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munson-blurbs · 11 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds.

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen.

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks.

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him.

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds.

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright.

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too.

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there.

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age.

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs.

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk.

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?”

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?”

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion.

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday.

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table.

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?”

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better.

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!”

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle.

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water.

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher.

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass.

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed.

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself.

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days.

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you.

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track.

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons:

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you.

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace.

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words.

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back.

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt.

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head.

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them.

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room.

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie.

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same.

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side.

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore.

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had.

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot. “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss.

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Note

Hello! I really enjoyed your fic with the Tav who couldn’t see well. It was really sweet! If you’re still accepting requests, may I request a similar one where the reader needs glasses to see and during a battle they break or get lost. Now they can’t see well and they’re trying not to panic while there’s threats everywhere, but thankfully Astarion notices something’s wrong and helps them. Thank you!

Admiring from Afar (GN! AFAB Reader x Astarion) Part 1- MDNI 18+ ONLY

Part Title is inspired by the song “She” by Dodie (I feel like it reflects Astarion’s POV/feelings towards Tav in this story)

This was not originally supposed to be as long as it is, but the concept started taking on a life of it's own. I hope you enjoy! I will hopefully be positing Part 2 within the next few days!

CW: Angst (?), violence, jealousy, fluffy (hopefully very? But who knows), smut because apparently I’m in a giving mood (I’m sorry I had to make the joke.), MDNI 18+ only, dom/sub sexual relationship.

Note- this is Unascended Astarion x GN! reader

*This has been proof read one time. It is 2:04 am and I have work in 6 hours LMFAO

Gif belongs to- ibacchante from Tumblr!

The campfire crackles in the distance and you think you even hear the faint sound of music. You desperately yearn to be near the warmth of the fire talking to or watching one of your companions give a dramatic retelling of their experiences in battle.

The warmth of your companions made places like the Shadow-Curse Land feel a lot less scary and foreign- they provide some normalcy in this strange journey.

Unfortunately, you are hunched over in your cold tent with nothing but a light cantrip and your will power. You squint as you etch details into the oxen bone, taking the time to add the touches of silvery white dye to add an ethereal effect. Your hands cramp as you work to keep the paint within the designs you carved into the bone.

You have been painstakingly working on this necklace for a little over a month- maybe two? You have lost count at this point, but the calluses on your fingers tell you it’s been a while now since you started this project.

You polish the bone with your cloth, wiping away the debris from your knife. You admire your handiwork; a perfect carving of the Elven Rune- Cadaith. You were able to create a loop at the top of the necklace for the long, thin, black leather strip you had been holding onto since the day after the Tiefling party- the same day you decided to take on this hand numbing project.

You and your crew of oddballs had come through for the locals and obliterated the Goblin Camp Leaders- the tieflings had come to your camp and had decided to celebrate.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to parties, but you’re not the most social person despite your profession as an Artisan. You miss the calm, quiet group of Druids you used to travel with- you even miss the hardwood floor of the Caravans and how much of a pain in the ass they were to fix. You miss not having to spend every waking moment and all of your strength on battling and the art of deception. You miss your tools and the landscapes you use to find your resources. You love to make crafts out of anything in the wild.

Back to the rowdy tiefling party- again, you aren’t necessarily against parties, but they are overwhelming.

And the men! They are entirely too vulgar after a couple drinks. Silvanus help you if you had another drunk man stumble up to you and ask if he can, “fuck your brains out.”

Another man had begun to make his way towards you when you felt a cold hand grab you by the elbow and haul you off into the forest. It had been Astarion- who you had agreed to share a bed with that night. You had shared a bed before- after a camp party to celebrate killing Auntie Ethel, but nothing could have prepared you for the second time and how mind-blowing it would be (you had been excruciatingly awkward as it was your first time ever- he was pretty understanding thank Gods).

“Astarion-”

“Yes Darling?”

He stops and looks at you- you look around and realize you are far from camp. You fiddle with your hands nervously- picking at your nails.

“I um-” you clear your throat, “I really appreciate you- well- um… coming to my rescue, but I really don’t want to be a bother to you- you don’t need to stay wit-”

You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before he was gently kissing you. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your glasses are entirely foggy from your breathing and you smile at him coyly as he pulls away. He gives you a genuine, real laugh before taking your glasses off and wiping them clean for you. You put them on, your eyes back in focus as you avoid his eyes.

He leans in and begins kissing along your neck, along your jawline, and back to your lips. He kisses you roughly, his tongue flicking across your lower lip, asking for access. He lifts you up from under your thighs before backing you into a tree.

He grinds up into you- his erection pressed against the burning heat in your core. He pulls at your shirt strings and gives you a look as if to ask if he can continue. You grab his face in your hands and kiss him as an answer to his question.

He discards your shirt and makes quick work of your trousers and under garments- all while kissing you so deeply the world is spinning and your entire body feels numb.

Suddenly he has you on your back as he smiles down at you mischievously. You look away, embarrassed as he takes in the sight of your body; a breathy chuckle leaves his lips as he gets up and makes quick work of his own clothes.

You feel the space between your legs grow warmer and needier as you watch him stroke himself before he settles himself between your legs. He presses soft kisses all over your face as he inserts a finger between your folds and begins to toy with your clit. You whimper and moan as he pumps his finger in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he growls into your ear and inserts another finger, picking up the pace.

A soft, gasp escapes your lips as your walls stretch to fit around his other finger- getting to the point of borderline tears as you feel your orgasm get closer and closer. Astarion watches you use a stream of profanities, your hands gripping the grass so hard it's ripping. He kisses you on your forehead then- he stops.

You keen in protest from the emptiness between your thighs, but your words die on your lips as he pushes himself all the way between your folds, all the way to the hilt. You claw at his back, a pleased whimper escaping your mouth. He begins to kiss your jaw before you capture his lips with yours- he’s still not moving inside of you as you kiss him feverishly- your hands entangling themselves in his hair. He groans against your lips, holding you down by your waist and not allowing you to move. When you attempt to move your hips upward, desperate to get some friction, he groans in your mouth before pulling out completely and then thrusting himself roughly back into you. You look at him in anticipation as he gets off of you, still inside you as he adjusts your left leg so that he can get more access and he begins to massage your sore, neglected nipples with his fingers.

You are desperate for any movement from him and you can tell he knows it- even in your drunken haze.

“Please.”

“Please what, my dear?”

He says before pulling out to thrust into you completely again. You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look away from him, trying not to let him have the satisfaction..

He hums as he roughly grabs your jaw, making you look him in the eyes.

“Tell me, Darling,” a sly, teasing smile on his beautiful face, “do you want me to fuck your brains out?”

You nod and he pinches your nipples roughly- you arch your back and you feel him lift your hips up before spanking you hard.

"You don't get anything until you answer my question," he goads, his hand snaking it's way around your throat, "so tell me, do you want me to fuck your brains out?"

"Y-es. Yes I want you to fuck me ple-" he cuts you off with a snap of his hips.

He grabs your jaw roughly with his hands, "You know that's not what I asked you."

He begins to slowly move in and out of you, teasing you mercilessly. You groan in frustration- he knows he’s the only person who can say this to you and demand you to say it back to him.

"Please Astarion," you say tearfully, your need for pleasure taking over, "please fuck my brains out."

He smiles at you widely, "it would be my pleasure."

You whine and he pulls out of you, rolling you over onto your hands and knees. He comes up behind you and his hands find purchase in your hair as he begins to pound into your mercilessly. You lose yourself in pleasure- surely alerting everyone and their mothers to your activites- and if it's not the vulgar moans, it's the filthy sound of your bodies colliding.

He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, switching to putting his hand around the upper part of your throat, and puts his fangs to your neck, teasing the skin as he fucks up into you. You have one of your hands wrapped around his arm as he chokes you and the other is touching your clit- the coil of pleasure building up in your stomach as you whisper your consent between moans for Astarion to drink from you. He gives you a pleased hum in response.

The moment his fangs are piercing your neck is the same moment your orgasm rips through you and you have to fight not to slump against him. You feel his strong arms hold you up as he keeps fucking your sensitive mound, chasing his own orgasm. He stops sucking from the bite marks on your neck, lapping up the blood that begins to slowly trickle down towards your shoulders and chest. He let’s go of his grip on your throat and pushes you back onto your belly before roughly inserting himself inside you again.

"You are such a good girl," he grunts, "you are taking me so fucking well."

You begin to feel lightheaded when he finally cums inside you. Good thing you have a potion for that.

You both get your clothes on and he whisks you away to his tent- where you cuddled and talked for almost the entire night.

The sex, as noted, is amazing, but you also enjoy so much more of him than just his body. You know Astarion struggles to believe you find anything about him interesting outside of sex, so you make a point of reminding him about all the other wonderful parts of him and you don't ever ask for sex or sexual favors. That ball is in his playing field as far as you are concerned.

You find yourself gravitating back to Astarion’s tent every night to listen about a new book he is reading or just to let him shower you with (arguably) questionable knowledge about the higher ups in Badlur's Gate . Sometimes you just talk about your lives, tangled in each other’s embraces, and falling asleep that way.

You had begun sleeping in the same tent shortly after he drank from you for the first time. You had been scared during a storm one night and he had heard you sniffling in your tent. You missed the safety of your Caravan during those first two weeks.

He had quickly dragged you over to his tent- griping about his hair, how “I told you that you needed better camping equipment”, and “really darling? Why are you wearing clothes with holes in them? No wonder you’re scared.”

You have had an incredibly close bond ever since and you speak very freely with one another. You still become closed off every now and then (mostly from being socially and emotionally exhausted) but he was content to sit in the silence and just be in each other’s company. If he's in a grouchy mood, you sit with him in silence or let him just talk at you, and you support him when he wakes up from a particularly grueling nightmare. You rarely, if ever, go to your tent or stay in your tent anymore.

However, your current passion project was not to be seen by his eyes until it was completely finished- hence the reason why you are in your freezing, semi abandoned tent. You enchant the amulet with “Invisibility” and after a test, you can proudly say your necklace for Astarion is ready.

Shortly after the fight with the Goblins, Astarion had been complaining to you about how Gale “ate” the last necklace of Invisibility that they had found.

“He did call finders-keepers.”

“Finders-keepers my ass, Darling. If he really believed that rule he wouldn’t have inhaled it the way he did right after finding it.”

“It was rather unbecoming of him, wasn’t it?”

“Cazador has done a lot of horrible, vile things to me over the last two centuries,” he scoffs, “but, Gale eating a perfectly good Amulet of Invisibility has somehow landed in the top 20 of worst things to happen to me.”

After that, you began your work on the Amulet and now that it’s finished- you get to give it to him.

The idea makes your stomach turn.

What if he hates it?

It’s not really his style, but you don’t make gaudy jewelry and you tried your best to make it look like it shimmers (you succeeded FYI, Nat 20 all the way). You hope he appreciates it on principle alone and doesn’t criticize you too harshly if he dislikes it. When you ran the idea by Karlach and showed her your sketch, she was immediately convinced that he would adore your gift.

“Don’t worry about a thing Soldier,” she said cheerily, “Fangs is going to adore it as much as he adores you!”

You wrap the necklace in the nice, silk handkerchief and stuff it into the little leather bag. You take one final deep breath before pushing through the tent flap. You look around camp and see that mostly everyone is in their tent- Astarion included- but Wyll is by the fire dancing. You remember joking about him giving a demonstration for the camp. As you begin to walk towards Astarion’s tent- Wyll calls out to you.

“Tav,” he says brightly, “join me for a dance?”

Another thing you love about Astarion- he is very good at telling people ‘no’ for you. Yes, you should be sticking up for yourself and setting boundaries on your own. You are so wired to make everyone else happy that it impedes your ability to say no. Astarion is helping you learn and supports you when you freeze up, but Astarion is not here in this moment and if he hears what Wyll has said to you- he has made no indication of it.

You smile tightly and put the pouch in your pocket before taking his hand. You are basically robotic as you go through the motions and yet- for some Gods forsaken reason Wyll plants a kiss right on your lips. As he pulls back and sees your look of absolute horror- he begins to apologize profusely.

“Honestly Wyll,” you awkwardly squeak out,”it’s totally fine. I just- um- well… I really like Astarion and I’m not looking elsewhere.”

“I understand and as disappointed as I am- I am grateful for your forgiveness and I hope we can remain friends.”

You smile brightly, “Thank you Wyll and of course. Good night.”

He bids you farewell and you walk with extra pep in your step. You set a boundary and you are over the moon excited to share with Astarion.

Except when you get inside the tent- all of your stuff is right in the entryway. Astarion has his back facing you and is pretending to be interested in a book. You frown.

“Star?”

“Oh don’t worry Darling- I figured I would save you the uncomfortable conversation,” he says with apathy in his voice, ��we both know those aren’t your strong suite.”

You flinch at his cold, blank tone and the harshness of his words. You feel yourself becoming consumed with confusion and hurt. Your hand is clutching onto the pouch in your pocket. He looks at you and he looks far away despite the smile on his face.

“Well go along now, I’m sure your new lover is waiting for you. I’m happy for you honestly,” he pauses, giving you a cold, malicious grin, “pretending to be invested in this connection has really been bothersome these last couple weeks.”

Logically, a part of you knows he is just jealous and is lashing out. You should stay and try to explain what happened- reassure him even?

Emotionally? You feel like you just got stabbed over and over again. Oh and then someone came up to you and used a shocking grasp. You try to open your mouth, the tears welling in your eyes as you look at him.

He just looks at you coldly, “Well, leave.”

You wordlessly nod, dropping the leather pouch back into your pocket and you grab your things and numbly head back over to your tent. You roll out your bed roll and stare up at the dark tarp above your head; you let the tears stream down your face as silent sobs wrack your body. You already miss him.

_________________________________________________

You didn’t sleep well that night- you woke up with puffy eyes and a sore throat. You had spent the majority of the night freezing and jumping at every noise. You would get the occasional thirty minutes of sleep here and there, but if you weren’t scared awake, your bruised, broken heart woke you up. Your heart thumped unevenly all night- worried the bumps in the night were Astarion packing up his things and leaving.

