spoke.
"we need to do this the right way, doll. i wanna take you out, do all that shit. let me have you, princess, please."
you open your mouth to respond but your voice barely comes out which makes you him laugh as you hide your face in his shoulder. he soothingly rubs your stomach as the laughter dies out and the silence takes over the room, alex doesn't feel awkward the way he normally would and his heart only feels lighter as he sees you nod with that smile he'd grown to adore.
"can't fuckin' wait."
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this one's been in the drafts for ages im ngl
#cookie cooks#alex turner smut#alex turner x reader#alex turner x you#alex turner fanfic#alex turner fic#alex turner x fem!reader#youresodarkbabe#sias era smut#smut
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Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [PART 1]
Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar
Word Count: 3.8k
Summary: You fall into a hole. There is something in the hole. Something with teeth, and claws, and a garbage attitude to boot. Today is not your day.
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]
Let it be known, that of all the ways you could have died in your miserable and unlucky life, falling into a pit trap had not been on the list. Or, well, if it was, it hadn’t even managed to crack the top ten. And that was what was making this whole ‘sudden demise’ thing feel really pathetic.
On top it also being an uncovered pit trap. No subterfuge or class to speak of. Just a big ol’ hole in the ground that you had waltzed straight into. Ace would keel over dead laughing if he ever found out.
It was a pretty nice trap all things considered. The walls were dug into some strange sort of stone rather than just packed earth, and rings of fresh talismans curled along its sides like hundreds of ugly finger paintings. Certainly something so impressive had not been built to catch some lowly, little, idiot such as yourself. But you were here now, so that was your captor’s problem.
You were wandering aimlessly around your new prison when you stepped on something weird, and long, and thin. You paused, brow furrowing in confusion, and glanced down at whatever had found itself wedged under your heel. And, hey. That was odd. It sort of looked like a—
There was a horrible, screeching, snarl, and you wheeled back in hysterical panic as an honest-to-god lion lunged from the shadows—jerking its tail out from beneath your boot and swatting at you with its absolutely massive claws that could definitely take your eyes out. And half of your face. And probably your brain too. You fell backwards on your ass in an ungraceful heap and immediately scurried back towards the opposite wall as fast as you could. You were one-hundred-percent ready for the lion to just follow you into your little corner and murder you dead, but instead, it just stood its ground—growling, and spitting, and whipping its tail back and forth like a rattlesnake.
The thing was absolutely massive—bigger than you thought a lion was supposed to be, at least. Weren’t they just, I don’t know, like the cat equivalent of wolves? Because you’d seen plenty of wolves before on the road, and they’d never been so… looming, in themselves. And size aside, the beast was just weird looking. With thick, ash-brown, fur cut through with strange, almost geometrical, whorls of black. Now, you didn’t know much about lions (they weren’t exactly native to your little, forested, corner of the continent, after all), but weren’t they supposed to be regal? Or something? With lush, red, manes and tan hides that glowed majestically under the sun’s light? Not some… scraggly looking monstrosity with too-large canines and limbs stained in black like it’d taken a hike through a field of ash.
Its eyes were the strangest part of all of it—a sharp, emerald, green that cut through the gloom of the pit with all the efficiency of a dagger. One of them was bisected with a thin scar that ran crookedly from brow-to-jaw. They were eyes that spoke of an intelligence that no animal ought to possess, let alone one that was perfectly capable of mauling you to death without the aid of functional brain cells.
You continued your silent inspection of your new nemesis, and when your gaze hesitantly fell to its hind legs, you jolted in surprise.
Iron shackles.
Or, more specifically and horribly, a spike trap. A grim, metal, contraption that would snap into its victim like a vice, and then unfurl row upon row of jagged barbs—tangling them up like an unfortunate bug caught within the web of some really fucked up, sociopathic, spider.
