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shenanigans-and-imagines · 6 months

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I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you. What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached. There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes. You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them. Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you. Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered.

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Anytime.”

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes. No doubt he had heard everything.

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you.

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry.

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.”

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it.

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs.

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air.

-----------------------

The next several days carried on in much the same way. Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences.

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut.

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile.

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another.

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice.

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated.

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side.

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent.

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience.

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship. If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more.

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp. He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do.

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow.

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse.

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent.

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said.

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands.

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.”

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank.

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth.

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this.

“Do you need more?” you asked.

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes.

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.”

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?”

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad.

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.”

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.”

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion.

Without further protest you accepted the potion.

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve.

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional.

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give.

Any nerves that remained slipped away. You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past.

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had.

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin.

“Oh?”

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much.

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light.

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.”

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.”

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you.

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure.

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers.

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

“And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.”

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward.

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide.

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.”

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control.

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful.

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul.

It was true, all of it.

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough.

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time.

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff.

“Well?” you prompted.

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else. Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind. Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury. He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him. You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment.

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly.

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face.

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate.

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.”

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable.

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much.

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water.

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm.

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.”

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked.

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.”

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow.

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own.

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced.

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

Tag List:

@ambrolyer, @cassiecasluciluce, @tamwritesstuff, @hallowedandhungry, @mangomonk, @amefuyuu, @righteous-scamp, @starved-kitten, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @twinkliker3000, @unrestrictedbyreality, @screechingphantommaker, @becksynthetic, @black-sapphic, @dicenete, @isharaneith, @sarcasticlittlebook, @catsandskyrimcafe, @sora-o-kaku, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ka-du-trur, @baldursgateslittlestar, @rakilein

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #asexual #asexual!reader #asexual!tav #bard!tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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corrodedcorpses · 1 year

Text

Boys on Film. Part iii

Pairing: PS!Steve x PS!Eddie x Virgin!reader

Summary: last week with Eddie and Steve was everything you could’ve dreamed of and yet you can’t seem to shake these feelings of inadequacy at your lack of experience. Getting it in your head that they must be so bored with you… but surely they would tell you if they felt that way… right?

Warnings: Smut (18+), Masturbation (female), Voyeurism, Oral sex (f&m), angst (don’t hate me)

Word count: 12K

a/n: omg it’s finally done!! I have been working on this for years trying to get it right while also having life happen. I really hope it lives up to expectations and I can get the next part out wayyyyy sooner (also massive thank yous to my babies @andvys @wroteclassicaly @usedtobecooler for all of your help ily all sm)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 4 // Part 4.5

You slide your hands along your thighs slowly, feeling goosebumps rise as your fingers barely graze your skin. Rub your hands up your thighs, yeah, just like that, Steve’s words replay in your mind. You move your hands higher, one coming to cup your bare tits as you replay Eddie telling Steve how gorgeous they were.

You’re going faster than they showed you, you know that, but you’ve been so desperate all day at work you need to relieve some tension now. The events of a couple of days before replaying in your head on a constant loop.

You tweak your nipple, stifling a moan as you feel heat pool at your core. You bring your other hand to gently rub your clit over your panties, gasping at how wet they feel already.

You’re desperate to feel how wet you are again as you move your panties to the side, lightly grazing a finger up your soaking core. That’s it, pretty girl, nice and slow, you can practically hear Eddie say breathlessly.

You spread your wetness all over your clit before pumping a finger inside, crying out at how good it feels, your thumb coming up to rub fast circles in your clit. You know Eddie would chastise you right now for going too fast, but that image alone has you plunging another finger inside your dripping core.

God, look at you, wish you could see how pretty and needy she looks right now, and so wet, you remember Eddie moaning to Steve. The coil inside of you tightening as your mind is focused on nothing but your boys.

You realise you have been neglecting your nipples and give one an accidentally hard tweak at the realisation, causing you to arch your back at the mix of pleasure and pain.

You’re so close, you can feel it as you moan out “I’m so close” to your empty room. You imagine Eddie and Steve calling you their good girl again as they desperately tell you to cum for them.

That’s the final push you need before your orgasm crashes into you. Not as hard as it was with them but definitely the hardest you’ve ever made yourself cum on your own.

Your back still arches and your legs still shake as you continue fingering yourself through your orgasm.

You slump against the mattress when your orgasm finally fades. All too aware of the lack of Steve’s chest behind you or Eddie’s hands on your ankles. No, you think to yourself, I can’t get used to them always being here for that. The thought making your chest tighten but you’re too tired to unpack why.

You quickly throw your pjs back on, climbing under the covers as exhaustion takes over. Your dreams travelling to your usual thoughts of Eddie and Steve.

*****

You strut down your hallway with an extra pep in your step as you hear three quick knocks on your front door. Tonight is your usual night to hang out with Eddie and Steve which always makes you excited. But tonight brings an extra promise of continuing your lessons. You decided for a similar outfit as last time, something comfortable but still cute. You still feel like you excessively cleaned and moisturised but you’re definitely less nervous, excited this time even.

You swing the door open much faster than you had intended, slightly startling Steve in the process. Your eyes quickly scan for Eddie, but assume they must have decided to drive separately. You beam at him as you motion him inside, throwing your arms around him in a friendly but tight hug.

“Hello to you too honey,” he laughs fondly, returning your hug with just as much enthusiasm. “You’ll have to settle for just me for a little bit though,” he explains, letting your hug go to search your face for a reaction but still holding your hands in his warm palms, suddenly self conscious you’ll be disappointed in Eddie not being with him, “Eddie got caught up with doing something for Wayne, I couldn't catch the details, but he promises he’ll be joining us soon.”

“Of course that's okay Stevie,” you say reassuringly, giving his hands a squeeze, “what do you want to do in the meantime?”

You mean your question innocently, and Steve knows that but he can’t help but selfishly want you to himself just for a second while Eddie is preoccupied.

“Wanna sit?” He asks, letting go of one of your hands when you nod yes, holding the other tightly as he leads you to the couch. You can’t help but get butterflies in your stomach as you have every time you’ve sat on this couch since that night.

Steve’s still holding your hand as you both sit next to each other, knees grazing as you angle yourself towards him. You find yourself staring absentmindedly at your interlocked fingers, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as you feel nerves creep through your body.

Steve can tell how tense you are as you sit rigid on the couch and grip his hand tighter than he thinks you realise. He hates seeing you like this around him, but can understand how you feel, doing this with someone he cares about is all new to him too after all.

He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb in a comforting way. You look up at him as you realise you’ve been staring for a weirdly long time. You’re met with his warm amber eyes when you look up and you can feel yourself melting in them, earning yourself a warm smile from Steve.

“Tell me about you honey,” his voice is as sweet as honey, “I feel like we haven’t properly caught up in ages, the last time we hung out we were a bit… preoccupied.” He says with a teasing wiggle of his eyebrows. You laugh at his ridiculous joke, thinking how he’s definitely been hanging out with Eddie too much, but can’t help the blush that creeps onto your cheeks.

You and Steve talk for ages, you catch him up on the latest things that have happened in the last couple of weeks, which isn't much seeing as the most exciting things involved him anyway. He chats to you about his latest film, going into more details than he usually did, you realise. It leaves a slight pang in your chest but you’re glad he seems more comfortable sharing that part of his life with you now.

You also don’t miss how certain details go straight to your core… and Steve doesn’t miss how that makes you squirm. As he continues his story he starts to gently trace your knee with his free hand, fingertips grazing you slightly, causing you to shudder from his touch. His fingertips inch higher and higher ever so slowly, leaving goosebumps in their journey towards where you need them most.

You decide to chance a glance down at his fingers but realise too late that that's a bad idea when you find yourself unable to take your eyes off them. You watch his long slender fingers dance against your thigh, entranced by the way the veins and tendons tense and move with every movement. You stare intently at his fingertips, trying to will them to your core.

Steve notices pretty quickly that you’re no longer listening to him so he asks you a question about work instead, wondering if just how preoccupied you are. You barely register that he’s asked you a question when you stare up at him blankly. He gives you a knowing smirk in return as he asks again, “How has work been babe?”

“O-oh,” you stammer, swallowing thickly as you try to get your brain to work.

You stumble your way through answering Steve, all while his fingers graze higher and higher. “A-and then my boss- ah,” you're cut off with an involuntary moan as Steve's fingers finally graze your core through your thin shorts.

“What did your boss do?” He replies, tone casual, as though he’s completely unbothered by the situation and not already painfully hard in his jeans. You’re just so responsive, he really doesn’t know if he can contain himself until Eddie gets here.

“O-oh well, um, she —“ you try to continue but your brain is so foggy, Steve's fingers increasing in pressure send shocks throughout your body. You clear your throat, “well, she was — um,” god he has pretty lips, you find yourself distracted again as you stare at them. You try to will your brain to form a coherent thought, one that doesn't involve Steve's lips, and fingers, and pretty eyes and how good his hands felt on you and how thick he is and oh how you can definitely see the outline of him straining against his jeans.

Oh fuck it. You surge forward, suddenly capturing Steve’s lips with your own. The small surprised sound that Steve makes gets swallowed by your greedy mouth as he kisses you back with just as much intensity. You try to deepen the kiss, Steve letting you take control, loving how confident you are when you’re so turned on like this.

You lean up on your knees, desperate to feel more of Steve, moaning as you feel your chest press against his. Steve needs you closer as well, grabbing your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You squeal at the feeling, finally breaking away from his lips, but it quickly turns into a moan as you feel Steve’s hardening length pressed right against your core.

Steve’s hands come to knead at your hips, not holding you still but not moving you either. As much as he would love to throw you onto the couch and bury himself deep inside you over and over again, or at least feel your hips grind against his, he would never let himself go faster than what you're ready for.

Luckily for Steve you snake your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape and finally moving your hips against his. It’s sloppy and without rhythm, the angle not quite right but it offers at least a little bit of relief for him.

You stay like that for a while, kissing and moaning and grinding against him. Your hips pick up their pace, needing something but you can’t seem to make it feel as good as you need it. You break the kiss, forehead resting against Steve's as you both pant.

