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darlingdekarios · 8 months

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the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios smut #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfiction

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moominsuki · 11 months

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bakugou is definitely someone who can’t love or be truly intimate someone until he’s known them for an uncomfortable amount of time. that’s why he’s the perfect candidate for falling in love with a childhood friend or a longtime colleague.

don’t get it twisted - he has probably been with a few women here and there (flings and such) but it’s not even in his character to sleep with women a.k.a the pump and dump. he thinks it’s degrading and he doesn’t particularly enjoy being with women he doesn’t have a strong connection to. the man just has urges.

he falls in love so randomly too - if it’s a childhood friend, it’s someone he always wanted/liked to a certain degree, he was just too pussy to say anything and life happens and they finally get to reignite that spark like nothing happened and this one is an adorable one because you’ve both known each other for a while and you’ve seen him through his awkward, angsty 5’7 bakugou stage and you adored him just as much as you did then and now - it helps he’s gorgeous and also a sweetie pie.

if it’s a colleague/coworker, then it happens when he’s slightly older and it’s someone who he’s had a thing for but, like aforementioned, bakugou hates to ruin a good thing and has a huge fear of rejection - even though you always fill up the coffee in the break room how he likes it, even though you let him pick you up to and from work, even though you literally kissed his cheek at a party. he chalks it up to you being tipsy and you eventually have to grab his face and just kiss him and it goes from there.

either way, bakugou actually takes his time with you - the road to intimacy is a bit slower because of how much he really likes you but you do end up doing the do (yay) and bakugou actually gets super overwhelmed during intimate sex with someone he really wants. it’s a very carnal desire that burns in him and it swallows him up whole.

it’s been a heavy day at work - bakugou feels a bit shitty and you offer a nice bath to loosen you both up. he obliges even though he doesn’t normally do baths because it’s you, duh.

you get in and so does he and it’s quiet - a few words of “you good, baby?” and “lemme wash your hair,” here and there. you’re not doing anything particularly profound but like aforementioned, intimacy makes bakugou’s dick chub up like crazy. you can feel it pressing into your butt and it’s endgame.

he takes you in missionary in his bed and you’re looking up at him, all wide eyed and glassy and a little drunk on him. bakugou prides himself in being an attentive and long lasting lover but when you wrap your legs around his lower back, your hands press into his shoulders and a few unshed tears in your eyes and pull his face down to kiss you with a ghost “i love you so much” resting on your lips does bakugou practically reel into you: red face in your neck and a guttural moan of your name and profanities slurred into one new word.

bakugou knows he’s entirely whipped: he can’t believe he’s ever slept with women casually when being intimate could feel like this, like a piece of your soul being pulled out by a succubus. only this succubus loves him and laughs at his jokes and cleans at his wounds and when she laughs, he feels like the world is a good place again.

when he reluctantly pulls back to see your face, he’s met with a smile that reaches your eyes and he falls in love with you all over again.

not before folding you in half to apologise for the early arrival.

#since you guys loveeee my quick bakugou hcs here’s another thought #super self indulgent #btw #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕#✎𓂃uma thirsts。°˖⌕#༝˚૮ .♡ katsuki.

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 18 days

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The Signs & Romance.

Hey, so I've decided to share some views/thoughts I had on each sign placement whether it was sun,moon or venus. Please share your thoughts about the signs and their views on love! I'm open for the discussion. But yeah. I hope yall enjoy!

Cancer Suns romantic nature can express itself with leo partners easily. Believe it or not. It is because both tend to want the most out of passionate affairs and leo shows the playful side while cancers show the mystic, hidden side of romance. I believe these two to be really good at making love to each other as one is a representation of the sun (leo) and the other the moon. Also, cancer suns can get along with any leo placement, doesnt matter which one. They balance each other out very well.

Scorpio placements need water placements (other scorpios in particular) in order to truly be understood. It is because these placements are a mirror in their romantic life, for better or for worse. And they need someone who understands their darkness, let alone their karma.

Scorpio placements such as Venus, need a special romance with someone. Even if they though sleep around, there will always be someone out there for them, who shares the same amount of passion and intensity they crave. Not everyone will see this character, it is saved for only one person. And sometimes its just in their mind.

Pisces Venus need to write a book on the love affairs they have in their minds lol. Similar to the scorpio venus, they have room for only one love affair that could stand the test of time. This isn't 'real' persay, but romance with them isn't practical and they need others who can fit into their world, because the imagination is what will run far in their love life. If you can keep them from being bored, then you will have them for ages.

Cancer placements & scorpio placements are the tantra lovers. Their love can be so deep and profound, it will leave a mark on anyone they have that strong compatibility with.

Gemini placements making a square to your sun sign or venus can show a deep appreciation and charismatic nature on their part, believe it or not. They NEED tension or else it will be too smooth, too flowy. And before you ask, doesn't everybody want that? Why, yes.. But geminis are typically like this on their day to day anyways. That's just in their nature. They need something challenging to spark their interests. Ironically, they will love you a lot more if you beat them to the punch. ;)

Virgos & Scorpios can make for a gifted experience together. This is because these two placements form a natural sextile together. They know each others tics, and how to appreciate the flow of their being. Virgos will allow the scorpio their alone time and be the calm auras that they need when their facing certain phases of darkness. Scorpios will be the penetrating touch that the virgo needs when they're feeling. a little anxious. Both come together like the two serpents that they are and form a connection that is raw, powerful and unique.

Aries placements need lovers who are CONFIDENT. And if you're not this will not work out well. This is why they're great with leo and sag placements, and can do very well with scorpios. A little secret is that if your not confident in bed, you're not going to do well with them... And they'll run you like a train if you're not able to stand ten toes to them, let alone when they want to tear open your insides.

Libra suns & moons have the gifted ability to make anyone feel wanted and loved when their in their horizons. So much so, that their transparent nature can show up in their love for the individual of their choosing and bring them into a world they will never forget. If they have scorpio in their chart this could be a 1 of 1. They are choosy lovers like their virgo companions.

Taurus Suns, Moons & Venus need a lifetime partner. They just dont want anyone. Their sex game is crazy. They are the venusians and their true purpose in life is pleasure. Get you one of them lol. Tauruses need love that makes them forget their past. That calls them into a vacation that doesnt ask for them to leave the country. They need someone who is stable, fine, remarkable and has their self in control. Because taurus is always in control, and they need someone to take the steering wheel from time to time... if you know what I mean ;)

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jwanniie · 4 months

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Hii can I ask for gp minji just fingering reader on the back seat of the car while the other members are sleeping and also the manager doesn't know because he was playing music on the radio.

Btw, I love your theme and especially chococat as your header, beautiful^^

Aww thank you so much, that’s so sweet!!^^

Warnings: public sex (?), fingering, squirting, teasing, and smut!!!lmk if I missed anything more!

As the day was winding down and the sun began to set, the ride back to the dorms provided a much-needed respite from the day's hustle and bustle. The car's engine hummed softly, blending seamlessly with the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. The peaceful atmosphere was a welcome break from the noise and chaos that you absolutely loved that came from the members. The soothing rhythm of raindrops gently tapping against the windows creates a peaceful and serene ambiance.

You sat alongside your girlfriend, Minji, when she reached out and clasped your hand with hers, interlocking your fingers together.

The members had already dozed off, exhausted from a long day of rehearsals and dance practices. Meanwhile, the manager drove the car, playing some soothing music in the background. The atmosphere in the car, peaceful and serene, causing the members to drift into a more profound state of sleep.

She smirked to herself, knowing that you had no idea of her next move. The same hand that intertwined your fingers minutes ago was now sliding down under your pants. Under your panties, earning a small gasp of shock, her fingertip teasing your slick. The fact that the manager was driving having no idea what was happening in the backseat. He was in his reality. Humming along to the tune and melody of the song. Gently swaying his head side to side, along with the addicting beat of the song.

Her fingers never stopped the teasing, bringing it up and down continuously, from your hole to your clit. Rubbing it quickly and the perfect amount of pressure. Then again rubbing the outer corner of your hole, before sliding towing digits in. The buttons and zipper of your pants restricting her fingers movements. You unbuttoned the buttons and unzipped the zipper. Giving her more access to your cunt.

Her slender digits sliding smoothly in and out of you, and her thumb rubbing your clit doubling the pleasure. You felt bad, too bad. Minji finger-fucking you while not even a meter away from her groups two oldest members, and their manager focusing on the road, having no idea what is happening in the back.

You dozed off from your thoughts when the pressure in your stomach started welling. Her fingers were hitting the right spot, and with every other thrust she curled them. She always knew how to use her fingers right, so right. With every passing second the tent in her pants grew and the knot in your stomach was close to snapping. The lewd sounds of your squelching pussy growing louder and louder. Luckily the rhythm of tge new song covered them up.

With one last curl of her digits, and one last ram of her fingers inside your cunt. You felt your juices run down your thighs. Damping your pants and Minjis fingers. A loud satisfied sigh fell from your lips, biting your inner cheek instantly. Looking over at Minji who was now looking out the window. Acting like she just didn’t just finger you and make you splash your juices all over her fingers. You looked down at her small bump that was across her pants. Once you are at the dorm, you need to help her get rid of it.

Managers voice made you snap out of your trance “we arrived!”.

The girls next to you were quick to wake up from their deep slumber, yawning and stretching their arms. Nobody knew or would ever know what just happened, it was a secret between you and minji!😉

#new jeans x fem reader #new jeans minji x reader #new jeans x reader #kim minji x female reader #kim minji x reader smut #kim minji x fem reader #kim minji x reader #kim minji smut #kim minji #minji x fem reader #minji smut #minji x reader #new jeans fluff #Kim minji fluff #minji fluff

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angelstate · 5 months

Text

“Broken People, Broken Things”

Broken!Simon x Kind!Reader

In times of need it's difficult for him to speak up, a nagging feeling on his chest, a sinful voice in his mind that tells him he doesn’t deserve the help he needs, that after going through so much in life he should've learned to not ask for help.

an alack sentiment filling his head, a loss of hope so profound that makes him feel hollow, no amount of soil can fill the hole in his chest. is terrifying, the absence of himself on his body, as if he can only be the shell of what he once was.

a stray dog who bites the hand that tries to feed him used to be hurt rather than helped. He knows it’s not all his fault, that life wasn’t kind to him from the very start but guilt still manages to spill through crevices, straining his sanity.

it doesn’t matter how much you try to pull him out of his self-depreciation state, his already too far gone into his own head, thoughts of self-hatred already engraved for him to be eaten alive in the middle of the night.

it’s a cannibalistic situation, being the consumer and the consumed, harming himself until he’s bleeding then wincing at the pain, licking the blood of his wound like a harmed animal, self-sufficient and self-destructive, infecting himself with more pain than he already was in, a cycle of torture with no easy ending to relieve him from the pressure in his chest.

in a world where people's opinion of you controls the way your life plays out, he understands clearly why he didn’t amount to anything worth praising, he can recognize that his life was meant to start and end in one painful motion, surrounded by nothing but despair.

He finds it comical, how life pulls his strings and leads him to suffering when he hasn’t recovered from past wounds, like the universe wants to see how clever he can get to salvage his worthless life, how badly he wants to survive despite having no motive to live.

“Are you listening to me?” you speak, voice soft and kind, pulling him out of his thoughts, like being pulled out of the ocean by a kind stranger who saw him struggle to swim, being helped to fill his lungs with air and not water. he looks down to meet your gaze, your doe eyes always holding a warmth to them, your smile of understanding and patience he doesn’t think he deserves.

“Sorry, I got distracted for a second” he answers, voice low and gruff, tongue rolling with a heaviness created by his thoughts, he should’ve listened to you speak rather than lose himself in his mind, you are the only normality his life still has, the only thing he doesn’t associate to a bad memory.

“s’okay..it’s late either way, I should let you go to sleep” you reply, sounding apologetic as you always do, looking down with what he can only guess to be embarrassment, you shouldn’t feel that way, you should never feel ashamed, he knows you never mean any harm, only acting on love and friendliness.

“I’m not tired yet” he lies, he is tired, his body is aching and begging to rest but his mind feels more active than ever, two entities disconnected and acting on their own accord, he wants to lay down and rest but he doesn’t want to leave, not yet…please, not right now.

He remembers when he was a kid, not older than 4 years old, and terrified of the night, fearing something was hiding in it, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, to kill him. His father's screams in the other room and objects crashing against the walls only fueled his fear, that when the sun goes down, the world knows no peace, that monsters come out and are searching to kill him, to kill his mother.

He never grew out of that, he knew monsters as he believed before weren’t real, but that doesn’t mean that a similar evilness isn’t around, a sort of plague, a parasite that spreads every time he blinks. nights for him didn’t get much better either, something about the quietness didn’t feel right, a wave of doom he couldn’t escape on his chest, he could only stare at the door of his room while waiting for the sun to rise, only then being able to sleep.

“I thought you would be tired, you worked so hard today” you comment, it had been mere seconds that passed until you spoke but it felt like ages, like the time slowed down, once again the universe toying with his sanity.

you always acknowledge his efforts, his actions, and his reasoning even if you are far off of what he intended, you’re always so nice to him, pretending the rumors and whispers about his past and intentions don’t reach your ears, that you aren’t aware of them when he can’t begin to remember the amount of times he heard about them, too many to count, that’s for sure.

“it was nothing…don’t worry” he answers, but oh how much you worry, concern filling your mind every time your eyes land on him, the tiredness in his eyes evident, his heavy steps a clear sign of his body tired of carrying his weight around. you wish you could lure him into his room, put him to sleep, be able to grant him a good night's rest.

Does he want to rest? Does he deserve to rest?

he feels numb at times, something lacking in his brain, stopping him from fully connecting and experiencing his feelings. It doesn't get any easier with every passing day, hours blend together and before he knows it he’s back by your side, your praises for working so hard and doing things he doesn’t find enjoyable for the sake of everyone else around him.

“Want a cup of tea?” you offer, tilting your head to the side, voice softer and sweeter, like one that people use to lure an animal close, trying to capture him and give him a home. It’s unsettling to him how good you make the idea of being welcomed in a home and not being terrified by the people living in it, like that’s a possibility, like if he lets you put him in that cage he won’t regret it.

“would appreciate it if you made me one” he replies, hesitant and doubtful even if you have never shown a sign of evilness, but anyone who offers him something must want something back, he knows it, he was taught that was how it worked. he doesn’t know what you want, what he can give you, and that terrifies him more, he doesn’t want to owe you anything.

“Okay” you say and leave the room with quiet steps, he doesn’t dare to move from his place, eyes focused on the place you were standing a few seconds ago, he’s alone in the room, being able to hear you open the kitchen door and move things around.

he knows you’re only a few feet away, in another room, the door open and your movements are skilled and soft, but you’re still a person in another room, and he is standing alone, in the darkness remaining because the lamp on the corner table does nothing but illuminate the objects that resting on the surface, everything else is dark.

everything else makes him remember when he was a kid and he was scared, he doesn’t want to be scared anymore.

He stumbles for a second, his foot taking a step back before he can realize he is moving, losing his balance and regaining it quickly. It feels like he’s falling apart from the inside out, a pillar inside of him deteriorating to the point he isn’t able to stand the weight of his past.

He doesn't know what to do, why it affects him so much your kindness and why now out of any other time he feels like he can’t stand the fact you’re in another room, you’re not his father, you're not dangerous, you’re not his mother, you’re not in danger. So why is he so worried he feels like suffocating?

you affect him in ways he doesn’t like, it makes him feel self-conscious about everything he's gone through in his life, he doesn't understand why you bring that out of him, you are not linked to his past, you’re part of the fresh start he created for himself because of guilt.

maybe you remind him of the kindness he was denied, you remind him of what he could've had if life had been any kinder to him when he needed it when he was just a kid, when he feared his father would kill his mother and him one night, in the middle of the dark with no one to save him.

God, you shouldn’t be kind to people like him, who know nothing but to tarnish everything and everyone around him, he is poison and you’re too pure to even associate with him, your kindness shouldn’t be wasted on him he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve you.

He hears something shattering and follows not even a second later a scream of pain that could only come from you, his eyes dart towards the door, the hallway dark and the winces of pain continue.

For a second, a small fraction of a second he doubts the legitimacy of your injury, thinking his memories are getting to him, making him imagine something that isn’t at all happening, then he hears you fall to the ground, sobs ripping through your mouth and he knows it’s real.

He leaves the room with heavy steps, he’s adjusted to the darkness of the place but moves around, turning lights on with a freakish fear, wanting to have a clear vision even though he’s going straight towards his fear.

He reaches the kitchen and enters, his eyes moving around until he spots you on the floor, curled into yourself, hand bloody and burned, the broken cup and hot tea not even a meter away from you as you sob, holding your injured hand out as to not further damage the wound.

the image brings back memories he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in, moving around till he reaches you, grabbing the wrist from your injured hand with a sudden move, making you scream for a second before realizing is him who grabbed you, his eyes are strained on the wound, your skin looks irritated and half of your hand is soaked in blood.

“What happened?” he asks, tugging at your wrist as if the pain will make you speak any faster, he isn’t the kindest but he doesn’t mean to be harsh either, the panic is just too much on his bones to not let it out somehow, you’re the only person he knows is able to stab yourself with his sharp edges and survive to forgive him.

“I slipped and the cup fell on my hand…tried cleaning it but I cut myself” you explain through sobs and whimpers, trying to get your hand out of his grasp but every movement makes the pain of your wound stronger.

It’s stupid, how you managed to get yourself to fuck up something as simple as a cup of tea, it wasn’t a hard task, the floor hadn’t been mopped since hours ago and yet you still slipped and injured yourself like a baby deer with unstable limbs.

you shake your head, embarrassment once again plaguing your mind, he doesn’t differ with you, he doesn’t think you shouldn’t be ashamed of your mistake, you should be, you are ashamed and he agrees with you but for different reasons.

He thinks you should be ashamed of not calling out his name for help, for sitting on the ground and crying instead of asking for his assistance, you deserve to be helped when injured, and you deserve to be taken care of despite having made this mistake before.

you can make the same error again and still deserve to be forgiven and aided.