Your chest aches as you get ready to leave and you are grateful that the Shadow-Cursed Lands are so poorly lit because it allows you to hide the rough night you have. You are also grateful to see Astarion is still here.

You, Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Wyll set out to explore more of the Shadowlands. Karlach told Astarion he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to- you were too tired to say anything in response to his complaints and you suppose Karlach became fed up. He’s quiet after that, so quiet you think he might have left. Except you hear him chatting with Wyll during a short rest.

Shadowheart walks happily next to you- chittering about Dark Justiciars and how she can feel Shar or whatever. You are just trying to focus on her and stop thinking about him. You have been successful in avoiding him and not looking at him for the entirety of the morning and you need to keep it that way.

_________________________________________________

Astarion can’t place where in the conversation he went wrong, but the fight with Malus Thorm has been nothing short of a disaster. The Sisters are ruthless and Malus is much stronger than any of them anticipated at first glance.

Astarion usually fights right at your side, but he assumes that your new lover will be keeping you safe. He suppresses the bile and tears that threaten to come up. He has your protection still and he knows that because Wyll would have thrown him out of camp otherwise. He was never meant to end up with you- you were always meant to be a means to an end.

If anything, he should be thrilled for you. Wyll is a good, decent man and much worthier of your affections than Astarion could ever be.

So why does it hurt so fucking much? And why did he want to kick Wyll over a ravine when he kissed you?

He shakes the thought as he strikes down two more Sisters. He steals a glance in Wyll’s direction (to check on you) and immediately notices that you are nowhere in the premises and the Blade of Frontiers was battling with Karlach. Astarion scans the room in a frenzy of panic.

He turns around just in time to see Malus lift you up by your neck and fling you into a column. Your glasses fell to the ground as your back makes contact with the stone and the sound of shattering bones echoes through the room as the Sisters begin to move forward.

Astarion watches in horror as you are struggling to pop up and begin touching the floor around you , but by the time you seem to realize finding your glasses is a moot effort- the Sisters descend on you as Malus turns his attention to Wyll and Karlach.

Wyll acknowledges what just happened, but doesn’t go to help you. Anger rips through Astarion like a wildfire as Wyll turns and tells Shadowheart you need help. He’s about to help Malus take out Wyll- until another scream for help pierces the air as you throw random cantrips at your attackers.

Astarion rushes forward, cutting his way through the remaining Sisters in the middle of the room. He really could give a shit less at this time if it pisses Wyll off that he was the one who protected you- in fact, he’s probably going to be stabbing Wyll when you all get back to camp.

Astarion destroys the Sisters surrounding you in a flurry of gore and steel. He ignores his other companions as he searches for you frantically.

You had disappeared by the time he came to your aid. Astarion knows that you have a tendency to slip into your Cat form when you are particularly scared and can’t see- using the animal’s powerful nose to guide you away from danger.

Astarion goes near the beds and crouches down- a sigh escaping his lips.

All 8 pounds of you and your black fluff is crouched under the bed and you hiss in surprise when he clicks his tongue at you. You squint your eyes at him before sniffing the air. You cautiously walk forward and sniff his outreached hand. You begin to purr loudly and rub your head against his knuckles.

He laughs with a mix of hysteria and joy as the realization that you are okay settles into his bones.

“It’s okay Little Love, the Sisters are dead,” he says softly, “I’m so sorry, I should have been next to you. I just assumed a beast with such prowess as yourself would be able to fend for themselves.”

You meow in indignation as you climb on top of him to bite the tip of his nose and he can’t help but laugh.

“Does your ego hurt less now, Little Love?”

You give him an amused look that makes him bust out laughing again.

He had asked you once why you were just a Black domestic cat instead of a Panther. You had argued that you are just as ferocious as a Panther in that form. Not to mention, you would have a better chance of shooting an arrow straight than turning into a Panther, but you weren’t about to admit that (even though he knows).

Astarion scoops you up in his arms and pauses- the smell of your blood floods his senses. He grabs you by your scruff and you yelp as he inspects you for injuries.

You scratch at his hand and he drops you. You yowl in pain and leer at him as you begin to change back into your humanoid form.

If Astarion was capable of feinting, this would have been that moment. He drops to his knees beside you and begins trying to find a healing potion to take the edge off.

You have a compound fracture where your shin was and it’s bleeding heavily. Your right shoulder is out of place, your left wrist is twisted in an atypical fashion, and your left cheek is blooming with an angry, purple bruise. He winces when you inhale a sharp breath as you try to breathe in, clutching at your rib cage.

He doesn’t catch the choked gasp that climbs up his throat in time- your eyes search for him in the dark before finally settling on him.

“Your beautiful eyes are really helpful when it’s blurry.”

Your voice is so tired and he can hear the pain in your voice.

“How come?”

“I can actually find you,” you pause, “you make me feel safe.”

You look at him, your eyes glassy with shock. You smile brightly at him and he smiles brightly back at you. He never thought anyone would associate him with protection, safety. Your words echo in his brain.

You’re make me feel safe.

You go to say something again before you look at him with wide, scared eyes and promptly lose consciousness. The scream that comes out of his mouth is foreign to his own ears. It sounds fearful, angry- heartbroken. Astarion tries to shake you awake, yelling your name over and over.

“Please wake up Darling- you’re safe,” he whispers through choked sobs, “come back to me please.”

Nothing. He can barely tell if you are breathing still as your heart thuds softly in your chest. He calls for Shadowheart two, three, four more times.

"Please," he whimpers, "I don't want to have to be without you forever- I can't be."

The weight of his words hits him like a train- his plan had well and truly failed. Under normal, non- life threatening emergency situations, he would probably panic about the strength of his emotions. Instead, he sits here begging for the chance to be able to tell you how he really feels. He wants to move so badly, to drag Shadowheart over here to heal you, but he can't bare to leave you in your vulnerable state. He keeps calling for Shadowheart- his voice begins to crack.

Astarion feels the worst of his anxieties vanish as you suddenly start taking long, ragged, tired breaths. He grabs a healing potion out of his pocket and tilts your head as he pours it into your mouth. You swallow the fluid gingerly. Your eyes are barely open when he hears you communicate through the tadpole.

Thank you for saving me. Again.

Astarion slowly strokes the side of your face, brushing the flyaway hairs out of your eyes.

"I saved you for my own selfish reasons," he whispers, while taking your right hand gently, "close your eyes and rest- I will keep you safe. Shadowheart is coming."

You nod lazily before closing your eyes, your hand in his still. Astarion sighs in relief when your breathing gets stronger, but he is no healer. Where the hells is that damn Cleric!?

“Shadowheart!!!!”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #smut #shameless smut actually #astarion acunin #bg3 tav

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foreingersgod · 10 days

Note

I just saw the kate martin x jealous reader and I LOVED IT !!

Can you try to do a jealous kate martin x reader this time???

Literally obsessed with your fics !! 🥹❤️💋

i’ve been waiting for this hehe (you guys have been so nice to me, i love you all sm)

Night at the Gala . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: kate gets jealous <3

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

kate had an event with her team this weekend. some sort of fancy gala to kick start the season, you think. kate hadn’t told you much about it, just that it was a very elegant event and that she wanted you there. and of course you accepted.

you had bought a dress just for the occasion after raiding your closet and realizing you didn’t have anything fancy enough. you opted for a floor length gown, black to match kate’s suit. the neck line had a bit of a dip, which you were hesitant about, but kate assured you it was perfect. “easy access for later” she said.

6 o’clock rolled around, friday night crowds bustling about outside your apartment. you and kate were in the bedroom getting ready to go to the gala. you were still in pajamas, sat at the vanity to do your hair and makeup. kate was busying herself with the cuffs of her blazer. once the last curl fell gently off the iron, you brushed out your hair and ducked into the bathroom to change. it was a stunning dress, really, long and satin with straps looping around your shoulders. the fabric hugging all of your curves so delicately. plus the neckline was definitely doing you favors.

when you emerged, dress zipped up and hair cascading around your face, kate stood waiting. she looked up upon your arrival, lips slowly parting as she took in every inch of you.

“you look absolutely breathtaking” she managed to say, having been absolutely speechless at the sight of you.

“thanks, babe” you smiled, putting on your heels so you could leave the apartment on time. “you ready?”

you attempted to walk past her to grab your bag from the vanity, but she stopped you, hands finding the small of your back.

“you know on second thought,” she purred into your ear “maybe we should just stay home, i’m sure they won’t notice”

she lets her hands wander. her fingers toying with zipper of the gown as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“as much as i would love to stay home with you,” you said “i think the gala will be fun!”

“alright, alright, but this thing is coming off the second we get back, got it?”

“yes m’am”

and with that, you were out the door and headed to the gala.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

the night was going wonderfully, you and kate were having plenty of fun, just as you thought. you caught up with kate’s team and made polite conversation with a few of their partners. kate met with some people as well, discussing her stats and such. things were going smoothly.

you were finishing up a conversation with caitlin, retiring to the bar where kate sat looking for you. she was on her phone, scrolling mindlessly when you took the seat next to her.

“hey, baby” you put your hand on her shoulder “what’re you up to?”

“just responding to some things and waiting for you, lost you back there” she kissed your forehead as you snuck a sip of her drink.

“yea sorry, caitlin pulled me aside earlier to-” you started to tell kate about the conversation you had when you were abruptly interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

you turned your head around to see a woman, yours and kate’s age, standing behind you. she was tall, blonde, and very pretty. she had a gown on as well. hers about the same length, but pink and strapless. the woman had a nervous smile on her face as she caught your attention.

“hi, oh my god i’m sorry but i just wanted to ask you about your dress!” she stuttered “it’s so beautiful you look absolutely stunning!”

you smiled, relieved it wasn’t some creep approaching you at the bar “wow thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you! yea it’s from bergdorf goodman!”

the woman took the seat next to you, extending her arm to introduce herself “i’m madeline, by the way! i’ve never heard of that brand before, but it seems like their work is incredible!”

you introduced yourself as well, accepting her hand shake. she seemed like such a nice person and you were so flattered that she thought your dress was beautiful. you indulged in light chit chat, telling her about the details of the dress. you told her about how hard it was to get the measurements right and how the straps were so cute, but a pain to get over your shoulders. it was an extremely pleasant conversation.

while you were engaging with madeline, kate sat on the opposite side of you, jaw clenched and lips pursed. she was slightly livid to say the least. she was not very happy with the fact the some other tall blonde was calling you gorgeous, that job was meant for her and for her only.

she hated the way that the woman sat down next to you, someone who was clearly occupied with her girlfriend. she was totally stealing your attention away while you were in the middle of a conversation. kate was irked by the way you just rolled with it, letting the girl shower you in compliments.

who did this girl think she was?

“oh, let me introduce you to kate” you gestured toward her “she’s-”

“i’m her girlfriend” kate cut in, giving the girl a tight lipped smile.

“very nice to meet you” she nervously smiled, a bit put off by kate’s sudden attitude.

you, too, were caught off guard by her response. kate was just fine two second ago and now she was acting snarky with this very kind woman. it was incredibly unlike her.

you shook it off and tried to continue your conversation with madeline. as she chatted with you about one of her friends, an upcoming designer that was interning in paris, you felt kate’s shoulder come in contact with yours. she removed her hand from their place in her pockets, sliding them over to your thigh and giving it a squeeze. you took it as a comforting act, knowing she liked to remain close to you. then she lowered her head, placing a frail kiss to your shoulder, clear for everyone to see. her hands were beginning to move up and down the length of your leg as she continued to trail kisses along your clavicle. she was never this crude in public.

you tried to lightly shove her away, trying to tell her this wasn’t the time. but she continued anyways, hands wandering to other places. poor madeline caught the hint, quickly making up an excuse to leave before she could finish her story.

“it was a pleasure meeting you, YN” she said “thanks for the details on the dress, i’ll definitely look into that brand!”

she scurried away and made her way to another table of attendees. you could only imagine how mortified she was by kate’s behavior.

“what are you doing?!” you whisper shouted into kate’s ear, nearly pushing her off you and out of her chair.

“what do you mean what am i doing?” she shrugged “i’m just trying to kiss you, is that a crime?”

“that wasn’t ‘just trying to kiss me’ and you know it.” you were pretty ruffled given the tone of your voice. “you hate being touchy in public, why are you all over me all of the sudden?”

“well because clearly…” she drawled out her sentence “some people can’t take a hint”

“wha- can’t take a hint? kate, baby i’m lost”

“oh come on” she crossed her arms matter of factly “madeline or whatever her name is? you can’t tell me she wasn’t trying to get in your pants”

you raise your eyebrows at her, close to laughing in her face “kate, oh my god”

“comes over here calling you gorgeous and inserting herself into a conversation? give me a break”

“sounds like someone’s jealous” you sing songed, poking at her chest. “you jealous honey?”

she sneered “no! when have i ever been jealous? i dont get jealous”

“apparently when i talk to other women, you do” you teased “it’s ok to be jealous kate. i like it when you’re jealous”

she quirked a brow “you do?”

“definitely” you smirked, reaching over to her, putting your hands on her thigh like she had done to you. under the overhang of the bar counter, you continued to trail up her leg as you felt her breathe hitch and body tense “but i’d prefer if you showed it to me in private”

she gulped deeply when you removed your hand and slid off your seat, motioning for her to take you home. “someone promised me that they’d be taking this dress of my by the end of the night, if i’m remembering correctly?”

she chewed at the inside of her cheek to suppress a groan. she followed you, leading you to the exit.

“let me take you home, YN”

#kate martin x reader #kate martin #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb

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drewsbuzzcut · 4 months

Text

Midnight Kisses

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: mentions sex, alcohol consumption and I think that’s all (this is lightly edited)

this takes place during their first year of dating!

“I’m stealing my girlfriend for a minute,” Mat pulls you away from your girl talk with Sydney and Alexa. You reach out for them over your boyfriend’s shoulder, feigning sadness but you’re happy to be in his arms.

“I missed you, pretty girl,” he tucks your hair behind your ear before whispering to you in the secluded corner you now reside in.