“Steve,” you whine, and god it’s one of the most beautiful sounds Steve has ever heard.

“What do you need, beautiful?” He whispers.

“You, more, just something, please.”

He chuckles fondly at you, he can’t get over how fucked out you are already. “I got you babe, just, here, like this.” Steve takes hold of your hips more firmly, angling them down and grinding you against him, moving his hips up against you at the same time.

You let out a shaky groan, finally feeling the pressure deliciously against your clit. Steve attaches his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there as he continues to grind you against him.

He can feel your thighs start to tense, shaking ever so slightly and as much as he would love to watch you come apart in his lap, he knows you should both wait for Eddie.

“That feeling good huh baby?” He asks cockily.

“Mmhm,” you moan, nodding your head vigorously, eyes screwed shut tightly as you try to chase that feeling. Just then Steve stops moving your hips, keeping you still as you try to squirm. You open your eyes then, bottom lip protruding in the cutest pout Steve has ever seen.

“Don’t you think we should wait for Eddie, baby?”

You take a deep breath, “Fuck, yeah, yeah you’re probably right.”

Steve rests his forehead against yours as you both catch your breath. He nudges his nose against yours, stealing a quick, soft peck against your trembling lips.

“I was so close though, shit,” You breathlessly laugh.

“Oh trust me babe, I know.” He laughs with you, foreheads still pressed together.

“I hope Eddie gets here soon,” you whine and as if he heard you, you hear the familiar sound of Eddie’s van pull up out the front. You sit up straighter in Steve’s lap, an excited smile on your face. Steve returns your smile but tries not to focus on the jealousy creeping up inside him at your excited reaction to Eddie.

“Wanna put on a show for him when he walks in?” Steve asks mischievously. You nod excitedly in response.

*****

Eddie pulls up at your place, practically leaping out of his van and running up to your door. He uses the spare key you gave him, not even bothering to knock, assuming you probably both heard his van anyway.

He resists the urge to yell ‘honeys I’m home’ as he enters. When he sees that you're both not in the kitchen he rounds the corner, the sight of you both rushing straight to his cock as he swallows hard. You’re perched on top of Steve’s lap, both of you making out fervently, each swallowing the soft moans you both make. He can see the plush of your ass in between Steve's fingers as he grips it to move you against him.

I could get used to coming home to this.

Eddie quickly pushes that thought out of his mind. It was a stupid thought to have anyway. He watches how relaxed and in sync you both look, both lips swollen and red from obviously a long makeout session. This realisation settles in Eddie's stomach, envy bubbling deep inside. This feeling only grows as he realises neither of you have even realised he’s there, so he thinks.

You and Steve continue to put on your show for Eddie, thinking he’s completely dumbstruck at the sight before him, this only spurring you both on further, deepening the already sloppy kiss and rutting against each other with even more desperation.

Eddie clearing his throat finally breaks you and Steve apart. Any annoyance Eddie felt at the situation was quickly dispelled as he was met with two excited, fond and smiling faces.

“Hey you two,” he coos, coming to stand behind you in front of the couch.

“Thank god you’re here man,” Steve sighs, “If we’d been making out any longer I don’t know if I would’ve been able to stop myself from bending her over this couch and fucking her.” He playfully bites at your neck causing you to blush and giggle in his lap.

Eddie thinks your blushing, already fucked out face is adorable, coming to sit down next to steve on the couch. You waste no time in climbing into his lap instead, snaking your arms around him in a tight hug, finishing it off with a quick peck when you both pull away.

A peck that Eddie quickly deepens, one hand coming to rest against your waist and one holding the back of your head. You moan at the feeling, easily submitting to Eddie as he slips his tongue through your awaiting lips.

Steve can’t help but miss the feeling of you on his lap but would be lying if he said he didn’t love watching you and Eddie make out. You can’t get over the difference between how they kiss. Steve is controlled and intoxicating where Eddie’s is messy and all consuming.

You and Eddie kiss for a little while longer before Steve stands up abruptly, not being able to handle the tightness of his jeans any longer. He holds his hand out to you.

“Should we move this somewhere more comfortable?”

*****

After a giggly makeout session down the hallway to your room, all three of you running away, pulling the other two back, pushing each other against the wall and drooling at the sight of the other two making out, you find yourself sprawled out in front of Eddie and Steve. Both shirtless and palming themselves through their jeans as they take in the sight of your once again naked before them.

Before they left in the morning last week you had all talked about “the plan” moving forward, both telling you they think the next time should be them eating you out. Both of them “getting to show you how hard we can make you cum” — as Eddie had said cockily through a mouthful of toast.

“So… who’s going first?” You ask nervously. Eddie and Steve’s eyes snapping up to yours. They hadn’t really thought about that.

“We’ll seeing as you got her all to yourself this afternoon it's only fair I get to taste her first huh Stevie?” Eddie winks at you, causing you to giggle.

“What?” Steve questions, “No way man, if anything I had to endure making out with her all afternoon without getting to taste her, I’ve earned first taste!”

“What? Bullshit!” Eddie retaliates.

You can’t help but laugh at both of them, never in a million years did you think you’d have two guys, let alone Eddie and Steve fighting over who gets to taste you first.

“Well…” You start, causing both of them to glance back at you, “Steve did get to help me cum last time… I think it should be Eddie. I-if that’s okay Stevie?”

Steve smiles warmly at you, this is about you, he reminds himself. “Of course that’s okay honey,” he whispers sweetly, shooting playful daggers at Eddie when he snickers.

Eddie comes to settle between your legs, gently spreading your knees until he is face to face with your already dripping cunt. You shudder when you feel his hot breath ghost over you. He kisses your inner thighs, gripping the plush of them gently as he maintains eye contact with you.

It’s a bit surreal for a second, seeing your best friend, your Eddie, in between your legs, but you’re also certain you'd never feel more comfortable with anyone else, other than maybe Steve.

“Ready sweetheart?” He practically purrs.

You know better than to not give them a verbal answer, breathing out a soft yeah in response. Pleased with your answer Eddie gives you his usual wicked grin before dipping down, pressing a soft kiss to your throbbing clit, causing you to jump, even at the soft gesture.

He spreads your folds for him more, licking a broad stripe from your hole and up to flick your clit softly with the end of his tongue, causing you to whimper at the foreign feeling. He repeats his actions, gathering all of your slick on his tongue before smearing it all over your sensitive bud, moaning softly as your taste invades his mouth.

“Oh? Ohhhh, oh fuck,” you whimper and moan through a range of reactions. It feels weird and nothing like you expected but also good and everything you’d hoped for. Completely different to your ex and infinitely better with a guy who can actually find your clit and extra sensitive with the vibrations from Eddie’s moans.

Steve comes to lay down beside you, propping himself up on his elbow as he cups your jaw. You gaze up at him and grip his bicep as Eddie starts to gently suck on your now swollen clit, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through you.

“How is he honey?” Steve asks with a chuckle, loving your sweet reactions.

“So, so good,” you moan, lightly laughing too when you feel Eddie smile between your legs.

You feel yourself getting lost in the feeling of Eddie’s tongue between your legs, your thoughts failing you as your mind can only focus on Steve and Eddie.

You feel the telltale signs of your orgasm fast approaching as Eddie’s skilled tongue starts to lightly breach your twitching hole.

“Fuck,” you whimper at the feeling, throwing your head back at how intense it feels just to have half of Eddie’s tongue inside you.

“Oh baby,” Steve coos, “You feeling that good from just his tongue barely fucking you huh?”

You nod and whimper, the condescension in his tone making your walls clench around Eddie’s tongue, earning an even louder moan from the curly headed man between your legs. Eddie wasn’t sure who was loving this more.

“Oh fuck, youre getting close huh honey?” Steve asks, leaning down to kiss along your jaw, “Fuckin’ sound so sweet when you’re ‘bout to cum for us.”

“Y-yeah,” you breathe between whimpers and tiny moans, “Ed-Eds is good, so so fucking good.” It’s the most coherent sentence you can manage at that moment. You can feel one of the most intense orgasms of your life rapidly approaching, all other thoughts and words failing you.

Eddie moans cockily from between your legs, the low rumbling seemingly shooting through your entire body, adding to the already intense pleasure you're feeling.

Steve continues to babble in your ear, sweet nothings of “you're being so good for us sweet girl.” and “you look so beautiful like this.”

Your hand flies down to tangle in Eddie’s hair, any previous apprehensions you had about touching him before and doing the ‘wrong thing’ completely gone the closer you get to reaching your peak. You realise too late how hard you're pulling on Eddie’s curly locks, but before you can apologise you see Eddie’s eyes roll in his head, his fingers gripping your thighs impossibly tighter.

You mentally take note of the fact that Eddie loves his hair being pulled. Of course he does, you think.

You don’t get to think about that for much longer when Eddie starts to suck on you clit, hard. Your legs start to tremble, your thighs clenching around his head.

“That's it, let go baby, make a mess of Ed’s pretty face.” Steve whispers in your ear. It’s enough to send you flying, hurdling over the edge as you cum harder than you ever have before. Your back arches, your whole body trembles and you practically scream Eddie’s name as you drench his face.

Eddie doesn’t relent, sucking and licking you through your orgasm, only stopping when your back slumps onto the mattress, your body only trembling slightly from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

As soon as you feel your senses return to you you look down in between your legs. The sight is almost enough to have you cumming again. Eddie is watching you with a warm smile, stark contrast to his beautiful, chocolate eyes gazing at you with intense lust. His soft lips and honestly half of his face soaked in your translucent, creamy cum.

“You back with us sweetheart?” You hear Steve whisper in your ear, your head lulling to the side to face him as a dopey smile forms on your face.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “shit that was amazing.”

Eddie gives you a cocky smile at that. “Mmm, and you taste divine sweetheart,” he moans out, using his thumb to wipe some of your slick off his chin before sucking it into his mouth with a groan. An involuntary whimper leaving your lips as you watch him.

Eddie and Steve chuckle fondly at your reaction before Eddie turns his attention to Steve.

“You’ve gotta have a taste of her man, fucking incredible.”