Because you’re human, and most importantly you are you, the woman who rescues everyone from their troubles like they are trapped in a burning building, you do everything and anything to make sure the people you love are safe and happy.

He can begin to understand why you think he’s worth the effort, maybe it’s pity, maybe with just one look at him and his reputation you can make out everything there is to know about him, every past trauma, every scar, every emotional issue he can’t let go of.

“It's fine…we’re going to be fine” He says, looking into your eyes, a silent promise you can’t decipher, you nod, pretending that you didn’t notice he aligned himself with your struggle, making himself a part of the situation so you wouldn’t be alone.

he doesn’t want that sort of faith for you.

He softly guides you to stand up from the ground, moving you towards the sink, standing behind you as he turns on the faucet, holding your injured hand and letting the cold water wash away the blood and cool off your irritated skin.

his breathing brushes on your neck, and the warmth of his chest spreads across your entire body as traps you between the counter and himself, it doesn’t have any malice in his touch nor does he mean anything sexual by it.

It’s the worry that has his body glued to yours, the need to surround you so you won’t get injured again, as one hides with their siblings somewhere in the house when your parents begin fighting again, it’s something natural that comes to him, used to protect and preserve the people he didn’t want getting hurt.

“I'm sorry for screwing up your tea” you apologize with a soft whisper, eyes focused on the blood washing away, it doesn’t hurt a lot anymore, just a small sting that lingers a bit uncomfortably, tolerable but not ideal.

you’re truly apologetic, you knew he didn’t get much sleep, that resting wasn’t something he usually did so you had tried to help him but in the end, it seemed you only caused more panic in his soul, his pupils still blown out as he assisted you with cleaning the wound, as if he was doing it for more reasons than just kindness.

maybe he was, you don’t know his full story after all, maybe you remind him of someone, of something he had buried a long time ago that you brought to the surface again and left him with anxiousness on his chest and worry in his mind.

“s’alright… it’s too late for tea either way” he comforts you the best he can, the best his words and feelings will let him right now, he isn’t upset about the mistake you made, anyone can fall, anyone can break a cup, he didn’t care about that, messes get cleaned up, a cup of tea isn’t as valuable as your health, you should know that.

It's too late for tea, and it’s too late for the amount of tears that continue to pour out of your eyes even though the pain isn’t overwhelming anymore, this time is your feelings, your physical state has nothing to do with the tears falling out and you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“I wanted to help you…I'm sorry Si” you speak again, a small hiccup interrupting your words but you don’t let that stop you from telling him how sorry you are that you managed to mess up one of the only things you knew he liked, tea.

“wanna make another one then?” he asks you, offering to let you try again, a second opportunity he knew you deserved and wanted, and even though he wasn’t in the mood for tea or anything at all, he was going to drink what you want to make him, even if it’s the last thing he does.

you shake your head, sniffling as you close the faucet softly with your noninjured hand, looking down as neither of you moves away from each other or makes the attempt to gain some distance. You didn’t want to make it again, didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself and making the same mistake, this time in front of him.

“don’t want to screw up again” you answer him, voice low and full of shame. He understands you, maybe second chances aren’t always appreciated and he accepts that you don’t want to try again tonight.

He sees himself in you more than he wants to right now, more than he thought he ever would actually. He guessed that even someone like you could come from a not-so-pretty background, one where making mistakes is a sin that cannot be let go of without punishment.

different houses, different torture, same ending.

because of that, some part of him has to care for you, you deserve that, he cannot believe it enough even though he won’t say it out loud, don’t want to be caught by other people and have you end up being a outcast like him, you don’t deserve that, you don’t deserve that ending.

He makes you turn around softly so you’re facing him, his hands wiping away your tears with a gentle touch, he wished he could do more, turn back time and help you make the cup of tea, or go even further and stop whatever made you believe making a small mistake was such a high offense.

“Are you alright?” he asks, aware you aren’t but it feels cordial to make the question either way, giving you an opportunity to express more than you normally would, he knows you don’t talk enough about your feelings and it’s time you do.

“It’s not fair that you suffer so much and I can't even do something to help you” you reply and his heart stops for a second, the blood on his vein also coming to a halt as he feels himself being delirious of your words.

you did not hold such sentiment for him, nobody did, nobody has and nobody will. That was his life, a never-ending cycle of being looked down upon and having to do everything by himself because why would anyone want to help him or even try to? it’s stupid, you’re being stupid.

“Don’t say that darling..” he shushes you softly, his hands moving to caress your hair, he shakes his head, not wanting to believe you actually care, not wanting to get hope out of lies, it wouldn’t be pretty if he did and you broke his heart in the end.

“years of pain always lead up to isolation, you don’t deserve that” Captain Price once told him after a tough mission, and the words replay in his mind as he has you in his arms, the water mixed with droplets of blood on your hand staining the kitchen floor as he holds you gently.

He's living like his dead, and he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like he drags you to that same misery every time you’re around him but he doesn't want to let go of.

what is not devotion but to become a better person for the one you love?

“I appreciate your intention sweetheart…” he says as the silence from you eats him alive, wanting to make the ache on your chest disappear, he had never wanted to make you suffer, even unintentionally.

he is ready to repair everything broken so you won’t get harmed ever again, he’s ready to repair himself for you.

He had never wanted to become what he hates, a lover, a sentimental person, and yet as he finds himself becoming all of that and more, he can’t help but enjoy it, especially if it means never letting go of you.

Love wasn’t something he knew much of, never got the chance to learn when he was a kid and for a very long time he thought it wasn’t real, a mythical feeling everyone lied about existing so they wouldn’t be alone for the rest of their lives.

Your existence and kindness prove him wrong, your persistence in trying to make life easier for him, the way you laughed, the way you acted, your personality, your likes, and dislikes, everything about you showed him that love was real and he was experiencing it with you.

even if it took a lot of time for him to realize it he did now, and he loved you a lot, more than he would ever let on, more than any piece of literature could ever describe.

Tomorrow is a new day, and another cup of tea can be made, you cannot cry for what was never lost, and his gaze never falters from you so you don’t have to worry, he will always help you, you’re his air and he is yours.

Love cannot easily be tarnished and he swears he will never let anything happen to the one the two of you share, even if that is the only thing he does with his final breath.

(little reminder: I'm taking requests if you guys want me to write about something specific xx)

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batsgetscensored · 5 months

Text

"Can't sleep?"

"It's getting harder and harder..."

He shifts next to you, turning and pressing himself against your back, sliding an arm around you and squeezing tight around your upper arms and chest.

The action provides a nice amount of pressure that eases your thoughts somewhat.

"Any reason you can't sleep?"

He asks, pressing a kiss against the back of your neck, still holding you tight.

You sigh and answer,

"Stress probably. I feel like I'm not amounting to anything... like I'll never get a job- it's so difficult to get hired in today's economy... I'm scared, Leon.. fucking terrified that I'm a failure and I'm only twenty four-"

His grip tightens briefly, his gaze hardening but it's not something that you see.

"You're not a failure. You're so talented and people would be lucky to work alongside you... the economy is just fucked right now... employers expect too much from people they want fully experienced workers and people with degrees for jobs that otherwise would take a little bit of training for anyone to grasp. You're not a failure. The workforce is failing you. You don't need to have everything planned out- you don't even need to know what you want to do for the rest of your life. You just need to try."

Leon's grip softens as he finishes speaking, he is left watching you in the dark of the bedroom.

"Wow... so profound.."

You whisper, trying not to cry. He always knew what to say to you. Breathing just a little easier, you nod, and attempt to settle in, shutting your eyes as he chuckles.

"I do what I can."

#fears and thoughts 2 #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #kind of #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil leon #re leon #drabble

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joon4eva · 1 year

Text

closer — kim namjoon.

summary. in which namjoon returns home from tour.

genre. established relationship ✰ smut (18+ pls)

word count: ~4,158 words

tags. unprotected sex; oral sex (f. receiving); handjob; disgusting amount of fluff; sooo much teasing; aftercare.

masterlist

—

the first rays of the sun gradually made their way through the curtains casting a warm, golden light into the bedroom. you were lost in a profound slumber, enveloped by a serene and tranquil dream when an unexpected tickling sensation on your neck stirred you from your rest. a small, barely-there peck drew your attention to the area. then another. and another.

slowly coming back to the world of awareness, you discover, much to your delight, that it was none other than namjoon showering tender kisses all over your neck and arms. slowly, he traces his lips along the contour of your shoulder and places a series of tiny pecks on each part of your exposed skin. the warmth of his breath as he sighs contentedly against you entices you further into wakefulness.

his voice, still laden with traces of sleep, breathily whispers into your ear, "i missed you."

namjoon's lips proceeded to gracefully dance across your skin, akin to gentle butterflies fluttering around. they trace a tender path from your shoulder onto your collarbone before finally landing on the sensitive area just behind your earlobe. your breath catches in your throat as he murmurs against your skin - each enunciated word sending shivers cascading down your spine.

"morning, sleepyhead," he murmurs softly with a loving tone that began to ease you out of sleep even more.

as namjoon presses his warm naked torso against yours, you couldn't help but marvel at how incredibly soothing his touch was. his presence was like a furnace, filling the room with an almost tangible heat. his body curved around yours with perfect symmetry and his arms were securely wrapped around your waist.

even though you enjoy every second of namjoon's gentle affections, the growing warmth ultimately became too much for your groggy state. whining softly from a mixture of discomfort and longing for more unencumbered intimacy, you shift restlessly in his embrace.

namjoon's sudden silence takes you by surprise. he pulls away slightly – just enough to gauge your reaction – and looks at you with eyes full of hurt and confusion. "after all that time i spent away on tour," he says defensively, sulking as he frowns at the sight of the distance between you two, "you're really going to reject me now?"

biting back a small grin, you turn on your side and reach out tentatively to cup his cheek gently in your hand. "no one's rejecting you," you murmur softly. "but it's just really hot in here." you couldn't help but let out a snort-laugh at his exaggerated sulkiness and reach out to affectionately tousle his unkempt hair – an action that never fails to elicit an endearing scrunching of his nose that you loved so much.

the corners of his mouth gradually curve into a smirk before he crosses his arms stubbornly across his chest. "well, if that's all it is…" he sighs theatrically, though you notice playfulness sparking in his eyes once more as he adjusts the sheets, allowing cooler air to circulate between your entwined bodies. as namjoon leans back and allows you some space, you study his familiar features – the sincerity in his gaze, the soft curve of his lips, all painting a picture of a man who radiated love and warmth. "there. better?"

the moment you give him a nod of approval, namjoon smiles warmly and pulls you back into his embrace. this time, with the sheets adjusted, it's much more comfortable. as your bodies meld back together, you intertwine your legs with his, pulling him as close as possible.

slowly, almost hesitantly, you lift your head to meet his gaze, and time seems to pause just before your lips touch.

your eyes flutter shut as your noses brush against one another, and the gentle pressure of his mouth against yours is like a taste of heaven. the kiss begins tenderly, understated but full of emotions that words could never express. it deepens gradually as the fire within both of you ignites; namjoon threads his fingers through your hair with a firm yet delicate grip, pulling you closer and making the intensity of the kiss grow.

a soft sigh escapes from between your lips as namjoon's large, warm hands find all the spots that make your pulse race – stroking along the curve of your hip, dipping into the small of your back, and brushing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. every touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake, spreading goosebumps across your skin like wildfire. soon enough, the sweet passion between you escalates – a subtle ache surging through your body as you feel his length harden against your thigh. the weighty evidence of his desire only serves to coax a quiet moan from you in response. namjoon himself is hardly silent, which is something you never get tired of. the sounds he produces are like music to your ears – first soft sighs and ragged breaths escalating to eager gasps and throaty moans. you can't deny how much they turn you on; there's just something primal about hearing his desire so plainly laid bare in the sounds he makes that it sends shivers down your spine and straight to your core.

his exploring hands drift lower until they reach the waistband of your panties. with a teasingly slow motion, his fingers slip beneath the fabric, gradually daring to venture further. his touch is featherlight, teasingly gentle as he traces your folds.

a soft gasp escapes your lips as his fingertips make contact with your slick arousal. his touch is both tender and firm, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow circles around your clit. namjoon's touch is a delicate dance, his fingers caressing and exploring, mapping out the contours of your most sensitive areas. he pays attention to every subtle reaction, his touch adjusting and intensifying with each trembling breath and hitched moan that spills from your lips. with each revolution, he applies just enough pressure to drive you to the edge, only to pull back and leave you yearning for more.

"does that feel good? tell me, baby," namjoon whispers softly but demanding into your ear. his deep voice reverberates through your trembling body.

the overwhelming pleasure clouds your thoughts, making it difficult to string together coherent words. despite this challenge, you manage to breathe out through a lust-induced haze: "yes… yes, namjoon. fuck, so good." your hand instinctively reaches for his arm—fingers digging into his skin as if driven by primal force—to anchor yourself in the present moment. just as you feel yourself teetering on the precipice, he somehow senses your impending release and withdraws his hand, leaving you gasping for more.

wide-eyed, you meet namjoon's gaze, your desire mirrored in his darkened eyes. wordlessly, namjoon brings his slick, glistening fingers to your slightly parted lips. parsing the unspoken invitation immediately, you eagerly take his offered fingers between your own parted lips and indulge in taste of your arousal. your tongue swirls languidly around his digits as if drawing patterns against them—eliciting deep groans from namjoon that hint at just how much he's enjoying this interlude as much as you are.

the fleeting moment of stillness is suddenly broken as namjoon's lips forcefully collide with yours and his tongue eagerly makes its way into your mouth.

breaking the kiss, he swiftly pulls your his shirt up and over your head, his gaze fixated on your exposed breasts, your nipples tantalizingly perked from the cool air. namjoon's lips trail a scorching path down your body, hands squeezing your breasts while his lips leave a trail of wet kisses and nips. with every inch he traverses, the heat between your thighs intensifies, aching for his touch. with a flick of his fingers, he effortlessly removes your panties, discarding them carelessly on the floor. his hands guide your thighs apart, and he settles himself between them, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh.

with a slow, deliberate motion, his tongue emerges from between his lips, wetting them in a teasing display as his gaze locks with yours. then, his tongue ventures forward, delicately tracing along the folds. he explores your entrance, his tongue circling the perimeter, before plunging deep inside you, eliciting a moan of pleasure that echoes through the room.

"namjoon—," you gasp, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair, urging him to continue. your fingers curl in the sheets as his tongue ventures deeper. namjoon manipulates his probing tongue expertly—flicking, swirling, occasionally letting it linger—masterfully alternating between subtle grazes and intense pressure as if he's attuned to the rhythm of your pleasure. his ministrations are both a slow, torturous tease and an intense rush of ecstasy.

"p-please, namjoon," you mewl. you writhe beneath him, your hips instinctively rising to meet his mouth, seeking more. namjoon's hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he continues his relentless assault on your senses. he knows your body so well, every secret spot and hidden desire, and he uses that knowledge to drive you closer to the edge.

with every stroke of his tongue, he brings you to the brink of climax, only to ease back and prolong the pleasure. he teases your entrance again, his tongue dipping inside briefly before returning to the swirling motions on your clit. the sensation is maddening, a delicious torment that pushes you to the edge of sanity.

incoherent babbling spills from your lips, fragmented words and moans blending together in a symphony of pleasure.

in a moment of lucidity amidst the dizzying sensations flooding your body, you manage to whimper out a plea to namjoon: "wait… please wait. i-i don't want to come just yet." confused by your request and with a glistening trail of your arousal lingering on his chin and nose, he gazes up at you with questioning eyes as he continues to grip your thighs firmly in place.

"i want… i need…," your voice quavers with an overwhelming mixture of emotions as you confess, "i want you inside of me."

namjoon's eyes widen for a second before a grin spreads across his face. a deep chuckle escapes him at your admission; the sound reverberates through you like waves in a calm sea. maintaining eye contact with you, he offers a teasing reply: "now who said that i couldn't give my baby multiple orgasms?" his fingers leave gentle trails on the inside of your thigh, embodying an ironic innocence given the serious and sinful nature of his words.

consciously ensuring that he remains at that tantalizing edge and not allowing you the full release just yet, he plants tender yet frustratingly sweet wet kisses on the delicate skin of your inner thighs along the path to your glistening core. it takes all of your willpower not to squirm under his touch, your body yearning for the climax that he holds just out of reach.