The million disco balls cast a shine on the boy of you despite the moody lighting.

Your hands travel the large expanse of his back until they come down to rest on his waist.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” you whisper back, looking up at him through your mascara covered eyelashes.

You move his hands to rest on the small of your back, and his skin is cold on your bare skin. Despite all the fancy champagne and cocktails you’ve had, you still can’t stop the shivers moving through your body.

“How many drinks have you had?” Mat asks, a quizzical look on his face.

“2 maybe 6,” you jest, looking down to hide your smirk.

“How many have you had?” You ask in return.

“2 maybe 6,” he playfully mocks you.

You hook your fingers through the loops of his jeans, pulling his body closer to yours. He looks at you with a devilish grin and you just want his body on yours, preferably in a bed.

“It’s almost midnight. We should just leave right now. We can continue this party at your place, have a little champagne and some hot sex,” your voice is low and sultry, your lips attacking the skin of Mat’s neck in between each word.

His hands squeeze at your ass before they move to rest on the backs of your thighs. Your cheeks grow even more red as his fingers trail up under your tiny skirt.

“Wish I could take you right here, right now. This little skirt is driving me insane and these heels,” Mat lets out a groan, his head tilting back and Adam's apple bobbing.

“Kiss me,” you whine, tugging on his button up and throwing a leg over his hip. Your pointed heel rubs at his pants.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until the clock strikes 12,” he responds, nosing at the pulse point of your neck.

He’s teasing you, but you’ll allow him to get away with it. This time.

“Fine then, hotshot. I guess I’ll just go back to the girls,” you pat his chest and pull out of his hold.

“Nope, you’re mine for the rest of the night. The girls will just have to wait until your next scheduled brunch,” he comes up behind you, pulling your back into his chest.

He kisses at your neck, sucking your skin into his mouth and making you gasp. Your body melts into his, enjoying his warmth during the freezing cold temperature.

“This year was a great one,” you break the momentary silence.

“The best. I met the love of my life,” he says so simply and it makes you giddy.

“What do you think this next year will be like?” You turn in his arms, hands locked behind his neck as you search his eyes for the answers to all your questions.

“Perfect as long as you’re by my side,” he states confidently.

“Mat, be serious,” you groan.

“I am being serious. It doesn’t matter what happens next year, because we’ll have each other. I love you and you’re it for me,” he wraps his arms around your neck, not giving you space to second guess his words.

“I love you,” you lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Countdown is starting,” Sydney pokes her head around the corner you both are hiding, so she can gather everyone inside.

Mat pulls your body to his, his arm wrapping around your waist. That’s one thing that surprised him this year. He loves touching. Well at least when it comes to you. He can never not be touching you.

“Here you go, baby,” he passes you a flute of champagne.

You turn into him, an arm being tossed over his shoulder as you hold your drink at your side.

“Do you think we’ll get married next year?” It’s a teasing question paired with an even more teasing smile, but you do want to know how he’ll respond.

“If we were getting married next year, you wouldn’t know,” he laughs.

“Fine,” you pretend to be disappointed, but you can’t hold back your laugh.

“Will you let me drive your sports car next year?” It’s Mat’s turn to ask his questions. He’s referring to the brand new car you just purchased. It’s a black BMW convertible.

“In your dreams, barzal. I’m not letting you anywhere near the driver’s seat of my baby,” you answer, half in truth and half in joking.

“I let you drive my car, but I can’t drive yours?”

“I’m a superb driver, sorry hotshot. You can be my sexy ass passenger princess, though,” you pull him flush against you. The ridges of his abs feel lovely.

Everyone starts counting down around you, making you realize just how easy it is to lose yourself around Mat.

FIVE

“Will you still love me next year?” Mat looks at you with a goofy grin and his question has you rolling your eyes.

FOUR

“Of course. My love for you knows no end,” you answer.

THREE

He smiles, looking down before meeting your eyes once again. It’s cliche but everything around you slows down. You can hear your blood pumping in your ears, and your heart is definitely about to jump out of your chest.

TWO

You look away, watching everyone around you. Mat watches you. Your eyes are bright and your skin is glowing. You smile just as bright as the sparklers. He feels himself fall in love all over again.

ONE

He cups your cheek, turning your face to his. His forehead resting on your own. Your hand goes to the nape of his neck, fiddling with the hair there.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

You both pull each other in, lips connecting in a fiery passion. His tongue curls around yours and if you hadn’t been drinking, you probably would’ve become bashful. The taste of expensive alcohol is very present, but that mixed with the scent of Mat’s cologne and sweat drives you crazy.

You pull away, holding up your flute to his mouth so he can get a drink. The sparkling bubbles end up spilling, dripping down his chin and you can’t hold yourself back. Your lips connect to his chin, sucking up all of the champagne before you suck his bottom lip into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moans and you give him your best doe eyes.

His hands go to your waist, hauling your body on top of his shoulder. He forgoes bidding goodbye to everyone. He’s only focused on getting you in his bed where your moans and cries will be silenced by all the fireworks.

a/n: Happy New Year to everyone. Thank you for making this year so fun and filled with writing! I appreciate every single one of you!🫶

#mat barzal #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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besaya-glantaya · 7 months

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In an attempt to exorcise these thoughts from my brain (this movie has taken up residence in my soul), here is an incomplete list of the things I notice and love in Red White and Royal Blue.

1. Henry staring in utter disbelief at the frosting-covered whiskey tumbler Alex plops distractedly into his hand whilst pawing ineffectually at the mess all over Henry's shoulder. Comedy gold.

2. Nora pretending she doesn't know either of them and hiding her face as they scuffle in front the cake.

3. How Alex has Henry literally in his pocket while talking turkey.

4. During Henry's "what does it mean" crisis talk over The Kiss, the entire scene is dressed in bi flag colours. Nora is in pink, Alex in blue, with a purple poster in the background.

5. The soft "whoa" of the white house staffer, who walks into Nora's office just in time to hear her ask Alex: "How many guys have you been with?" She hesitates, stunned, and then looks as if she'd like the ground to open up and swallow her now, thank you very much.

6. His Royal Hardness making flustered small talk with the UK Prime Minister and the US President, while the FSOTUS goes in for a cheeky squeeze. You ridiculous, giddy, fools.

7. Ellen's exasperated "my son thinks he's a fucking comedian" look in reply to Alex's "The night is young, Ma" and his shit eating grin, before diplomatically, and very sensibly, removing the British PM from the vicinity of these two horny idiots.

8. Alex's warm and teasing delivery of "Are they known for their homosexual tendencies?" after Henry says he's "as gay as a maypole." Boy is smitten.

9. When Henry invites Alex to the charity polo match, his initial awkward nerves transition to fond derision when Alex's tells him, crestfallen, that he doesn't know how to play polo. Bless.

10. Henry on a horse. Very much in agreement with Alex on this one.

11. The interleaved editing of the polo match and tack room shenanigans. It reminds me strongly of the interlaced 'what if' scene in Steven Sodenburg's Out of Sight, which is executed at a far slower pace but delivers that same feel of two people being inexorably drawn to each other, almost as if events are fated to happen.

12. The lighting in the Paris cafe scene. God damn those are two beautiful men.

13. Henry's gleefuly bashful admission of innuendo in the Paris cafe. He's just given Alex his full Royal name, but its Henry Fox that's in control here and he's revelling in bringing every moment of his inner fantasies to life.

14. The heartbreaking disconnect between their two perspectives in the Paris walk scene.

That's some bullshit

It's my life

Doesn't mean you have to accept it

Alex has spent his life pushing defiantly against societal expectations. Henry has spent his life weighed down by them, isolated in a way that Alex only barely grasps.

15. I wish, with all my heart, that the fairytale political landscape of this movie was real.

16. The entirety of the morning after scene in the hotel room during the DNC is perfection and Zahra is the MVP. Matthew Lopez said he had no idea he was going to get that mini panic attack from Sarah Shahi and kudos to Sarah for that perfomance. Inspired.

17. How quickly and assertively Alex say "No" to Zarah's "would it make any difference if I told you not to see him again?"

18. The way Zarah says "Everytime I see you, it takes another year off my life." This phrase plays on loop in my brain during shitty work meetings.

19. The coming out scene with Alex and his Mom. A joyous balm for those of us who never got to experience that with our own parents.

20. Forehead touches. Ugh.

21. My brother in Christ, sharpen your knives Oscar, what did that pepper do to deserve that?

22. The catatonic state of sadness that Henry exists in after swimming away from Alex. My heart hurts.

23. The pride flags in the crowd outside Buckingham Palace. Again, can we all have this universe, pretty please?

24. The way Henry takes Alex's hand with such ease in public after the election win. If only Paris Henry could see you now.

[Exorcism sequel here]

#red white and royal blue #prince henry rwrb #rwrb film #rwrb thoughts #alex claremont diaz #rwrb #first prince #henry fox #red white and royal blue movie #myrwrbthoughts

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atarathegreat · 4 months

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Sunrise Tetta Kisaki

because i'm still shit at answering things apparently. love at first sight/soulmates, fluffy smutty, requested by @stygianoir. I won't speak to how well it fits the request, I'm not great at AU's

Kisaki didn't have the chance to worry about being late for his morning shower or being late for work, not when he had an automatic alarm that woke him up every morning. A whiny, loud, and obstinate alarm that he wished would just go back to sleep when she tugged at his arm.

"Tetta!" He hated how she dragged his name out, the cute way her lips pursed when she tugged as hard as she could only to be met with him grabbing her wrist and yanking her back. She was many things to him, and, at 6:30 in the morning, annoying was at the top of the list. Interchangeable as the day went, of course. "Tetta! We have to get up!" It was as if she actually thought she was strong enough to fight against the way he held her down.

It was one of his few days off, she wasn't about to 'Tetta, please!' her way out of it either.

"Tetta! Please!" The sound she made was somewhere between a growl and a whine, the same sound she'd made that caught his attention the first time he ever saw her.

She'd been with some punk who couldn't even keep his pants on his ass, his belt haphazardly looped through only two of his belt loops and not even buckled. Kisaki had been disgusted at the sight, giving his own silent growl for his disdain. In all his years he would never embarrass himself with such a look, let alone with a girl like that on his arm. Even then, her extremely ratty clothes and dirt covered face, he'd found her beautiful. Her striking eyes that angrily begged the loser to go to the rooftops and see the sunrise.

How could such a rabid looking woman be so sweet in the face of such filth? Kisaki didn't know. Didn't care. Though he did wish she would've swung on him.

"We're not going to the damn roofs! You can see the sun at any point in the day!" The man raised his palm, the girl refused to flinch, but the tightening in her muscles showed Kisaki that he had scared her. Tetta Kisaki was, among many things, a devil. Yet even he'd be damned if he watched something like that and walked by. "Come." Was all he'd said to the strange, dirty female, choosing to ignore her ripped jeans.

His office building was nearby and was taller than the other buildings. Perfect for her to watch the sun come up. A fool could proclaim that she was hideous, dirty and unworthy of a second look from any man adorned in a suit. Kisaki found that his eyes refused to stray from her reflection in the elevator walls. Messy hair framing an all too perfect and dirt smudged face, maybe that was a bruise on her jaw. So what her legs could be seen, scratched up, through the equally nasty tears in her jeans? Something about her was simply...enthralling.

"The sunrise!" But that squealing would have to stop.

It was the same squeal she still had as she jumped out onto the terrace, eyes sparkling as the dark sky faded to amazing purples and pinks on the horizon. For a moment, Kisaki saw her as the street rat he'd picked up. Only for a moment.

Despite her disgusting appearance, Kisaki knew he wanted her. Wanted to spoil her and keep her in the silkiest clothes, watch her sit in a bubble bath for hours if she so pleased. The best, Kisaki knew she deserved only the best. It was the look on her face, the absolute joy he could see in her smile that made him trust his decision even more. Fancy shampoos and conditioners so her hair always looked shiny, the most expensive clothes so she always looked gorgeous, and the best version of him that Kisaki could give her. If that meant getting up at the ass crack of dawn to watch the sun rise over the city, he'd buy her a whole damn penthouse of nothing but glass walls.

Wind whipped around them, throwing her hair around, "It's so pretty!" As cliché as he felt, Kisaki thought the only pretty thing was her. Sun rays peeked easily over the city after a few moments, and he took it as his cue to grab her hips and kiss her head, "I'm going to go shower."

Though she didn't respond, Kisaki knew she heard him. Muscles flexed beneath the thin shirt he wore to bed as he stretched upwards, bending backwards enough to pop his back once, twice, and three times. Routine was important to him, keeping everything as tasks that he needed to complete was how he managed to survive with a woman who was so...compulsive? She wasn't organized and it bothered him. Whatever she wanted to do, she did without planning it or checking to be sure she had time for it. Really, how had she managed to get anything done without him?

Raining water sounded behind Kisaki and he looked to see her turning the shower on to the temperature she wanted. "I'll shower with you!" Fuck, that smile paired with the image of her naked made his body tingle. "Sounds good to me." Kisaki folded his glasses and set them on the sink.

A brief second passed where he wondered if she knew just how hard she made him when she pulled her shirt off. Had she been teasing him on purpose? She must be aware of the way he loved her hips in shorts, hell, he stared too much for her to not notice. And, gods, the way her chest bounced as she moved was hypnotizing. For a man who preferred to take his time, Kisaki was on her heels as she stepped into the walk in shower.

"Thank you for always getting up and watching the sunrise with me." Soft, gentle, Kisaki would never tire of the way she spoke to him as if he were a skittish animal, "A new day needs to be started with the people you love."

His lips twitched as he fought the feeling in his gut. She was being cute, he shouldn't want to press her against the wall and-

"It's not a problem." Kisaki wrapped his fingers around her waist, using his thumbs to rub small circles into her skin, soothing his tension a fraction. Sometimes she wanted to just be sweet and not have sexual tension locked in the middle, and Kisaki wanted to give her that but he just found her too damn alluring when she sounded so coddling. "C'mere." He whispered, his voice becoming raspy as the water touched her everywhere he wanted to. Such a good girl she was, listening without question when he beckoned her. 'Jump' and 'how high?' came to mind, but he didn't want to control her that way. "Wait for cleaning..." His lips felt hot, touching her neck and pulling away with a stupid sucking sound Kisaki could do without.