Steve is quick to move to kneel next to Eddie between your legs, leaning in to get a taste right from Eddie lips but Eddie stops him with a hand on his chest. Instead wiping more off of his chin with his thumb, before gently wiping it against Steve’s lips teasingly.

You sit up on your elbows, wanting to get the best view you can.

Steve is quick to open his mouth, sucking on Eddie’s thumb like it’s his favourite flavour of ice cream, theatrically moaning at your taste as his eyes roll.

“More?” Eddie asks him knowingly, removing his thumb.

Steve barely gets to say please before Eddie is smashing their lips together. Steve impatiently deepens the kiss, his tongue invading every inch of Eddie’s mouth, both of them moaning into each other.

When the taste of you starts to dull in Eddie’s mouth, Steve pulls away, licking a broad stripe from Eddie's chin all the way back to Eddie’s slightly gaping lips before connecting them both again. It earns him a slightly surprised moan from Eddie and causes you to squirm, trying to close your legs but being unable as the two boys are still between them.

“What did I tell you?” Eddie asks Steve breathlessly when they finally break away.

“Mmph, you were right — fucking devine,” Steve moans, Eddie’s eyes dart to you, giving you a quick wink, causing your cheeks to burn.

“Think you could handle more, sweet girl?” Eddie asks. You nod your head apprehensively, craving more but also always unsure of what mischief Eddie is planning.

But before you can dwell on that thought for too long, Eddie is gently guiding Steve’s head to your still dripping cunt. Watching you both for any signs of apprehension, smirking to himself when he finds only wonder in your eyes and pure lust in Steve’s as he gets himself comfortable on his stomach.

You jolt when Steve licks your cunt, apologising to him but you just feel Steve smile against you and moan at your taste in response. Steve is slower and more gentle than Eddie. You’re not sure if he's going easy on you because he knows how overly sensitive you must be or if he is usually just this gentle, but you hope you get to find that out another time.

Eddie keeps his hand on the back of Steve’s head, pulling the hair slightly, knowing how much it makes Steve squirm. Steve moans at the pressure on his scalp, hips absentmindedly rutting against the bed, desperate for some kind of relief.

You continue to moan and flinch from the overstimulation to your swollen clit, Eddie’s mouth practically salivating at the sight. As if reading Eddie’s mind, Steve suddenly brings his hand up to cup the back of Eddie’s head, pulling him to join him down at your dripping cunt.

You sit up higher on your hands now, not wanting to miss a second of this and spreading your legs impossibly wider to accommodate two people between them. Eddie darts his tongue out, licking slowly along your clit too, tongue bumping Steve’s as he does. Eddie drops his hand from Steve’s head, letting the other take control.

You make a sound between a scream and a high pitched moan as you feel two separate tongues on you. Your hand coming to cup your mouth instinctively as you start to feel self conscious of the sounds you’re making.

“Ah ah, sweetheart,” you hear Eddie’s deep voice as he grabs your hand, pulling it away from your face, “let us hear your pretty moans.”

You nod in response, still gripping Eddie’s hand and tangling your fingers together as he goes back to devouring you, your eyes screwing shut at the intense, overstimulating pleasure. You feel them both move slightly, one tongue dipping lower, circling your hole as the other continues to circle your clit slowly, deliberately.

You gasp as you feel the tongue start to breach your hole, head snapping down to see both sets of eyes on you. You see Eddie’s eyes brimming with mischief as you realise it’s his tongue that’s slowly thrusting inside you again, this time as far as it will reach with Steve’s head in the way.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, eyebrows furrowing together as you watch them intently. You whine when Eddie pulls away from your cunt, taking his hand back from your tight grip as he sits up. However he is quick to replace his tongue with one of his fingers, barely pushing it into you up to the first knuckle.

“This okay sweet girl?” He asks breathlessly, wasting no time to slowly push his finger in when you whisper out please.

You moan and gasp at the foreign feeling of having someone else’s fingers inside of you as Eddie continues to pump further into your dripping heat with every thrust.

As soon as he’s got one finger pumping in and out of you slowly you turn to him, begging for him to add another finger which he happily obliges.

“Aww, sweetheart,” he coos with a fake pout as you whimper at the delicious sting of his second finger being added, “that too much for your tight little pussy?”

“N-no,” you stutter out, “fuck, no, its good. It’s so fucking good Eddie your fingers are so thick.” You don’t have time to register how out of character it is for you to talk like this, but you’re hurdling too fast towards your second orgasm — something that once felt impossible — to notice. “So much thicker than mine, fuck. A-and Steve, your tongue feels, oh god, so good. It’s so much and so perfect, shit.”

Steve’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he lets out a guttural moan at your words. Eddie looking at you in a mix of surprise and awe as he mutters a “Fuck, princess,”. His free hand coming to palm himself through his jeans.

You watch Eddie touch himself, suddenly getting the overwhelming urge to have him deep in your throat like you’ve been imaging for the past week.

With you knew found confidence you shakily ask, “Y-you look so hot when you touch yourself Ed’s, fuck. C-can I?”

Eddie finds your vague question adorable. He’s got an inkling of what you’re asking for. But he needs to hear those words fall from your bitten lips. Eddie slowly removes his fingers, still careful to not hurt you, although you're so wet he's sure he could slide his dick in with no resistance at this point.

He comes to kneel beside you on the bed. “You’re gonna have to ask better than that princess, what do you need from me?”

“Your cock.” You mumble, flushing a little, “Please, can I, — can I suck it again?”

Eddie would give you the world if you asked with the way your lust blown, glassy eyes are staring up at him. He wastes no time undoing his pants, shoving them and his boxers down in one swift motion.

“You sure you’re up for this sweet thing? It’s hard to concentrate on pleasing whilst getting pleased, ya know?”

“Mm I’m sure, please?” You beg, reaching out for him with one hand, the other keeping you half upright.

“Eager,” he chuckles at you, “here, keep your head still like that and focus on keeping yourself upright, I’m gonna thrust into your mouth, I promise I’ll be gentle, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, eyes focused on Eddie’s cock mere inches from your lips, your mouth salivating and opening on instinct as you finally get what you so desperately crave.

The musky taste of Eddie invades your senses as you finally feel the head slip past your lips. You go to bob your head but Eddie grabs your hair, holding you still. Instead feeding you his cock slowly, inch by inch before moving out and gently thrusting back in. He continues this until he’s set a good rhythm that’s still slow enough for you.

“That’s it,” Eddie sighs at the relief of you lips and tongue, “good fucking girl.”

You feel Steve’s fingers breach your hole suddenly, two fingers sliding in with ease due to the stretching from Eddie moments ago. You feel Steve curl his fingers, reaching a spot deep inside you that you’ve never been able to reach on your own.

The feeling causes you to gasp around Eddie’s cock, accidentally gagging in the process. Steve stops licking and sucking at your clit when he hears you, stilling his fingers inside you. Eddie is quick to remove himself from your mouth, although he couldn’t hide the moan that left his lips feeling your throat constrict around his cock like that, resisting the urge to completely ruin you.

“You okay little one?” He asks, wiping a tear that’s escaped your glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you assure him, turning to Steve, “you can do both at the same time?” You ask innocently, awe and surprise written all over your face.

“Yeah,” Steve replies with a chuckle as Eddie smiles.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Steve can’t stop the smile that spreads on his face, you are so cute it hurts.

“You okay if I get back to it?” He asks, diving back in gently when you nod your head vigorously.

“Ready for me too, sweet girl?” He asks, thumb rubbing gently against your cheek. You respond by opening your mouth, your tongue hanging out, inviting Eddie’s cock back in.

Eddie thinks about chastising you for not using your words, but decides that can wait for another time. He instead gently grabs the back of your head, angling it back towards him and thrusting slowly into your eagerly awaiting lips.

You moan around Eddie’s length, the overwhelming sensations of Steve’s tongue circling your clit, his lips sucking gently on you every now and then, his fingers thrusting, curling and stretching you and the weight of Eddie’s cock restringing dizzyingly against your tongue, dragging over it and slipping slightly down your throat becoming all too much.

But you never want it to stop.

Steve is completely lost in you, your taste, your smell, the beautiful sounds you're making all because of him. He’s been desperate since he got you in his lap, this just sending him into a frenzy, straining to keep his control so as to not overwhelm you and completely in awe of how well you’re doing. He can’t help but grind against the bed, right in time with the thrusting of his fingers, imagining it was his cock stuffed deep inside you instead.

He looks up at you, completely mesmerised by the way you’re taking Eddie’s cock so well. How hot you look with your eyes half lidded, staring up at Eddie, drool coating the corner of your mouth and no doubt the other side he can’t see.

Eddie looks just as beautiful, his long waves cascading down his back and sticking to his forehead. His eyes are screwed shut, brows furrowed and Steve can tell he’s trying so hard to be gentle with you, knowing just how hard Eddie usually likes it. It has his dick throbbing, begging for release.

He’s so lost in you both that he doesn’t realise he’s starting to rut against the bed faster and consequently, fingering you faster as well.

You feel Steve speed up, the dizzying pleasure causing you to choke on Eddie again. You moan at the feeling, already addicted to the feeling of gagging on Eddie’s thick cock.

You’re somewhat annoyed when you feel Eddie start to pull away again, no doubt to check on you once again. Although you appreciate how caring and gentle they are being, you feel like you might die if he pulls away again.

You quickly grab the back of his thigh, pulling it closer to you again and making you gag as Eddie wasn't expecting the force in which you pulled him closer. You moan again at the feeling.

“Oh fuck sweetheart,” Eddie moans, “you like that huh? Like choking on my cock baby?”

Both you and Steve moan at his words, you moaning out a “mmhmm” as best you can around his cock.

“Shit look at our dirty fucking girl, Stevie,” he continues, stomach muscles contracting from his fast approaching orgasm whenever you gag and moan around his length.

Eddie throws his head back as he feels you bob your head in time with his thrusts, taking him deeper in your throat than he thought you would be able to.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up,” he almost whimpers breathlessly. The moan that leaves your lips at his statement is pornographic, sending Eddie hurdling faster towards his orgasm.