"joon," you whine, the sound escaping your lips in a breathy plea. you bite your lip and paw at the sheets, your fingers curling and releasing in a desperate attempt to find some semblance of control. his chuckle deepens while a sly grin unfolds upon his lips, clearly enjoying the effect he holds over you.

as you teeter on the brink once more, he lowers his head again, his lips latching around your swollen clit. the moment his tongue intensifies its assault, sucking gently and lapping at your sensitive bud, your entire being trembles with pleasure. the sensations wash over you in waves, igniting a delicious ache deep within your core.

but namjoon isn't satisfied with just his mouth. his hand slides between your parted thighs, his finger poised at your entrance. slowly, he eases his finger inside, the slick warmth of your walls enveloping him. as he plunges his finger deeper, a moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him.

his finger curls inside you, expertly stroking against your velvety walls, searching for that perfect spot that will drive you wild. his tongue never ceases its fervent assault on your clit, alternating between delicate flicks and firm, relentless licks. the combined sensations send electric jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, coiling your muscles tighter and tighter.

your breathing becomes erratic, your moans growing louder and more urgent. the intensity builds within you, threatening to burst free at any moment.

with one final, tantalizing swirl of his tongue and a perfectly timed curl of his finger, he sends you hurtling over the edge. a strangled cry escapes your throat, your body convulsing in the throes of a mind-shattering orgasm.

namjoon, ever attentive, watches you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. he revels in the sight before him, your body quivering with pleasure, your eyebrows drawn together and your lips parted as you pant in ecstasy. the raw, uninhibited beauty of the moment leaves him momentarily breathless.

as the last remnants of your climax ripple through your body, leaving you trembling and breathless, namjoon slowly withdraws his finger and eases himself up, a triumphant and satisfied smile gracing his lips. crawling back up your trembling body, namjoon captures your lips in a searing kiss, feeling the taste of your arousal.

as your body gradually starts to settle, namjoon gently pulls away from the kiss, gazing upon your face with tender concern. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before planting a soft peck against your forehead, as if attempting to smooth out the slight creases that formed. his eyes twinkle with warmth as he lets out a breathy chuckle before asking, "okay?"

you hum in response to his question. "want more, though." as your gaze drifts downward, you can't help but notice the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric of namjoon's shorts. a smile plays on your lips as you lower your hand, deliberately palming him through the material.

namjoon inhales sharply, his eyes widening with surprise. a low groan escapes his lips as he leans into your touch, his hips involuntarily rocking against your hand.

encouraged by his reaction, you slip your hands beneath the waistband of his shorts and underneath the soft fabric of his boxers. you skillfully lower the fabric, throwing it haphazardly to the floor, exposing his throbbing shaft to your hungry gaze. namjoon's length stands proudly with a bead of glistening pre-cum adorning its tip. the warmth of his skin greets your touch, your fingers wrapping around his length. a sharp intake of breath escapes namjoon's lips as your hand starts to stroke him, your grip firm yet gentle.

his eyes flutter closed, his head tilting back slightly as a low groan escapes his parted lips.

moans escape both of you as he aligns himself with your entrance, slowly pushing inside. you gasp at the delicious stretch, feeling him bottom out within you, his size filling you completely. whimpering his name, you cling to him desperately, the world around you fading into blissful oblivion.

hungering for more closeness, your lips meet namjoon's in a feverish kiss. breathless moans fill the room as both of you lose yourselves to the passionate embrace. fingers entwined in one another's hair, needing and wanting more; it's impossible to tell where one of you begins and the other ends.

"fucking love you," namjoon breathlessly murmurs between heated gasps for air, punctuating each word in rhythm with every powerful thrust of his hips. "i've wanted this…wanted you, for so long."

with each calculated movement, namjoon hits that specific spot within you that makes your vision blur with pleasure, the sensations sending bright, dazzling specks of light dancing before your eyes. the intensity of it all causes tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as you cry out involuntarily.

unable to hold back any longer, you finally respond to namjoon's confession, raw emotion coursing through every last syllable that leaves your mouth as the words tumble out. "love you too, baby. so, so much," you whisper, breathless and in awe.

as if spurred on by your response, namjoon reacts by tightening his grip around your legs. he lifts them gently and wraps them securely around his waist before steadily increasing the force of his thrusts. he firmly pins your arms above your head, weaving his fingers delicately through yours. this change in angle allows him to penetrate even deeper, intensifying the sensations that ripple through your core.

your eyes flutter shut in the midst of overwhelming pleasure, but namjoon's voice, thick with desire, draws you back from the brink.

"look at me, baby," he coos, his voice dripping with desire.

his intense gaze pulls you back from the abyss of pleasure, and you obediently open your eyes, meeting his hungry stare. "there we go. so beautiful like this," he murmurs, "so responsive, so eager for me."

effortlessly, his hand slides between your entwined bodies, fingers deftly seeking out your swollen clit. moving with unhurried precision, he delicately traces circles around the ultra-sensitive nub with the pads of his fingers while planting a trail of warm, wet kisses along the curve of your neck. your other intertwined hand is still clasped tightly together, fingers turning white from your vice-like grip.

as if namjoon knows exactly what buttons to push to get a reaction out of you, he continues to speak. whispering dirty words of encouragement and praise that only serve to drive you closer to that coveted edge. his voice is smooth as velvet but dripping with sin as he urges you on, "that's it, baby." he gauges how close you are when he asks with a breathy tone in his voice, "you're so close, aren't you? you going to come for me?"

in response, you nod furiously between shallow breaths and bite down on your lip to stifle a moan – the sheer amount of pleasure makes speaking almost impossible at this point. without any conscious decision on your part, your hips begin to buck against him. in tandem with his deep thrusts and precise movements against your clit, a cascade of moans and whimpers escape both of your lips. you can feel the familiar coil of release tightening within you, ready to unravel.

and with a final thrust and swirl of namjoon's fingers, you cry out his name as your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper. namjoon's body tenses, and a deep, guttural moan rips from his throat. in that moment, you feel his release, warm and pulsing, painting your insides.

then stillness.

the room fills with deep breaths and the warmth emanating from your connected bodies. namjoon collapses onto you and immediately buries his face into the crook of your neck, his chest heaving with exertion.

you become aware once more of the sensations around you: the smell of sweat and cologne that fill your nostrils and the sounds of punctuated breaths intermingling in the quiet air. your limbs still wrapped securely around him—arms encircling his shoulder blades like a hug while legs retain their position firm around his waist—you bask in the shared afterglow.

heavy breaths mingle, and your heartbeats gradually slow, bringing you back to the reality of the room.

after a moment, you feel the rise and fall of his chest against your skin as he lifts his head to look at you. his eyes soften as they meet yours, and he can't help but smile as he breathes out a simple "hi."

you can't help but shyly giggle at the simple greeting, feeling a wave of love for this man wash over you as you reply with a matching, "hi."

he brings his lips down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips - each touch impossibly gentle in contrast to what had transpired moments prior.

"when did you get back? i didn't even hear you come in."

namjoon grins before explaining, "the company van dropped me off around 4 am. i didn't want to wake you." feigning annoyance but unable to suppress your grin, you reply with a teasing tone, "well, you should have."

eventually, namjoon gathers enough strength to carefully withdraw from you. once free from your embrace, he pushes himself up off the bed and strides across the room. your gaze falls upon his strong naked back – toned muscles rippling and glistening with beads of perspiration. you feel your face rush with warmth as your eyes hungrily trace his form, leaving your heart racing even more than before.

he returns promptly with a warm damp towel slung across his shoulder, a water bottle, and fresh sheets.

with gentle hands, he begins to clean you up as you take turns having sips of water. the soothing touch of the fabric against your skin elicits a contented sigh from your lips. thanking him as he finishes cleaning you, namjoon suggests, "you should go to the bathroom while i change the sheets, love." you pout and let out a playful whine, feeling too comfortable to move.

he shoots you a skeptical eyebrow lift as if daring you to contradict him further but conceding to your unwillingness to move, begins to reach around you, determined to carry you to the bathroom despite your resistance. upon his first touch, a sudden surge of laughter and half-hearted protest arises, and you squeal in response to his intentions. "i can go by myself!" you manage between bubbles of laughter.

with a playful swat to your naked behind, namjoon pulls back and encourages you onward. you wobble slightly under his touch, as the surprising sensation momentarily sets your legs off balance. namjoon laughs at your reaction, rushing forward to catch you before you stumble further.

"careful there," he teases with a glint in his eye, his hands firmly supporting you. you shoot him a playful glare in response.

"you think this is funny?" you retort, feigning seriousness as a giggle betrays your attempted facade. "you're definitely going to pay for that."

namjoon kisses your temple lovingly. "i look forward to it."

once you reach the bathroom, namjoon steadies you and places another tender kiss on your forehead before retreating to change the sheets. you take a moment to pee and freshen up before making your way back to the bedroom. the sound of crisp linen being smoothed over the mattress drifts through the slightly ajar door.

as you enter, you find namjoon diligently finishing up with the fresh sheets. his naked form is a sight to behold, causing a faint flutter in the pit of your stomach.

namjoon turns to you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you returning. "all done," he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

you playfully stick out your tongue. "you're so efficient," you remark, earning a chuckle from namjoon.

once you're settled back into the soft embrace of fresh sheets, namjoon joins you, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

lying down next to each other in the scented sheets, you both turn to face one another, allowing your eyes to lock on each other's.

namjoon brushes a strand of hair away from your face, studying its texture between his fingertips before leaning in to press a gentle kiss against your lips. it's slow and tender before it gradually begins building into something more passionate and fiery.

he breaks the kiss momentarily, resting his forehead against yours as both of you pause to catch your breaths. "so how are we planning on making me pay?"

a grin spreads across your face as your hands glide downwards toward his torso playfully. "well," you muse innocently at first with slight mischief coloring your tone, "there are always massages if we want to take things slow." you let silence briefly fill space between your words before adding with a sly grin: "but i think we can be more creative than that – don't you agree?"

namjoon's laughter rings through the room. "i'm always up for a little creativity."

feeling a slight shiver run down your spine due to a mix of exhaustion and slowly cooling sweat, you realize just how spent you truly are. however, the warmth of namjoon's embrace keeps the chill at bay and provides a sense of security that envelops you like a protective blanket. as if sensing your need for further comfort, he pulls the sheets up and around the two of you, the soft fabric cocooning your sated bodies.

as you lay there nestled against him, namjoon guides your head to rest on his chest – your ear pressed against his warm skin, allowing you to hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. his arm remains draped protectively around you, while he gently traces soothing patterns with his fingertips over your exposed back and shoulders, massaging away any lingering tension. feeling your eyelids grow heavy with sleep, you fight to keep them open. however, namjoon reassures you with a soft whisper.

"go ahead and sleep, my love. i'll be right here when you wake up."

#hi tumblr shadowbanned me so here's a repost <3 #kim namjoon #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #kpop imagines

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

Text

Shrinking Violet - Part II (Rhysand x Reader)

Here's Part II of this (finally)! Took me a while but I got there. I really hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: SMUT ✨🌶️

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

There was a female in Rhysand’s lap.

A pretty female, with long, cascading blonde hair and eyes like a cerulean sky.

You didn’t care.

You’d seen her around the Hewn City before; males and females alike tended to turn her way when she passed. Tended to gape at the beauty in their midst.

You didn’t care.

And now she’d found her way into the High Lord’s arms.

You did not care.

Except that you obviously did.

You hadn’t seen Rhys since his last visit two months before. And that was fine — that was normal. The whole time you’d known him, he’d always dipped in and out, sometimes absent for months and months at a time. Sometimes visiting every few weeks. It had always been the case, and it had never bothered you before.

But it was his words from the last time that had stuck with you. Like a damn thorn in your side.

Come back to Velaris with me.

No.

Come back to Velaris with me.

No.

Come back to Velaris with me.

No.

He’d never said anything like that before. And, of course, you’d saved face — had joked and jested to brush off the weight of those words.

But they’d left you in a strange headspace. Left you wondering, for two months, if he’d meant them. Why he’d suddenly said them after years of the two of you fooling around.

So you hadn’t had even nearly as much confidence tonight as the night you’d worn a dress to match the shade of his eyes. You’d found yourself unsure, nervous.

You didn’t like being unsure and nervous.

And then you’d spotted Rhysand on his throne. And the female — Nyrinn, her name was — on his lap. And your nerves twisted into…something else.

The night wore on, your tolerance for being there dwindling by the second. Especially as Nyrinn’s giggles seemed to grow louder and more shrill as time rolled on, and no amount of wine could drown them out.

After two hours, you decided you’d had enough.

You drained your glass and set it aside, gathering up the skirts of your gown. You only attended these things because your father was a high-standing member of the Hewn City council.

But you’d shown your face — there was no rule that said you had to linger.

So you’d hastily exited the throne room, ignoring the feeling of gazes burning into your back. You didn’t care who noticed as you began to make your way back to your residence.

It was only when you were back within the walls of your opulent home that you realised how truly restless you were. You’d torn off your gloves and called to your maidservant that you didn’t wish to be disturbed, before skulking up to your bedroom with an ever-growing twist in your gut.

You didn’t want to read, or journal, or play an instrument, or think. You didn’t want to sleep or to be awake. You wanted…

You wanted to scream.

Ridiculous, for Rhysand to have such a profound effect on you. You were not a person who got churned up over males. You were not a female who simpered and sulked in her bedroom after being ignored.

But it wasn’t just that he’d ignored you, no. It was the point he’d blatantly made, by seating that female on his lap.

Come back to Velaris with me. Such pretty, useless words.

It was in pure, unwanted frustration that you tore your dress off and strode into your bathroom. You ran your bath far too hot, simply wanting the burn to take your mind off the High Lord. Pouring a concoction of oils into the water, you lowered yourself in, hissing in satisfaction at both the heat and the scent. You were relaxing blissfully in the luxury of a sunken tub whilst Rhysand sat with a frilly, giggling female on his lap—

No. You would not think about him any longer.

You closed your eyes, resting your head back against the tub and savouring the feeling of the hot water blanketing your skin. You took slow, deep breaths, allowing your body to loosen up, your muscles to relax—

Come back to Velaris with me.

Block it out, block it out, block it out.

My father used to tell me to stay far away from you.

Breathe. Breathe.

I think about you, you know.

Come back to Velaris with me.

You launched up in the bath, water spraying as you growled in frustration and grabbed the closest object — a soap bottle — and hurled it across the room.

You hated this. Being mixed up and restless. Being unsure of where you stood. How dare Rhysand plant such thoughts in your head. How dare he make you feel like this.

It wasn’t part of your game. It was always supposed to have been a game.

Sick of your bath already, you climbed out of the tub and towelled yourself off. Your skin felt too tight on your bones, too restricting. You threw your hair up, grabbed your pretty little robe from where it hung on the back of the door, and tied it around yourself, wandering back through to your bedroom.

“Do you always spend your bath time launching things across the room?”

You started, a yelp leaving you as you whipped around—

And found Rhysand lounging on your bed like it was his. One leg crossed over the other. Arms propped behind his head.

He surveyed you — the thin, silk robe that barely covered you — and his full lips twitched into a smirk. “Oh, that’s positively indecent.”

You clenched your jaw, pulling the robe tighter around yourself. “What are you doing?”

He tilted his head up to the ceiling. “I was trying to write a poem, but I don’t think I have a calling for it. I’m trying to rhyme with gyrating—”

“No, Rhysand. What are you doing in my room? Or my house?”

“As I said — trying my hand at poetry. Vibrating? High rating?”

“I did not invite you.” You marched over to the door. “Get out.”

Only then did he meet your gaze, and he finally sat up on your bed—but made no further move. He propped himself up casually. “I’m your High Lord. I invited myself.”

“Well uninvite yourself. Leave.”

You didn’t like the assessing gaze with which he looked at you. Like your tone and demeanour intrigued him, and he was trying to puzzle out its source. His eyes narrowed, head falling into a tilt, and he stated rather pointlessly, “You’re annoyed.”

Yes. “Why should I be annoyed?”

“You tell me. You couldn’t have left the throne room quick enough.”

“I didn’t realise that you’d noticed my presence.”

Rhysand’s eyes flashed at your response, the swimming violet shifting into a churning sea of something deeper — and you could have cursed yourself. You knew you’d shown your hand and exposed the bitter thoughts that were pawing at your mind.

His lips kicked up into a smirk. “I’m sorry. Did I not pay you enough attention?”

You turned to your dressing table, taking a seat in front of the mirror. “I don’t care what you do, Rhysand, unless it involves you leaving.”

“I don’t think that’s strictly true, is it?”

You didn’t deign to respond. You stared at your flushed reflection, wishing you could wipe away your terse expression as easily as the makeup you’d painted on earlier that evening. You didn’t want to be this affected by him. You wanted the ease of your game.

But your mind kept dredging up that image of Nyrinn on Rhys’s lap. And the rage that filled you was certainly not in keeping with the games that you played.

When it was clear to Rhys that you had nothing more to say to him, he finally rose from your bed. You waited to hear the click of the door, or feel the telltale sensation of him winnowing out of the room, but he instead traipsed around the bed until he was hovering behind you, close enough that the heat of his body seemed to permeate your thin robe.

“I’ve never seen your home before.” He stated unexpectedly, his fingers beginning to toy with a pin in your hair.

You shrugged, the movement causing your robe to slip down your shoulder. “Why would you have done? You don’t need to see my home to fuck me. Empty corridors were enough. I wonder if Nyrinn would echo that sentiment.”

Rhys’s hand paused, hovering in your hair. “I’m starting to think you’re jealous.”

You wanted to scowl. Were you jealous? Yes. No. You didn’t know.

You knew you didn’t want to be. You knew that you didn’t like what that must mean. That Rhysand had power over you that went beyond that of a High Lord and his subject. Power over your heart.

It was just…the words he had spoken the last time you’d seen him. They had been weighty and thrilling and terrifying. You’d turned them over in your mind every night since.

And Rhysand boldly sitting with another female on his lap was a message to you and you only. One that screamed, I didn’t mean what I said.

But that was fine, wasn’t it? You’d never promised each other anything beyond finding pleasure in each other’s bodies. Rhys owed you nothing. You owed him nothing.

You straightened yourself up in the mirror, schooling your expression into neutrality. “Of course I’m not jealous.”

Rhys studied you in the mirror for a moment. And then his fingers drifted from your hair, down to that shoulder that had been exposed by your robe. The pads of his fingers brushed your skin gently, and you gritted your teeth, trying not to enjoy the feeling.

“No?” Rhys hummed deeply. “I’m sensing some anger.”

“I’m not angry.”

His head dipped. His lips replaced his fingers, skating over your shoulder. “How about you show me how utterly not angry you are?”

Brat. He was such a fucking brat. Such a swaggering, entitled High Lord who had the world at his feet and damn well knew it. It only enraged you more.

And what you should have done with that rage was turf him out of your home and throw him on his ass, High Lord or no. You should have put your foot down and not allowed him to seduce his way out of this, whether he owed you nothing or not.

But this…the honeyed, suggestive remarks…this was territory you were familiar with. This was yours and Rhys’s thing. This was where you felt comfortable.

And so you would curse yourself for it later. But you turned your head to the side, your face now inches from Rhys’s.

He paused at the close proximity — the promise of your lips brushing. His breath hitched in his throat, and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, his mouth on yours—

You stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Get on the bed.”

You felt his body still beneath your hand. And you heard his throat bob as he swallowed. And when he pulled away, you could have sworn you glimpsed his hands trembling.

You didn’t care to think too much about it. You rose from your dressing stool, toying with the tie on your robe. Rhys watched you, slowly walking backwards as he did. When his legs hit the back of the bed, he let himself fall.