"Don't take those fuckin' hands off me." Kisaki let out a low growl, going with his nastiest fantasy and pulling her leg up, "If you don't want to do this, say so now." Because once I'm buried in you, I don't think I'll be able to stop.

Feeling her hands on his arms was almost too much for him to take, and she still asked what was happening like she didn't know. She was a bit of a dunce, if he was honest with himself, maybe she truly didn't know when he planned on ravaging her. The thought only served to spur him on.

"Do what?"

Laughter echoed around them as he slumped his head on her shoulder. It was too funny for him that she truly had no idea. "You're so damn clueless sometimes." Kisaki nipped at her jaw, dragging his hands all over her. It was more enjoyable when she was caught off guard anyway.

And, gods, the way she gasped when he pushed into her without warning. The way she clenched around his intrusion and her mouth made a perfect 'o' was nearly enough to make him lose his mind, if her eyes rolling back hadn't already done it. Kisaki loved to start slow, growling as his hardening cock dragged and pushed against her insides, slow and steady so he could feel every little bit of her. "Do you have any idea how good you feel?" Kisaki sucked the hot air from the shower through his teeth. He couldn't shake the thought that she was made for him, it was impossible that she was meant for anyone else, not when she fit him like a custom made glove.

Her fingernails left sweet crescents in his shoulders and it was only fair that she matched his bruising grip on her thigh. Whines spilled from her pouty lips, begging and pleading for him to just hold all of her against the darkly tiled wall. "I won't be able to stand if you keep it up like this!" Those eyes. Damn those eyes of hers. She could order any man to destroy the world with only a look and knit brows. Or it was just Kisaki, gods, he hoped it was only him. And her thighs! How they squished when she sat was only a way for her to tease him, a way for her to catch him more off guard whether she meant to or not. As if Kisaki hated her, as if all the rage he'd ever felt was her fault, he yanked her other thigh up and squeezed until he was sure he'd develop carpal tunnel. "Oh, shit." Kisaki drilled into her, feeling as far as she could take him. "Tetta!" It was the only time her squeals were tolerated by him, even if she was slapping his arms fervently, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Like Heaven." Kisaki jerked up into her, "I lose my damn mind every. Damn. Time."

"What a potty mouth." Kisaki tried to keep it together as her body tightened around him, "You never spoke like this before." It took all of his self control not to cum when she did. Inside her was his favorite place, even more so when she was pulsating and the sounds that came from the new mess only spurred Kisaki on. A shiver ran down his spine as she latched her lips to his neck. A way, he'd realized a little too late into their relationship, that she managed to soothe herself from the sensitivity that was forced on her. Hickeys weren't something Kisaki liked to have, rather he loved gifting them, but it was cute to him that she needed to do it.

"Almost done, baby, almost done." Kisaki grunted, moving his hands to grip her ass, "Hold on a little longer." A trooper, a real fucking trooper this girl was to whine her response as he borderline brutalized her cunt. The dark spot that he was earning was almost worth the time he would have to take to make sure she was okay and to get her showered.

Maybe having her so early in the morning wasn't his best move, but she was too irresistible when his dick was calling the shots. Which happened to be a majority of the time. He couldn't help it when she whimpered so prettily and dug her nails in once more when Kisaki slammed her back into the wall. Her body and the wall were the only things keeping him upright as he finally came, his whole body tingling as if all his nerves had been pinched in all the right places.

"Feet down." Kisaki moved to set her down. She only strengthened her grip around him, "No, please...just hold me a minute?"

Strange wasn't the word he would use to describe her, per se, but she definitely wasn't anything he'd had before. Not that he minded holding her as the shower beat down on them and the hot water reddened their skin.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #Tokyo Revengers x reader #kisaki smut #kisaki x reader #kisaki tetta #tokyo revengers kisaki #mdni #fluff to smut #requested #x reader #fanfiction #anime #manga

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yuri-is-online · 10 months

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For who would go crazy in TWST trying to save u over and over i have thoughts:

Vil - Mr. Perfect? Not being able to reach his goal, trying to get to the person who understands him best? ESP. thinking about how he's based on the Evil Queen, someone well known for having a Very Poor reaction to not getting her way? He'd absolutely lose it, have a "where are they now" episode about washed up celebs cause EVERYTHING he has is dedicated to saving you

Malleus - He wields some of the most powerful magic in the world, but he can't save you? Absolutely not. He refuses. Also in his case he's probably resetting the world himself, so the repeated deaths he can't save you from are arguably being caused by him to. He has no sense to pet go - you love him, know him so intimately that a world without you is meaningless. Reset.

Azul - There's no bargain he can make, power he can steal, trick he can pull strong enough to fix this mess. He's blindly ambitious, and refuses to hear the word "no". How could he give up his precious pearl, the one person he knows could see through everything he is that's nasty and gross, and love the whole of it? He knows, deep in his mind, that he can't change this fate. But to give up on you? Truly impossible.

notes: referring to this shitpost here, discussion of spoilers for all currently available books including book 7, I'll slap Malleus's part under read more to make those a bit more avoidable

No but annon your mind... so correct about all of this for all stated reasons and more. Seriously how did I not think about Vil? That's genius?

Assuming the original timeline follows the events currently evolving in game, I assume that Yuu ends up dying as part of Grim's overblot. I think it makes sense for the boys to die that first time too, only to wake up alive and in the middle of preparing for NRC's entrance ceremony. After they make sure that this isn't a dream, and that they really are alive and somehow back in time they start making plans.

Vil

I can see og timeline Vil regretting that he didn't pay attention to Yuu before VDC, and trying to figure out how to stay in their life during his fourth year internship because (even if his feelings technically run a bit deeper) genuine friendships are important to him. Remember how happy to see everyone he was in chapter 6? It's all he can do to remind himself you probably don't know who he is anymore when he sees Crowley drag you into the mirror chamber, he just wants to kiss your preciously confused face.

Something Rook immediately picks up on because I'm pretty convinced he would notice if something was that majorly off script about his queen. Vil's raised eyebrow is .3 centimeters off from his normal concerned face :/ he needs an explanation.

Vil's relieved at first, he has Rook's help and you are surprisingly receptive to his advances. For just a brief moment he has you in his arms and you are alive, and then you are torn away again. And again, and again and again and-

Vil's signature spell is a curse, he can recognize the traces of one, and I agree he would be so determined to break it he would slowly start to deteriorate into a actual villain. It's not like time is advancing forward otherwise, it's not like he can advance his acting career while he is stuck in this time loop trying to save you, trying to not let your zero percent of survival stay zero. I could see him spending a loop killing the other overblot mages before they build up enough blot to hurt Yuu only for that not to work and him to get even more unhinged as a result.

Azul

Ok so you remember that bit in the Ghost Bride event where Azul gets borderline creepy over the thought of being rejected? Or that part of New Years where he suffers a bit of sunk cost fallacy over the grab bags and gets back in line to spend more money on more stuff he doesn't need? Or how about his level up lines? Laughing at the thought of being satisfied with "just this much power" or warning that you will just be taken advantage of in this world, and inviting you to seek safety with him when that inevitably happens?

Well you did and he failed you. And no he isn't really someone who lets go of things. He goes out of his way to tell Riddle that he thinks being greedy is a good thing; you could have had a very long and happy life together that hit every milestone you set out to achieve and it still wouldn't be enough for Azul. He will never be satisfied, never have enough of Yuu.

But he's smart, he knows when things just aren't possible. It makes him more determined to prove himself. If he can't outsmart something as trivial as fate, can he really claim to be a brilliant mage?

Unlike Vil, I don't think he would immediately tell the twins what was happening. I do think they would figure it out eventually, and I do think they would help, but I think they would also maybe... eventually... realize that there was no saving you and maybe it's best for everyone involved if that's accepted. I could see Jade and Floyd going to Yuu directly and asking what you want, not because they are opposed to saving you but because they want Azul's suffering to end.

I don't know if you have ever played Amnesia Memories, but I could see Azul following a similar path to the Joker World/Ukyo (they are not similar characters but meh) in a situation like this. Won't spoil that here but I highly recommend it if you like otome games.

Malleus

In a twisted way I could almost see him being satisfied with being stuck inside a time loop trying to save you. Not at first obviously, at first Malleus refuses to believe he could fail in saving you. He is the fifth most powerful mage in the universe. He is a King, he can not think of anyone, anything that is stupid enough to tell him no.

Maybe he speed runs his own overblot and tries trapping you in a dream, only for that to kill you. Reset.

How about killing the other overblot mages? He'd arrive at that one a lot faster than Vil. Also doesn't work. Reset.

I don't think Malleus would bring Lilia, Silver, or Sebek into the loop of what was going on. Lilia- he's smart, old, and understands just how powerful Malleus really is, but I'm not sure he would be able to realize time itself is being reset. I think he would pick up on what Malleus's plan is in each individual universe and goes out of his way to prevent him from doing something stupid. You know who I could see picking up on it though? Leona and Idia, forcing them to work together to get Malleus to stop further driving a wedge between Malleus and the rest of the student body.

And then there is you, troublesome you. We don't really know what causes Grim to overblot, I could almost see a situation where Yuu does everything they can to save their friends, aware that time is being reset and thinking that finally, this time they can keep everyone from dying. They are completely content to die if it means no one else gets hurt, completely unaware that self sacrifice is what is causing all of this. What is one life compared to everyone in all of Twisted Wonderland after all?

Everything, it is worth everything, this world really is meaningless without you in it. Reset.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #malleus draconia x reader #the frog is for you annon this made my day #i tried to make him smug

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pianokantzart · 1 month

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The Super Mario Bros. Redux (Pt. 6)

What would happen if, in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, after Mario and Luigi are separated, Mario was the one who ended up in the clutches of Luigi’s eventual arch nemesis, while Luigi teamed up with some of his own close allies to go rescue him? (This part of the story is in one shot format. Most other parts are written in bullet points.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 ________

A short summary of the things Luigi had done in the past twenty four hours that he had never expected to do in his entire life:

Fall into an interdimensional wormhole. Fight a warrior princess in a crowded arena. Become a royally acclaimed ghost hunter. Enlist in an army assembled to ambush the territory ruled by The King of Ghosts in order to rescue hostages and bring balance to the afterlife. Adopt a dog.

... Though it was more accurate to say the dog adopted him. Normally Luigi had trouble with animals– he could never read their body language, and his clumsiness made for bad first impressions. The few animals he got along with in the past were old and quiet, wanting nothing more than a warm lap on which to lay their head. Polterpup was different; playful and energetic, mischievous yet patient. Luigi couldn’t help but wonder what was the reason behind the attachment– if he himself resembled an old master or friend from the dog’s past life before it became a ghost. It still wore a collar, though the little golden loop on the front had no tag. The collar was bright red, almost a perfect match to Mario’s favorite color. "Heh, you’re just as good at getting into trouble as Mario, too,” Luigi added with a somber smile, kneeling down to oblige the ghost dog’s less-than-subtle plea for belly rubs until it disappeared again, as was its habit. Polterpup tended to suddenly poof in and out of thin air with little warning, and though it seemed to be at random at first, Luigi began to realize the dog mostly came to him when he was feeling alone, which was more often than not as of late. Every new experience, every strange encounter, every unexpected victory made Luigi wish more and more that his brother was around to take part. Hardly a second passed without him wondering what he was doing at that moment, and if he was okay.

Unfortunately, his occupied mind made him a less-than-helpful assistant to E. Gadd. The professor had warned earlier that he had always preferred working alone. The result was a very low tolerance level for “tomfoolery,” as he described it, and it wasn’t long before Luigi’s shaky attempts to help attach upgrades to The Poltergust caused the scientist to lose his patience. One shoddy wire-soldering job later, Luigi found himself being forcibly pushed toward the exit by the surprisingly strong old man. “Go. Shoo. Distract yourself with something else.”

“Like what?” Luigi asked, digging his heels. “What do I do? Where do I go?”

“How about you see the princess?”

“Princess Daisy?”

Luigi lingered in the doorway. The professor adjusted his glasses, and pointed down one of the castle hallways. “Yep! She’s in the greenhouse. I’m sure she could use the company. You two seem to get along well enough.”

“We do?” Luigi placed his hand against his cheek, thinking over their last interactions. They had exchanged blows, but worked together in the end to defeat Boolossus. She had held his hand up as the victor, but she had also toyed with him in a way that made it clear that she knew how weak he truly was. He liked her, that much he knew, but that didn’t mean she wanted anything more to do with him, and furthermore she had a power and confidence to her that intimidated him beyond her status as the daughter of four kings. “I don’t know. I mean, we did make a pretty good team, but she’s royalty! I don’t know anything about how to approach royalty. Do I bow? Or–”

“You’ll be fine,” The Professor assured, only half paying attention as he returned to his work, burying himself back into the open hatch of a large machine.

In the end, Luigi did as he was told. The greenhouse was easy enough to find. As large as the Birabuto Palace was, its corridors were open and easy to navigate, and the guards were surprisingly helpful in giving directions despite their shaky first-encounters.

Finding the large doors to the greenhouse, marked by limestone imitations of crawling vines carved into the archway, Luigi gathered his determination and pushed them open. The first thing that struck him was a wall of glacial cold– a shocking surprise, and the opposite of what he expected from a greenhouse, but this discomfort was immediately undercut by the beauty of the surrounding foliage. The flowers, sparkling with a brilliant, incandescent blue, sprouted from planter boxes and large pots all around in blooms and buds. He thought for a moment that surely they were beautifully-crafted plastic or silicon, but pinching a large leaf between the fingers of his gloves he found they felt as real as any common dandelion. The second thing that struck him was the night sky, clearly visible through the glass walls and ceiling. He had never in his life seen so many stars, and for all his love of science and space he could not recognize a single constellation, which served as an unsettling, but ultimately breathtaking reminder of how far from home truly he was.

“Oh! Hey!”