You winced in sympathy, out of habitual concern for your fellow down-and-trodden if nothing else. The lion, with all its eerie intelligence, seemed to notice the pity flickering across your expression and put every single one of its too-sharp teeth on display. As if to say ‘how dare you?’ You held up your hands in surrender, hoping it looked placating and not threatening, and smooshed yourself even harder up against the wall.
After a few more moments of grumbly glaring, the beast dropped back down to the ground with a pissy huff and closed its eyes. Clearly, you weren’t worth the trouble—which was perfectly fine with you.
You gave yourself the rest of the evening to just lie around like a sad little slug and lick your wounds. Falling all that way had hurt, okay? And while the adrenaline rush of ‘oh shit, I’m going to be lunch’ had helped push away some of that initial pain, now that it was fading you could feel every twinge in your ribs, all the bruises climbing your back and the cuts littering your hands.
When the sun rose once more over the mouth of your prison, you stretched as best you could and prepared to make your escape.
Scaling the slippery, stone, walls had proved to be an instant failure. The rope in your pack wasn’t long enough to reach the top, and you smacked yourself in the face with the thing more times than you would like to admit. Trying to find grippy-bits to just crawl your way up the side like a bug hadn’t worked either. The first talisman you touched didn’t spark or bite at your fingers, but it had been seared into the stone with some sort of magic that made it slide like oil beneath your palms. And you’d plummeted back to the bottom with a lackluster thump. The lion had made some kind of huffing noise from its place in the corner, like it was laughing at you. And you fought the insane urge to flip off a creature that could just eat your entire hand in retaliation.
Next you rifled around in your pack, hoping for a miracle. You were pretty decent at throwing together little bits and bobs to create a cheap but generally functional solution. Like the time you’d rigged Deuce’s bow to spit stink bombs as it shot through the air, or when you’d managed to scrounge together a decent fishing-line trap out of Ace’s shoelaces to lure out a rogue pixie that had been cannibalizing your vegetable garden. But you’d only been heading into town for your monthly grocery trip, so the most you had on you were genuinely practical things. An emergency medical kit, a dagger, lock picks, some rations that lived at the bottom of your bag no matter where you went. Nothing nonsensical, and therefore nothing useful.
Your stomach gurgled irritably, and, well, maybe you had something useful after all.
You fished out some neatly wrapped bits of cured meats, and cheeses, and bread. You made yourself a tasty, little, sandwich, and hey? You know what? How many other Hole Prisoners could claim to have such phenomenal catering? Probably not many. You’d take that win, at least.
You were just about to take your first bite when your eyes guiltily swung towards the lion curled up and sleeping at the opposite end of your makeshift cell. It hadn’t even flicked its ears your way when you’d started to loudly rustle around in your bag. And it certainly hadn’t sniffed at the air or anything else dramatic like that when you’d unearthed your packed lunch. Which was… didn’t animals usually go nuts for tasty treats like this? The foxes that snuck around behind your cottage would scream like banshees if you didn’t toss them your leftovers. Even the bunnies that lived in the hole in the wall by your cellar had some food aggression issues.
You tore off a chunk of your sandwich and palmed it nervously.
Maybe if you fed it, it wouldn’t eat you quite so quickly.
You cautiously pushed the stack of toasty breads, and meats, and home-made cheese, towards the beast with the toe of your boot. When it didn’t move, you scooched the offering a smidge further, until it was nudging up against a paw.
The Lion lifted its great, dark, head to bare its teeth at you with a lazy twitch of the lip. You scuttled back as quick as you could, and once you were a fair distance away, it stopped glaring at you long enough to observe whatever you’d just shoved at it.
It nosed at the food with a level of apathy you didn’t think was even possible, before reaching out with a heavy, black, foot, to smoosh it ungratefully into the dirt.
“Hey!” you gasped, genuinely offended. Because you were just trying to be a polite cellmate, okay! Was that really so terrible?!