“You like that huh? Want me to cum in this slutty throat?” He asks, and he’s met with more moans and gags.

He cant take it anymore, your mouth feels absolutely sinful. He grabs your hair harder, still trying his best to be gentle with you but failing slightly. He makes the mistake of looking down, he’s met with your half closed, beautiful eyes staring up at him as his cock disappears between your lips and the image of Steve being completely lost in your pussy, rutting shamelessly against the bed as his hand grips your thigh.

Those two things are what finally sends him hurdling over the edge.

“Oh god just like that y/n, oh fuck, m’gonna — I’m gonna fucking cum, shit-” Eddie cums with a silent moan, hips stilling completely, one first balled by his side, the other tangled in your hair. It takes everything in him to keep still while you gladly milk him dry with your mouth, moaning at the taste.

When Eddie feels his orgasm subsiding he quickly pulls out of your mouth with a pop, the feeling verging on overstimulating.

The feeling of Eddie’s thick ropes of cum covering your tongue and sliding down your throat are enough to bring you to the brink of your second orgasm of the night. As soon as Eddie’s cock leaves your mouth you throw your head back, moans and whimpers now free to spill past your swollen lips.

Eddie bends down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tasting himself on your tongue as you moan into each other's mouths. You break away as Steve starts to suck on your clit, hard, your hand coming down to tangle in his caramel locks as you make eye contact with the sweet boy between your legs.

“Oh fuck, Steve I’m so close,” you practically scream, “Your tongue is so good, fuck your fingers are so thick it’s so good, fuck you’re stretching me out so good baby.”

Steve and Eddie moan at your words, surprised but pleased with how wrecked they’ve gotten you, so much so that you finally seem to have no problem telling them exactly how you feel. All previous anxieties melted away as your brain fogs and your legs start to shake.

They can tell you’re right on the edge. Eddie leans down slightly, bracing you with a hand on your back to keep you upright as your arms start to wobble, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder as he mumbles encouragements and praises of ‘good girl, we’ve got you, come on and let go for us, make a mess of Stevies pretty face like you did mine.’

Your orgasm crashes into you and you soak Steve's face with a pleasured scream. Your whole body shakes and your vision blurs, you’re thankful for Eddie holding you up or else you feel as though you’d sink through the mattress.

Feeling you clench around his fingers and tasting your cum has Steve cumming as well, he hadn’t realised just how worked up he’d gotten until it was too late and he was cumming in his pants like a teenager. He groans into your cunt, continuing to lick and finger you through both of your orgasms.

“I think that’s enough Steve,” you both barely hear Eddie. Steve had gotten so lost in his own orgasm he hadn’t thought to ease you through yours, thankfully though, he hears Eddie enough and does stop, and you finally start to catch your breath.

You slowly start to open your eyes, blinking at the brightness, your vision finally focusing again. You see Steve between your legs still, resting his head on one of your thighs as he massages the other, staring up at you lovingly.

“Welcome back little one,” you hear Eddie whisper as he continues to plant soft kisses on your shoulder and rub your back.

“Hey,” you say with a giggle, “damn that was… intense.”

“It wasn’t too much?” Steve asks you.

“Definitely not,” you reply.

“Good,” Eddie replies for him. You all stay like that for a second, all basking in the afterglow of your orgasms and the boys letting you come down from your high further.

After a couple of moments you feel a slight change in Eddie’s demeanour. Unbeknownst to you Eddie had realised Steve had cum while eating you out. And there was no way Eddie was going to pass up the opportunity to ‘punish’ him for it.

“Now,” he starts, “can you move over here for me, gorgeous?” He asks, gently moving you up and over so you're now on one side of the bed instead of the middle, your head resting gently on the pillows.

You turn to get a better view of what Eddie’s planning, grabbing a pillow and hugging it between your arms, resting on your stomach with one leg bent, your chin dipping into the pillow in your arms.

Steve was quick to hop up when Eddie moved you, now sitting on his knees, his hands resting perfectly on his thighs. He looks almost submissive, you think, no doubt sensing the change in Eddie too.

Eddie crawls back over to the younger man, kneeling in front and towering over him, using his pointer finger to tilt Steve’s head back to look him in the eyes.

“Poor little Stevie,” he says with a fake pout, “cumming in his pants like a teenager again from the pretty sounds our y/n was making huh?”

You don’t miss how your heart leaps at Eddie calling you our y/n, but you’re way more preoccupied on the fact that you made the Steve Harrington cum in his jeans.

“You did?” You ask in surprise, sitting up as much as your laxed body will let you.

Steve nods sheepishly in return, avoiding eye contact as his head drops. Eddie is quick to grab his chin harshly, forcing Steve’s eyes back on him “She asked you a question,” he hisses.

“Yes, I did.” Steve says, eyes never leaving the metalheads black orbs.

Eddie tuts in return, “What are we gonna do with you huh?” He asks rhetorically, “Lie down.”

Steve obeys quickly, coming to lie next to, but still slightly away from you. You’re completely hypnotised by the dynamic and how they're acting. You’ve heard all of their stories of doing scenes where they’re ‘dominant’ or ‘submissive’, but seeing what you’re pretty sure is Eddie being Dominant while Steve is Submissive for him is something entirely different.

If it didn’t feel like your whole lower body was numb, you know you’d be feeling your heartbeat in your core at the sight in front of you.

You watch as Eddie undoes Steve’s jeans, pulling them and his boxers down in one go, Steve’s half hard, sticky length resting against his tight stomach. Steve whines as it comes in contact with the cool air, finally free from the confines of his tight jeans after what seems like hours.

Eddie is quick to take Steve firmly in his grasp, slowly tugging on him as Steve hisses, whimpers and squirms under his touch.

“Shit, Eddie, fuck, ‘s sensitive,” Steve whines out, trying to squirm away from Eddie’s grip.

“Ah ah baby,” Eddie tuts, snaking his other hand around Steve’s back, circling his hips and pulling him back closer, holding him down. He leans out and spits on the head of Steve's dick, the drool dripping down onto Eddie's fingers as he continues to pump Steve.

Eddie slowly licks the head of Steve’s length, groaning at the leftover taste of his cum before suckling lightly on the head. Steve continues to squirm. Even the light touches making him thrash in Eddie’s hold.

Eddie finally starts to take Steve in his mouth, causing Steve’s hands to shoot out. One almost ripping a hole in your bed cover, the other trying to pull Eddie off by his hair.

Eddie pulls off of Steve with a chuckle, grabbing Steve;s hand and holding it still by his side with the arm that's still behind Steve’s back.

“God you’re such a fucking brat, hold still,” Eddie hisses. The words give you butterflies and they're not even directed towards you.

You watch as Eddie continues to suck Steve off, their moans and Steve's whimpers completely hypnotising but as you continue to watch them interact you can’t help the annoying words of self doubt that start to creep into your mind.

The smile on Eddie's face when he was telling Steve what to do and the look on Steve’s face as it contorts in so much pleasure, as he’s giggling and whining and moaning at the overstimulation. It seems carefree, like they are not having to hold back with each other, like they know the other person can actually handle what they're doing, not having to check in every 5 seconds because they know the other would be able to tell them to stop if needed.

It looks fun. So much more fun than what they’ve been doing with you.

Steve cries out as Eddie lightly plays with his balls, his second orgasm fast approaching. They can feel your eyes glued to them, knowing your watching only egging them on more, adding to the pleasure they are both feeling. God, they can’t wait to do this with you, but they know you need some more time before they can.

They don’t care though, they're willing to wait for as long as you need.

You watch as Steve’s hips start to meet Eddie’s pace, thrusting fast into his mouth. You watch in awe as Eddie hardly even gags, managing a lot better than you did. You look at how much more Steve is enjoying this, so much more than when Eddie had to hold back to show you how to suck Steve’s dick. How boring is it going to be for them when they take your virginity?

“Fuck, Eddie I’m gonna cum, you want it huh? Wanna taste my cum?” Steve tries to tease, earning himself a smack on the thigh from Eddie. The sting only turns him on more.

“Shit, yeah like that, exactly like that, oh my go-,” Steve cries out as he cums, thrashing even more in Eddie’s grip as he fights away and towards the pleasure. Eddie gives Steve mercy, barely sucking on him and stopping as soon as he’s sure Steve’s finished cumming.

Eddie is quick to crawl up to Steve, crashing their lips together in a sloppy kiss. You watch behind hooded eyes as they swap fluids between their mouths, the pink of Steve’s tongue poking out to lave at Eddie’s, swallowing drops of his own cum.

Steve’s the first to break away, “Okay that’s enough, fuck,” he pants, flopping back onto the bed, “gonna make me pass out Eds.”

Eddie hops up, stretching as he chuckles at you both, tired and spent on the bed.

“C’mon,” he murmurs fondly, tapping Steve’s thigh, cocking his head in your direction “we gotta get this one to bed.”

They both look at you as you give them a tired smile, all negative thoughts gone from your head as their kind eyes meet yours. It's much easier to just be here with them anyway, for now at least.

“‘M’not even tired,” you slur purposely with a giggle.

“Mhmm sure, sure,” Eddie replies, coming around your side of the bed before picking you up bridal style, laughing at the small scream you let out as he picks you up.

“Eddieeee,” you complain half heartedly, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling into his neck as he starts to walk you down your hallway to the bathroom “I can walk myself.”

“Honestly princess I don't know if you can.” He tuts.

“Yeah, I mean I did make you cum pretty hard, way harder than Eddie did at least,” Steve teases as he follows you both. Yours, his and Eddie’s pjs in his hands. Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve playfully as you giggle at their teasing, squealing as Eddie pops you down on the cold bench.

“Eds, ‘s cold,” you pout.

“I know baby just one sec, gotta get the shower ready for you.”

As soon as Eddie and Steve decide that the shower is the perfect temperature (with more bickering of course) they pop you on your feet, being extra doting as they make sure you can stand and taking their time to wash your body and hair for you.