Luigi jumped and let out a surprised squeak when Daisy emerged from behind a stack of pots to greet him. Her cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, and in her right arm she held a large sack of powdery-white fertilizer that she was distributing between the plants. She laughed at his reaction, but it carried no hint of condescension, just friendly amusement. “I was hoping I’d see you again before we invaded Evershade Valley!” she called, waving him over. “Luigi, was it?”

Luigi approached while holding his hat to his chest, shuddering a bit as the chill bit at the edges of his ears. “Yes, Your Highness.” Daisy once more laughed her friendly, good-natured laugh. “None of that. Just Daisy. No ‘Miss’ or ‘Ma’am’ either. If you’ve gotta be formal, call me Princess Daisy.” Luigi, feeling a little more at ease, put his hat back on his head. “Yes, Princess Daisy.” She gave a nod of approval, then went back to work fertilizing the long rows of plants. “So,” she asked, “What can I help you with, big guy?” “I, er…” Luigi suddenly realized he had failed to come up with a proper reason before arriving here. He couldn’t very well say the professor kicked him out of the lab for being inept, but before he could think of an excuse his attention was re-seized by the plants. Curiosity overcame him to the point that he forgot his worries, and he once more brushed his hand against the leaf of the nearest flower. “Are these where your ice powers came from? In The Battle Stadium?” “Of course! I’m pretty good with a powerup, huh?” Daisy said proudly, “Normally I favor the elephant fruit, but today I decided to switch things up.” “Elephant fruit? There’s other magical plants?” The princess stiffened. Luigi was worried for a moment that he had accidentally said something offensive, but she retained her genuine smile as she set the sack of fertilizer down and placed her hands on her hips. “Wow, you’re really not from around here, are you.” Before Luigi could answer, she walked up and wrapped a friendly arm around his shoulder. “Suppose I should’ve known. Humans aren’t native to this world. The professor is one of, like, two other humans I know. Do you know E. Gadd? Is he your uncle or something?” “I– uh, no. We just met yesterday.” “Let me guess: you're lost." "Well... yes..." "And he said he'd only get you home if you help him.” “What!?” “He’s the kind of guy to pull a stunt like that if he thinks it’s for the greater good.” Daisy explained, holding Luigi a bit closer in a show of sympathy. “You don’t have to do this, you know, you could go home anytime you like. I’ll vouch for you!” Despite the friendly intention behind these words, Luigi felt a lump form in his throat. He slipped out from under The Princess’ side-hug, and stared up at her with a troubled look. “Do you… want me to leave?” Daisy bristled. Her cheeks reddened as she shook her head and waved her hands in dismay. “No! No no no of course not! I think you’re great! It’s just…” She trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck.

Luigi, surprised by this rare show of nervousness, patiently waited with bated breath for her to gather her thoughts, and after a few seconds she continued, quieter than before. “It’s just that I keep thinking about what you said in the arena. You seemed like a guy who had a lot to lose. You weren’t in it for glory or the fun of the fight, you were just scared and… I don’t know… I felt bad for you. Still do.” At this, Luigi gained a slight smile, shyly burying his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels. “Heh, don’t worry. I gotta learn how to not be scared all the time, y'know?” It didn’t take long before he realized what he said– whose words he was echoing. The gravity of the situation quickly crashed back down on him, robbing him of that small moment of comfort. It was evident by the look on Daisy’s face that she had seen the change in his expression, so Luigi went ahead and explained his predicament before she could ask: “It’s my brother, Mario. We both fell through a warp pipe. I ended up in your kingdom but he ended up in Evershade Valley.”

Daisy cocked her head, the gears turning behind her eyes as everything she had witnessed about the plumber's manner up until now came together in her mind. “Oh. I see.”

“It was my fault. I fell into the warp pipe, and he jumped in after me, and– I… I can’t just leave him.” Luigi heard his own voice crack and felt tears beginning to form in his eyes. Despite this he kept going, the pent up emotions of the past twenty four hours running rampant, unable to be reigned in. “It’s not that I don’t trust anyone else to save him, but I gotta make sure he’s okay! We’ve never been apart this long… and I-... I miss him.” Tears began streaming freely, the cold air burning them into long lines down Luigi’s cheeks. He turned away, struggling to wipe his eyes with the back of his glove. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.”

Luigi saw a glimmer of white fabric in the corner of his vision. Turning, he saw the princess holding a flower-embroidered handkerchief out to him. He accepted, and dried his eyes. He tried to hand it back, but she was already returning to the flowers, plucking up a set of pruning shears as she went. “I’ve never known a good fighter that didn’t have big emotions brewing under the surface,” she assured. “But don’t you worry, after the way we saved my dads, saving you brother should be no sweat!...” Luigi, hearing a light snip of closing shears, saw Princess Daisy remove one of the ice flowers at its base between where the leaves connected to the soil. Despite being cut off from its roots the plant remained as lively as ever. It almost looked to be dancing happily in her hands as she delivered it back to Luigi.

“...and when you do save him, give him this.” She said, holding out the offering. “If Mario’s anything like you, he’s not going to want to be defenseless, and ice magic is the one of the few things that can combat boos besides your Poltergust.” Luigi smiled. He reached out and took the flower into his hands. He was surprised to find it wasn’t particularly chilly to the touch– clearly the coldness of the room was for the sake of cultivating the plants, not the effect of the flowers themselves. “You seem to really know a lot.” He mused aloud, pressing the gift to his chest. “But… you said humans aren’t native to this world. Where did you come from, then?” He stopped suddenly, realizing the personal nature of what he asked. He searched Daisy’s face for some sign of disapproval, but was relieved to see her smiling just as brightly as before. “Ha! I wish I had an answer to your question!” She laughed, “Dragonzamasu says I hatched from an orange egg that appeared suddenly in a field of flowers. Biokinton says he found me curled up in a bassinet hitched to a shooting star. Hiyoihoi says he found me locked in a gemstone at the center of the oldest mountain in Sarasaland. But I’m more inclined to buy Totomesu’s story.”

“What’s Totomesu’s story?” Daisy’s smile wavered. Luigi wondered once again if he misstepped, but this time easily brushed the thought aside, trusting by now that the princess would let him know if he had done something wrong. She turned away, staring up at the stars through the glass wall of the greenhouse, and Luigi placed himself at the her side, watching the stars in tandem until Daisy finally broke the silence and answered his question: “He found me at the mouth of a warp pipe, barely old enough to crawl and completely terrified. Sometimes I think I still remember that day… as much as I prefer to believe that I hatched from an egg.”

There was such an odd sadness to her voice that Luigi felt an impulse to reach out and reassuringly take her hand, though he had enough common sense to refrain from such an intimate gesture. All the same, he wanted to say something comforting. “I don’t mind that you didn’t hatch from an egg.” He heard himself blurt out.

Daisy shot him a confused look, and Luigi nervously scrambled to explain himself. “What I mean is… hey, you were a baby, y’know? Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re already so cool, you can’t be cool every moment of your life, and most babies aren’t cool! And… uh…” Daisy started to laugh. Luigi turned red, but felt a little better now that she was smiling again, even more so when he felt the princess affectionately nudging his shoulder. “Haha! I get it big guy, I get what you're saying!”

Luigi laughed too, in spite of himself.

“Speaking of ‘cool,’” Daisy went on, “I'm freezing!” She rubbed at her arms in a display of discomfort. Luigi, too, was suddenly reminded of just how cold he was. By now the low temperature had seeped all the way through his clothes and skin, triggering a powerful shiver that ran through his core, which was soon soothed as the princess wrapped an arm around him, and pressed him close. “Tell me, Luigi, do you have hot chocolate in your world?”

“I love hot chocolate!”

“Perfect!” With her arm still tightly wrapped around the plumber, Daisy eagerly led him to the egress of the greenhouse. “Let’s get us some good old-fashioned creature comforts before we fight some ghosts!”

"Heh. Yeah. Let's-a-go!" Luigi said, forcing enthusiasm, thankful that he had the cold as an excuse for his uncontrollable shivering.

#my writing #super mario bros #super mario bros redux #super mario brothers #mario movie #mario movie au #Luigi #Polterpup #Princess Daisy #Professor E. Gadd #Luaisy #this got longer than I intended but what else is new

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Happy Couple 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

I make no promise and am just following a whim.

Summary: Your father makes a deal to marry you to his top capo. (mob au)

Warnings: dark elements such a mob business and intimidation, spanking, threats., choking. More to be added as they become relevant. You know what I write typically so you know what to expect.

Thank you all for the encouragement and I hope you enjoy.❤️

Bucky keeps you close as you slip your hand free of the biting leather and hiss. He fists your hair in hand and yanks your head back, swaying you with him tauntingly. The strength you cloud see before in his thick fingers and the bulge of his neck is now firm against you. You feel it coursing through him, taut in the belt wound around your neck.

You bat your last, still clawing at the buckle with one hand as your other presses to the chest of his jacket You stand on tip toes as he snickers and draws the leather even tighter. You cough and choke in shock.

“Bucky…” you rasp, “please–”

“Shhh, baby, I’m just having some fun,” he keeps your hand clamped in his hand, “you got such a pretty neck. I always liked that about you. Could always see my hands around it. You think it fits them perfect, huh?”

You whimper and snatch your hand away from your neck, wheezing as you slip your hands under his jacket, feeling the satin of his shirt and the hard muscles beneath. For a man his age, he should be proud. You can’t help but feel how finely corded his flesh is.

“Bucky,” you gulp out again and let a hand crawl up his collar, grazing his neck and the soft trim along his chin, “pl–” you touch his jaw and frame the square angle, “daddy.”

He tilts his head at the last word and the belt slackens, just slightly. Your eyes blur with the rise of tears throttled from you. You shakily pet his cheek and push yourself against him. Your heart hammers with adrenaline and fear. He’s a dangerous man but you were raised by a dangerous man.

“S-sorry, I’m sorry,” you croak, “please, daddy–”

“Don’t you start that game with me,” he warns as he leans in, hot breath fanning over you, “I know what you are, sweetheart, a spoiled little brat.”

You pout and let your other hand trail down from his chest, feeling along the buttons of his shirt and slipping lower. You cup him through his pants and arch your feet higher. You slide your hand around the back of his head, tugging on his grip behind yours.

“You talk a big game, old man,” you taunt.

“Do I? Cause I’m pretty sure you’re holding onto that big game.”

You squeeze him, the rigid bulge in his pants twitching as you do. You trace up his zipper and push it down slowly, exhaling as you hover your lips before his. His nose touches yours as he’s lured in by the heat of your gaze.

You pinch the front of his pants, unhooking his fly with two fingers and tease along the top of his briefs. You feel his stomach clench as your lips curl and you press them to his. He purrs in surprise and the belt loosens further.

His tongue meets yours in an impassioned swirl, hungry, insatiable, searching for more. You hum around him as you turn him towards the bed. He retreats slowly, hanging on lightly to the tail of the belt as you push your hand past the elastic. You grip his veiny length and he parts you grunt at the ceiling.

“Fuck, sweetheart, who knew a bit of tough love would get you so worked up?” He puffs.

You urge him back and he lets you shove him down onto the foot of the mattress. He bounces as you follow him, tugged by the leather still looped around you. You climb onto his lap and swallow the chatter in your teeth. You’ve pretended with men before, they’re all a bit more boring without their clothes on.

You straddle him and push him down onto his back, bending over him as you crush your mouth against his again. You pump him easily, long strokes that have him shuddering. You nibble his lower lip as you grind your hips against him, closing your grip until he groans.

His hands come up to frame your waist as he pushes his chest out and digs his thumbs into you.

“Tell me what you want from me, daddy?” You taunt, “my mouth…” you lick his cheek, “or maybe you just want me to play with you a little.” You run your hand up and down again, “oh, I don’t mind that,” your hand crawls down to fondle his sack, “you like that?”

“Fuck,” his hands fall to your ass and he kneads.

You lean into his ear, his beard brushing against you coarsely. You giggle and nuzzle him as you whisper, “you forget that you took my panties, daddy?”

He snarls as he gropes you, his hand crawling down to feel beneath your ass. He tickles your exposed cunt and you gasp. You push yourself up as you grab his dick again, pumping him to his tip as you watch the lewd motion beneath his briefs. You pull him above the fabric and bite your lip.

“Oh, daddy, you really are a monster,” you trill, “think I can take it all.” You pinch his bases and wiggle his dick before you, comparing it to your pelvis, “you’re gonna break me in half. Aren’t you?”

“Oh, fuck, princess, you know I–”

Your grip forms a vice around him and your other fist collides with his adam’s apple as it bobs. He coughs and his body constricts as you let go and roll off of him. You’re quick to swipe up the end of the belt as you spin to your feet and twist around. You barrel towards the door and swing it open as you hear him sputtering.

“Fuck!” He rasps as you race into the hall, “catch her!”

You dodge the man to your left and continue on, holding onto the belt to keep it from snagging. You get to the stairs and slide to a halt as another man appears at the top. You huff and lift the belt over your head. You pull it taut around your hand and flail it, snapping it towards the man.

“Get the fuck outta my way,” you demand, “how dare you? This is my daddy’s house–”

You whip the leather again and it barely misses the man. As he steps back, you go to plunge forward down the stairs but the belt catches and you’re suddenly pulled backwards by your hand. You’re dragged around to face Bucky as he clutches the long end.

“You done it now,” he growls, “I promise you, I am gonna fucking break you in half. Right in your daddy’s bed.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #the happy couple #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #mob au #au #avengers #series

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love-takes-work · 7 months

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Teabag Cookies

Amethyst routinely eats used teabags. This is not good for humans, but if you wanna be like her, how about making your own edible teabags (well, as chocolate-dipped shortbread cookies)? Read on. . . .

See more SU food tutorials!

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon tea, any flavor you like

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup unsalted butter, softened

½ cup fine granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon salt

6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate pieces (to be melted)

Directions:

Use a stand mixer or hand mixer to whip the butter on medium speed until it is fluffy; it will take about 3 minutes. You can use a spatula to scrape down the sides of the bowl.

In a little dish, stir together the tea and sugar. (Variation idea: If you want to make different flavors with different tea, you can half the ingredients and make separate batches.)