“Lie back.” You ordered.

He glanced at you once. And then scooted back, settling into the pillows. And despite the fact that he was High Lord…the most powerful High Lord, and the most important person within this mountain…he just looked like the same old Rhysand that you had always known. Beautiful. Dark. Resplendent amongst the pretty drapes of your huge bed.

And he looked strangely vulnerable as you climbed over him. Straddled him. His hands seem to inch towards your hips, but you shook your head once.

“Place them above your head.” You said.

Rhys blinked, a shudder of breath escaping him. The two of you had fucked in all sorts of places in the Hewn City, on all sorts of surfaces. You’d exchanged filthy words and pushed a little further with every round of your game you played.

But this was different. And judging by the heat that quickly filled Rhysand’s eyes…he was ravenous for it.

You were deliberately slow as you tugged the tie from your robe. Rhys tracked every tiny movement, and his throat bobbed as you grabbed both of his wrists in one hand, and used the tie to fasten them to the bed.

“I am not jealous or angry, Rhysand.” Such a gods-damned liar you were. “But my evening did not play out how I hoped it would. And I don’t like not being in control.”

His eyes watched you. Watched as you checked the knot you’d tied, before your hands slowly moved to rest on his chest. “And how did you wish for the evening to play out?”

“I would have liked another round of our game.” Your fingers toyed with the top button on his shirt. “But perhaps you’ve tired of me. Perhaps you’d rather play with Nyrinn.”

“I could never tire of you. You want control? Take it. It’s yours.”

There was a mild taunting in his tone that suggested he perhaps didn’t believe you to have the nerve. He was High Lord, after all, and you just the daughter of a reputable male in his court. You had an easy, luxurious life, void of risks, perhaps even of excitement.

But if he suspected you lacked nerve, well — he was seriously, gravely mistaken.

Without the tie, your robe had parted. You were done with it completely.

You whipped it off, tossing it behind you without a glance. Rhysand’s eyes fell to your now naked body, his pupils blown. He swallowed, and his wrists gave a jerk against the restraints you’d tied. They didn’t budge an inch.

He let out a frustrated huff. “I want to touch you—”

“Uh-uh.” You pressed a finger against his lips. “You said the control was all mine.”

“It is.” His teeth gritted. “It is.”

With a smile, you applied a small amount of pressure to his lips. Just enough for them to naturally part. Rhys’s eyes were firmly on yours as you slipped your finger into his mouth. He immediately sucked, his tongue flicking against your skin.

“Here’s how this is going to go, Rhysand.” You tugged your finger back, smiling at the whine he emitted. “Honesty will be rewarded. I’ll ask you questions, and I expect truthful answers. If you’re honest, you’ll get a prize.”

His throat bobbed. “What kind of prize?”

“The best kind.”

“And how will you know whether or not I’m being honest?”

“Well,” your lips twitched. You dragged your hand down your chest, skirting the turgid peaks of your breasts. “I have to trust that you’ll be smart enough to be honest. Because a single lie comes with a penalty you would not appreciate.”

Torturously slow, his heated violet gaze followed the direction of your hand, still descending the length of your body. His voice was rough, blunt, as he bit out, “What’s the penalty.”

“The penalty,” your fingers finally reached that sweet spot between your thighs, and you dragged a finger through your wetness, biting your lip, “is me leaving you tied up here, while I go and find another male to sate my needs. Perhaps one of your handsome friends. Cassian, or Azriel—”

He jerked against the restraints, a snarl rumbling deep in his chest. His eyes flashed a shade darker.

“Easy, High Lord.” You smirked. Dragged that finger back up. “All you have to do is swear your honesty. Do you swear it?”

His gaze was fully clasped on your finger now coated in your juices. He jerked again. “Let me taste you.”

“Do. You. Swear—”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. You have my word. I will be completely, hideously honest, even if it’s humiliating for me—”

His words were cut short as you shoved your slicked finger between his lips. They immediately fastened around it, and he sucked your wetness greedily, a satisfied moan breaking from him.

“Such a good High Lord.” You hummed. Your lips twitched as his hips bucked, his arousal pressing against you. “Let’s start with an easy question, shall we?”

His only response was to meet your gaze head-on, and suck your finger harder. There couldn’t possibly be anything left for him to taste, and yet he suckled and licked like a male parched.

“Question one.” Your fingers returned to the buttons on his shirt, poised to pop them open. “What is your favourite colour?”

Rhys seemed genuinely perturbed by having to part his lips. You quickly snatched your hand back, stroking a wet trail down his chin, his neck.

He answered without hesitation, “The colour of your eyes, of course.”

So he was going to play nice. Good. Your smile widening, you began to dutifully pop open those buttons on his shirt. Rhys’s chest seemed to heave with every touch.

He watched you closely as you reached the bottom, parting his shirt to expose his tan, muscled torso. He tugged at the restraints again, as though silently asking you to remove the shirt entirely. Your reprimanding glance had him promptly falling still.

You kept your gaze on his. “Question two. Another easy one. What were you thinking when you first glimpsed me in that violet dress?”

You could see the desire that crossed his face, his thoughts flitting back to that very night. That very dress. “I was thinking that the Mother had gifted me all my Winter Solstices at once, and that I am a very lucky male.”

So silver-tongued. But you rewarded him, all the same, by brushing your lips through that alley between his pectorals. And down the planes of his stomach. And down. Rhys grunted just as you pulled away.

“Next question.” You hummed, moving down his body still. Your own entirely naked body was on fire, begging to be touched, and you knew Rhys could scent how dripping you were between your legs.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. His nostrils flared, his throat bobbing.

“The last time you were here,” you said, “you told me that you think about me. Is that true?”

His eyes fluttered shut, yet he said nothing. You didn’t take your gaze away from his face as you skirted your fingertips over the hard bulge pressing through his breeches in a barely-there caress. Rhys immediately grunted.

“Is it true, Rhysand?”

“Yes.” He breathed. “It’s true.”

The words…they seemed to ignite something in your body; a scorching, desirous flame. You tried to shove it down, to snuff it out. To focus on the game.

Your hands reached the laces and buttons of his breeches. You tugged on one, two, and then stopped. “What is it you think about?”

“I think about your pretty little cunt.” He was like an animal with its prey as he watched you tug at another lace. “About the way it squeezes my cock right before you come.” Another. “I think—”

He cut himself off abruptly — as though he’d been about to blurt a thought he wasn’t quite ready to verbalise. It stroked at your curiosity, your ears pricking up.

“Honesty is rewarded, Rhysand.” You’d reached that final lace, pinching it between your fingers. Your other hand teased the sliver of skin exposed by the parting flap on his breeches.

A noise sounded deep in Rhys’s throat, and his head fell back. “I think about it being you who sits on my lap in that throne room. In front of everybody. Everybody knowing that I’m the one who gets to bury my cock in you. That nobody gets to touch what’s mine.”

A shiver coursed right through you. Save face, your self-preserving mind screamed at you, don’t let him see what his words do to you.

But gods above, they did a great many things to you. Your skin felt tight, hot. You wanted to drag your hands down your body, to touch yourself and abate the roaring need between your thighs.

The laces undone, only three buttons were what was keeping Rhys’s breeches on his hips. You popped the first button open.

“That seems awfully selfish.” You responded to his confession. “Did no one ever teach you how to share, High Lord?”

His teeth gritted. “I can share.” He hissed. “But I won’t share you. Never you.”

Heavy, weighty words.

The impact of them could have bowled you over. Could have sent you running from this room, from him—

But you didn’t want to share, either. And that was what this was about, wasn’t it? Beneath the need, the arousal, it was jealousy that drove you. Jealousy that encouraged your fingers to undo those final two buttons and part Rhysand’s breeches completely.

His cock was pressing hard against his underwear, and you inhaled his pleasant scent. Always citrusy. Always intoxicating.

Did you dare ask the next question on your tongue? Why won’t you share me? It was the most logical inquisition to follow, and yet—

And yet you weren’t sure you were ready for the answer.

So you focused on his body instead. Your fingers danced over that soft, cotton underwear, feeling out his hardened length.

Rhys’s head lolled back, his breath hitching. And he whined. “Please.”

Your lips flicked up at the corners. “Please?” You repeated. “Please what?”

“Touch me. With your hands, your mouth, just—touch me.”

“Answer another question,” you tugged his breeches down; he lifted his hips to assist you, “and I’ll touch you.”

He gritted his teeth. “What’s the question.”

One you had pored over in your mind again and again since your last encounter with Rhys. Even when you’d tried not to think about it, curiosity had been a bitch. You couldn’t help it. His silver tongue had left you wondering too many things.

“You told me that your father used to warn you to stay away from me.” Your fingers skirted the waistband on his underwear, dipping just beneath and stopping. “I want to know why.”

“Fuck,” Rhys swore quietly. “You’re going to destroy me, Y/N.”

“Perhaps.” You snapped the waistband. “But you’d probably enjoy it. You either answer the question and I slide my mouth over your cock, or I can untie you and we can leave things well alone.”

Both of you knew there was no competition between those two options. But Rhys still groaned quietly, his heart thumping in his chest.

You made to slide your hand away—

“He used to warn me to stay away from you,” he clenched his jaw, “because he knew that I couldn’t. Because he knew that you…that you’re different.”

Your entire body paused. These words weren’t the flirtatious, teasing ones you’d been expecting.

These words were real. They were powerful. Perhaps altering.

And you dealt with them in the same way you dealt with anything that made you feel too much.

You drove them away with desire.

You’d asked for honesty, and he’d offered it up on a silver platter. You couldn’t deny that.

Your fingers gripped his underwear, and you pulled them down until they were joining his discarded breeches on the floor. And his cock was springing up — painfully hard and already leaking. You took in the sight, humming in appreciation.

“Please.” Rhys said again, his hips bucking. “Fuck—please.”

“For being an honest High Lord.” You met his violet stare. Wrapped your hand around his rigid length. “You did so well.”

Rhysand’s answering groan as you slowly began to pump him told you precisely how desperately he wanted this. His head fell back once more, eyes screwing shut and lips parting. The sight only had you growing wetter.

You started slow and languid, taking your time to appreciate every little twitch and jerk. Most of yours and Rhys’s fucks had been quick and heated, a case of shoving your clothes off and carrying each other to release. And you’d sucked his cock before, yes, but mostly in darkened corridors where you’d not had the luxury of light nor of time.

Now, you had both. Now, you could see it all.

Rhys lifted his hips, bucking up into your hands as a desperate moan left him. You knew what he wanted. You wanted it, too.

Using your free hand to cup his balls, your other still gripped his cock as you leaned in and swiped your tongue over the head, tasting the pleasant saltiness there.

“Shit.” Rhys immediately hissed, his eyes returning to you once more. They were so much darker than usual, the violet heated and sinful as he watched you take the head of his cock into your mouth, and he bit his lip. “Holy fucking gods.”

You chuckled around him. His enjoyment, his noises — they were as pleasurable as him outright fucking you. You slid your hand between your legs, dipping your fingers into your dripping cunt as you dragged your tongue down the length of Rhys’s cock. His eyes immediately shot to your fingers that you’d begun to pump in and out of yourself, and a snarl left him as he jerked at the restraints.

“I want to touch you.” He begged. “Just a touch.”

“I’m in control, Rhysand.” You reminded him. Your hand was still pumping him, twisting around the head in a way you knew was torturous for him. You slid your lips over him and hollowed your cheeks as you sucked.

He was whining, groaning, hips bucking and stomach caving. But you pushed and pushed, sliding your mouth further onto him, sucking and licking and paying special attention to the underside — the vein that was pulsing there.

“Fuck—stop!” Rhys jerked. “I don’t want to come yet. Please.”

Gods, you loved the sound of him begging. A sound you would happily listen to forever. One that could sing you to sleep at night.

But you didn’t want him to come yet, either. And that was the only reason you appeased him and pulled him from your mouth with a resounding pop.

You slid your fingers out of yourself, your juices glistening on your skin. And when you used them to slick Rhys’s cock even more, his eyes damn near rolled into the back of his head.

“You want to taste me?” You smiled, your fingers idly running up and down his cock.

“No.” Rhys gasped. “I need to taste you.”

And quite frankly, you needed him to taste you. Your fingers hadn’t been enough, hadn’t taken the edge off even slightly.

“For playing so nice, Rhysand,” you rose, moving up the bed, “you can taste me.”

He watched, a male utterly entranced as you stood before him. And when you planted your feet either side of him, inches from his face, his eyes drank in the sight of your cunt greedily.

“Taste.” You commanded, lowering your centre to his face.

Rhys growled, his tongue swiping out to lick an agonising, heated stripe right up you, from your entrance to your clit. He grazed his teeth there, and a moan tumbled from your lips, your fingers sinking into the strands of his hair as you ground yourself against his face.

He lapped and laved at you, taking everything you gave him. And you knew that had his hands been untied, he would have sunk his fingers into you, fucked you with him.

But they weren’t untied.

So he used his tongue instead.

The moment his tongue slid inside you, your head was falling back. The feeling was too much — too good. You were gripping onto his hair and onto the headboard and trying desperately not to collapse from the way your body was already beginning to tremble.

Rhys made an affirming, encouraging noise. And you knew him well enough to know what he was asking of you. Ride my face. Fuck my tongue.

You did just that.

You didn’t know how you managed to stay upright as you writhed against him, every inch of you trembling. And when you moved your fingers to your clit and began to circle there, his tongue moving in and out of you, you exploded.

You screamed as release spread through you, not caring one tiny bit about who heard. You hoped people heard. Hoped people knew you were coming on their High Lord’s tongue.

Rhys groaned, swallowing every last drop of you and enjoying every second.

You didn’t know how you were able to steady yourself enough to pull back. But as you did, the mere sight of Rhysand almost sent you hurtling to release all over again.

He panted, stared at you, his face glistening with your come. His tongue swiped out, lapping up every last bit he could reach.

You needed him inside you. Now.

Your hands coasted his body as you moved down. Questions and games and teasing were far, far behind you. This was pure, carnal need.

But as you straddled Rhys, gripping his cock to steady him, he was stopping you—

“Y/N.” Your name was soft on his lips. “Untie me. Please. Let me touch you.”

You paused. It wasn’t a needy, whining plea — but an earnest one. An emotional one.

And it was that which made you comply.

You sank down onto his cock first. The two of you both sucked in a breath with every inch of him that slowly entered you. He filled you so perfectly, so exquisitely—

Only when he was fully seated inside you, your hips beginning a slow, steady rhythm of riding him, did you reach out and unfasten the restraints.

“Touch me.” You whispered, tossing the tie aside.

You expected Rhys to cup your breasts as he had done countless times before. Or perhaps to return to your clit, to use his fingers there while you rode him.

You hadn’t anticipated the way his hands instead gripped your face — gentle, tender.

His palms cupped your cheeks, and he leaned in, slanting his lips over yours.

You’d kissed countless times before. But those kisses had been needy, hungry, a ravenous build-up to your bodies meeting.

This kiss was slow and deep. Rhys’s tongue traced the seam of your lips, and as he slid it into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on him, he stroked his thumb across your cheek.

You couldn’t bear it.

It was too…gentle. Too meaningful.

You planted your hands on his shoulders, picking up the pace of your hips, rolling them and grinding them against him. You moaned breathlessly, savouring the feel of his cock thrusting into you. You knew he couldn’t last much longer.

“Slow.” He panted, pressing peppered kisses to your mouth. “Slowly.”

“No.” You moaned. You tore your lips from his, leaning down to nip at his neck. “I want you to come.”

“Fuck.” His hands fell down to grip at your ass, and he seemed unable to hold himself back any longer. He lifted you slightly, his cock slamming into you, the resounding slap of skin on skin filling the room.

You screamed, your fingers digging into Rhys’s shoulders as a second orgasm hit you, overpowering your entire body. You felt utterly boneless as you shook against him.

“Oh gods.” Rhys gasped. “Gods—Y/N.”

He slammed in to the hilt — and spilled into you with your name on his tongue, melting into an incoherent, desperate groan.

You felt every twitch and spurt of his cock inside you. It was all you could do to hold onto him, to keep yourself upright, as your sweat-slick bodies trembled against each other.

And then there was silence; aside of your heavy breathing, utter silence.

Your eyes were still screwed shut, and yet you could feel Rhysand looking at you as he held you. His forehead pressed against yours, and he stroked a hand down your back.

“Come back to Velaris with me.” He murmured.

Those words again. They chased you. Haunted you.

“No.” You whispered.

For a moment, there was no reaction. And then Rhys was pulling back. He tugged your chin up. “Look at me.”

You did — if only to avoid feeling like a coward. But staring into his eyes was a grave mistake.

Such strong emotion swam there. And he wore it openly.

“Come back with me.” He said again. “What do you have here?”

“I have my life—”

“Your life that you spend running from feeling things?”

Your face sobered. “Fuck you, Rhys.”

He grimaced — knew he’d said the wrong thing. His arms tightened around you. “Look, just…just talk to me. Tell me why you won’t come back with me.”

For a multitude of reasons. Because I’m not in control when I’m with you, and that scares me. Because I’m worried you’ll eventually grow bored of me and wish I’d never come. Because you’re capable of utterly shattering my heart—

“I’ve never left this mountain.” You said simply. “What would I do in Velaris?”

“I think you’d be amazed by the amount of things you could do.” He reached out, brushing his thumb over your cheek again. “You are wasted in this place, Y/N. You should be out in the world — with me.”

You swallowed, lowering your gaze. He sold it well; you couldn’t deny you were tempted. But you were scared.

“Why don’t you just…come for a week?” He then said. “No strings attached, no commitments. Come and spend a week in Velaris. See what it has to offer. See how you like it. Meet my friends properly — get to know them.”

You shrugged a shoulder half-heartedly. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Then they’d be fools. But I know they’ll like you as much as I do.”

You stared at him, and he stared back. As much as I do. He’d never been so…on the nose about it.