As much as you try to bury it, your insecurities arise again, thinking about how much more wrecked you are compared to Steve and how he doesn’t need his body washed for him because his arms feel like jelly.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie and Steve are absolutely loving this. Getting to touch your body, pamper you, be soft with you. It feels just as soothing to them as they hope it does to you. It’s something they never get when they are working: intimacy. It’s fun and they always unwind with the actors after, to make sure everything was okay and they enjoyed themselves but it's not like this. It's not with you.

You all crawl into your bed after the shower. Getting cosy with each other just like you did last time. Eddie on his side facing you and Steve, you in the middle again, your head against Eddie’s chest and Steve’s head just above yours on Eddie’s arm, almost tucked under Eddie’s chin, his arm slung tightly over your waist. Eddie’s arm that’s under Steve’s head is bent as he plays with Steve’s hair, his other hand resting on the side of your face, playing with your hair and stroking your cheek, soothing both of you.

It doesn’t take long for you and Steve to drift off to sleep, Eddie still playing with both of your hair. He watches you both, fondness and sadness settling in his stomach.

He cares about you both so much, never wanting these moments with you both to end. But he knows they have to, he knows one day these moments will end for good. When he and Steve have shown you all they can. When your confidence is up and you finally find someone who treats you right, someone you deserve. And when Steve finds another girl who loves him better than Nancy ever could.

He knows you’ll both move on from this, from him some day. Eddie knows he should move on from this too, but how could he? When the only things he's ever wanted are cuddling up to him as they sleep softly in his arms.

*****

You sigh in frustration, pulling a pillow over your head and letting out a groan. You peek out from under it to see the time, your clock reading 12:03am, way past when you wanted to go to sleep… and meaning you’ve been trying to make yourself cum for over 2 hours.

This is the third time you’ve tried to make yourself cum after your last encounter with the boys last week. The week before was so easy, you were able to make yourself cum in no time and practically whenever you wanted thanks to the boys (and the memory of their pretty moans).

But now, everytime you start to get close your head, of course, wanders to the sight of Steve’s cock shoved down Eddie’s throat. A sight which would have had you cumming in 30 seconds in the past but instead it just raises those awful thoughts of how much more fun they seemed to have without you. How much easier it was for them to just have fun together without having to worry. How it must be so boring with you.

You admit your defeat, getting yourself dressed and dramatically flopping back into bed. Your mind swims with a billion thoughts. You’re nervous about seeing them again tomorrow, even more so because of how weird the morning after was.

Something was off. Mainly with Eddie, you couldn’t put your finger on what but he just didn’t seem like the overly flirty, annoyingly confident, super sweet guy he usually was. Steve had noticed it too, finally asking Eddie what his deal was.

“Just tired I guess,” he’d replied with a shrug, “Didn’t completely pass out like you two, I mean I only got to cum once last night.” He had joked, with not enough enthusiasm in his voice.

You remember slumping in your seat, thinking of how much more fun he would have had if you weren’t so tired, maybe you could’ve made him cum again, or made him cum harder if you’d sucked his dick better or if only you could’ve made him cum again as you rode him.

You push your palms into your eyes. Trying to squeeze the negative thoughts out of your brain.

It doesn’t help that you never really talked about what to expect tomorrow. You’d tried to bring it up and Steve had seemed keen to talk about it but the conversation never really went anywhere. The idea of the next time being you losing your virginity had been floated around but nothing had really been decided. But they hadn't said no.

The nerves of losing my virginity tomorrow, maybe, must just be getting the better of me, you decided. Yes you're obviously less experienced than them but they knew that from the start. They knew what it was going to be like with you and they agreed, they wanted this.

A thought you’d been reasoning with all week. One that at least seems to help you finally get some rest. A thought that seems to be overcome by your insecure thoughts as soon as you wake up.

You finally close your eyes, sleep slowly pulling you in as you hold on to one thing: Surely they’d tell you if they weren’t enjoying it anymore, right?

*****

Steve jumps into Eddie’s van with an extra pep in his step, overly excited to spend another fun night with his two favourite people. He greets Eddie with an excited hey man, but only gets a grunt of a hey in return.

“Whoa, what's up with you, cranky pants?” Steve teases, face turning serious when Eddie doesn’t reply, instead keeping his eyes strained on the road.

“Hey, Eddie,” he tried again, softer this time, worry evident in his voice, “talk to be babe, what's wrong?”

Eddie doesn’t miss how Steve calling him babe sets butterflies off in his stomach. Butterflies that die and wither in the depths of his chest when he thinks about what he’s about to say next.

“It’s just… all wrong,” Eddie whispers, the right words not coming to him.

“What's ‘all wrong’?” Steve replies, tone serious and soft as he places his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, waiting patiently as Eddie tries to gather his thoughts.

“Just this whole arrangement, it’s… just not how it was supposed to go.” Eddie tries to explain, hoping Steve won’t make him say it.

“I understand, it’s moving too fast huh?” Steve tries, thinking he’s understanding what Eddie means.

“Yeah I mean, I guess.” Eddie sighs, Steve’s just not quite getting it, “I just wanted things to be different with her and w-with you.”

Eddie holds his breath, hoping Steve is understanding now.

“I understand Eddie,” Steve whispers, “just tell her how you feel, I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, he thought Steve would be more upset about him wanting to stop, “You’re sure she won’t be mad?”

“Of course not Eddie!” Steve replies, “ Trust me she won’t mind”. I mean what’s another week Steve thinks… still not quite getting what Eddie means.

*****

You race to the door like you always do, excited to see your boys but also nervous that if you don’t get this over and done with you’ll end up pretending you aren't home. The nerves from last night still swimming around in your head.

As you open the door you throw yourself into Steve’s arms as he was closest to the door, him returning the hug with the same enthusiasm. However when you go to hug Eddie it feels like you’re hugging a brick wall. You step back from him awkwardly, looking at the way too forced smile on his face.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask sweetly, and god it almost kills him, knowing you have no idea what's about to come.

“Yeah, fine.” He says unconvincingly. He’s about to tell you but it seems wrong, he needs a second to collect himself first. “Just, um, need to go to the bathroom.” He grumbles at himself, slightly shoving past you and down the hall.

You look at Steve, confused.

“Is he okay?” You ask.

“Yeah he’s alright, he um, we just need to talk to you honey.” He says sweetly, too sweetly, and with a hint of condescension.

Oh no.

Your mind goes full throttle on all of the horrible insecure thoughts you’ve been having for the past week. We need to talk. You knew it, you knew they were sick of you!

Okay, okay, you tell yourself, it’s probably nothing, just hear them out. Trying your best to try and calm down before you have a full blown panic attack.

Steve can tell you’re getting nervous, he’s about to lead you over to the couch, reassure you, he’ll you can’t down so you can all talk about this calmly but Eddie comes back before he has a chance.

“This needs to stop.” Is all Eddie says as he enters the room, arms crossed over his chest and a stern look on his face.

When those words leave Eddie’s lips you feel weirdly calm, you were right, they are sick of you. All of the insecure voices stop, why would you need them now anyway when they were right all along.

You just scoff at him, mirroring his body language.

“J-just for like the week though right?” Steve asks, confused, this isn’t what he thought Eddie meant in the car.

“No,” Eddie replies, “I mean for good.”

Steve is surprised and a bit hurt, but if Eddie isn’t comfortable doing this anymore then yes they should probably stop.

They both look at you, waiting for your reaction.

“I fucking knew it,” you finally reply with a roll of your eyes.

“You knew it?” Eddie replies with some malice in his voice, confused as to why this is your reaction. He didn’t want to hurt you but he had hoped there was some part of you that was as upset about this stopping as he was.

“Yeah. I knew you guys were getting fucking bored, I could tell cause you were using your porn star ‘acting’ on me”. Okay, ouch, that was maybe too far. But right now you didn’t care. How could you care when the two people you cared about most were standing in front of you and telling you all the horrible things you had been thinking were true.

They don't want you.

“Pornstar acting?” Eddie practically spits.

“Yeah,” you continue, on a roll now and being consumed by your anger, “I could tell you were faking it; you’re both not that good.”

They both look at you, shocked and a little hurt. You start to feel bad but before you can apologise Eddie opens his big mouth again.

“Yeah? Well you didn’t seem to be complaining about our ‘pornstar acting’ when you were fucking screaming our names.”

“Eddie,” Steve tries, trying to stop this before it gets too out of control, but Eddie interrupts him.

“Besides, do you think anyone else would do this with you? Who else would’ve taken care of you like how I’ve had to all these years?” His anger completely taking over at your completely unfair reaction.

“I knew it!” You practically scream, “I knew you resented having to ‘take care of me’ all those years in highschool! I wish you never had then!” You mean that you wish Eddie wouldn't have if he was just going to resent you for it, but to Eddie it sounds like you wish you hadn’t been friends for all these years, that you regret his friendship.

“Oh really?” Eddie retaliates, “Who were you gonna hang out with instead? King Steve?”

Steve looks at Eddie in shock, how is any of this his fault?

You scoff at him again, “At least I wouldn't have had to hang out with the freak.”

That statement shoots right to Eddie’s heart, completely ripping it to shreds. He was right, he really was just a third wheel, this whole time. No wonder you were so nervous to hang out with Steve all those years ago. He was a fool to think that maybe he had a chance, you were friends for all of highschool, if you wanted him you would have made a move, gave some sort of indication you felt the same, but you never did.

“Yeah and Steve and his fuckwits were better?” He asks, expression cold and unforgiving.

“At least I wouldn’t have been bullied everyday.”

“Yeah you would’ve been the bully!” Eddie shouts.

Steve, having been silent in shock this whole fight finally pipes up at that, hurt and anger running cold through his veins as well, “Whoa whoa, that’s not fair, we weren’t bullies?!”

“Yes you were!” Eddie and you shout at the same time.

“You and your whole group made my life awful,” you add, just to add to the pain from you that Steve was already feeling.

There's silence that seems to stretch on for eternity. You and Eddie are breathing heavily, angry at everyone and especially yourselves. Steve feels like he's standing on the outside, he’s tried for years to get rid of his reputation from highschool, he thought you and Eddie understood that.

“Don’t try to stand here and say that the only reason you never got fucked in highschool was because you hung out with me,” Eddie finally breaks the silence.