Whip the sugar mixture into the butter mixture, and once it's fully incorporated, add the vanilla extract.

Then add in the flour and salt. You will want to turn off the mixer, fold it in with the spatula a bit, and then use a low speed to complete mixing it in. Don't overmix; you want this to be evenly mixed together but no more.

Flatten the dough into a disc. Wrap it up in plastic wrap or a reusable refrigerator wrap, and chill it in the fridge for 1 hour or more.

Once the chilling is complete, prepare a clean floured surface and roll the dough out with a rolling pin to about half a centimeter/a quarter of an inch. Try to get it into a nice rectangle shape.

Using a nice sharp knife that makes clean cuts (or a pizza cutter), cut into nice little rectangles.

Use a spatula to lift the rectangles onto baking sheets lined with baking parchment. Space them with about a centimeter between them.

Then use the knife to chop two ends off each rectangle so they will be shaped like teabags.

Use a straw to punch a nice hole in each--not too close to the top. Make sure each hole goes all the way through.

Chill the cookies in the refrigerator for 15 to 20 minutes. This will help them retain their shape and not let the hole close up too quickly; they will start to harden as they cook in the oven before the butter in them melts if they start cold.

While waiting for the cookies to chill, you can preheat the oven to 340º F / 170º C. When ready to bake, use the middle rack only (do two baking batches). Bake the cookies for 13 to 15 minutes and do not let them get brown--they should remain tan.

Cool on wire racks. Once the cookies are totally cooled, you can dip them. Use a double boiler to melt your chocolate pieces, stirring with a spatula to help combine lumps.

Dip the cookies halfway in to coat them with chocolate, and then put them back on their parchment to settle. You should chill the cookies again to help the chocolate solidify.

Now, for the strings (which really make the effect!), if you are already a tea-drinker you can save up tea strings and tags from other teabags you've used. This is especially cool if you are varying the flavors of the tea in the cookies and you can include matching tags. . . .

But if you don't drink tea, don't want to wait to collect tea strings, or just want to make your own, you can use dental floss for the strings and folded-over address labels as tags.

If you are serving these at a little tea party or at a gathering, you can always decorate these tags with names, symbols, stickers, or messages!

When you're ready to put it all together, just loop each string through the cookie holes and tie them.

It's pretty much required that you serve them on adorable dishware with dainty cups, right? They are perfect for dunking in tea!

Or you could just unceremoniously chomp them down, like a certain Gem we know!

See more SU food tutorials!

#steven universe #food #amethyst #onion friend #three gems and a baby #tiger philanthropist #myblog #gif

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mad-maximoff · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐕𝐈

Dark AOU WandaXReader (Quick Fic)

Summary: Wanda is adjusting to living in a new country. In a new home, Tony decides to throw a massive party to celebrate defeating Ultron. Wanda becomes quite attached to you. Once she sees Natasha flirt with you, she wants you to know who you belong to.

Warnings: Dub/con, Language, Possessiveness, BDSM (bondage/degrading/Wanda dom/R sub), magical cüm-filled strap use, drinking, drunk sex, jealousy

Word Count: 4,907

The party was in full swing. Everyone was celebrating the defeat of Ultron a couple of days later. Everyone mourned the deaths, especially Wanda. She was at the stage of anger in grief. She snapped at every second something upset her. Who couldn't blame her? Her twin brother, the only family she had was killed. You couldn't imagine what she was feeling. She never opened up to you. You were her handler. You made sure she made her way around upstate New York. Her English wasn't too confident but she made due. You were young, and wanted the job Tony gave you. You worked for Stark Industries for two months before Ultron was created. You were assigned to help with Tony's image. Tony is tech-savvy yes, but your 21-year-old mind was built for social media. You made sure the Avengers (especially Tony) had a good social standing on all social media platforms. Plus you kept the entire world in the loop in their lives. You couldn't release top secret information on the internet but you shared funny clips or photos of all of them. Just to show the world that the Avengers are normal people. You lived in the new compound, it felt like you never left. So Tony decided to allow you to stay in one of the numerous extra rooms he had.

You were in your bedroom finishing off your makeup and hair. You'd hate to admit it, but you've become more vain living here in the compound. You were surrounded by perfect bodily heroes. They woke up and didn't have to do much to look good. You always had to stay on your a-game. You adjusted the straps on your new Versace platformed heels feeling 6 feet tall. You weren't too comfortable in heels so you had no idea why in the hell you let Natasha persuade you into buying them. However, she was right. They matched your black lace bodycon dress you are wearing tonight, and you tried to pair your outfit with the right fragrance. Burberry? Dior? No. Yes, Valentino Donna. It smelt amazing; just a few sprays made your confidence skyrocket.

Once you stepped out of your room you noticed the difference when Tony told you the bedrooms are noise cancelled. The music was blaring, it was deafening. You got closer to the huge living room crowded with dozens of people. Tony was near the DJ taking song requests, Steve was chatting with Sam, Thor and Banner were conversing with other geeky guys and Natasha and Clint were behind the bar serving drinks. From where you were standing, you couldn't see Wanda. She's probably hiding in a corner of the room only observing. You made your way down the staircase to the main dance floor cutting threw dancers. Countless men stopped mid-dance, or sentence just to stare at you. You weren't interested in chitchat, nor were you interested in men for that matter. Even when Stark and Pepper tried to set you up with hundreds of men they thought you'd like. You never had the heart to come out and tell them. Not quite yet.

You made it to the bar waiting patiently for either Nat or Clint to see you. You could tell what their game plan was. Clint handled the beer and other already-made drinks, as Nat was the real bartender. You admired their friendship. You wished you had something like that.

"Hey there pretty lady, unfortunately, I need to see some ID." Natasha leaned over the counter making eye contact with you. You laughed abruptly looking around the room making sure no one else heard her.

"Oh my god! Stop it! Haha! You know damn well how old I am." Natasha chuckled to herself shaking a shaker full of liquor.

"I don't know, pretty thing like you. Under all that makeup, you could easily be a minor." She unscrewed the cap and poured a red liquid into two martini glasses, handing it to two blondes to the right of her.

"Jesus Romanoff, are you trying to flirt with me?" You grinned fidgeting with your dangly diamond earring and playing with your earlobe softly.

"On the contrary Miss Y/n. All I'm trying to be is a good bartender. So, what'll be?" Her arm reached pointing behind her back to the countless decisions of booze to choose from.

"Make me a screwdriver. Extra vodka." She adjusted your posture looking out onto the dancefloor, but still no sign of Wanda. "Where's Maximoff? She's not cooped up in her room again is she?" You turned your back to the bar leaning against it.

"Oh, you're really getting drunk tonight huh? You're off the clock Y/n, you don't have to worry about her." Natasha lifted the bottle pouring more vodka than orange juice into a short glass. "You should be enjoying yourself. Instead of searching for her, search for someone to hook up with." She winked handing you the glass.

"Ha! Me? Hook up with some random woman? I could never." Your lips pursed connecting to the rim of the glass, the ice hit your lips first allowing the orange liquid enters your mouth. You shouldn't have asked for extra vodka. You remembered Natasha always was heavy-handed with the liquor. Your drink was basically all vodka and a splash of orange juice.

"Yes beautiful, you can get any special lady you want. Looking the way you are." Her hand reached over touching your exposed bicep. Her thumbs caressed your skin. You blushed to feel the heaten quicken. "You're a damn flirt, Nat." You flicked your wrist towards her.

You left the bar area stepping down the steps to the dance floor. You're entire body burnt. You haven't finished your drink yet but the burning sensation came quickly.

"Haha fuck this drink is hitting quick!" You talked to yourself under your breath. The burning felt like a lighter under your ass. It wasn't a drunk burning, it was like you were set ablaze. You made your way to stand beside Steve.

"Hello fellas, found any luck with the ladies yet?" The burning was starting to startle you when it was becoming hotter. You tried to push through it thinking maybe being smushed against so many people in one room with loud music was making you feel this warm.

"Nope." Both Steve and Sam replied clinking their beers together. "You might have more luck than us though." Steve fluffed his plaid shirt; fixing his leather up. You chugged the rest of your drink knowing if you didn't you'd leave it somewhere and forget it. "Hm? Why's that Rogers?" Your fingertips clung to the rim of the glass. Sam chuckled to himself folding his arms across his chest.

"Cause Wanda is staring you down like a hawk." Steve pointed with his hand that held his beer. You turned your head around your shoulder finally seeing Wanda.

Her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail, wearing a deep crimson sundress with outlines of white flowers as the print. Over her dress, she was wearing a faded black leather jacket, with matching leather armbands. Her head tilted directly looking at you. Her eyes were burning red, she seemed angry. Her platform boots scuffed across the floor making her way to you.

"There you are! I've been looking for you! Where were you hiding?" You sat your empty drink on a table meeting Wanda's gaze. She didn't initially speak she sat an unknown bottle wrapped in a brown paper back and duct tape beside your glass.

"I've been here this entire time detka. Fata prostuță. You wanna drink? I brought a special treat back from Sokovia." Wanda's ringed fingers circled the rim of the cap of the bottle. She undid the tape pulling the bottle out of the brown bag. The bottle wasn't in English, all written in Sokoivan.

"Oh yeah? Eu sunt fata prostuță? What is it even? Is it vodka or gin?" You grasped the bottle from her hands trying to make out what it was. Your Sokoivan was good but this bottle was hard to read. It was like the print was printed on accidentally twice. Red and Black. All you can read was the name of it printed big in the middle of the label "SOKOVI". Both Steve and Sam joined, telling Thor to come over.

"It's just liquor. The only way for anyone to buy this is to be a Sokoivan citizen. You can only buy one bottle a year. This stuff is so strong they photocopy your ID.

"Holy shit kid, this stuff is 100% proof. I think you can fill a Toyota Corolla with this. You sure this is legal?" Sam peered over your shoulder. Thor cackled hitting his hand this his chest. "No matter. This Midgardian drink is no match for my Asgardian liquor. This is no drink for normal mortals." He pulled out a metal flask raising it to the sky.

"Well, then you wanna put your money where your mouth is Thor? We drink a shot of each and see who's left standing hm?" You were cocky you'd admit. So, originally you thought Thor would take your sarcastic remark and laugh it off. To your shock, he did the complete opposite. "Fine! A dual of drink it is! Natasha, bring the young girl and I shot glasses!" He threw his flask down next to you on the table pulling out the metal chairs.

"I must warn you two. When I was 9, me and...Pietro... stole a bottle of beer from our neighbour's balcony. We sat on our step outside taking sips of it feeling grown. Our father caught us, he sat us down and made us take a teaspoon size amount each of SOKOVI as punishment. We both were sick for two weeks afterwards. I didn't even start drinking again until I was 22." Wanda laughed touching her hand to her chest. It was the first time you saw Wanda happy, genuinely in a long time. The last time you saw her this happy was when she met Clint's newborn, Nathaniel Pietro Barton. He was named after her brother. She wished he met him. She looked so cute holding the baby.

The crowd started to surround us after hearing Thor boast about him kicking your ass. You were not afraid. You knew you could hold down liquor. Though these both weren't ordinary drinks by no means.

"Honey, you can always opt-out. If you're not comfortable saying no I can tell blondie for you." Natasha came with the shot glasses for both of you. Grazing your hand as she dropped off the glasses to the table.

"Thank you, Romanoff. But I think Y/n can handle it. She's stronger than you think." Wanda gritted her teeth towards her, hovering behind you. Her brows furrowed flipping her ponytail to the other side. Her hands pressed down on your shoulders, your dress had spaghetti straps. Your body jolted feeling Wanda's small cold hands touching your exposed skin. Her rings on her finger dug into the tops of your shoulders. It was sharp but in a way, you enjoyed feeling her on you.

"Oh don't get me wrong Wands, I know she's a tough girl. But she's going against a god with a drinking problem. I just don't want her to overdo it." Natasha could tell Wanda was mad at her piping up, she looked down at you in confusion. You gave her the same expression wondering what had gotten into Wanda. Until Nat gave a little cheeky smirk. You couldn't tell what it was for.

"What? You don't think I can take of Y/n? Is that it?" Wanda's hands lowered off your shoulders down to your biceps. Stroking the outside of your arms with her thumbs. Her nails were naturally long with a coat of cracked black nail polish, and every circle she made with her thumb ran a sharp fondness of her nail.

Natasha's smirk never left staring directly down at you. "Oh no, don't mind me. If you think you can take care of Miss Y/n. Then be my guest. She'll be the last drunk I have to deal with at the end of the night I guess. I'll leave you two alone." She snickered staring directly at Wanda, before leaving you two she looked at you once again giving a wink. Retreating to Clint who started taking bets on you and Thor.

"You do that Romanoff." Her tone was cold. "Don't let her scare you detka. You're a big girl. You can take it." Her hand joined your jaw doing the same circular motion she was making on your arms.

"Now. Open up." She held your jaw tightly, using her other hand to grab one of the shots. Both were clear so we all didn't know which is which. She let your lips softly touch the prim tipping the liquid into your mouth. It burnt worse than the burning feeling you felt moments ago. It tasted like gasoline but 10 times worse. Like flavoured gasoline. Peppermint? Maybe. You couldn't fully get the real taste of it thank god or else you would've puked. Either way, it tasted awful. Thor did the same shooting back either one, letting out a huge cheer.

"That's the spirit, Wanda! Let the game of drink commence!" He swiped his other shot throwing that one back as quickly as he let go of the first one. You grasped onto the glass doing the same motion. You almost puked. The second one was way worse. Much, much worse. You'd rather drink the peppermint gasoline. It just tasted like straight bleach. The smell, the taste. You swear for a brief moment that's what they gave you.

╔═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ═══╗

An hour or two has passed. Maybe it was only 30 minutes. You couldn't tell, you couldn't even remember who you were. Steve was by your side helping you sit up straight. You were sweating bullets. You were a mess. Your dress straps hung off your shoulders, Wanda constantly had to fix them as you moved in your seat. You were too stubborn to give up. You and Thor were on the sixth set of shots. Thor was slurring, frailing his muscular arms around like a lunatic.