“…I don’t know…”

“Just a week.” He stroked your cheek again. “You don’t even have to spend it with me, if you don’t want to.”

It seemed ludicrous to even bring it into question, but…you knew he meant it. He would leave you alone if you asked.

But you’d never ask. It was quite clear to you how much you didn’t want him to leave you alone.

“One week?” You said. Even lingering on the cusp of agreeing sent a thrill through you. This was new. Exciting. Nerve-wracking.

Rhys leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. “One week.”

“Ask me again, then, Rhysand.”

He drew back. Met your gaze. “Come back to Velaris with me.”

And although every self-preserving instinct screamed at you to refuse yet again, you dipped your chin in acceptance. Even if the mere prospect was fraught with nervous anticipation.

“Okay.” You said. “You can have me for one week.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ rhysand tag list: @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @luna-1-3-5 @lucyysthings @blacksstarrynight @munchkinnicki @illyriansimp @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @basicbittywitty @brookeduggan @acourtofchaosandmess @eos-princess @aaronwarnerswifereal @mairthys @ginqver @multifandomdisorder @twsssmlmaa @mateobneun-rattattui @udpoota

general tag list:@angrymilfs @lunaralaraspace @maddithefangirl @brekkershadowsinger @wandas-dream @his-sweet-nightmare @kennedy-brooke @chocolatecakelargeshake @daily-dose-of-sass @missaddamsworld @reiincarnatiion @linduzmunna @leeknows-wife @nightcourtwritings @ann-writes-universes @cosmic-whispers @simplefan-638 @lucyysthings @judig92 @shannonsaid @azriels-mate123 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @iangelofmusic

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

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“It’s awfully cold out tonight. Wanderer, would you mind sleeping with me to keep warm?”

From how his body initially perks up, you assume he'll respond in the affirmative. Case closed. Done and finished. Simple as counting one, two, and three. Surely, there’s no way this could develop into a debacle that’d test the patience of even the most hallowed saint, right?

... Right?

He points a finger at you, accusingly. You stare at it with something between indifference and irritation. “A clever ruse. Let me guess — you picked up a sharp object when I wasn’t looking, didn’t you? You’re just waiting for an opportunity to use it.”

While he’s making his unfounded suspicion known, a cool breeze passes by and submerges your body into a fit of shivers. You grit your chattering teeth. Is he really going to put you on trial now of all times? When your fingers are going numb from the cold and your mind is exhausted from traveling for hours? Maybe you should’ve just gone for the hypothermia after all. It’s still probably easier to deal with than the Wanderer.

“Hah. Your silence speaks volumes,” he looks quite pleased with himself, his nose turned upward to you. “And to think I almost fell for such an obvious ploy—”

“Do you want to pat me down?”

Indigo eyes cautiously regard you. “Excuse me?”

“If that’s what it takes for me to not wake up a popsicle the next morning, then by all means, go for it,” you lift your arms out to make the process easier. “Just know that if I die from this weather, I’m coming back as a ghost and haunting you.”

He grumbles under his breath, something about how you “always have something to say”, though you think the observation applies to him in equal amounts.

“Just lay down. You’re getting on my nerves.”

You settle into your makeshift sleeping bag, the insulation somewhat assisting in keeping the night air’s bite from eating away at you. The Wanderer mimics the motion, almost hesitantly, a stark contrast to his usual confident swagger. He struggles with deciding where to put his arms when he lies behind you. Eventually, they coil around your torso, bringing you closer to him in the process.

The subsequent warmth blooming between you both is a welcome reprieve from the bitter cold.

“I have a question,” you say, earning a muffled groan from him. You take that as a good sign to go ahead and voice it.

“If I phrased it as ‘I want to cuddle', would you have given in faster?”

He goes stiff as a board behind you. “... No. What profound foolishness.”

(You take it that’s a yes).

#i'm telling you. every interaction with scara is a speech check #roll for charisma #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #scaramouche brainrot #interactions #my stuff #answered #Anonymous

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22drunkb · 1 month

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Do you think he was ever in love with Bedelia like he was in love with Will? I ask this because Bedelia says they were both the "brides of Hannibal". But Hannibal never courted her like he did with Will, Bedelia came into Hannibal's life much before Will but he never pursued her like he did with Will. Mads said he wanted a future with Will unlike with other people he hooked up with Alana, Bedelia or Anthony. He took her to Italy as a consolation prize when Will betrayed him. Even in Italy H was pining about Will all the time and telling Bedelia how much he loves Will. I know he slept with Bedelia but he probably slept with Anthony too and he slept with Alana, Hannibal is a hedonistic guy who sleeps around. For him sleeping with someone doesn't mean he is in love with them. But when Will confronts Bedelia, she pretends as if Hannibal held them in the same regard which is obviously not true. Hannibal would choose Will over her in a heart beat and even she knows it but yet she acts as if Hannibal sees them both equally. I don't understand why? 😭 Why do you think?why make herself seem like a competition when she is not?

I think you're misunderstanding the meaning of "bride" here. It doesn't mean beloved. It doesn't mean favorite. It doesn't necessarily mean sex. It means something more like what Chiyoh meant when she called Bedelia "his bird": "He puts us [birds] in cages to see what we'll do."

Hannibal collects people, generally. Most of his therapy patients are collectibles. He collects them because he sees potential in them for "becoming," for expressing an inner potential that interests him and that he thinks, in his own way, it would be good and true to themselves for them to express. (This generally amounts to some kind of murdering or violence.) He may be interested to see what will happen when his collectibles are transformed, but he doesn't find it terribly hard to imagine or predict. The people he has sex with don't even all fall into this category; I don't think he particularly was interested in Alana's potential becoming, for instance, though things did work out that way (but, in some ways, more at Will's hand than at Hannibal's).

That said, the category of "collectible" is large and includes both Will and Bedelia. However, there's another category, a subset, within that, which Will, Bedelia, Chiyoh, and Abigail occupy: that's "bird." These are people whose behavior is less predictable and therefore more interesting and engrossing. In the process of transforming his collectibles-in-general, he doesn't necessarily show these objects of interest much about himself. His true self, that is, rather than the mask. The four I just named get more of a look. However, Chiyoh and Abigail get their views not entirely at Hannibal's choosing: Chiyoh is from his past, and Abigail figured a fair amount out herself. (It's more complicated than this, but for that reason I don't think it's helpful to get into these two further here.) There are, as far as we know, only two people who've gained much insight into him entirely of his own volition: Bedelia and Will.

Both Will and Bedelia are people Hannibal collected and then cultivated in order to have someone to share himself with. I am not saying that that meant he felt exactly the same way about them, or that he shared the same things or to the same degree. But Hannibal put his therapist in a position to murder not only because he saw that potential in her and wanted to bring it out, as with all collectibles, but also to gain a certain degree of control over her so he'd have a therapist he could actually talk to. It's hinted in their pre-Florence sessions that she does not want to continue being his therapist but feels she has little choice.

Hannibal saw that collectible potential in Will and, like Bedelia, wanted him to be someone he could show himself to, albeit in different ways and to a more profound degree. Less utilitarian and more romantic. He made it very clear in the s2 finale that he wanted that more than anything: "I let you see me, know me. I gave you a rare gift. But you didn't want it." (Or something like that, I'm paraphrasing from memory.)

What is necessary for him to select these two people to be seen by is for him to respect them, in his own way. He does not respect all his collectibles, though he's interested in them. He respects Chiyoh and Abigail more, but in a "precocious child" kind of way, rather than anything peerlike. But, Bedelia: he does actually listen to what Bedelia says. He forces her to let him play patient to some degree, but, within the role of patient, he squirms at some of her insights and defends himself the way a patient who feels that their therapist has power does. He values her input enough to subject himself to it. He enjoys her company enough to take her to Florence. She can't "surprise" him the way Will can, and he's not enamored and fascinated with her the same way. But he does hold respect for her. If we were to view what I said about the patient dynamic he has with her as a BDSM thing (which....it is), he chose her to play the dom, which is a pretty big deal, really.

I don't disagree with you that his interest in Will is qualitatively different. But they have both, at different times, been someone he chose to know him. That's a special status. It is also a status of being kept, to some degree: Bedelia didn't have the option not to be his therapist, and, as Will feels once he gets sucked back in after his time with Molly, he never really had the option to escape either. Birds again.

In the "We've both been his bride" conversation, it's Will who comes in with an aggressive, competitive energy, not Bedelia. He calls her "bride" first, and she responds by saying that Will has been too--i.e., why are you so mad at me? Why are you displacing your feelings here? (That is, she's being a therapist.) Through the whole conversation, Bedelia is actually trying to get Will to see that they aren't the same, and that Hannibal cares for him and belongs to him in a way he didn't to Bedelia. It's just that to get Will there, she first has to get him to admit that he has been attached to/chosen by Hannibal at least as much as she has, before she can show him that his position goes further. She's not setting herself up as a rival at all. Will came in angry because he subconsciously saw her that way, and she is working with that starting point to get him to understand better. This is the conversation that leads Will to ask, "Is Hannibal in love with me?", which he never could have brought himself to consciously articulate without her guidance.

I wrote a whole post just about this conversation, if you'd like further explanation. See also this and this from @bonearenaofmyskull.

#hannibal #hannibal meta #bedelia du maurier #will graham #hannibal lecter

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madelynraemunson · 9 months

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI I WILL HIT U WITH A CHAIR

Chapter 003: Best Buds

It’s BYOB (bring your own bud) night at Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. With everyone under the influence, things start to get… a little complicated.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 8k

warnings & disclaimers — slow burn, brief smut, p in v sex, protected sex, implications that steve is a long boi voyeurism, marijuana use, alcohol use, sexual harassment, physical altercations, NSFW, talks of a daddy/master kink, stripping, pole dancing, mutual pining, flirting, mentions of previous sexual abuse, profanities

* AUTHORS NOTE AT END OF CHAPTER ❤️‍🔥 *

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Chapter 002 recap

"Doing it for Max," you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn't your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

_______________𓆩♡𓆪_______________

Chapter 003

♡

“Hi I’m Hell, it’s nice to meet ya.”

“FUCK! Oh my god — fuck!”

Steve Harrington is definitely not a loser.

An assortment of mewls and profanities fill the hot air of Steve’s bedroom as he fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, the frame of his bed rattling to the speed of his deep, punishing thrusts.

It’s 7 AM.

Though you’re typically not an early riser, you’re more inclined to be if you were promised this type of treatment every day.

“Fuck!” you squeal again, knuckles sheet-white from how tightly you’re holding onto Steve’s linens. “Right there, Steve…”

Steve’s grip, meanwhile, rests at either side of your hips as he pistons himself further into your sopping, spongy heat. Too cock-drunk to even form a coherent sentence, you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head while you take his unforgiving length from behind.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” he coos. “You like how deep I feel inside of you?”

You nod. “Yes… yes…I-I love it.”

“Looks like I’m fucking you back to sleep again, aren’t I?”

“M—mhm,” you manage to purr, reaching for one of Steve’s hands to grab a hold of.

In fact you’re already seeing stars. Sex with Steve is an extravagant experience. Now that he’s comfortable in your presence, Steve spent all night performing for you, abusing your soaking cunt to the tempo of every song on his playlist, catering to your every need in the form of profound and agile strokes, exploring every inch of your body with his firm and knowledgable tongue, all while refusing to stop until you yourself were finished.

You chant his name aimlessly as he plows into you further, tucking a pillow above your head to protect you from any sharp wooden corners. Another thing Steve prioritizes as well? Your safety. All night it’s been your pleasure first before his own. Now you know why everyone in town calls him the King.

“That’s it…” Steve praises you as you fall apart in front of him. He smacks you firmly across the ass. You whimper at the sensation, chasing your third orgasm of the hour by fucking him back, tossing your hips back onto him, not caring the slightest if it made you look desperate. You need his cock so bad. “That’s a good girl.”

CRASH!

Something falls from the bathroom at the end of the hall. A shampoo bottle maybe? It stuns you for a second, causing you to immediately reach for the top sheet to cover up your body. You listen for traces of his roommate’s presence.

“Uh…”

“Earthquake?” Steve jokes.

“Nope,” you smugly shake your head. “It’s just you.”

You rise from all fours to turn around and give Steve a quick kiss. Steve chuckles against your skin.

“Me? It’s a team effort, lady.”

“You’re right, it’s us.”

Steve wraps his arms around your waist and guides you back down onto the bed. Laying on your back now, you watch him as he spreads your legs apart. He smiles down at you as he lines himself up at your opening.

An impatient sigh escapes your mouth. He swoops down to silence you, planting a soft kiss onto your neck.

“Steve…” you whimper.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. “You’ll get it, just you wait.”

He continues to tease you, gliding his cock along the lining of your entrance. You bite your lip and shake your head, watching him as he glides, thrusting his tip in slowly before taking it back out once more. Then he slaps his cock against your puffy, glistening folds. Your whimpers grow louder.

“Are—” you lower your voice. “Are you sure we’re the only ones here?”

“Yeah,” Steve insists, mumbling against your ear. “The roomie’s with his sneaky link. We’re fine.”

“Birds of a feather,” you retort.

Steve flashes you a flirtatious glare. “I’d never keep you a secret.”

“Lies.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges you.

What did he mean by that?

A gasp escapes your mouth before it’s even registered. Steve is inside once again, pounding into you with a pace so exhilarating, the room around you starts to blur. The little time you had to prepare leaves you both with a healthy amount of friction and resistance. You’re nearly screaming now as pressure builds between your hips and in your stomach, your pleas for more growing louder and louder with every pummeling thrust.

“If you call that keeping a secret, you’re pretty bad at it,” Steve kindly retorts, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck, beads of sweat dripping down his pomade-sculpted hair onto your breasts.

“Oh m-my fucking god,” you squeal breathlessly. You’re silenced by Steve’s fingers as they assert themselves into your mouth.

“Oh my fucking god is right, babydoll.”

He issues a delicate slap across your face. You bite your lip, gazing up at him with lust-filled eyes. Snarky King Steve is your favorite Steve.

“Keep going, Steve. Don’t fucking stop.”

Before you know it, he’s bending you like a pretzel, your legs at his shoulders, knees to the tip of your earlobes. Steve slams himself into you, excruciatingly fast and balls deep, all while his hand explores your mouth, then jaw, then find a home around your throat. Another delicate slap brushes across your face with his other hand, followed by a “Yeah, baby take it”, causing you to mewl even louder.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other begin to sound more wet with every thrust, the moans you two exude bounce off the walls as you fuck into each other. You feel your walls tighten at the same time his head starts to twitch.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” Steve huffs. “Do I feel that fucking good? Are you about to make a mess on me?”

“Yes,” you attempt to say. “I’m such a messy girl, Steve.”

“That you are,” he swoons, swooping down to plant kisses all over your face. “Messy. Dirty. Naughty. And all mine.”

Four more aggressive pumps into you and you’re both done for.

“Oh my god…”

“Fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Ohhh fuck.”

Giggles take the place of moans as you and Steve collapse onto one another. You two lay there in disbelief, then share another laugh followed by a high five.

“Good game,” Steve jests.

“Rematch later?” you wink.

Although Steve doesn’t answer, you know it’s a yes. As you roll over to drift off into a small recovery nap you feel another slap land on your ass, followed by the sound of the trusty rubber rolling off your partner’s cock.

“So fucking beautiful.”

——

9 AM

After care is essential for Steve. Lover boy loves to cuddle. He’s there when you wake up, arms snaked around you, with gleaming eyes and a rather itchy peach fuzz that you didn’t stumble upon until he was giving raspberries to your neck.

“You lasted longer this time,” you comment teasingly. You issue him a delicate boop on the nose.

“Yeah, cuz we’ve been doing it all night,” Steve tsks. “You caught me off guard the first time around, Hargrove.”

You pout. “Aww. Was I kicking you when you were already down?”

Steve pulls you to his chest, giving you a squeeze the further you lean into him. “You absolutely were, you devil woman.” He kisses your forehead and beams down at you with a smile.

“Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

So you two rinse up together, and Steve lets you borrow one of his t-shirts to parade around his luxury townhouse in. He did offer you some basketball shorts he had lying around on his couch, but you decide that hopefully, in just his shirt and your new lace black panties, it would entice him for round five.

Suddenly your phone buzzes. It’s Max.

Hey where r u?

You bite your fingernails as you contemplate a believable answer. Where could you possibly be if your supposed shift ended two hours ago?

Post shift mimosas with coworkers. Be back around noon.

You wait. Buzz.

As you should 🤪

You smile before exiting out of your conversation with Max. It vanishes quickly when you remember there’s still a text you haven’t responded to.

What the actual fuck.

It’s been a week now since Billy sent that text. And with him being the type to spam, it’s strange that he hasn’t called or texted again. Especially since it had been Max’s birthday.

You shudder, overwhelmed with a sense of panic yet again. In hopes of postponing reality to the next day, you plant your phone face down onto Steve’s bedside table. It all made you feel stupid. Like an infant who believed they were hiding just by closing their eyes.

You walk out into the hallway and find Steve in the kitchen, frantically trying to find you something to eat.

“We need to go shopping again,” Steve announces. “So the only choices right now are eggs, sausage, toast, cereal..and the Cuties over there.”

You make your way over to grab a tangerine while you browse the cereal section.

“Well, I had sausage this morning,” you joke. “And a cutie. So I’ll go with eggs and toast please.”

“Coming right up. Sunny side?”

“Scrambled.”

“Anything for you.”

You claim a seat at the messy kitchen island, decorated by mountains of bills and guy stuff galore. As Steve is cooking, you sit and admire the man who Hawkins calls the King.

Steve tries. It shows in everything he does. Behind every positive attribute about the man, looms a cautionary energy accompanied by a sense of guilt. It’s almost if “King Steve” refuses to take up space. Something, or someone, made him this way. Made him so guarded and delicate, yet so willing to give and help.

Before you know it, Steve hands you your Shy Girl-tailored breakfast, fluffy golden eggs with golden buttered toast to match, served with a glass of orange juice on the side. You thank him and he nods, tossing a dish rag over his shoulder and walking to the sink to clean up. With how sweet Steve is with you in bed and on a friendship level, the sole idea of him makes you wonder what he’d be like — years from now — as his one real dream: a husband, a dad…

The sound of a toilet flushing jolts you back into focus. Both you and Steve freeze in place.