With a sharp little twist of its paw that looked far too dexterous for something its size, it speared through the meat with one of its curling claws, and raised that from the dejected pile of mush. It popped the chunk of cured ham into its mouth with a satisfied little grumble, and you felt your completely rational and not at all ridiculous discontentment ease. It lifted its head a little higher and its tail swished—not in the whipping, angry, way it had been the other day when you’d squashed it, but the gentle twitch of something closer to a cat lazing about contentedly in a windowsill. The lion kept looking at you then, with those too-cognizant eyes. You pulled another bit of meat from your sandwich and tossed it over. It caught it easily in its massive jaws with that same, contented, rumbling.
“I made that,” you beamed. Because you had. And it had taken you ages to balance out the perfect spice-salt-sugar combination for a proper cure.
The lion looked entirely unimpressed.
You sighed and sat back against the wall with a string of irritable mutterings. The lion made another one of those huffing noises, like it had earlier when you swore the thing was snickering at you. And then it closed its glowing, emerald, eyes and slipped back into its seemingly never-ending nap.
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in relative peace. Despite its lackluster (read: fucking rude) response to your earlier offering, come dinner time, you still slid the beast a makeshift plate stacked high with meat. It ate the food without complaint, which was better than outright scoffing at you, you supposed. You started to hum some nonsense under your breath, just for something to do, and the lion made a noise like you were physically torturing it. So instead you shifted to folding and refolding the scrap bits of parchment paper from your wrapped rations into ugly, veritably unidentifiable, origami shapes. This was apparently deemed acceptable, as the lion just sighed and rolled over to make itself comfortable for the night. Irritably, you flicked one of the little flowers you’d made at its dumb face. But it shot wide and landed somewhere off by its paws. The beast didn’t even bother to twitch its ear at you.
The next morning came with little fanfare, and you stared longingly up at the warm light of the dawn.
Your eyes once more roved across the spiraling talismans dripping from the walls, and the great, iron, trap that certainly wouldn’t have belonged to any ordinary sort of hunter.
“You’re not a real lion, are you?” you asked, and the thing had the nerve to roll its eyes at you. You bristled and again had to tamp down the urge to do something very, very, stupid, and which would no doubt end in your immediate disembowelment. “Yes, yes. Laugh it up. I only mean that because—I mean, you can understand me, can’t you?”
Another long, slow, eye roll. Like it was making damn well sure you could see.
It was a lot harder to bite down your anxious ticks and ramblings when you knew you were speaking to something that could maybe speak back, rather than just a wild animal trapped at the bottom of a hole (there was a very good reason you lived in a quaint little cottage in the middle of fucking nowhere), but you grit your teeth and soldiered on.
“Alright then. Fine. I just wanted to say then. Well. I mean—I could… You know.”
When you held out the lockpicks from your bag, the beast’s eyes lit with genuine interest for the first time in this entire nightmare situation, and a teeny bit of your nerves eased.
You gestured to the spike trap entangling its legs and the lion turned to sneer at the mess of sharp ends with a genuinely bone chilling snarl.
“I can probably get that off—unlock the mechanisms, I mean,” you explained. “But you have to, you know—” You made a theatrical imitation of gnashing teeth over the meat of your forearm, “—not eat me.”
The Lion sat up on its haunches and its tail twitched restlessly at its side. After a long moment where you were genuinely concerned that the thing would rather eventually justbleed out and die in its trap rather than let you touch it, the lion raised its head and perked its ears in an imperious sort of way. And then it dipped its chin—a nod.
You scooched forward cautiously, pausing every few feet or so to make sure the thing wasn’t going to change its mind and maul you. The Lion just huffed at you, and shifted to give you better access to the horrible agglomeration of cold metal twisted around its limbs. You reached out carefully, the picks a light, familiar, weight in your hands. It was certainly a complicated looking contraption, but you’d yet to encounter something you weren’t able to break with enough force of will and sheer, dumb, luck. So you grit your teeth and got to work.