"You okay frumos? You look like you should tap out huh?" Wanda caressed your temples lifting your head to look at her. Your reflexes were involuntary, your lips lifted on each corner. "Nah!! I'm fucking fine Wanda! I can do another couple of rounds." Your body slumped forward making your tits bounce against the table. Your head was too heavy for your neck letting your face smash into your chest. Steve and Wanda took either side of your body pushing your back onto the chair. Wanda wrapped her hand around the back of your throat holding you up. "Come now Y/n. You proved you're point. You showed me and that little flirt Widow you can hold your own. Let's bring you back to your room." Her cheek grazed yours as she whispered in your ear.

"No Wanda! I'm not done yet! I take care of you! Not the other way around! Thor! Pour me another!" You slurred letting the words drool out of you. You bolted from your seat standing straight. The Sokoivan and Asgardian liquor hit you like a ton of bricks once all the blood flow is released into your legs. You almost fell flat on your ass. Steve had quick reflexes hositing you up by your wrist.

"Woah there come on Y/n. Please sit back down." Steve gave your wrist a tiny tug trying to lead you back to the seat. You looked over at Wanda seeing her facial expression from a smirk to a hostile glare. Her head tilted again looking down through her eyebrows. Her eyes changed from green to deep red. "Y/n. Listen to us. Now."

"What is your neck and ears broken? I told you no! Come, come Thor. Pour em!" You twitched breaking free from Steve's hand. Sam shook his head pouring two shots of each liquor for Thor and yourself. "This is it, guys. This is your cut-off. I don't care who wins. Let's hope you both survive tomorrow morning." He pushed two shot glasses in front of you and him. Sealing on the caps tightly. Tony was video recording the entire event. Clint and Natasha were sitting at the bar table watching the disaster from the distance. You threw the one shot into your mouth almost forgetting to swallow.

"Y/n. Listen to me. Be a good girl and sit your ass down." Wanda's small fingers pointed sharply at the chair behind you. You knew you were too drunk to answer. You had other thoughts brewing.

"Wanda? Give me my last shot! Then I'm done!" You whipped around facing her directly. Wanda raised an eyebrow grabbing hold of the last shot. "Really now? You promise me?"

"Fuck yes! Let's do it!" Your head bowed staring at Wanda's boots.

"Will you let me do it my way detka? Huh, baby?" Her finger lifted your head from your chest.

"Yes..let's get it over with it." Your arms wrapped around Wanda's hips. She jolted bucking your hands away. "Drink now. Play later." Her arm pushed yours away. You gave a puzzled look at her remark, not fully knowing what she meant. She pressed her lips on the shot glass drinking it back.

"Hey!!" You were too drunk to talk, every word slurred any emotion. She didn't swallow the liquor, her head leaned forward crashing both of your lips together. Her lips parted allowing the liquid to glide from her mouth to yours. Everyone cheered and hollered at the sight of us. Wanda was taller than you, but your heels made you two the same height. Her hand was behind your head showing her dominant nature you've never fully seen yet. She let you go catching her breath. You swallowed the liquor, plobbing back down on the chair.

"I told you I'd do it my way Y/n. Now, you're done for the night." Wanda's arms flung around your neck placing her chin on your shoulder. "Let's bring you upstairs. I'll take care of you better..."

"Alright, just give me a second. I forgot to give Nat a case file this afternoon." Your task made you sober up for a milli-second remembering you forgot to do something before Natasha's mission tomorrow. Wanda's arms tightened around your neck, her nails dug into your bare shoulders. "How about I go and grab it tomorrow morning? I don't want you to go near her right now." You stood up pushing her away. "Wanda I'm fine. I can grab it, I'm not that drunk." Your posture was slouched stumbling to the glass doors to the research office, where the printer was.

There sat a fairly large green folder. Your hands were going numb. You had trouble trying to grasp the folder. You knew you shouldn't have had that last shot, it was beginning to fuck you up. You must have looked like a complete idiot trying to grab this folder. Someone was laughing behind you. "Y/n? If you forgot my folder you could've told me. Instead of looking like an idiot." Natasha chuckled clicking her heels closer to you.

"I'm sorry I forgot." You didn't realize your hands were not even close to the folder, you were trying to grab it a foot away. "Here мед, let me help." Nat's body was against your back, her hands rolled down your arms clutching your hands. Your hands finally touched the green folder. "Oh finally! Thank you, Natty!" You flipped around still having Natasha close to you. Her hands reached up to your cheeks. "You're welcome you little cutie." She grinned softly, looking directly into your eyes. Her head came close planting a tiny kiss on your forehead. She let go whisking the folders away. "Come on now, Ms. Maximoff is probably having an aneurysm your not near her 24/7."

You giggled brushing her retort. "Oh shut up, Wanda's harmless. Besides, I've been assigned to her for so long, of course, she has an attachment to me." You followed behind Natasha; shutting off the lights behind you.

"Come now Y/n. She almost tore my head off when I told you not to drink with the god of thunder. I don't want her to get in my head again." You both walked shoulder to shoulder looking out into the crowd. You couldn't see Wanda in the crowd. You didn't realize she was behind the both of you. She was watching you two through the windows. Her eyes pierced into your body. The burning sensation came back. It felt as though your soul was being stretched like an elastic, about to snap. You initially thought you were having a heart attack. You stopped in your tracks as Natasha continued walking until she realized you weren't following her. "Y/n? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Her heels pivoted clicking on the laminate.

"She's fine Romanoff. Go back to the party I'll take care of her." Wanda's eyes glowed with her hands dancing a crimson light. Her wrist flicked and Nat trailed off forgetting about you. Wanda stepped behind you, feeling the padding of her bra graze your shoulder blades.

"Ești o curvă murdară..Hm? You're a cheap slut aren't you?" You couldn't speak. Your throat dried up making your saliva feel like you were swallowing sand. It hurt to breathe. "N-no...I'm not a..." Your eyes became a disco ball, black darkness with white sparkles all over. You couldn't form a coherent sentence to protest. Wanda's hand dipped under your dress cupping your crotch forcefully.

"No? Cause you feel soaked already. Face it detka. You're a stupid slut that doesn't know how to act." Her voice strung along as you faded out.

╔═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══╗

You woke up cold. You were somewhat sober, your head still sprung around but you were conscious. You went to sit up until you felt your arms lock above your head. You looked seeing your arms locked in leather cuffs over your head on the headboard. So were your legs. You didn't realize you were naked until you saw your ankles cuffed, your legs spread wide open showing off your small center and the light fuzz trailing down your pubic bone.

"Awe great, you're finally awake. Good. Now we get to have some." She sat in an armchair beside the bed. She was hunched over with her hands between her legs. Her makeup was ruined, her face was naturally rouged either from anger or from crying. Her black makeup was smudged all over her cheeks.

"What? What the hell is going on Wanda? What are you doing to me?!?" You flexed your arms trying to unhook yourself.

"Oh no, no. You don't want that Y/n. You bruise very easily. I think you should get yourself checked. Look at the number I've done, You could connect the dots." She laughed sitting up from the chair. Her hand grazed your thigh, you saw her work and it instantly made your stomach drop. It was a mixture of big purple and red bruises. Some had teeth marks near your opening. The inside of your legs across your panty line was coated in circular teeth marks breaking blood under the skin. My god, she was right. She did do a number on you.

"When did you do this? I don't feel good Wand." Your stomach felt hollow, it wasn't a pleasant feeling. You felt like you were going to puke or pass out again. All of this at the same time was making you feel extremely weird. You liked Wanda, but she scared you in this moment. You had never seen this side of her.

"Nu contează detka. You need to realize you're mine. You need to stop flirting with that little tart Widow. You work for me. So all of you is mine." She didn't have her leather jacket on, she leaped onto your stomach. Her thighs glided across your tender skin. She was soft but her skin felt sticky.

"You're going to be a good slut for me? You better be you ungrateful drunk whore." She spat out pulling her dress over her head. She threw her dress on the floor exposing everything. Her full breasts were pierced with black jewelry. They became instantly erect as the air touched them.

"Oh god-...Wanda please no..." Your head moved around left and right thinking maybe it was a terrible dream.

"Oh no? No? You don't have a say in this matter. You deserve to get what I'm giving you. Slutty drunks need to be taught how to act in public." Her eyes glowed red again as her hand dangled between her legs. A red sparkled cock appeared attached to her mound. You twitched trying not to cry. Your entire body tensed up knowing what was going to happen. You didn't want this to happen like this. Hell, you didn't know you'd end up like this tonight.

"You'll love me inside you once you calm down. Be a good fuck toy for Mommy hm? " Her hand dropped down running her fingers roughly through your folds, and finally found your clit. You thought you didn't want this? So why in the hell are you wet?

“N-no please…not like this Wanda…I didn’t want it to be like this.” You begged thinking your cries may move your capture.

“Not like this huh? How would you want it? You don’t realize I went through your search history…” Wanda’s finger traced along your breast, her nail dug into your nipple. Your face was heated knowing what she was talking about. “I saw all your porn searches, you like to watch European girls dominating and tying up other girls huh? So you’d like this then?” Her hand flicked with a red mist wrapping around your wrists and legs. The grip felt like cement around your skin.

“Isn’t this what you imagined Y/n? A European woman dominating you? Fucking you? This Sokovian wants to teach you a fucking lesson. You’re such a dirty little slut.” Her pinky fluttered wrapping her mist around your throat tightening the grip all over your body. Wanda's index and middle fingers spread your center. "La naiba, fetița...all open for mommy." You felt the object part your folds, and you winced rightfully knowing you couldn't escape. Her hips slowly leaned in, eyes burning red. You whined sucking in air between your teeth. Her lip curled to the side smirking at her good work. "You were such a drunk slut, thinking you can just cozy up to Romanoff like I wasn't fucking watching! You're such a perfect fit Y/n. You were made for me. Just me." Wanda's hips bucked thursted out pushing back in. You whined again and came out as a moan.

"Ah-..." Your hands twitched trying to move your fingers. Your toes curled finally feeling the pleasure overcome you. The painful sting went away, it was a calming sensation. Like Wanda let her guard down while she was inside you. You read it on her face. Her brows weren't furrowed, and her teeth were bitten into her bottom lip with her eyes closed. You let out your moans fully noticing the red around your throat turning a lighter shade of pink.

"Oh, you like that huh? See. You are a dirty little whore." She hummed watching her strap fill your tight pussy. Your breathing was ecstatic, your drool was all over your chin dripping down your throat. "Y-yes! I'm a dirty whore. I'm a slut! P-please fuck me! Harder please!" You panted seeing her hands grope your free breasts.

"It's good you see it my way. I'm pumping detka." Wanda's hips hit harder, the sweat from her inner thighs hit your bare ass. The friction from her skin onto yours was causing blotched burns every shade of red.

You asked to be fucked harder. Harder she did. Every thrust into your pussy felt like it kept slipping in and out. A huge pool formed in the sheets underneath you two. You were reaching the top of your climax ready to crumble like a ton of bricks. Wanda was too, her magical strap made her feel every movement. She was cumming too. Wanda's head went back climaxing without you. You weren't that far behind, however. Seeing Wanda cum made you tip over. You screamed out as you came.

"S-s-shit!"

"Fuck Y/n! Fuck!" Wanda screamed sliding herself out making the twitching strap disappear.

All of her mist disappeared also freeing you. You leaped up onto your knees. Wanda's back was turned to you. "What are you doing detka?" She ran her fingers to her scalp pulling out the elastic. Fluffing out her brown locs to take out the kinks. "I'm going to show a western custom." You kissed her shoulder, you grabbed her shoulders pulling her down into her bed. Getting on top of her. "What in the hell are you doing?"

"Come cuddle with me, please?" You wrapped your arms and legs around her torso like a spider monkey. You buried your face into her chest.

"Îmbrățișa?" Wanda's voice was confused like she didn't know what you were talking about.

"Da. Îmbrățișa.We cuddle afterwards." Your cheek rested on her as Wanda's fingers interlocked with your hair. She huffed breathing in.

"Fine. This is a weird custom Y/n."

1K notes · View notes

kitkatriel · 15 days

Text

I came up with this AU a couple of months ago, and since a moot encouraged me to share with the class I might as well (plus I also wanna draw this AU lol)

I'll call this au Be Born as a placeholder rn lol

SO this au starts right after HMS managed to find a way to end the loop, and they harmonise permanently. Whole basically gains the courage to confess to his crush (still don't have a name for her) and she also confesses her mutual feelings, Blah Blah Blah, they date, yada yada yada, they get married and have a pair of twins.

I also have to say that Whole, whom I will call CJ from this point forward (Does NOT mean Chonny Jash, its a diff name, same acronym) is aware and remembers HMS quite a bit. Most of his memories/knowledge of them has faded since the harmonising was over 6 years ago, but he still remembers a few key details like their roles, some of their names and a blurry image of what they look like.

Soo like the VERY FUNCTIONAL human being CJ is, decides to name his twin sons after two of the voices in his head. Wow, clap for the man everyone whoooo-. The names he uses are Artemis and Apollo. A year later, they have another child whom he names, say it with me! ATLAS WHO WOULD HAVE GUESSED AHH. Atlas was born on the same day as Artemis and Apollo so you'd argue their triplets lol.

OHHH this is a normal au there couldn't possibl- SIKE THIS SHET HAS ✨️MAGIC✨️ BECAUSE PLAIN HIGH SCHOOL AUS ARE OVERRATED /J /SILLY /LH

And this is where I ruin the au🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

OK SO during the time the twins still weren't born, Heart began to wonder what it must be like to live life as your own person, to have a childhood, go school- etc etc (HMS split up into existence when CJ was 18 not too long before he dropped out of college) he starts rambling to Mind and Soul about this, Mind tries to shrug it off as a plain "What if" sanario or daydream but also ends up thinking the same.

This is also fueled by the fact that they spent majority of their existence fighting each other never living an even remotely normal day in their life.

Soul wants both of them to be happy, plus he also starts to get infected with this desire and curiosity. SO he somehow finds out he can cut off a prong of the trident and make it a dagger which he can link Heart or Mind to making them particularly function as a soul.