“Shit,” Steve sighs.

Roomie is home.

Steve quickly wipes his hands and darts to his room, scurrying to find a shirt to mask the hickeys you left on his chest. Meanwhile you scramble to the couch to find the basketball shorts you passed him up on earlier. You didn’t want to give his roommate the wrong impression, though you kind of feel like you did, screaming like a banshee because you thought no one was home.

You’re tunnel-visioned as you scan the couch for shorts. Let’s see… TV remote, no — football, no — random backpack and baseball cap —

Wait. Is that a Hellfire shirt?

Your eyes widen. It can’t be. Steve wouldn’t withhold such vital information from you, would he? Maybe Steve really likes supporting Eddie’s business.

But then you think about it. You really think about it.

You think about Steve’s comment he made as he was leaving Hellfire. "Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home."

At home.

“The roomie won't be home…”

The use of “the roomie” instead of “my roomie”. Typically “the” is only used if someone knows of the person being mentioned. At least that’s how you yourself word things anyway.

“The roomie’s with his sneaky link.”

Eddie’s lady friend. Eddie only goes to see her during the most ungodly hours because she’s a bartender.

You feel so stupid. For more reasons than one.

Eventually you find Steve’s basketball shorts and throw them on, running back to the kitchen island where you then try to play cool. You turn back to the scattered envelopes laying around the island — all addressed to an Edward Munson.

In the words of your twin brother, what the actual fuck.

“WOOO — Harrington!” a familiar sing-song voice echoes from down the hall. “You definitely don’t wanna go in there!”

You recognize that voice from anywhere.

Whistling sounds from the end of the narrow hall. Coming out of the bathroom was none other than your boss, dressed down in a black muscle tank that revealed his avant-garde black and white tattoos, and royal blue gym shorts. His hair was up in a messy half-bun, the loose curls that were too short tie up are a cluster of anarchy around his face.

You make it into Eddie’s periphery, but he doesn’t do a double take until he realizes it’s you.

“Oh hey!” he greets you, somewhat expressionless. “You on tonight?”

As if seeing you in his apartment is the most casual thing ever.

You’re completely swamped with humiliation. It’s bad enough that Eddie practically heard you scream bloody murder, but now he knows exactly what you’re like in bed. He knows how you like to be handled. How embarrassingly cock-drunk you get when your partner hits the right spot. How pornographic and raunchy you act when you’re with the right person.

You’re also dressed like Adam Sandler. So there’s that.

It takes everything in you not to grab your stuff and leave. But it is that same ick in your body that keeps you glued onto the bar stool of the island.

“Y-yeah,” you huff. “Sure, I’ll work.”

“Totally should…” Eddie sings again. “Midweek is always popping. Everyone always wants a lil sumn sumn on Friday Junior-Junior.”

You study Eddie as he strides over to the fridge, insipid and unbothered. Tired, if anything.

Steve comes out of his room with his own Hellfire shirt on, trying his best to keep his cool as he clears his throat. “I, uh… I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

“That makes the three of us,” Eddie laughs dryly as he rummages through the fridge. “But here I am…”

You observe him as he hums along to a random tune, scanning the fridge for something quick and easy. He settles for what looks like coffee creamer, which brings you back to the time that Dustin said Eddie operates on coffee and an empty stomach.

You try to focus on something else. Anything. Eyes-a-wandering, you catch sight of Steve’s old championship trophies from his high school swim meets, pictures of him and his boujee ass family at TopGolf, pictures of him with old friends at an actual golf course, glass cups from breweries all around Indiana and The States, and the expensive smart electronics that ornamented the place.

But not a single trace of Eddie and his life or family. The mystery of him sucks you in a little more.

Eddie stalks towards you, extending an arm across to pick up the bills waiting for him on the table. The world stops for a moment.

“Sorry for the mess,” Eddie apologizes. “The maid took the night off.”

An inferno pools at your cheeks. Was the ‘mess’ remark a jab towards you? Your thighs clench when the flashbacks of morning sex with Steve replay in your head. “Are you about to make a mess on me?”

“You’re fine,” you manage to say.

Eddie proceeds to pour himself a drip coffee then douses it in an unreasonable amount of hazelnut creamer.

You cringe at the sight. Sometimes a crush is just a lack of information.

Steve attempts to speak to serve as a filler for awkward tension, but you beat him to it.

“S-”

"So," you press. "How are things with the lady friend?"

Eddie makes a sour face. "Called it off," he shrugs. "Well, she did."

Your ears slightly perk up.

You feign a tone of dismay. "Oh no! What happened?”

"Guess our lifestyles don't mesh well with one another,” Eddie rolls his eyes, as if he knew it was some sort of excuse. He draws on about the ordeal. “She doesn't like that I'm always at work. I can only see her in the early hours of the morning, and with the amount of paperwork I have to do, I’d honestly rather be spending my free time sleeping or playing video games."

"Well, you should stop working so much,” Steve suggests. “It could help balance shit out more.”

Eddie snaps his neck at Steve.

"You think I didn't think about that already?" he scowls through gritted teeth. "It’s like the moment Eddie's gone, everyone forgets how to do their jobs. I always gotta come in to make sure they’re all staying on task.”

He turns to you.

“Take Mike for instance,” he explains. “Fucking chickenwithhisheadcutoff. Lights are on, but nobody’s home.”

You laugh.

“He was the one who forgot to take inventory on the 10th and 11th,” Eddie pops a scoop full of Honey Combs into his mouth. “Yet he was asking me if he could bring his girlfriend to the club.”

“Ohh,” is all you can say.

“I don’t mind all that lovey dovey shit,” Eddie mutters between bites. “But if it’s gonna distract him from working, that’s where there’s a problem.”

“Totally reasonable dude,” you agree.

“Yeah, Mike gets really distracted when El’s around,” Steve pitches in.

Eddie nods. “Ed’s got his own set of rules for a reason. The Munson Doctrine is a byproduct of when all the things that can possibly go wrong, have gone wrong.”

You watch Eddie stroll towards the windows by the balcony and prop them open, an indicator that he’s about to smoke. He grabs a tiny bowl that he seemed to know was laying around and loads it up with bud. He lights up and takes several large hits.

“So what’s everyone’s plans for tonight?” Eddie questions eyes darting between you both.

You and Steve didn’t think that far.

“Not too sure yet,” Steve answers for you two. “I do know we gotta go shopping again.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie nods towards the cereal. “Tired of eating hamster food every morning.”

Eddie takes another hit, coughing away the excess like a madman.

“I’m hosting another BYOB night at Hellfire with the frens again,” Eddie continues once he calms down. “Been a minute. You should swing by.”

“Bring your own booze?” you ask.

“Getting warmer.” Eddie replies.

“Beer?”

“Cooler now.”

“Then what?”

“Bud,” Eddie replies raspily, nodding at his own amusement. “We’re still a red state, so we get our shit from Illinois. BYOB is specifically for the party. Edibles only, for obvious reasons. Still a fun time though.”

“Cross-faded on a random Tuesday, what’s more enticing than that?” Steve says. You’re not sure if he’s sarcastic or not.

“Exactly, Harrington!” Eddie hollers. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Is Nance gonna be there?”

Record scratch. Eddie looks at Steve like he asked a dumb question.

“She works there.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve glares at Ed.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Is Nancy gonna be at the table? No, probably not. You know her. Total opposite of Mike. When she’s at work, she’s at work.”

“Yeah...” Steve mutters with a sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll think about it. What else ya doing today before this?”

Eddie explains that after paperwork and grocery shopping, he plans to go over to Chrissy’s place to look at her car. It causes your heart to flutter. Business owner, manager, cook, music fanatic, and mechanic? Mr. Jack-of-All-Trades after your heart again.

Eddie shakes his head, evidently overwhelmed with all the responsibilities on his lap. “Hellfire would crash and burn without Cherry.”

“Wow, you do so much,” you comment, attempting to uplift him. He grins at your remark. You decide keep going. “Anything you can’t do?”

You feel Steve stare between you both, then clear his throat as he paces around the kitchen.

“Stop it,” Eddie chuckles, growing slightly flustered with his pink-tainted cheeks. “Kinda true though. I do everything and anything.”

“Yeah, especially for Chrissy Cunningham,” Steve jeers.

“That’s also true,” Eddie shrugs, attempting to conceal his now fully flustered face. “We done now?”

“We are actually,” Steve says. “Lucky for you, I gotta go get ready.”

Steve shoots you a wink and then excuses himself back to his room. Meanwhile, it’s just you and the other man you have a burning crush on.

Something shifts when Steve disappears. To shake off the unknown feeling that’s mingling in the air, you make your way over to the fridge. You hope that pretending to be busy excuses you from another conversation.

But before you know it, you feel Eddie’s stern — and marijuana-laced — breath on you just moments later. The torment is never ending.

The moment you turn, you’re met with Eddie’s big brown eyes. He speaks first.

“I was joking, you know.”

Whatever banter that was being exchanged earlier has now switched off. The pitch of Eddie’s voice has dropped a few frequencies, and that act alone captures your attention. Shooting your gaze towards him, your brow lifts.

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to work tonight,” he elaborates shoving his hands into his pockets. “We’re well staffed. There’s a seat for you at the table… if you’d like to come with.”

“I’m your friend?”

“I thought it was clear.”

“You haven’t even taken me to lunch yet.”

“You haven’t given me the chance.”

Fair play, Munson. Eddie waits for you to talk. You study your superior as he studies you, his chocolate eyes slowly becoming eclipsed by the widening of his jet black pupils. Hunger was unknown feeling that was mingling. It’s burning in your stomach now. Its essence that lingered between you both is the only thing keeping you two from standing any closer.

“Cross faded on a Tuesday,” you repeat Steve’s sentiment. “Sounds like a Friday ordeal.”

“Well when you work as much as I do, you try to make every day feel like Friday.”

Oh this man is stressed stressed. Something in Eddie’s hopeful stare convinces you that a simple “yes” would make him a little happier about tonight. But you don’t want to seem too into it.

“I’ll think about it,” you tease.

“Ah, come on…” Eddie tuts. “Steve will be there.”

You blush.

“And your ol’ boss,” Eddie ominously adds, propping his shoulder against the fridge as he leans. “If that counts for anything.”

Another loose strand of hair from his bun falls across his face. He shakes it away with a cinematic nod. You feel stupid for falling for your Eddie’s natural charisma. He does it with everybody, you remind yourself. It’s what makes him a good business man. You aren’t anything special.

“Will there be wings?” you decide to deal the inside joke you share.

“Flats only,” Eddie insists, feeding into it.

“Now that sounds like a good time.”

“Always is, sweetheart,” Eddie grins. “Can’t wait for you to experience it.”

Before he too excuses himself, Eddie hugs you, doing the verbal kiss on the side of your cheek once more before letting go. It never fails to leave you in a puddle.

No rizz, my ass Dustin, you think to yourself.

“See you there then, gorgeous?”

“You sure will.”

And just as quickly as Eddie disappears, Steve returns, sporting a basic grey Patagonia tee and khaki colored Dickies. His sunglasses dangle from the center collar of his shirt, his green and yellow “Camp Know Where” dad hat clipped onto the same belt loop that housed the keys to his BMW.

He meets you halfway by the island, giving you a soft kiss once more.

“I’ll let you hold onto that shirt,” he says. “It looks good on you.”

“Why thank you,” you reply. “Smells just like you too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck just as he does your waist before they explore the birthmark region of your lower back. Your breath hitches.

“I should probably stop,” Steve bites his lip. “I gotta walk you to your car.”

“I know, maybe next time,” you frown. “Also, you didn’t tell me Eddie’s your roommate.”

Steve’s face falters slightly. “I… didn’t think it’d matter.”

He’s right. Ultimately it didn’t matter. If you didn’t shut up, you’d tell right on yourself.

“I know!” you end up saying way too enthusiastically. “It’s just that he, uh, heard everything.”

Steve dismisses it. “Let him,” he says. “I’m sure he hears and sees it all at the club anyways.”

Steve bites the bullet and gives your ass cheeks a tight squeeze. “Besides, he can watch if he’d like. We’ll give him a little show…”

Your breathing scatters again, to which you give Steve a playful nudge.

“You’re unbelievable.That’s where your dirty little mind goes?”

“What can I say?” King Steve smirks, forehead pressed against yours now. “I’m a voyeur.”

“Clearly,” you wink.

Birds of a feather. As much as you didn’t want it to, your mind wanders back to Eddie and how he is most likely a voyeur too. Why else would Hellfire be an asset of his?

The entire commute home is spent fantasizing about both Steve and Eddie. You have absolutely no idea what you're doing and what to do in this situation. Would this even be considered a triangle considering how casual everything appears to be?

With everything unknown there is one thing is for sure: tonight, both of them are getting some kind of show from you.

—————————————————

‘Friday Junior Junior’ is relatively staffed.

Mike and Dustin flicker across the room, darting back and forth to bus tables as soon as customers leave. Skating on the thin ice he’s on, Mike works quickly and efficiently, while Dustin takes his sweet time, attempting to multitask while talking to Suzie, one AirPod in at all times.

“Yeah, babe, I’m in Kas’ Korner,” Dustin lies. “Doing some food packing.”

You watch him as he wipes the table quickly after spraying some cleaning solution onto it, eyes glued to the job in front of him instead of center stage. He does sneak a quick glance at Chrissy, though. Then looks around to see if anyone noticed. You do, but you pretend not to. It’s funny.

“I’ve seen her get richer in the pole, I’ve seen her. I knew she had to know.”

You're sat between Steve and Eddie at the VIP table, watching Chrissy alongside everyone else. Joining you three are Argyle and Henry, who both were miraculously able to find themselves coverage. Jim is bouncer for tonight, while Lucas has the kitchen covered after months of begging Eddie and Argyle to let him cook.

Looking over at Steve, you see him beaming up at Chrissy and decide to join him in showering her with his — many — dollar bills. Argyle joins in too, to your concern since he promised the group he'd buy everyone drinks when you guys all go bar-hopping later.

"Chrissy is amazing," you sigh, shaking your head in pure admiration for the starlet dancing in front of you.

"Isn't she?" Eddie responds. He delves into his pocket to pull out his phone. "All the ladies here are pure and absolute fuego."

Drawing your attention to his device, Eddie opens an album in his camera roll titled, "Hellfire Girls". He starts showing you short clips of the dancers, one by one, explaining what they're doing and how in awe he is of them.

“I notice that the girls like wearing pasties for tops that tend to have spaghetti straps or very little fabric coverage,” he says. “Or for when they don't feel like showing their tits. Saves you too when The Girls decide to pop out when you’re upside down. Always the fucking left one too."

You giggle at his remark.

The eloquence and respect Eddie has about the female body and wardrobe mechanics has you enticed. It's evident how much Eddie respects women and values their comfort. But he is also a man, and it's no secret that someone like him enjoys watching. And Eddie is never shy to admit when he likes what he sees.

He shows you another video of another dancer, Emmy.

“Emmy’s a fucking beast,” Eddie gushes. “She can do a split right from her side straddle. Kassidy’s the same, but the Pegasus is more of her strength. Lady’s got arms and core for days. It’s fucking hot."

He swipes again.

"And Justice knows how to do a Dragon's Tail, it’s a crowd favorite.”

Eddie's already had a few drinks tonight, so the filter he already seemed to lack is practically non-existent now. Steve is on the same boat, downing his third cocktail and not giving a damn how much he blows tonight on the dancers. You all the while, are one dangerous cocktail in and are already horny out of your mind. It doesn't help that Jonathan has a heavy pour, and that every drink he makes tastes like juice.

"Cheers to that," you smirk, raising your glass to clink with Eddie's.

“I’ve seen her take down that tequila. Down by the liter. I knew I had to meet her.”

"Maketh way everyone," Henry announces, asserting himself back into the VIP section after leaving not too long ago. “Bottle service a-la-Henry."

You turn to Hellfire’s bouncer, who ditched the casual attire tonight for a more classy black formal suit and a matching Rolex watch. His sandy blonde hair is extra sleeked up and away from his face. According to Henry, he never usually dresses up unless there's a special occasion. You suppose BYOB night is one of those events.

Henry acknowledges the cocktail in your hand before nodding towards the bottle of Don Julio that he’s holding.

"Tell me, Shy Girl," Henry starts. "You up to ditch that for something a bit more challenging?"

Eddie fires a curious look towards the interaction.

You eye the Don Julio that was luring you in, and ultimately decide to take Henry up on it. Flashing him a sinister smile, you instruct him, “Hit me.”

Henry slowly starts towards you, tilting your chin upwards once he pops the cap open. With your consent he starts to pour the tequila down into your mouth.

Fuck being responsible tonight.

An array of "WOOO"s and "OHHH"s fill the air around the VIP section as everyone cheers, shocked that you’re able to chug all of that without it burning. Little did they know, Don Julio tastes just like home. Well, south of the border from home.

After holding down your own fort for way too long, you've decided that someone else needs to be handed that baton for tonight. Since you didn't tell Henry to stop, you're still chugging what he was pouring into your mouth. You know it’s risky, especially since you had two edible gummies several minutes ago as well.

“Oh my god,” Eddie gawks as you settle for a final gulp.

“Shy Girl’s not so shy,” Steve comments, absent-mindedly, arms wrapped around your waist as he keeps you propped upwards. "Good job, baby. That's how you do it."

“That’s it, Hargrove," Henry smirks. "Swallow all that for me?”

You peer up at him and hold your eye contact as you swallow, making sure Henry knows that there's no more alcohol left in your mouth. Everyone knows you championed that shit. When you’re done, he wipes the remnants of tequila off your bottom lip.

"This one's dangerous, Eds," he comments, completely shocked by what he just witnessed.

"Don't I know it," Eddie breathes. "Not really living up to the Shy Girl name, are we Hargrove?"