After a few minutes of poking, the first spiral of jagged spikes loosed with a rusty groan and the lion noticeably perked up—like it was shocked you’d managed anything at all. You decided very resolutely that you weren’t going to allow yourself to be offended by the implied emotions on the face of an animal, and continued your work. Your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth as you focused, intent, and slowly—steadily—the barbed monstrosity gave way beneath your gentle fiddling. Every now and again, one of the spikes would ease itself from the lion’s hide, and you had to fight the urge to fuss over the oozing, painful, wounds that were exposed. You were almost there, you reminded yourself feverishly. Just a little more, and—
The last of the iron fell away with an echoing clatter, and immediately the lion reared up with a roar. But instead of lunging at you and your very accessible throat like you feared, it crouched back on its battered hind limbs and craned its head towards the open hole above your heads, and the blue, sunny, sky beyond. A swirl of strange, sandy, magic began to seep from the beast’s mane. The green of its eyes glowed hot and bright amidst the outpour of arcane energy, like the sole light in a storm. And then its fur was fading, its limbs cracking and groaning as they folded in on themselves into something more contained—more bipedal. The strange, geometric, patterns along its coat rippled like living things. They expanded and contracted as the creature did, before eventually settling into some new pattern that you hadn’t seen before.
And there, standing before you now, was a man. Tall, and lithe, and tan. With a head full of thick, dark, hair that looked startling like the mane that had just poofed from existence—except now it was twisted through with braids, and precious gems, and the occasional patchwork of beads and leather. The inky shapes settled themselves along his biceps, curling into the skin contentedly as if they’d lived there all along. There was still a pair of tufted, feline, ears atop his head, and a long, thin, tail whipping back and forth at his rear. His teeth were still much too sharp, and those eyes of his much too feral. He observed his clawed limbs with distaste, letting out a sigh that seemed to rattle his bones.
“Of course it’s still fucked,” he grumbled. His voice was deeper than you were expecting—smoother, too. Like it was meant to belong to someone regal and powerful, someone doling out orders and ruling nations. Not a sad, little, half-man-half-lion trapped at the bottom of a pit with an ever sadder, littler, human.
After a minute or two of what was clearly some very displeased inner reflection, he raised his hands over his head. A pale, dusty, magic swirled along his fingers, not dissimilar to the stuff that had coiled out from his furs. You watched in awe as one by one, the talismans began to burn away—disintegrated into nothing.
Once he had finished utterly decimating what had once been a nearly foolproof trap, he turned and looked down at you for a long, tense, moment with an expression that you couldn’t quite place.
And then he was leaping out of the hole with all the grace of a hurricane—tearing through stone and dousing you in waves of dust and debris as he went. His claws tore into the sides of his prison like it was made of paper, leaving deep, jagged, gashes in their wake. Some of the wall seemed to melt beneath his attacks—collapsing into a thin, sandy, mess beneath the weight of his irritation. With one, final, swipe that shook the pit from base to rim, he leapt out of the dug-in prison cell entirely and vanished from your line of sight. Lo, the Angry Lion Man was free at least. And you? Well—
“Hey!” you shouted after him, enraged. “Thanks for nothing, asshole!”
And so, despite all your hardships and good deeds, you were still stuck at the bottom of a fucking hole.
You stomped around for a bit, kicking at rocks and ranting at nothing. Once you’d tired yourself out enough to think a bit more rationally, you sat back and took stock of your continuing predicament. With the talismans burnt out, you might be able to try climbing out again without slipping down in the messy remnants of gooey, protective, spells. And actually, the guy had destroyed quite a bit of the stone in his rampage. There were enough tall heaps of fresh rubble that you’d probably have plenty of leverage to try and use your rope again.
So you went around collecting all your little scraps of paper, your meager personal items, and any bits of fabric that had been scraped off in the initial tumble. With traps as intricate and expensive as this, it was better not to leave behind any traces of one’s presence. Just in case the owner of said trap tried to go sniffing around for his lost quarry.
The rope ended up being a resounding success, and you hauled yourself out of the pit with a surprising amount of ease.