“That was all you baby,” Steve mumbles, eyes cast downward, the baby coming out like an insult.

What would he know? You think angrily.

“God I'm so sorry for having standards Steve and not wanting to be another one of your conquests or something.”

“Well at least you wouldn’t have been a fucking virgin in your twenties.” He spits back at you.

Too far Eddie thinks, his anger now being directed towards Steve, as if he knew what it was like for you and him during high school, “Oh yeah, and being one of the many girls you fucked and got rid of is better?”

Of course, Steve rolls his eyes, he can dish it out to her but as soon as I say one thing i'm the bad guy he thinks

“You're just pissed ‘cause you never made a move.”

‘Made a move’? What does Steve even mean by that? It's stupid, you know it is, but there's a little part of you that perks up at that, some part of your broken heart holds on to just a sliver of hope. Did Eddie want to make a move on you all those years ago?

“I would never do that.” Eddie says with no emotion, tone final. She's my best friend, she's so much more than that he should have added, but he didn’t. Instead it comes across like he's disgusted. Like the mere thought of ever asking you out makes him want to gag.

“Wow thanks Eddie, cause you’re such a catch,” you spit back.

Steve laughs at that, boy he really was wrong, he really felt like such a third wheel this whole time, he really thought you would’ve jumped to date Eddie given the chance but maybe not.

But of course Steve’s laugh comes across like he agrees, like he also thinks Eddie wouldn’t stand a chance with you. Eddie’s face falls at that. The look on his face making you just as mad with Steve.

“Don't act like you’re any better,” you retort. Like he wouldn’t have just flirted, seduced, fucked and left you if it wasn’t for Eddie.

“You’ve always been closer with Eddie! You only barely tolerated me for him.” Steve’s completely taken aback by that, is that how you really felt? All this time while you were one of Steve's closest friends you thought that he only tolerated you?

“That's not true.” He says through a clenched jaw.

“If it wasn’t for Eddie you would look at me like you look at all the other conquests, remember when we first met and you couldn’t stop flirting?” You ask, tone condescending, Steve does remember, “It was only when Eddie told you to stop that you actually treated me like a person.”

“What and Eddie was treating you like a person this whole time?” Steve shouldn’t say this, god he knows he shouldn’t, “The whole time through high school everyone thought you were fucking, anybody who even dared look at you was met with a deathstare from Eddie. He acted like you were his fucking property.”

What? You physically recoil backwards at his words. There’s no way anyone thought that right? You feel like you’re back in high school, everytime everyone looked at you weird, was that why? Because they thought you were just Eddie Munson’s slut?

Eddie sees red at Steve’s word and especially the reaction you had to them. “That's bullshit and you know it, Harrington. At least I’m not revelling in the fact that I finally get to fuck a virgin unlike all of those other easy girls you got with.”

Your head feels like it's spinning, you could be physically sick at their words. Is that a thing? Do people like ‘getting with virgins’? Is that all they saw this as?

“What, so I was just a fetish to you both this whole time?” You mean for it to come out angry but there’s a wobble in your voice, “You’re both fucking freaks.”

The insult hits harder for Eddie than it does Steve, who’s started to notice the cracks in your anger. Before he can think the words are spilling out of his mouth “At least I’m not a freak who's still a virgin in her twenties, it’s not cool to be such a cocktease at your age.”

That reignites a little bit of anger in you, enough for you to push down the tears that are threatening to fall for a little while longer. “At least I didn't flunk high school and have to become a pornstar in my twenties to get by. Is swinging your dicks around all you two are good at?”

Eddie and Steve look like you just punched them both in the face. They’ve had to deal with a lot of judgement from a lot of people for doing what they do, they’ve both lost friendships and relationships over this. But you were always there for them, the whole time and you never once judged them. Until now.

“God, you’re such a bitch,” Eddie sighs, shaking his head, “no wonder your last boyfriend dumped you.”

That. That was it. Right there. The last thing you could handle from them both as a single tear slipped down your cheek. Causing a tiny sliver of regret to wash over Eddie and Steve instantly.

“Get out,” you say, voice wavering as you try to keep it together, not wanting them to see you cry.

“What?” They both ask softly.

“I said get out.” You repeat, slightly more sure of yourself this time, “I don't want to see you, either of you anymore, being your friend has been painful enough.”

You don't mean to let that last part slip but you can’t stop it. It’s true, having to be so close to them yet so far, having to watch them flirt and go home with other girls, having to listen to their relationship troubles and about all of the films they’ve stared in, it’s been hell.

You thought you were doing a good job of pushing your feelings down this whole time, but deciding to fool around with them, to maybe lose your virginity to them, it was a mistake. Getting to touch them the way you’ve wanted to for years made all of your feelings arise. Yet you hadn’t realised just how much you were falling for them, not until they were yanked away from you once again. This time further than they had been before.

Your words don’t convey the emotions you were hoping they would, instead it sounded like you regretted being their friend because you didn’t like them, not because you were falling for them.

Eddie scoffs, “Don’t act like it’s been any easier for us.” You don’t realise it, but his words hold the same meaning as yours do. But instead, like yours, his words come across as a rejection.

It couldn’t have been easy being friends with someone as shy as you, someone as needy as you, someone who hangs on their every word and someone who is a loser virgin in their twenties is what you think Eddie means.

The rejection is enough for the dam to finally break, your bottom lip wobbling as you fail to try to stop your tears from flowing freely down your cheeks. Before you can stop yourself a sob rips it way out of you, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself for some sort of comfort.

You look so small, helpless and broken, they think. Looking at you, their girl, their y/n, being so distraught because of them, it makes them regret everything. They should've told you no, they should’ve figured out another way for you to lose your virginity, or maybe done it with less emotion. They should’ve stopped themselves from falling so hard for you and each other.

Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair in defeat. He feels helpless, he’d promised you all those years ago to protect you and he’d failed. He steps toward you slowly, hands out as if you were a scared little animal, and to be honest, you looked like one right now.

“Little one,” he whispers as he steps closer, hoping the old nickname will bring you some kind of comfort.

“Don’t.” You snap at him before he gets a chance to say anything else, finally meeting his eyes, the hurt written all over your face, “You don’t get to call me that anymore, I want you to leave.” You manage to say in between sobs.

“Honey,” Steve tries, both of them hating the thought of leaving you alone when you’re like this.

“Just get out!” You yell, arms flailing. You look at them both when they don’t move, “Please.” You whisper, eyes begging. You couldn’t bare to be around them for another second. The two people who have always made you calm and happy now just felt like an intrusion in your space. You needed them gone.

They finally nod, their shoulders slumping in defeat as they slowly make their way to the front door. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

*****

It’s been almost a year now since that night, and just as long since you’ve seen Eddie and Steve.

Taglist: @pxrxcxa @eddiemunsonfuxks @translatemunson @bandofoxxking @corrodedcherry @corrodedhawkins @chainsawmunson @divinelyruled @parkermunson

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smilessssss · 10 months

Text

𝕰𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝕭𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘 𝖝 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Tw:Toxic relationships, cheater!Billy, Y!Billy, unhealthy obsession, possessive behavior.

You knew he was cheating on you. He had made it quite obvious. He always acted like the boyfriend of Sidney Prescott which he was. You couldn’t blame her she didn’t know that you were originally his partner.

You didn’t know how to tell her would she get mad? I bet she would, if she had knew he had slept with other women. You were definitely not over that.

You didn’t know if anyone would believe you. If the whole group would go against you then the whole school. Since many girls liked Billy and would probably believe anything that came out of his mouth.

So you didn’t say anything. For a little while Billy would taunt you in a way by bringing girls over at your place. Saying that you were nothing to him. Telling you that he only used you for your body (you never fucked) basically slut shaming you for sharing nude pictures of yourself.

You only sent him those because he had practically manipulated you into doing it. Saying how he’ll break up with you or it’ll make him sad if you don’t.

He also scared you back then. He had anger issues still has. But you were scared of him going into an anger outburst worrying that he would hurt you.

He would never in reality.

You could never understand him one day he would be all loving on you then the next go cheat on you. It also reminded you about the times you we’re together alone it was just silence with Billy ignoring you existence not even alone. When you were out in public at school he would act like you weren’t even there. In front of everyone. Even when you gave him a lot of attention. Fuck you had gave him small gifts you thought he’d like. You were there during his darkest time and this is want he fucking does. Of course you weren’t expecting anything of it but you wouldn’t think he would do this. Well you had enough, realizing that the relationship you were in was unhealthy and awful. you broke up with him. You had sadly wasted your life.

At first he could careless. You were nothing to him only something he could use for his own pleasure.

Soon he felt empty. He didn’t feel the same like he did with you. He tried his best to shake it off but he couldn’t. When he was with random girls or Sidney. He doesn’t feel anything. It doesn’t help that you stopped hanging out with the group. He couldn’t even see your face anymore. He didn’t know what came over him but he needed your affection. Once you left he felt like his whole world was gone. He never felt complete or comfortable. He knew you didn’t want to see him again. After everything he had done.

But his ego was stopping him from apologizing. So he tried his best to forget you. But he couldn’t. It didn’t help that he had some of your stuff those photos, the gifts that he dug up. Since he had carelessly thrown those to the side not caring about the thought you had put into them. He was just starting to realize that he undermined everything you had done for him. He missed it. It didn’t help that you we’re finding comfort in different friends. It made his made his blood boil when he saw you hanging out with other guys.

He didn’t care for the context he felt heart broken that you had moved on that easily. He wished that he could kill everyone one of those guys who dared to speak to you.

You felt more happier then you ever did. You questioned why you never broke up sooner. You felt more free. But you never would have thought the roles would be reversed.

It was soon Billy constantly calling you wanting to get back together. Leaving gifts in your locker. You didn’t know what could have gotten into him. Suddenly he was sweet with you. Was he just manipulating you? So he could do it all over again if you get back with him.

Billy is always cornering trying to get you to talk to him. You don’t say anything though but shove him away each time. He doesn’t get why you don’t want to be with him. He shown he’s sorry, and doing so much for you. Aren’t you able to forgive him a bit.