You feel Steve's grip around your waist tighten. Assuming he was being possessive over you, you turn to offer him your undivided attention. Instead, you end up looking over at a clearly intoxicated Steve, leaning onto you for gait support as he smothers you with affectionate kisses all over your shoulders, ear, and neck.

"Shy Girl," Steve mumbles. "Shy Girl Hargove... Not-So-Shy-Shy-Girl."

You turn back to Eddie, meeting those carnivorous eyes once again. He's breathing heavily against you now, that this time he's not even hiding it.

"Yeah well the Shy Girl thing is all an act," you quip at Eddie flirtaciously. "Looks like there's still a lot for you to learn about me."

Eddie rolls his tongue around in his cheek as he eyes you up and down. He presses his palm gently onto your knee that rested closer to him and rubs it. "Can I crash your class then? Professor?"

Before you can respond, Chrissy bounces her way on over, ecstatic over the amount of tips she made.

"Wh- are you guys all drinking without me?" she exclaims when she approaches the table.

You turn to see her pouting ever so playfully, but then smiling when Argyle hands her a shot of the Don Julio. She too downs it like it's water.

"WOOO!" Chrissy cheers, raising the empty shot glass into the air. "To Hellfire Club!"

"To Hellfire Club!" everyone follows.

Everyone resumes taking shots and celebrating once again, this time with Chrissy joining the party. You watch Eddie as he feeds her an edible, another one allegedly, upon her request. He rests a delicate hand on her cheek, watching her chew, then grazes her cheek when she swallows the gummy, eyes glued on him the entire time.

“Good girl,” he mouths.

Chrissy flashes a playful, flirty grin before excusing herself from the table to go and give patrons a dance. She is stopped midway by a familiar, friendly face.

"Aht, aht," the friendly face stops her. "Not so fast, missy. I have some stuff for you."

"Oh, that's right!" Chrissy giggles. "Thanks, Nance."

To Steve's utter shock, House Mom Nancy makes her way to the VIP table. You feel him tense beside you, attempting to sit up straight and pretend that he's sober. You and Steve take in Nancy's effortless beauty, the way her straight brown hair was neatly kept in a bun, black square neck cocktail dress with transparent black tights underneath fitting her body like a glove, with nails that were always cleaned, polished, and painted a neutral color. Nancy is always so effortlessly pretty, but tonight she looked extra good.

“Here are your extra pasties, love,” Nancy reports while handing Chrissy her boob tape. “And also some spare bobby pins.”

“Thank you!” Chrissy chimes.

Nancy proceeds to take Chrissy's tips, tucking them neatly into a pouch that has a cherry design on it. As she finishes up with Chrissy, Nancy's eyes travel over to meet Steve’s.

“Hello, Steve,” she attempts.

“Hey, Nance,” Steve says, eyes filled with sorrow.

Nancy’s eyes fall onto you. The air seems awkward now, most likely because Nancy read the room and figured out that you and Steve are probably sleeping together. You can’t hide your thoughts. Your face speaks for you, and judging by the way you struggle to make eye contact with your house mom, she knows now that you know of her and Steve's history.

“Hey you!” Nancy cheers, trying to mask the tension.

“Hey Nance!” you join in. “How are you tonight?”

“Good,” she smiles. “Not working tonight?”

“No, just here to support Chrissy,” you smile back.

“Awesome!”

If Argyle and Henry didn't know you two are hooking up, they sure as hell knew now. They exchange a lightning quick glance at once another and do their best not to do anything that could potentially worsen the situation. Not that it was bad. It was just painfully awkward.

It’s silent for a bit before Nancy clears her throat. “Okay then, I’ll see you guys later.”

All of you bid goodbye to Nancy and try to carry on with the rest of the night. The boys have no issue going back to what they were doing. Meanwhile, you look over at Steve who has gone pale and looks like he is about to throw up.

You rest a hand on top of his. Steve flinches before turning to look at you.

“Are you okay?” you question him.

He sighs and nods. “I will be.”

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you remind him. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

"You're right," Steve frowns. He grabs your hand to kiss it. "Thanks for being so patient with me."

"Of course," you insist.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom to freshen up," he says before ruffling your hair. "I'll be right back."

Your eyes trail after Steve to ensure his safety as he saunters over to the bathroom. When he makes it safe, you turn your attention back to the boys who are, of course, talking about sex.

"Alright you guys," Argyle speaks up. "Let's talk about it. Do you guys have a daddy kink?"

You're intrigued. You gaze travels over to Henry and Eddie who are trying to contain their excitement on the topic. They're trying to act like this is not something they wanted to talk about, but judging by how tightly they're holding onto their drinks and fixing the way they were sitting a little bit too often, they are more than giddy about this topic. Or anything sex-related.

"No not really," Henry shrugs. "But master kink, yeah. I like to be called master and all that stuff."

"Ooh, you're one of those freaky ass fools," Argyle says. "I see, I see. Eddie what about you?"

"Do we really have to talk about this?" Eddie chuckles.

"We sure do, you little freak," Argyle nudges him.

Eddie laughs to himself, staring down at the bottle of beer he's currently drinking. Slowly, he starts to nod, causing your heart to do sommersaults. This night keeps on getting better.

"Yeah..." Eddie answers. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"What's the reason behind your daddy kink?"

"Just think it's hot," Eddie shrugs. "I like taking care of the girl while she unravels right under me. Think it's also a power thing. I like taking over."

"You a choker?"

"Dude, am I?" Eddie exclaims. "Fuuuck yeah! I'm like the fucking waiter at Olive Garden with the grated cheese. Tell me when to stop."

The boys burst out in laughter. Eddie continues with an explanation.

"Cuz I'll keep going."

You are too cross-faded for this right now. Your environment starts to get hot, and you can't tell if it's because of the alcohol or the information Eddie was dumping on everyone causing your cheeks to flush.

"And you know what they say," Henry adds. "Everything is about sex, but sex is about power."

"Power, women, same thing," Eddie says. "Fucking love it."

His eyes fixate on you.

"What about you Shy Girl?" Eddie questions you, his voice deepening. "What are you into?"

Chrissy's screams could not have come at a better time. The whole club nearly pans their attention to her when as shrieks.

“You fucking dickhead!”

Startled, Eddie shoots up. “What? What the fuck happened?”

“I turn around to straddle him and his dick was out.”

You look over to where Chrissy is.

Absolutely fuming, Eddie turns to Henry.

“Creel..."

"Oh I am so glad I am not on the clock," Henry fumes. "I'm gonna fuck him up so bad."

You watch as Henry removes the black blazer he has on along with his watch and shoes before darting towards Chrissy and her perverted patron. You are about to witness what you have been warned about.

"Put that back in your fucking pants dude, what the hell are you doing?" you hear him demand.

"I was just-"

"Quiet. I don't wanna hear it."

"She was talking me up all nice. Not my fault this bitch can't put out."

You turn to Eddie and swear that his eyes have gone black. Yet he refrains from going there himself. He knows well enough that he can't get involved as a manager. There would be a lot at stake if he did.

After arguing back and forth with the customer, Henry digresses when he realizes he's talking to an arrogant brick wall. That's when the unthinkable happens. You watch as the customer practically flies out of his seat, at his mercy now that he is in Henry's unbelievably tight grip. He tries to fight it, swatting at Henry's hand, attempting to kick him in the groin. Henry seems amused. As if that poor customer has a chance.

You almost hear a SNAP.

"Oooh," you hear the crowd hiss painfully.

The customer wails helplessly on the floor as Henry continues to have his way with him. Chrissy, extremely overwhelmed, dashes to the bathroom as she puts her cloak back on, trying to hide the fact that her face is now completely red and full of tears.

Your eyes pan back over to the customer who is now sprawled out onto the floor. Henry abandons him after hissing a cruel, "Get your shit together then get the fuck out" at him and spitting onto him.

He excuses himself to go get Jim to drag him out. You're way too stunned to say anything to him, eyes glued on the customer whose limbs are now bent to a perfect 90 degree angle, neck seemingly displaced, shoulders misaligned with every other part of his body. There's a pool of blood and sweat on the floor. Or maybe that's piss.

"These assholes need to be mindful of how they treat women," Henry snaps when he returns. "Cuz one of these days, they're gonna find the One."

It's difficult for chaos to phase you now, especially since physical confrontations like this used to occur every day at home. But nothing could have prepared you for the aftermath of getting fucked up by Henry.

“Jesus,” you heave. “I didn’t know the human body could bend like that.”

“Naturally it can’t,” Henry corrects you.

“Evident by the bones snapping all willy-nilly,” Argyle adds.

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that, thanks,” you reply.

Eddie sneaks up behind you.

“Told you it was grody,” he says.

Steve emerges from the bathroom, slightly less pale, but still heavily intoxicated. He looks over at the customer, eyes wide.

"Jesus." You can tell he already knows what happened. Steve also seems to know who took care of that person. "I always tell myself I'l get used to it, but damn."

You go over to embrace him. He embraces you back, kissing you across the forehead with his liquor heavy breath. Although you wanted to be with him for the rest of the night, you knew he had to go home. When Steve glances elsewhere, you confiscate his car keys. Eddie guides Steve back to his seat at the VIP table, giving him small words of encouragement as they go.

"That's it, easy there, Big Guy. Almost there. You good?"

You stride over to POTIONS where Dustin just so happens to be now. Judging by how close he and Steve are, you trust him to take him home.

"Dustin," you begin.

"Yes, m'lady," he answers.

"You mind staying with Steve for me?" you request. "I'm gonna be with Chrissy for a bit, but I think he might be ready to go home. I'm not sober so I can't take his car."

"Oh no," Dustin peers over at Steve. "Let me guess, he saw Nancy?"

"Yup," you confirm handing Steve’s keys to Dustin. “They said two whole words to each other."

"That's two more than they usually do," Dustin mutters, accepting the keys from you. “But yeah, I got you. I'll be right there."

You let the men be men, re-enacting Henry’s bone-snapping marathon with the customer. Ditching them, you make your way to the bathroom, where you saw Chrissy run to, to check on her. The sound of sniffling in the stall furthest at the back is the first thing you hear.

“Chrissy?” you call out. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insists.

A gag followed by some a mass that sounds like vomit shooting into the toilet contradicts that statement completely. Chrissy continues to throw up profusely as you make your way over, crawling under the stall to get to your new friend.

Chrissy is hugging the toilet now, clinging onto it for dear life as if it were going to run away from her.

"Room's spinning," she justifies.

“Yeah, you are most definitely not fine," you sigh. You pat her back to console her. "Are you just overwhelmed by everything? How many milligrams did you take?”

“How many are in three?”

“Jesus Christ!" you shout. "Chrissy!"

“They weren’t doing shit,” Chrissy pouted. “I felt like I needed something strong…” she’s interrupted by her own gagging once more. “Stronger. The edibles just weren't kicking in…”

“So we wait, love!” you exclaim. “We wait for them to kick in. We don’t take it upon ourselves, especially if one gummy is 20 milligrams.”

“Waiting around is for chumps.”

The room falls silent as Chrissy proceeds to self soothe, spitting remnants of her emesis into the toilet and focusing on her breathing. You decide to speak up again.

“How do you feel after what just happened?”

“I don’t,” she answers. “Eventually, you just grow numb to it. It’s part of the profession.”

“Harassment shouldn't be part of the profession."

"But it is."

"It shouldn't! Surely we can get Henry and Jim to do more training so this doesn't happen. We can take self defense classes?"

Chrissy sits up. She turns to face you, running a hand through your hair.

“Oh my baby,” she pouts. “My dear Baby Stripper. You’ve got some shit to experience before you truly know that none of this shit is preventable." She looks off into the distance. "You’re very brave for wanting to do this. I always used to tell girls who want to get into the industry to run as fast as they can."

You're no stranger to harassment and abuse, but you couldn't imagine what strippers go through on a daily basis. Unwanted gestures, having genitals exposed to them that they did not intend on seeing, stalking, retaliation, violence, kidnapping attempts. And these poor men and women who are just trying to make a living have to just accept it.

"There's so much I don't know about the industry," you admit to her. "And to a certain degree I am still naive about it all."

"That's why I'm so protective of you."

"I'll be fine, Chrissy," you reassure her. "I'm more worried about you. You're such a cute little cinnamon roll, I'm the protective one."

"You're so sweet," she says. "You have to promise me that you're gonna say something if anyone tries shit with you."

"Of course," you nod. You start to get scared. Chrissy is saying all this as if it was bound to happen tomorrow.

"And that if anyone at all seems like a threat, you let Jim, Henry, or Eddie know right away," Chrissy continues. "And Jonathan is in on it too. Just ask him for an angel shot and he'll know exactly what to do."

"Mhm," you nod again. "Yeah, you got it."

The extents women have to go through to keep safe...You shudder in fear. It's only temporary, you remind yourself. It's only temporary.

It's not too long after the incident that everyone, the party included, decides to disperse. Argyle volunteers to take Chrissy home and they leave in his van. Henry stays behind and talks with Jim, explaining to him what exactly went down with that one customer. Meanwhile, Steve is sitting at the VIP table, nearly passed out, but Eddie and Dustin work together to get him to his feet.

“Alright,” Dustin announces. “I’m taking Steve home before he starts simping over Nancy again.”

"Shut up, dude," Steve mumble, using nearly all his body weight to lean on Dustin.

You walk over to give Steve one last embrace, leaving a delicate kiss on his cheek as he drunkenly sways back and forth in your grip.

“Goodnight Steve,” you smile.

“Goodnight beautiful,” Steve says. “I’ll text you when I’m home safe.”

“Please,” you encourage him. “And drink water.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles hazily. “You drink water.”

After they leave, you return to the VIP table to order yourself an Uber. You're still intoxicated, but it's simmered to a buzz now. Before you can even navigate to the app, some tight jeans and combat boots make their way towards you, keys to a certain van out back jingling around his fingers.

“Ready, Shy Girl?” Eddie asks you.

“Huh? For what?”

“I’m taking you home.”

_____________

author’s note: thank you so much for all your kind words regarding this fic thus far!! 🥹 and thank you for being so patient as i had a family emergency this week so posting was delayed! didn’t wanna rush posting either because i care about the quality of my work and you guys deserve the best!! i added a bunch of y’all to the tag list and am so excited to have you guys along for the ride. revising/editing ch 4 as we speak :)

———————————-

tag list: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe , @hideoutside , @motherfckerrr , @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23 , @sidthedollface2

#Spotify #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #hellfire club #steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #Steve and Eddie #steddie and reader #Eddie and reader #steve and reader #Chrissy Cunningham

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charliedawn · 1 year

Text

What if the slashers kept a journal ?

Bo was taking care of one of the employees' car—which had a flat tire—when you decided it was the perfect time to do a round check of all the bedrooms. All of the slashers had to keep a journal and you thought it would be alright to just give it a quick look to see their progress.

However, Bo's journal seemed very well hidden and then, you found out that his desk was slightly off-centred. It was by palming haphazardly the underneath of his desk that you found the journal—hidden inside a secret compartment he had surely crafted himself.

"You clever clock.", you whistled admiratively with a proud smile. You then opened it and frowned as you noticed that the first page was blank...and the second...and the third. Why was it empty ?!

"Can I help ya ?"

You were surprised to hear Bo's voice behind you and quickly turned around. He eyed the journal in your hands and looked up at you before blinking several times. He seemed to catch up quickly on what you were doing by how guilty you looked.

"Anythin' interesting in there, nurse?"

However, instead of replying, you threw the journal on the bed scurried off of the room as quickly as you had entered it. As soon as the door was locked, he smiled and walked to his desk. He checked that his real journal was still there—hidden underneath some mechanical engineering book—and smiled when he realized it was...

He chuckled knowingly.

"Noisy lil' darlin'."

In Vincent's journal, there were merely animal pics and various unreadable scribbles. You couldn't possibly read the things written, so you focused on the photographs and smiled at the various subjects...until you arrived to the last days' entries. Now, you knew Vincent to be easily obsessed. He had once followed a bird for hours—only to draw a sketch of it. However, you had never seen him get obsessed over an actual human being—until today.

There were only photographs of you.

You. Eating.

You. Talking.

You...Sleeping.

Oh...You blushed and promptly closed the journal before hiding it back underneath his pillow. However, when you turned around—you fell face to face with Vincent.

He looked successively between you and his pillow and finally, it clicked. He tried stop say something—but by then, you were already gone. You had snuck past him. He stood still for a second or two before re-opening the diary. He gently stroke the last photograph he had taken of you—smiling at him.

It was his best one yet...

Sex jokes. So many sex jokes. You thought that man would take the time to write profound meaningful things ? Ah ! Joke's on you.

However, he smiled when he saw you reading his diary. He stayed there for a moment before creeping his way in and surprising you by suddenly pulling your head back.

"Haven't you heard the expression curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart ?", he asked with a threatening grin and you shrugged.

"Haven't you heard bastards usually get cooked ?", you shot back.

At this point, you didn't give a toss that he had caught you—with the amount of garbage you had read. His whole brain needed to be purged in holy water.

"It doesn't make any sense.", he snarled and you offered him a sweet smile before taking a lighter on the table.

"Yes. It means let me go, Krueger...before I burn you somewhere that REALLY hurts.", you his in-between meaningfully—but it didn't seen to be efficient. It only spurred him on as he closed the door with his foot.

"Hmm...Nah. Don't think I will."

No need to say...Freddy got more than one additional burn that day.

Brahms was so discreet—you didn't notice when he approached you from behind. He glanced at what page you were on and realized it was a part when he described you.

Curious. Nice. Beautiful...

You smiled at the compliments, but realized that he had missed the point of the exercise. It was to focus on himself and reach deep. However, Brahms didn't like people reading his secrets.

His chest heaved heavily and in a matter of seconds, your back was against the door and he had removed his mask. You wanted to read all about his secrets ? He would make you sing yours.

Jason mostly wrote random words he learned. He couldn't make full sentences yet—but he mostly tried to write words and various emotions or actions of the day.

Cutting. Eating. Cooking.