Once you were out, you breathed in the clean, crisp, air and looked around. Absolutely no sign of Mister Lion-Shifter to speak of. Or, well, there was a clear trail of dusty destruction leading towards the forest, so you would assume he’d run off somewhere in that direction. But you were well and truly alone again.
You shook your fist at the tree line for good measure, before turning around and starting the miserable trek back home.
.
.
Everything was as it had been when you left. Your chickens were quite happy to see you, happier yet obviously to be fed. You greeted the various other woodland residents that had taken to living out of your ramshackle little home (the foxes in particular were quite happy to nibble on the remaining scraps of bread and cheese in your bag). Your garden looked a little munched on, but nothing too terrible. All and all, things were… fine. It was honestly a bit underwhelming.
Later that afternoon when you were dumping out your bag to give it a good clean and restock, a dozen little, horrible, paper creations fluttered down to your kitchen table. You decided you would keep them, ugly as they were, as a kind of trophy for making it out of the Hole in one piece. Look at me, world. I—nothing more than a humble idiot—managed to survive in a Pit Trap alongside some sort of Skin Changing, lion, man. Who only almost mauled me twice. And here are the paper blobs to prove it.
Except—huh. That was a bit strange. You’d made a nice little flower too, hadn’t you? The one that you had tried (and failed) to shoot into the lion’s face. It had been the only piece that looked even halfway like it was supposed to. You’d checked every bit of the hole pretty thoroughly before you’d escaped, so certainly you would have scooped it up. After a moment of silent fretting, you shrugged and deposited the others into a nice, glass, jar. It had probably just been buried beneath the rubble or something.
.
.
Something had spooked your birds. You frowned out the window and into the rain. It was a gloomy, grey, day, and normally all your little farm friends would hunker down in their wooden huts to avoid the drizzle. But you could hear the geese honking and the chickens squawking in that indignant way of theirs as they flapped around and made a general nuisance of themselves.
There was a hard knock at your front door—a heavy, sharp, rap-tap-tap against the aged frame that sounded entirely unfriendly. You snuck a glance through the little, round, porthole and nearly doubled over in shock. You yanked the door open before you could think better of it, and there on your front porch, looking half-drowned and wholly grouchy, was the Lion Man.
His emerald gaze settled on you like a tangible thing that you could feel digging along your shoulders. His lips quirked up into a loose smirk that was entirely feline in its smug satisfaction and unfairly attractive. Especially considering he looked like someone had dunked him in a lake. His round, tufted, ears flicked irritably beneath each drop of rain.
Your brain whirled into overdrive, coughing up wave after wave of scenarios—each more outlandish than the next. Maybe he had come to eat you, to get rid of any witnesses. Or maybe this was the start of some epic quest, like you’d managed to save some Skin Changer Prince or something and were now due to be swept up in some wildly entertaining political drama. Or maybe he had come to thank you finally, after abandoning you so outright. To grovel and apologize for leaving the person who had so selflessly rescued him.
“Well, herbivore?” he huffed instead, crossing his arms irritably over his chest and rolling his eyes at you in a way that was far too familiar. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s wet out here.”
You smiled—perfectly, utterly, serene. And slammed the door in his face.
.
.
.
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ceilings, plaster, can’t you just make it move faster?
Steddie Week / Day 2: Fluff and Angst ( @steddie-week )
-
There’s beeping on his side as Steve slowly gains consciousness. He can hear birds chirping, and the trees dancing against the wind. Which was weird, because he remembers closing the window last night.
“Pst! Steve!”
Steve’s eyes shot open, jumping out the bed to reach for his spiked bat when he sees Eddie’s head wedged between his bedroom windows. He looks like a damn burglar.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Steve drops his bat, rushing to open the windows wider, “Eddie? What the hell are you doing?!”
Eddie jumps clumsily inside the bedroom, “Like a ninja!” Steve bites down laughter. If he looked as dorky as this man, he doesn’t even know why Nancy dated him.