But he crossed the line a little. One day he hugged you from behind whispering sweet nothings to you in your ear. Venting his frustrations about you talking to other guys. Then telling you something you won’t forget.

“I won’t ever let you go”

*I’m sorry for not posting in a while. And sorry if the end seems rushed it was this was also a little test for something I want to know if you would want me to go more in depth for this.

#slashers x reader #slashers #scream x reader #scream #yandere billy loomis #yandere billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #cheater billy

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 months

Note

Could you make a proposal with Dehya, Yae Miko, Candence, Navia and Lisa entering the room with your S/O changing clothes? Like, like they wear clothes that don't show off their body and make it look weak, only for them to have a very muscular body.

(Genshin Impact) Dehya, Yae, Candace, Navia, and Lisa walking into their S/O changing clothes

I'm not muscular at all, but my arms are weirdly strong looking thanks to moving a lot of boxes. My clothes make me look like an absolute stick, though.

Dehya opened the door and saw S/O in the middle of removing their shirt.

(Dehya) "Oops. Sorry, didn't know you were in here."

If they were shy or startled, she would not hesitate to give them space and close the door behind her.

But if they didn't mind, she would at least take a moment to see what they looked like.

Their shirt did a good job concealing of how toned their body actually was. Truthfully, she thought they would have almost nothing on them.

(Dehya) "Jeez, how were you able to hide that from me the entire time?"

She certainly appreciates how strong S/O seemed. It wasn't a bad view either.

Yae opens the door pretty much without warning, and simply smiling as she saw S/O changing clothes.

She leans against the door and watches. Yae doesn't budge, regardless if they were shy or not.

(Yae) "My, there's quite nothing left to the imagination now. I will also say, you're better built than I had presumed you'd be."

Her smirk seems to grow at that comment, her eyes taking in the muscles they were hiding.

Now that she knew they were strong, she'd probably have S/O carry a lot of things for her.

There was no excuse, S/O was strong and that meant they could take the labor!

...Among other things.

Candace knew S/O was strong, you had to be if you wanted to survive long in the desert.

What she didn't expect underneath their shirt was for them to be nearly as strong as her.

Candace had accidentally walked into their room too fast as they were changing.

After admiring the view for a few seconds, she has a faint blush to her cheeks as she respectfully turns away.

Regardless of their personality, she doesn't wish to snoop on them, and closes the door just as quickly.

(Candace) "Apologies, I'll come back in when you're finished."

She definitely wants to know where they got their muscles from, since the clothes they wore really only displayed their arms and nothing else.

Navia almost yelps the moment she opens the door to the bathroom and saw that they were changing.

S/O was only changing their shirt, which was both a relief and slightly disappointing to Navia.

But then she realized that, dang, S/O was ripped.

The clothes they normally wore did indicate they were at all!

(Navia) "W-Wow...You look great! AHEM! L-Let me know when you're done!"

If her S/O was on the shyer side, she'd quickly blurt out an apology, while still staring at them for a few more seconds.

She shuts the door and hides her face with her hat.

It wasn't a sight that was going to leave her mind anytime soon.

Not that it was entirely a problem.

Lisa hums in approval of the sight of S/O changing clothes.

(Lisa) "Looking good as always, darling.~"

She is particularly amused if her S/O would get flustered by her coming in, but she has no strong reaction.

Other than eyeing them up and down with a smile.

Lisa wished that S/O had told her sooner that they were so strong. It would have made moving some books in the library far easier.

But hey, now she knew for future reference!

Plus, it'd be an excuse to watch them in action. But she could probably think of better ways to see them without their shirt on than just work.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #dehya x reader #yae miko x reader #candace genshin impact x reader #navia x reader #lisa minci x reader #dehya genshin #yae miko #candace genshin impact #navia genshin impact #lisa minci

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0oolookitsme · 2 months

Text

Double Date Day

The smut that I've left you guys hanging for in this fic, is coming sooner than you think it is! So, don't be too sad haha! Best believe, it is coming right after the next fic! Also, I like started writing this concept probably last year, if not the one before that; and I just COULDN'T write it! But finally, I've re-written it for the millionth time and while I'm not very happy with the way it has turned out, I still hope you like it!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - None! A scene alludes to smut, but it doesn't happen!

It is Valentine's Day, also known as the Double Date Day in the Styles' house. And being one of the highly anticipated days for the family, a lot of preparation and antics take place throughout the day!

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

It was showing to be a clear morning; and, as Harry laid in bed with his eyes cracked open seconds prior, he imagined the clouds softly moving along with the brisk wind, and the sun peeking in between, as if playing peek-a-boo with the world. He knew it to be a deceiving setting though, because no matter how bright the sun was shining after days of disappearance, the weather was still chilly and would bite at his skin were he to go out.

Turning to his side he met with Y/n’s crouched back as she slept, curled into herself. He couldn’t hear anything from her but the slow rise and fall of her figure indicated that she was still fast asleep.

His lips curled into a crooked smile as he formed a cocoon around her, covering her back with his chest, slipping his hand around her waist and tucking away his chin into the back of her neck – her hair that seemed to be had slipped out of the braid she’d made last night, fell on his face and Harry gladly breathed in the comforting scent of her shampoo.

His eyes fell close, as if almost compelled to go back to sleep in her warmth. And, he had just begun to drift away when he felt the bed dip behind him. This was nothing new, still Harry opened his eyes cautiously and shifted his gaze to the scene going on behind him.

One of the twins was standing up on wobbly legs, bending down to, according to Harry at least, help another one up. And he’s only proven correct once Amore is standing tall again, and Andre seems to be holding onto her arm for his dear life while he tried to balance himself on the mattress. They shared a look at for a little, as if revising the same plan that they follow through on every fourteenth of the February, since they’ve turned three, and passed each other a grin with a thumbs up, like signing off a pact.

He silently grinned and before he could begin pretending to be asleep, his eyes fell on Y/n’s bare chest that was seconds away from revealing her breasts. Looking at the kids, he slid her flimsy shirt down her torso and, once done, unintentionally swung his legs up her calf like he always does, instead of being sneaky and stilled, hearing Amore squeak – “Daddy’s Awake!” followed by Andre’s giggling.

Tilting on his back, a throaty laugh escaped his mouth because of getting caught and also at the sight of Andre’s blonde curls sticking out in all directions. “Good morning, my monkeys,” he sang funnily, wrapping his arms around their little bodies as they snuggled up on his right side with their never-ending giggles.

“Morning daddy,” the two wished him back in hushed voices, as if Y/n wasn’t already awake by the sound of their sweet-sweet laughter.

Harry hummed for a little, before beginning – “It’s the double date day today, isn’t it?” He asked and felt them nodding on his shoulder. Looking down at Amore and laughing when she poked at his double-chin, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You know what to do, my love.” He began and turned to look at Andre, asking him if he were ready to take on the day. On receiving a cheery reply, he took the blanket off of him and got out with Andre clung to his chest, putting the boy back down once he was on the floor.

“Enjoy you time with mummy,” he chirped at Amore and kissed both her and Y/n’s cheeks quickly before pretending to run off with his other little one cackling and running behind him.

On the very first Valentine’s Day that Harry and Y/n had celebrated as parents, they had come up with an idea to turn it into a double date day. For what reason, they aren’t sure – it just seemed cool to do, and now the family awaited this day every year with great excitement.

The first time, Y/n had gone on a date with Andre and Harry had gone with Amore. It was nothing but another domestic little excuse to spend some more quality time with their kids. The second year around, Y/n and Amore went on one, while the boys went with each other and, for the third year, the kids had gone over to Anne’s, so Harry and Y/n had gone on a date.

This year, they were following the suite of the February fourteenth on which Y/n was pregnant, and ready to pop any minute, sat in the bed with breakfast served to her by her lovely husband, who hadn’t even managed to get dressed because he had missed his alarm, surprisingly enough. Which meant, they were starting anew this year, and the whole family was going to be sat on one table and just chit chat like they do all the time and discuss Harry and Y/n’s first meeting for the thousandth time.

Right now, Y/n very sneakily wrapped her arm around Amore’s frame and dragged her towards herself. She laughed lightly when she realized that she’d scared the girl as her eyes remained widened for a second too long. “Good morning, mi amore,” she chuckled, kissing the top of her nose and sighed when she snuggled closer to her.

With her face tucked away in Y/n’s chest, Amore shyly greeted her back, “morning, mummy.” Her voice was muffled, and Y/n knew she wasn’t too far from slipping back to dreamland.

“Did you get anything?” Y/n asked, pressing another kiss to the girl’s hairline.

The girl hummed and Y/n wondered how Harry hadn’t noticed such similarities between him and Amore. “There was a box beside my pillow, but I haven’t opened it yet,” she answered, and pressed a return kiss on her mummy’s chest through the ridiculous gaps between the shirt’s buttons, her body shaking with laughter when Y/n giggled.

“What about Andre? Did he get his gift?”

“Yeah! He opened his first thing in the morning!” Amore laughed. “He was very happy to see all that paint and the brushes,” she said, taking a deep breath right after.

“When do you plan on opening yours, munchkin?”

“After the breakfast,” the girl mumbled and Y/n coddled her body closer to her, sensing that she was dozing off in her warmth.

Amore began snoring and Y/n also gave in to sleep slowly and slowly, all while hearing the muffled but loud chatter going on downstairs.

Harry simply couldn’t stop questioning Andre, who was sitting on the kitchen island – “You are always helping out your mum, why aren’t ya helping me?” He asked with a pout on his lips and a dramatic frown between his brows, all while opening the drawer for a fork.

On receiving no answer, he looked up to see Andre struggling to get back on the Island with a glass lunch packed with Strawberries. “What are you doing?” he questioned again, watching as he began putting some into the empty bowl Harry had brought out to stir some batter in.

“Just a snack for the two of us,” he whispered with a finger on his lips. When asked to spill some details by Harry, he elaborated – “Amore told me she and mummy had some last night when you and I had gone to sleep,” with an angry and pouty look on his face.

Harry laughed loudly at that, realizing that Amore had tried to make a fool out of his son, and how she had succeeded. On seeing the little one grumbling and getting off the island, he tried to cover up quickly as he rushed to his side to face him.