He didn't like making sentences—so he usually only writes down random words. He described people he met, places he went to and his feelings.

You smiled.

He might be the only one who had listened to you and tried to fill their journal with what they felt. You flipped quickly through the different entries until you reached the final one. You were then pleasantly surprised by finding a few sentences. But that pleasant feeling quickly disappeared when you read.

'Hello, mommy. I have friends now. I think you would like them. And I...I met someone. I think you'd like them too. They like us. They take care of us. I miss you. But I...I think I'll be alright.'

You let out a few tears as you imagined Jason writing those words. He had learned so much and you weren't afraid to say that you were proud of him. And you were sure his mother would be too if she could see him.

Michael could smell you. He knew you had been in his room and every single thing you touched. The scent lingered on his diary and on one page in particular—one he didn't think was that important.

It was a photograph. A photograph of all the slashers reunited on Christmas. It was also the only day Carrie and Sadako were allowed in the facility.

Jason had taken that photograph before giving it to Michael as a present. He is completely forgotten about it, but smiled faintly at the realization that you had chosen this page in particular made it special.

He sighed before sitting on his bed and closing the journal. He looked out at the garden where you were helping Freddy with the bad weed.

You looked so...perfect. And that made you precious in Michael's mind—but also dangerous. He had this urge to protect you clashing with the need to kill you. It was exhausting to keep that last urge at bay, and he was afraid of what he might do if you were to ever know about his feelings...But, he wasn't worried.

You would never feel the same...right ?

Jack writes down everything—and I mean everything. He can fill an entire book about his day. He also has a big memory and can remember the tiniest of details.

That was the reason why you had decided to read his entries—in case he would have written something you had missed.

What you found inside made your eyes widen.

He had studied them all. And it wasn't just moments. It was fully-detailed portraits. Physical. Mental. Psychological...He had recorded ever trait, every change...And not only about the slashers or the other patients.

But the staff as well. And of course, you. You learnt that he had memorized everything to you taste of cake and the type of clothes you wore for every occasion. It was impressive—but also rather worrying.

"Well well...Wasn't expecting any visitors."

You turned around swiftly add found him standing there with a smug look on his face. He didn't seem to mind you reading his journal. He simply tilted his head with a knowing smirk and you let the journal fall to the floor before slowly backing away.

"I was just..." His eyes didn't leave yours before he stepped out of the way.

"Here you go, nurse. You can go."

You eyed the door suspiciously. Could you...really ? But, you didn't want to stay and ask—so you walked out. Jack's eyes followed you until you were out of view before smiling and picking his journal back up.

New entry: Nurse Y/N doesn't seem to be very happy about being the studied subject for once...

Pennywise hadn't written anything. You were partly disappointed, but not that surprised. Pennywise didn't like sharing—and that was even with himself. He was complicated and he refused to acknowledge his own feelings.

But, that was okay.

You closed the diary and looked at Pennywise who was sitting in his favorite rocking chair and was staring ahead at things you couldn't fathom.

Maybe were there ghosts of his past ? You didn't know. Maybe would he open up some day. But, you'd wait until then.

They ran. They all ran. And I chased after them. Their little hearts pounded loudly in their chests as I trapped them. Their wide eyes fixed on me.

You had mainly a lot of notes on his time when he had to face the Losers' club. Penny was oddly specific on the gore details of his past kills. But, you needed to understand him—so you digged dipper.

You read everything—everything until you found something truly important.

I'm losing my memory...Pennywise says it's normal. But, I can't even remember who I was before. What was my name ? I think I was a clown...But, I don't know anymore. I think I had a daughter. But, I don't remember her name.

Penny was...losing his memory ? You looked up and saw him playing with the other younger slashers in the garden. He was smiling and carelessly chasing after them. But, what if...there was more to him than you had initially thought ?

Ghostface had refused to show his face to anyone. You had simply wanted to get to know him better. You knew that searching though his personal entries for answers wasn't really nurse-worthy...But, he refused to open up. However, before you could read as much as a few words—he had grabbed the diary from your hands and pressed his knife against your throat.

"Now now...nursy. Spying ? That's not very ethical of you.", he teased and you closed your eyes.

He seemed pissed by the way his voice became slightly more high-pitched and you knew that you should be afraid—but something else crossed your mind.

"What is you favorite scary movie ?", you muttered and Ghostface tilted his head quizzically.

"...What ?"

You slowly turned around to face him fully and he didn't stop you.

"That is the question you ask to all the patients. The question you always ask to everyone you meet. Are you...", you looked up—even though you couldn't really judge his reaction. "...searching for someone ?"

Ghostface stayed uncharacteristically quiet for a moment before clenching his fists.

"Leave. Now.", he uttered in a quiet whisper and you didn't dare defy him—as you knew by the way he had suddenly tensed up that you weren't welcome anymore.

The moment you were out, he slammed the door and locked the door before removing his mask and throwing it to the ground angrily. He was was conflicted. He was ashamed that you had succeeded in seeing right through him so quickly. And, he couldn't tell you—not yet. He opened his diary and sighed. He couldn't tell you that the answer he was searching for was Psychose. 1960. His father's favorite scary movie.

It was the only information he had—that and that he was a patient in St Louis. He looked up at the ceiling and suddenly threw the diary in the fire heating up the room.

No one would know. He wouldn't risk it.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #pennywise x reader #slashers #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #jack torrance x reader #ghostface x reader

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gofancyninjaworld · 1 year

Text

just peopling

I don't think Murata knows what he does for me when he draws characters showing their more unguarded, vulnerable moments. And I don't mean when they're undergoing a profound emotional experience. Just the mundane, everyday activities.

It's not easy to depict mundanity in a story: real estate is precious, and Everything Has To Mean Something. So Murata finding space both within and around the chapters to ground the characters as people despite their abilities is precious.

Something that comes to mind is Scott McCloud's comment in his excellent book 'Understanding Comics', where he notes that depicting a superhero going to the bathroom is funny as we don't see these characters as human and it breaks our immersion. In One-Punch Man, the characters may be incredible and in a fantastic setting, but ONE and Murata have pulled off their also being so human there's nothing remarkable about them eating, sleeping, going to the bathroom, or having a recycling schedule on the wall. It's not easy to do.

ONE does get mileage out of making superhumans doing ordinary things hilarious, but he does it by making the context funny. Sure, Sonic on the shitter is funny, but it's not funny because he's an impossible ninja having a shit as if he were human. We accept his humanity. It's why he's crapping his guts out that's hilarious: there's both the schadenfreude of seeing him hoisted by his own petard and the relief that because he's screwed up, he will stay human. Sure, Genos using his arm cannon to dry the dishes is funny, but not because he's a combat cyborg that probably costs the same as a fighter jet. He and Saitama ate. Of course the dishes need doing. It's that he's abusing a million-dollar piece of equipment to do something ordinary that's hilarious -- like an engineer abusing a high-powered laser to heat coffee [1].

Often, the context isn't funny for the sake of being funny. Genos cleaning the house? Not funny. Genos ignoring the sounds of battle outside because he can't bring himself to leave the house until he's cleaned up all traces of the previous night's party? Hilarious. However, it's not just funny: it's the setup for us seeing later the pots and bowls set out as the apartment is destroyed, all ready to start dinner as soon as Saitama comes back. He's prepared for a meal that neither will ever eat. We carry out our routines as if life will never change, even though we're aware it can be cut short at any time and in ways we cannot anticipate, and no amount of power or privilege changes that. In the meantime, we live.

Why do they go so far as to humanize the characters? Other than it being nice to see, it also allows the story to land points that otherwise couldn't work. Points such as everything takes time, effort, and attention and no one can do everything, but must needs choose, and these choices have consequences. That we need others to be human. That even the best relationships take work. That fulfilling yourself as a human being is a work in progress. That the idea of there being a 'thing' or 'state' that will make one happy is nonsense. That we can go too far. That we don't deserve second chances, but no one's counting.

Being human is complicated and frustrating and boring but oh so worth it. That's a big point that ONE wants to get across. And he can't do that if the very idea of a character needing the bathroom is hilarious.

[1] Obligatory health warning: do not fuck with lasers. A laser capable of warming your coffee in a useful time is both invisible and more likely to set you on fire than give you a warm beverage.

#OPM #official art #Yusuke Murata #meta #long #it's hard to tell a bombastic fantasy story that is nevertheless very human and grounded -- McCloud certainly can't see a way to do it #somehow ONE is pulling that off #and Murata's art is integral to it #indeed the heroes would have little reason to be heroes if they also weren't so human #in OPM heroism may be less a matter of 'I have powers and wish to do good' as it is a matter of 'hey I live here too'#and of course in this world one's humanity can't be taken for granted but that's another story

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wh0re4women · 1 year

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Exam Season. (Larissa Weems X Reader.) SFW

Summary: Reader is overworking herself due to upcoming exams and Larissa tries to step in — it doesn’t go well. (but it ends well.)

Warnings: lack of sleeping / eating / drinking (possible TW), overworking oneself, student (18+) x teacher, angst with some comfort at the end. <3

Exam season — the few months where you would be cooped up in your room, studying research papers, revising notes and creating ridiculous amounts of flash cards as if your life depended on it. Well, it sort of did.

To be fair, the months passed by extremely rapidly. So much so, that you'd even be inclined to say that you may not have had quite enough time to study.

Larissa would be the first to disagree with that statement.

For the past few weeks, the woman could just about bet her entire life's savings on the idea that every lunch hour, you could most certainly be found lounging on the grass outside of Nevermore, a block of papers stacked in front of you as you twirled a piece of your hair, intensely focusing. And when it came to dinner time, you'd once again be discovered with a pen in between your fingers as you sprawled out onto a surface in your bedroom.

Larissa has found you on your bed, and under it (that was a very tiresome day), behind your door, by the window and upside down on your couch, always reading never-ending books.

It's not that the Principal was complaining. Not at all — you were her star student. However Larissa, your girlfriend, could occasionally be caught complaining. Because although you were always taking exceptional care of your school work, you lacked in taking care of yourself in turn at times. Exam season was one of those times.

Larissa would catch you awake at ungodly hours whenever she was on night duty; she never sensed your presence at extracurricular activities (not if they weren't mandatory or graded) and you were never to be seen in the cafeteria when it called for it. To put it simply, the tall blonde believed you were too hard on yourself, never knowing just when to take a break.

So as the evening rolled around and Larissa strutted through the halls of Nevermore, routinely making her way towards the dinner room, she once again found herself scoping the expanse of the building, searching for your being. She wasn't surprised when, after fifteen minutes, the cafeteria had settled down and you were still nowhere to be found.

No, she wasn't surprised. Just disappointed.

The Principal then decided that she had let quite enough slide — she wasn't going to sit back and watch you exhaust yourself to the point of no return.

The stroll to your room was brisk, her heels echoing in a repetitive rhythm as Larissa racked her brain for what she could say that would have a profound enough impact on you, hoping that it would change the way that you prioritise certain tasks and neglect others. The crescendo of the Principals heels came to an abrupt halt as she paused in front of your door, knocking twice.

"[y/n]? It's Principal Weems."

There was a lack of response.

Larissa convinced herself to wait. She knocked again. She waited. She bit her lip, shifted from foot to foot, clasped her hands together. Waited.

The Principal was a worrier — she worried especially hard considering you didn’t have a roommate. Larissa definitely wasn't going to leave without checking in on you, so she tested the handle. The door was unlocked; the tall blonde carefully pressed her fingers onto the wood, pushing it open just enough for her to peak her head in.

There you were, this time at your desk, head nodding in repetition as you mumbled a string of formulas over and over. Your hand was wildly flailing across white paper, ink gradually covering the page. Larissa sighed. How could she ever be disappointed with you? It was entirely impossible. Sure, she felt frustrated and helpless at times. But just the mere sight of you had her swooning, an adoring smile blossoming on her face as all preceding negative thoughts and feelings dissipated.

The Principal softly stepped into the room, tactically guiding the door back into its frame as to not startle you. She took a second, before quietly sauntering in your direction as she cleared her throat.

You didn't react.

"[y/n], darling," Larissa tried as she paused in front of your desk. You hummed in response, acknowledging her presence but too enthralled in your work to let your focus wander. Your first exam was two days away and Larissa understood, more than anybody else, how important that was to you. However, it was still not too important for you to not take adequate care of yourself — Larissa needed to get that across to you, even if she felt hesitant to upset you.

"[y/n]. Can we talk, darling?"

You hummed again.

"Properly — Can we talk properly?" The Principals voice rose a few syllables.

Before you could rudely brush the tall woman off again with a hum, Larissa guided your pen out of your cramped hand, finally grasping your full attention as you looked up at her in annoyance and surprise.

"Hey! I need that!"

"And I need to speak with you," Larissa fired back.

"Well, can it wait? I'm in the middle of something important," you huffed before pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to cool down (and soothe your pounding headache, though you’d never admit that to Larissa.)

Poor girl, the Principal thought. Dealing with handfuls of disobedient students a day and then bickering with you right after, could often be confusing for Larissa and she made it a habit to remind herself that you were not just an insolent student, you were her hardworking, intelligent, brilliant girlfriend.

The older woman rounded your desk, crouching down beside your chair so she was eye-level with you, "Hey, take a deep breath, darling."

You side-eyed the Principal in fury, convinced she was attempting to rile you up, as every time she opened her mouth, you inched closer and closer to tearing your hair out. Nevertheless, you did as she asked, not being able to disobey whenever the blonde was so gentle and patient with you. Larissa didn't deserve your frustration — she wasn't the cause of it.

"Good girl," the tall woman softly praised, finally rising from her crouched position. Her heels tapped along the wooden floors before silencing as she perched onto the edge of your desk, looking down at you with crossed arms.

You raised an eyebrow, "What did you want to talk about, 'Rissa? I'm busy."

"Yes, I know, darling. So busy that you're neglecting yourself again, aren't you?" Larissa cockily replied and you dramatically sighed, slumping back in your seat.

It was one of your only flaws, but it was certainly your greatest — you were stubborn as a rock.

"I'm not doing this with you again."

"What have you eaten today, [y/n]?" Larissa cleverly continued, "Have you drank any water? When was the last time you slept more than three hours?"

A blanket of silence fell upon the room and you avoided Larissa's burning gaze, afraid that your eyes would tell her everything. Though there wasn't anything you could say that she didn't already know.

The Principal sighed, "I'm not here to attack you—"

"It certainly feels that way."

"Well, in that case, I apologise," the red-lipped woman stated, "However, we've had this conversation many times before, darling. I know that deep down you don't blame me for my concern."

Your focus fell upon the scatter of papers that painted your desk. Maybe Larissa was right — you weren't even aware of the time, or when the last hot meal you ate was. You remembered being thirsty that morning but you had told yourself you'd take a break in thirty minutes — those thirty minutes never came. Hours ago, your spine had felt like it was being torn out of your back with pliers. Now, it was a dull ache, just like everything else.

"Darling—"

"What?" You spat and it came out harsher than intended. There was a second where Larissa looked taken aback. You suddenly felt furious with yourself, in turn unconsciously taking your anger out on her in your sleep deprived state. "Leave me alone, will you? Go annoy somebody else."

You snatched your pen back up, finding the piece of paper you had been writing on and continuing solving yet another impossible equation as Larissa gathered herself together. She bit down her clever remarks, swallowed the lump in her throat and brushed the singular tear from the corner of her eye. The door closed sharply when she left.

As the sun began to rise, hours and hours later, the beaming light started aggravating your vision, hitting your iris just right. Only then did it dawn on you, as you shifted your back to the window and your eyes focused on the clock on the wall, that you had been studying for twenty-four hours straight. Your eyes were red raw, itchy and droopy as you wobbled up from your chair, stretching and wincing at the pull of your stiff muscles.

You sauntered across your bedroom with a slight limp as your body gradually got used to moving again. Just as you were about to reach for your phone as it remained charging on your nightstand, it lit up. Twenty three messages, all from Larissa.

Larissa — god, she must’ve been so upset with you. You’d practically spat in her face and kicked her out of the door.

You abandoned all previous plans of taking a shower and napping, rushing out of your room with urgency. Thankfully, it was too late (or early) for anybody to be roaming the halls, so you could freely sprint through the building without distraction, panting once you’d reached Larissa’s office.

Two desperate knocks punctuated on the Principals door, drawing Larissa’s attention as she cosied up by her fireplace with a crossword puzzle in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She barely had the chance to lazily sing ‘come in’ before you flung the door open.

“Darling girl—“

“I’m so sorry, ‘Rissa…”

The blonde shoved her magazine aside and you darted into her open arms in relief, fingers twisting into her satin sleep-shirt. You didn’t wonder why she was still awake — you already knew. Larissa cared too deeply; she could never sleep knowing you were possibly upset with her.

“Ssh, you’re forgiven already, darling. I’m not cross with you,” Larissa hushed as she pressed her lips to the top of your head, absentmindedly rocking you in her arms. “That being said, we need to talk.”

Tearing away from her warmth with dread building in your stomach, you looked up into her cool blues, listening intently this time. Like she always deserved.

“I’m worried about you, [y/n],” the blonde started. “You haven’t slept a wink in days, darling — there’s bags under your eyes to prove it. You don’t socialise with any of your classmates anymore and— Do you even remember the last time you ate a proper meal?”

“I haven’t had the time—“

“There’s always time to nourish your body,” Larissa insisted.

You looked down into your lap, “Not today, there wasn’t.”

“Then make time.”

You bit your lip, nodding in understanding as Larissa made quite a compelling point. Disappointing your lover felt like the worst punishment — Larissa knew that as well as you did. So when you sheepishly looked up, a small unsure smile playing on your lips, Larissa knew the worst part was already over.

“…Did you leave me any dinner?”

The Principal blew out a soft breath, a reassuring smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, “There’s stir fry in the microwave, darling.”

You wrapped your arms around Larissa’s neck, squeezing her in a thankful embrace, whispers of ‘i love you’, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you’ spilling from your lips.

#larissa weems x reader #mine #wednesday fic #larissa weems x you #principal weems x reader #larissa x reader #fic

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