“Why are you here?”
Eddie pokes his ribs, “Are you really asking me that?”
Steve swats his hand away, “Yes. It’s a perfectly normal question to ask when you’ve just been woken up by a man who climbed your roof.”
“Sweetheart,” Eddie sings, “We have a date.”
Steve gapes at him, “What? Was that today?”
“Yes.” Eddie laughs. There’s no hint of anger or remorse in his voice, “Go on, get ready for the day. I’ll make you some brunch.”
Rushing to get ready, Steve showers and dresses up in his favorite Levis and polo. His hair also doesn’t take him more than 5 minutes to sculpt. It’s like he’s having the luckiest damn day ever. When he finally walks out of his room, the smell of waffles and coffee spreads through his senses.
Steve sits on the counter, “I am sorry for forgetting about our date, Eds. It completely slipped my mind.”
Eddie laughs, pushing a plate of waffles in front of him, “No worries, sweetheart. You’re still healing, you deserve all the rest.”
There’s a pause as Steve squints at him.
“Healing? Healing from what?”
Eddie shakes his head, “None of that now. Eat so we can go to the carnival.”
“Carnival?” Steve perks up at the mention of a carnival, “There’s a carnival in town?”
Eddie nods, his mouth stuffed with a forkful of waffle. Steve’s always wanted to have a carnival date, but the last time the carnival was in town, Steve was too busy trying to stay alive in an underground Russian bunker.
“Yep! So get some food in you and we’ll go. We’re burning daylight here.” Eddie urges him to eat.
Steve laughs, “Slow down. The carnival won’t leave.”
Steve takes the first bite of his waffle and literally moans on the spot. The waffle melts on his mouth, a combination of sweet and soft sensations bursting.
“Oh my god.” He moans, stuffing himself another bite, “Did you freaking make this?!”
Eddie smirks, “Yes.”
“Why the hell is it so good?”
“It’s my mom’s recipe. I only pull it out for the pretty boys.”
Steve chokes on a bite, his cheeks flushing, “So I am just another pretty boy now, huh?” Eddie cackles at his reaction, pushing a glass of water his way.
There’s a twinkle of warmth in his eyes, and a smile so soft Steve knows for sure it’s only for him, “The prettiest boy.”
-
The carnival was— perfect. It had everything Steve has ever wanted to try. In a sense, it’s like everything was catered for his pleasure.
Steve looks around in wonderment, as people walk and move past them, “Dude, we should’ve bought the kids!”
There’s a sharp pain in his chest as he remembers the kids, but it's gone as quick as it came. Steve clutches his chest, chasing the pain.
Eddie looks at him, hands immediately wrapping around him in concern, “Stevie? Are you okay?”
“No. I— I just—“ He tries to straighten up and he feels… nothing, “Nothing. I think my heart skipped a beat or something.”
Eddie smirks at him, but his eyes soft with worry, “Sweetheart, I haven’t even held your hand.”
Steve feels his face heat up, “Oh, shut up.”
“Well. Which one do you want to do first? Ride some rides? Play some games?” Eddie pulls him by the hand, intertwining their hands together as they walk around the park, “You know what, I’ll win you one of those bears from one of the games!”
They spend the next few hours just playing and riding rides. They tried numerous carnival foods that Steve was never allowed to try as a kid. It's the first time Steve has actually gone to a carnival and had fun. Eddie’s loud and crass and wonderful in so many ways. He has tricks for game after game, and even if he’s scared on some rides, he still rides for Steve.
It’s the perfect date.
“Eds, you can stop trying. You’re wasting your money.” Steve whispers as Eddie hands more money to the carnival personnel.
“I am going to get you that damn bat toy and I won’t stop until my wallet is empty.” Eddie winks at him, as he squats and stares at the barrel of the water gun.