Soul also wants to be with his halves so he asks for Heart's blindfold and Mind's crown to create a puppet that can serve thr roles of all three of them. Which he names Harmonia (AYO OMORIHMS AU FORSHADOWING?!?!?!)

Harmonia is basically a perfect copy of CJ lol. Soul leaves Harmonia alone to look after CJ with his trident(now pretty much a spear) a crown of a ruler who has stepped down from his throne and a blindfold used to protect its previous wearer from the blinding lights of the Sun.

You can kinda just ignore that part if you want (still on the fence with it but I'll most likely go with it) cus it doesn't really effect the story if you were to erase it. All that happens mostly is Deju Vu

I don't really need to explain which HMS is which kid hah.

I'm now gonna explain the three kids.

First is Artemis, who is TECHNICALLY the older twin (he came out first). Artemis is based on the right brain being not only the emotional side but also the creative and artistic side. So yes... he is an artist. Quite extroverted, still likes his peace and quiet, yeahhhh

Second is Apollo, the "younger" twin (funny because he's the tallest out of the three). Ehh, you know the drill, straight A's student... hot nerd even (JOKE. DONT KILL ME. NO. NUH UH. I WAS JOKING EH) the classic "grades over mental health because" guy. Monotone and deep voice but is surprisingly approachable (unless he put you on his "No likey" list based on first impressions lol).

Last but not least, Atlas, the poor younger sibling who keeps getting caught in the crossfire between his two older siblings. He's more on the athletic side, being hockey team (suggested by randa). The most energetic of the three, as a kid, he often asked his brothers to play with him, which is why the trio grew up to be really close.

Uhhhh some trivia/fun facts to maybe explain their characters a bit more:

• Apollo and Artemis "fight" from time to time but its mostly "YOU FATASS, YOU ATE ALL MY KITKATS" then dramatic pause then "Dad made waffles."

• Apollo's favourite book is No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai.

• Artemis is the shortest of the three and gets flamed by Apollo about it

• CJ doesn't have a favourite child

• Apollo is the one that sits on the front passenger seat of the car, and will die fighting for it.

• Apollo is a cat person while Artemis is a dog person.

• Sexualities

Apollo: Bi

Artemis: Gay

Atlas: AroAce

• Ages:

Apollo and Artemis: 16

Atlas: 15

• Aollo's fashion taste is dark academia

• Atlas and Apollo did karate for 8 years

• Despite this, Artemis poses the most threat to the average bypasser

• CJ's wife works abroad on a cruise. She only sees her family atleast once a year

• Atlas used to have a childhood dog named....wait for it..... DARREL

• Atlas has more then one occasion, forced Apollo to dance Rasputin on just dance.

•Apollo's sleep schedule is so bad he's immune system is absolute trash

• Artemis once forgot to lock his room during a family gathering and came back to one of his younger cousins scribbling on one of his paintings.

• Artemis dislikes the idea of having kids for that reason

• Artemis was struggling on a question so hard his tutor had to ask Apollo for help because neither could they figure it out.

Yeah that's all for now, CYA

#Fuck ut we main tag #katgoeswewo #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj heart #cj mind #cj whole #cj soul #oh god its scary to see thoes tags on an au ramble post #Code: Be Born AU

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oftenwantedafton · 3 months

Text

Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 6

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Also available on AO3

You’re standing in your shower—and God is it difficult to be inside of there and not reminisce about what had happened the previous night when Afton had been in there with you—taking your time washing off the grime of the work day. Pausing mid stroke of bar soap, daydreaming again, thinking this time about being bent over in his office. The gift waiting for you on the kitchen counter. You want to see him again. You need to thank him at the very least. You forget about being tired.

Fuck it. You’re going back to work.

***

It’s really too cold for skimpy clothing, but fuck if you aren’t going to get a little dolled up for your employer for a change. You’ve got time to kill before close anyway.

You put on makeup and style your hair. Decide on a clingy off the shoulder sweater to go with the slitted black leather mini skirt. It’s magenta, not quite purple, but as close as you have to his favorite shade. Your boots aren’t as fancy and new as miss college girl’s either, but they do reach over your knees and you think they look pretty damn hot. You even put earrings on, struggling a bit since you haven’t worn any in a while and the pierced holes are starting to seal. You pose in front of the mirror. Yeah, not half bad, considering you’d been on your feet all day.

You put on a sitcom rerun to keep you occupied while you wait for the time to pass. You hope your car cooperates. It’s been exceptionally cold lately.

It’s finally time to go. The coat look so, so pretty. The perfect size. So cozy. You’re grinning at yourself in the mirror and you don’t care.

You step out of the apartment building. The temperature has definitely dropped since sundown. But your top half is cozy, at least. The lesser clad lower half, well. A sacrifice you’re willing to make. Time to head back to Freddy’s.

***

The parking lot is empty.

Your heart sinks. Damn it. William must have left early tonight. All of this work for nothing. And now you can’t even thank him.

You’re just about to loop back around to the exit when you see a familiar face emerging from the front entrance. He is here.

Afton looks up from locking the doors as you hastily park and step out of the vehicle.

“Moody?”

“Hey. Where’s your car?” You start walking towards him. You can see his eyes track down and back up again. And down yet again. Yeah. He was looking.

“I lost my spot because I had to take my youngest to an appointment. Got stuck parking out back.”

“Oh yeah. The dentist. I saw that on your calendar earlier when I was…bent over it.” You bite your lower lip and grin at him.

“You look amazing.”

“Yeah? You like?” You twirl around for him.

“Yes. I like. Very much.” He takes your hands and pulls you against him.

“I had to come say thank you for the jacket. It’s really great, Will. I appreciate it. Very thoughtful.”

“I was going to stop by. You didn’t have to come back out just for that. Though I’m glad you did.” He kisses you.

“How was the rest of the shift?” You reach up to comb through his hair. You know it’s already a lost cause. The locks will not be tamed.

“Uneventful.” He turns his face and kisses your palm.

“Uneventful is good.”

“I missed you.”

“Missing me is good, too.” His mouth on yours again, rougher this time. “You want to go make out like a couple of horny teenagers in my car?”

“No.” He pauses. “I think my car is better suited for that purpose.”

“I agree.”

“Walk with me or I’ll drive around?”

“I’ll walk with you.” He tucks your arm through his.

“When would you be available for dinner next week?”

“I’m off Wednesday, so…”

“That’s how you want to spend your evening off? With the employer of the establishment you despise working at?”

“It has its ups and downs.”

“Does it now?”

You both round the corner. William’s car is right in front of you. He releases your arm and you back against the passenger door.

“Yeah. You know. Its ups…” You drag your hand up the fly of his trousers, squeezing. “…and its downs…” You tug on the zipper of his fly and shove your hand inside.

“You are impatient, aren’t you?” He smiles beside your cheek. “I quite like it. Maybe I should request they hire more young women to make you jealous.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I think…” He laps at your ear, “You should…” Tugs the zipper of your jacket down, a little hiss of appreciation escaping, “…Come sit on my big fat—fuck.” His voice instantly shifts from sultry to annoyed. “I forgot about the security cameras. I’m going to have to delete this footage tomorrow.”

You burst out laughing at the abrupt switch from dirty talk.

He winces. “Did I kill the mood?”

“Not at all. I would very much like to come sit on your big, fat cock.”

“That’s my girl,” he purrs.

“So what are we thinking? Front, back?”

“Front seats recline. Steering wheel but you know I think we can make it…” His voice trails off when you reach inside the opening of his pants for another squeeze.

“Front it is.”

He unlocks the passenger door and then loops around to the driver’s side. You slide inside the car. The leather seats are extremely cold but you know you’re going to warm up fast.

William shrugs out of his coat and tosses it in the back, then sits behind the wheel and closes the door. He begins reaching around blindly for the lever on the side. “I know it’s here somewhere. Hang on. For fuck’s sake…There, got it.” The seat reclines back abruptly. “Well. There we are, then. What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. You’re just. You’re so frustrated. And it’s kind of charming.”

“Is it?”

“You know you are.”

“Sometimes a gentleman likes to be told these things.”

“Noted.”

“Why aren’t you in my lap yet?”

“Also noted.” You struggle out of your coat. You should have taken it off outside like Afton had done with his. He helps you pull your arms through and you finally manage the task, dropping it on top of his in the back.

He gives a wolf whistle. “Look at you, Moody.” You climb over the console and seat yourself on his thighs. “Maybe I should ask corporate if we can change the dress code a little bit. Start allowing skirts…”

“No. Too much temptation. Plus too many pervert customers.”

“Unfortunately yes, there are those. I would have thrown him out sooner if someone had told me…”

You shrug. “It just kind of comes with the job. No matter where you work.”

“That doesn’t make it right. I don’t condone that kind of behavior.”

“Alright, Gray. I’ll spread the word among the waitstaff.” Your wrap your hands around his tie and lean to give him a kiss. “Can we not talk about work anymore now?”

“Absolutely.” He rests a hand on your hip. The skirt has a half zipper on the side that he’s already working on. Little had you known earlier what a good choice a skirt was for this evening. Once loosened he slides it up around your waist.

“Were you really going to stop by on your way home?”

“Yes.”

“To say goodnight?”

“That, and to make sure you received the gift. And to see if you liked it.”

“You had a busy day. Leaving earlier to drop it off and then the appointment and…” His hands stroke your thighs and toy with the waistband of your underwear. You’ve got a very skimpy thong on that is comprised of little more than a couple of threads woven together.

“Well worth it.” He sucks in a deep breath as he reaches around for your bare cheeks. “You most definitely should not wear these to work. I would get absolutely nothing accomplished.”

You unfasten his belt and unbutton his fly. “I’m going to take a wild guess since I can’t really see in this lighting that these briefs are some variant of purple.”

“They are not, actually.”

“Hmmm,” you hum thoughtfully, reaching inside to pull his erection through. He is scalding against your skin. His breath hisses through clenched teeth. “You’d think you hadn’t gotten any good pussy yet today. And we both know that’s not true.” You stroke lazily, teasing him a little.

“Remind me about this good pussy.”

It takes a moment to align your bodies correctly. He shrugs down a bit and you scoot up and there, the crotch of those ridiculous panties are jerked aside and you’ve seated yourself on his cock.

“Fuck.” You’re incredibly wet. You’re beginning to think this is going to be a new permanent condition for you because of this man.

“Oh yes. This pussy. I remember this very well now.” The fingers holding your hip dig into you. The other hand roams beneath your sweater and kneads your breasts. “That tight, wet pussy…”

His hips lift as you grind down. “Fuck, Will…”

“I know what my girl needs.” He rocks against you. The windows are fogging up. As predicted you’ve forgotten all about being half naked in the dead of winter.

“Say it again.”

“Hmmm?”

You capture his lips. “Say I’m you’re girl again.”

“You like that, huh?” He fucks up into you, forcing another exhale of pleasure. “You are my girl. You’re mine,” he growls.

You impale yourself again. “Will…” You’ve forgotten your wearing lipstick. It’s smudged all over his face. It’s on his shirt collar. You’ll have to use some rubbing alcohol or dish soap or something to…oh. He slams back up into you and the thoughts break apart into senseless pieces. You focus on his mouth. On his breathing. The sounds that he’s making, moaning, gasping, sighing, his body slapping against and colliding with yours.

“My moody girl…” he murmurs against your neck. Sheathed again. Back out. Entered to the hilt. Withdrawn. Faster now. A rhythm built. You’ve had a few awkward moments readjusting. Console digging in. Steering wheel bumped by accident. The seat creaks, unused to the combined weight and activity. But it’s good. It’s so, so good. The windows are coated in white, the condensation from your combined body heat cloaking you. You’re in your own private world.

“Will, it’s…I’m…”

“Yeah, love. Me too.”

His hips stutter. You knot your fingers in his hair. You’re looking into his eyes when you both come undone.

***

It’s a little later. You’re dressed again and back in the passenger seat. William pulls up beside your car.

“Don’t worry about the shirt. I always keep a set of spare clothes in the boot. Running a restaurant is a messy business. Let me go duck in and get changed.”

You nod, watching him leave. Your body is still tingling pleasantly. You don’t want to go home without him. It’s only your second night together. You shouldn’t be this far gone. You’ve never been like this before with anyone else.

Anyone else did not include William Afton, of course.

Speaking of which. There he is. Pizzeria doors secured once more. Back inside the car with you now.

“I’ll wash that for you.”

“You don’t have to, but I won’t say no.” He hands you the shirt with a soft smile.

You lean over to kiss him. “No more lipstick, I promise. I think it’s actually been all kissed off at this point.”

“It looks nice on you but either way. Any way I can have you,” he adds quietly. “You make it very hard to leave.”

“So don’t leave.”

“Moody.”

“I know, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I’m going. I’ll see you tomorrow, boss. On time, or something like it.” You reach for the door handle and his hand closes over your arm, halting you.

“I do need to say it, though. There is something about you…” He sighs, faltering. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Oh. You hadn’t expected that. “Really?”

He nods. “You?”

“Yeah, same.”

A smirk. “What do we do about that?”

“Play hooky and spend the day together tomorrow instead?”

“Fuck, Moody. Don’t tempt me.”

“This place would survive one day without us.”

“Maybe.”

“Come on. You practically live here. We can go out to eat or get take out and watch shitty television and fuck each other senseless.”

“When you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

“Wait. Are you really going to do it?”

“Yes. But we’re not going to make a habit of this. This is an exception. Extenuating circumstances and all that.”

“Mmm-hmm. What time are you coming over?”

“Early. I’ll stop off to delete that security footage first. Make sure you set your alarm.”

“Okay, okay,” you grumble.

“And get some rest tonight. You’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.”

“You cheeky—” He leans over and captures your lips and you surrender the rest of your insult.

“Goodnight, my moody girl.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

You don’t even remember driving home. The car thankfully knows the way. You’re back inside your apartment, William’s stained shirt still clutched in your fingers.

You still can’t believe it. He was actually going to do it; take a day off from his beloved restaurant, just to spend it with you.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader

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