Eddie concentrates intensely as he tries to get the water to shoot on the hole. The personnel look bored as he watches them, but Steve only has eyes for Eddie. There’s pure determination on his face, squinting hard so he can finally win the damn bat toy. Steve shouldn’t have should interest on it to begin with.
The lights above it start lighting up one by one, Eddie just has to reach the top and he can finally get the stuffed toy. Steve doesn’t even realize that they won because he was only staring at Eddie.
“Jesus Christ! Finally!” Eddie grabs the bat toy from the personnel, hopping up and down with joy. His lips stretched into a huge smile, and his eyes bright with excitement.
Steve wishes he could stay in this moment forever. In this light and sparkling moment with this person that he could love— this person he might already love.
“One bat stuffed toy for your majesty.” Eddie kneels one knee, and presents the stuffed toy like it’s a bar of gold. Steve plays along, nodding ceremoniously, before taking the bat into his hand.
It’s not a bar of gold, not a crown, not a diamond. But it’s Steve’s most prized possession.
A personnel walks past them, shouting in a megaphone, “One more hour till closing!”
“The carnival’s closing?” Steve asks as Eddie straightens up.
“Apparently. You want to do one last ride?”
Steve shrugs, “Sure. I think I have…” He pauses, tries to think of what he had planned for tomorrow. Weirdly enough, he can’t think of anything.
Eddie pulls him along, “There’s one more ride I want to visit before the sun sets.”
As they walk past the stalls, the lights start flickering open. Bright, colorful lights start surrounding them. It’s not dark enough yet, but Steve knows it’ll be beautiful in the dark.
“Here!” They enter the line for the ferris wheel, which was surprisingly empty, “Come on!"
The personnel lets them in on one of the carts, smiling respectfully as he locks it, “See you on the other side.”
The wheel starts moving, slowly but surely and soon enough, they’re on the top. From where Steve is sitting he watches as people walk around the carnival like tiny little ants. The sky starts changing its colors. The bright blue, turning into a softer orange and pink.
“It’s beautiful.” Steve whispers, breathless as he sees the entirety of his hometown.
Eddie chuckles quietly beside him, reaching for his hand and taking into his, “It is.” Steve turns to him and catches his eyes on him.
The ride stops as they arrive at the top. The cart moves ever so slightly, and it feels like someone lulling him to sleep. Steve lets his head fall on Eddie’s shoulder as he watches the scene in front of him.
“Did you have fun today?” Eddie asks, his thumb softly caressing Steve’s hand.
“Yeah.” Steve sighs in content, “I think I’m going to bring Robin here tomorrow.”
A sharp pain stabs him again, the same one he felt earlier. Steve jolts up, as he clutches at his chest again, massaging it slowly, “What the hell is that?”
“I think it’s time, Steve.” Eddie says, there’s a hint of sadness in his voice.
Steve turns to him, confused, “Time for what?”
Eddie moves closer, cupping his jaw into his hand, “Time for you to wake up.”
“I am awake.” Steve pulls away, narrowing his eyes.
He shakes his head, “No, sweetheart. You have to wake up.”
The beeping is back, and Steve swings his head around to see where the sound is coming from. He gasps as he looks down at the ground, all of the people are gone now. It’s just— It’s just him and Eddie, on top of the ferris wheel.
“What’s happening?” Steve demands.
Eddie tilts his head, “You don’t remember?”
Steve shakes his head, as Eddie takes his hand again, “Here. Close your eyes.”
He gulps, but obeys. The beeping subsides.
Eddie starts talking, “We went back to the Upside Down, to finish what we started and then—“
Lights start flashing in his eyes, like thunder striking in the dark. Vines strewn everywhere in the ground.
Steve remembers screaming, lots of screaming. He remembers running in front of Robin. He remembers using all his strength, he remembers killing a monster, he remembers using his body as a shield. He remembers— he remembers pain. All around his body, like sharp pain, heightened a thousand times over. He remembers hearing sobbing and Robin begging him to stay.
He tried.
Steve gasps awake. “Robin? Is Robs okay?”
Eddie grins at him fondly, “Yes, sweetheart. Robin is alright.”
Steve looks down at his hands, “Am… I dead?” His eyes widened in realization, “Eddie? Are you dead?”
“I am not sure, sweetheart.” Eddie shrugs, “I don’t remember a lot either. I just woke up here and then— I remembered that before we went to fight Vecna, you…” Eddie laughs, his cheeks flushing, “You asked me on a date. To go to a carnival. So here I am.”
The beeping is back, and it’s louder than ever. There’s a gust of wind that brings a soft whisper, “Dingus. Please.”
“Robin’s calling me.” Steve whispers.
“I know.” Eddie says back, “You have to go back.”
“We have to go back. Together.”.
Eddie smiles at him, but it’s small and painful and Steve hates it. “I can’t hear any beeping, Stevie.”
His lips quiver, Steve starts shaking his head, “No. No. We have to go together or I am not leaving.”
Eddie holds onto him tighter, “No. You have to go back. You have to wake up.”
“Will you be there?”
Eddie blinks, pursing his lips in contemplation, “I am not sure.”
Steve clenches his jaw, swallowing the lump forming on his throat, “Are you real? Was any of this real?”
Steve looks around. The carnival is now gone. It’s just him, and Eddie and the ferris wheel. The sky is still there, watching over them in a combination of beautiful orange and pink hues. The sun is still setting, vividly and slowly. The end slowly sinking into the horizon.
Eddie giggles, “Of course, I am real, sweetheart. Everything was real.”
“Then I want to stay.”
“No, baby. You have to go back. Listen to the wind.” Eddie pulls him closer, leaning his forehead into his.
Steve lets his eyes flutter shut as the wind shakes the cart, tiny little voices being brought by the wind, tiny little pleads from Robin, Dustin, Max, Erica— from everyone. Everyone pleading and begging for him to wake up and come back.
“Can you hear it now?” Eddie asks.
Steve nods against him, as Eddie continues, “Everyone needs you. You have to go back.”
“I promise to find you. When I wake up, I will find you.” Steve promises, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to live in a world without Eddie Munson in it.
Eddie nods, there’s a look in his eyes that doesn’t fully believe it, but he says, “I’ll be waiting for you, sweetheart.”
Eddie leans over, his lips soft against Steve’s. Steve tries to map it out, tries to memorize it as best as he can. Eddie’s lips are chapped and rough, but it’s the softest and most gentle kiss Steve has ever had. He reaches over to wipe the tears streaming down Steve’s cheeks.
The beeping gets louder, insistent and— There’s a sharp pain in his chest and it feels like getting struck by lightning.
Eddie pulls away, “Wake up, sweetheart.”
There’s heaviness in his chest and then— Steve gasps, opening his eyes. It feels exactly like being drowned, and being able to finally breathe again.
“Oh my god! Steve!” He hears a voice sob. It’s a voice he would recognize anywhere.
The heaviness lifts away, and silhouettes surround him. Steve holds out his hand, and someone takes it.
“Dingus.” Robin sobs, “I thought I lost you.”
Steve can feel tears running down his cheeks. He looks around, his eyes getting used to the light. He blinks at everyone, roaming his eyes on each one of them.
He turns back to Robin and behind her is a big window. The sky is streaks of orange, the sun obviously setting. It looks exactly the same as the sky from his dreams. It was real.
Steve opens his mouth, his tongue feels heavy and sharp, but he wills himself.
“Eddie.”
(The beeping starts slowly, barely even there. The cart lulls against the wind and caresses his cheeks, with it a silent whisper of his name.
He smiles and waits.)
#steddieweek2023#day 1: fluff and angst#aha#im back on my shittttt back on my rooootssssss#surprise mfers i love you all#heavily inspired by ceilings by lizzy mcalpine#steddie#steddie ficlet#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie headcanon#steddie hc#steddie fanfic#dae writes#daeheadcanons
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