“I’m sorry darling, but I think she might’ve been fubbing,” he said with an apologetic look, but chose his words wisely. “Don’t you remember you two had slept off on the couch and how me and mummy had tucked you in the bed?” He continued and chuckled when realization dawned on Andre’s face.

“Well, cheer up and help your daddy now,” Harry grinned, patting the boy’s head and moving to take out another bowl.

They spent the rest of the time in the kitchen just that way – Harry constantly spilling jokes and pulling on Andre’s leg, who just sat and brought him things with a pout on his mouth because of the teasing.

Every time, Andre would find a new spot to put flour on Harry's face and get a whiney ‘heyy!’ in return from his helpless dad whose hands remained busy the whole time.

The boy was feeling done with Harry, wanting to be by his mother’s side now that he’d had his daily dose of dad jokes ingested in his system. Every once in a while, he’d dip his finger in the cookie-dough that Harry had left out to make biscuits later when the two girls were to join them in the kitchen.

The one moment he finally felt at peace was when Harry asked him to decorate the pancakes with some maple syrup and passed him the bowl of strawberries he'd taken out earlier. And, as he got right to work, forgetting to breathe and blink as he put his all in putting everything in the right place on the plates, he didn't quite realize how long he'd been at it.

The wind outside was flowing in with free reign through the open kitchen windows, helping Harry in staying cool. A blow whiffed both of the Styles’ curls with a great force, causing a chuckle to escape Harry’s mouth.

“Andre? Are you done yet?” Harry asked from somewhere in the Kitchen, his hands on his hips as he looked at his child with tired eyes, but a lopsided grin on his face. He wouldn't want to disturb the boy’s work, but it had been ten minutes of him saying “just one more second" and Harry was growing antsy, trying to busy himself with making some fresh orange juice – but even that was done now, and he couldn't help himself any longer.

“Why don't you go and wake up your sissy and mummy?” He exclaimed, knowing that Andre would not miss a chance to finally stick himself to his mummy after a long morning of having his dad annoy him.

That pulled Andre right out of his zone, and he quickly rushed to get off the stool he'd been standing on the top of. “Yes, daddy!” He squeaked, a grin on his face that Harry caught sight of right before his gaze landed on the mess atop the kitchen island.

A deep sigh left his mouth, and he rubbed his forehead a couple times before getting back to work, cleaning everything up as quickly he could. And also, to lick some of the maple syrup by his fingers off the breakfast because Andre had poured about half of the little bottle on the pancakes and situated the berries on the very edges of each plate.

And, while at that, Harry quickly checked off the ‘maybe he'll become a chef’ off of his mental checklist about Andre’s career choices that he'd noticed so far – and laughed a little to himself, finally putting the glasses of the juice beside the plates.

And when he heard the kids running down the stairs, he immediately yelled out a 'Slow down, there!' while closing off the running tap. Quickly, he dried off the last two dishes and turned, frowning when he couldn't find sight of his wife.

"Where's mummy, love?" Harry asked any one of the kids, looking at them gush over the 'yummy' breakfast while drying off his hands on his pants, the kitchen towel hanging not far from him.

"Oh daddy, mummy said she would only come down if you'd ask her to," Amore quickly answered, like she'd forgotten to inform Harry that and went right back to smelling the juice.

He stood there dumbfounded for a little, and then a giddy smile pulled up on his soft lips, quickly turning into a wide grin. He shook his head as he began climbing up the stairs hurriedly, brushing his hair out of his face with a jerk of his head.

"Now, what is this behaviour, darling?" Harry asked without having yet caught a sight of her, opening the door to their bedroom.

When he saw that she wasn’t lying in bed, the confusion caused his eyebrows to frown, until he heard the running water, and a look of realization dawned over his facial features -- causing him to turn towards the bathroom, to which the door was left slightly open ajar.

He could hear her humming a Fleetwood Mac song, potentially Landslide, with each step he took, and when he knocked on the door, all of the noises stopped at once -- the running water in the bath, her humming voice or the candle's crackling, all of it. A smirk tugged at one of his mouth's corners, and he called for her once again before asking, "Did you like your gift?" with a change in the tone of his voice.

As Harry’s mind drew an imagery of her wearing the lingerie he had got her as one of the gifts and had kept in the bathroom, he felt himself thickening in his pants. It was a colour close to Magenta, and Harry knew her body well enough to know how well it was going to suit her skin.

The thought of her chest freckles that lied rather at her cleavage peeking through was driving him insane and he was only growing more and more impatient with each passing second, his foot beginning to tap on the floor beneath. He knocked again, and Y/n swung open the door at that very second, like she'd just been reaching for the doorknob.

"Hi! Sorry, the hot water was feeling way too good this morning," she looked at him with a grin so wide that Harry was sure she had it on her face just to mock him.

She was dressed in her own clothes from head to toe but his cardigan was draped over her shoulders and Harry wasn't sure if she was doing all of this intentionally. Maybe somewhere, by the mischievous glint in her eyes, he knew -- maybe.

He jerked when she grabbed a hold of his face in the cold palms of her hands and calmed down when she pressed a chaste kiss on his mouth. "What are you thinking?" She whispered, her front teeth peeking out of her slightly open mouth, perfect contrast against her skin, as she stood so close to him that he could smell the scent of the creams she must've put on her face earlier.

His voice came out in nothing but a cracked whisper when he mumbled, "nothing."

He knew that this moment wasn't yet over as he followed behind her out of their bedroom and down the stairs. Feeling like a lost puppy suddenly, he almost only had eyes for her. That was until they reached the dining table, and he was reminded again of their kids, who must be ready for food by now.

"Mummy! What did you get?" Amore asked the moment she saw her mum, running away from Andre who seemed to be in the middle of showing her another one of his drawings.

Harry swallowed his laughter at the sight of his offended son and walked over to carry Andre over. "Mum's looking pretty, isn't she?" Harry whispered to him and grinned when the little one agreed loudly, causing Y/n to look over with a blush covering the highs of her cheeks.

"I'm not sure yet, I'll open mine after breakfast as well," Y/n shrugged as she sat on the chair Harry had pulled behind for her. Because she had panicked, she said she wasn't yet aware when in fact, she knew exactly what she'd been gifted – it was clinging to her body beneath the cozy clothing she’d gone for. So, now as she sat and brushed the girl's bangs out of her face, she wondered what white lie she would have to tell later.

Turning to face Harry, Amore asked him the same question. "What did you get, daddy?"

"Ah, it's this cute little dainty necklace! I absolutely am in love with it," Harry confessed, quickly passing Y/n a look of gratitude and adoration. "I'll show you once we finish eating, yeah?" He continued before Amore could force him to walk up the flight of stairs again.

"I know Andre loved his gift, he wouldn't stop going on and on about it when we were cooking," Harry spoke, making everyone at the table laugh. "Did you like yours, hm?" He asked his daughter.

Amore told him about how she would open hers along with her mum, and when Y/n was done putting pancakes in everyone's plates, the kids dug right into it, causing both her and Harry to warn the kids to slow down.

Shouts of praises and 'yum's were shouted at Harry, making him grin endlessly out of shyness. It was when he couldn't shrink his smile that Y/n announced him the new chef alongside Andre, making him turn to face her with pure horror coating his features.

Don't get him wrong, he absolutely loved cooking, and his son. But to cook with Andre in the same vicinity in the morning was something Harry was sure he couldn't do every single day.

The table roared with laughter and cackled all over again as Harry said that and they all continued with their breakfast with continuous chats, except for that one time that Harry choked on a berry’s crumb, causing Y/n to strictly announce that no one was going to talk with food in their mouth.

But then, Amore masterfully stole a sip of Andre's orange juice, making everyone lose it once again.

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senanatheskenana · 4 months

Note

Sorry if this is weird but I haven't seen anything like this before but could you maybe do some sort of headcanon for genshin characters with a s/o that had a cryptic pregnancy. Like they leave for one day or come home after a couple hours and s/o is just like "yeah I didn't know" while holding a newborn. Again sorry if it's weird

Sure, this sounds super interesting! Also sorry if this took a while i haven't been as active recently but ill try to get more into the fandom soon <3

(Ill only be doing the male character since the nature of this would be a little hard to plan out for the female characters, hope that's ok)

Genshin Men Reacting to Cryptic Pregnancies

Kaeya

Kaeya looks at you like you're crazy. He legitimately believes that you've just picked up some newborn orphan to baby-trap him without getting pregnant.

Well, at least that's what he believed until he saw what the tiny child looked like up close.

There was no room to deny that the child looked strikingly similar to him; dark blue hair and tan skin. The only difference between them was that this tiny baby had your eyes.

And as his tiny fingers grab the air in front of Kaeya, he becomes increasingly aware of what has happened.

You were pregnant for nine months. You gave birth.

And he wasn't even there when you did- he was drinking like his social life depended on it at the tavern.

"I'm a terrible husband," he laughs, incredulous of himself.

He couldn't turn such a child away, even if he wanted no children. It would be obvious who had fathered one of the two blue-haired people in Mondstadt.

Diluc

Diluc is at a loss for words.

He doesn't doubt you, he's known you so deeply that he can see in your eyes and in your body that you've been through something.

So when you hold the tiny infant out towards him, he carefully takes her into his arms as if she were a treasure so valuable he could not bear the idea of tarnishing it.

He presses her warmly against his chest and looks at you in such a way that you know he is not at all upset with you. In fact, he then looks away and places a triad of light pecks on her short red hair.

"I wish i had known" he says ruefully- and for a moment your heart sinks as though you think he was disappointed in such an outcome.

"If i had known sooner, we could have prepared a nursery"

Venti

Venti isn't quite sure whether he wants to run away from you or towards you.

It wasn't that he didn't like you anymore, or that he didn't want children.

He simply worried that he would not be a good parent, staying late into the night in bars playing music and over-drinking. He could see those days flying away from him in the eyes of the child.

But still, he could not harbour resentment for such a young, uncomprehending thing. Something that depended on him so greatly- far greater than any normal mortal had ever depended on him as an archon.

No, to him this was special.

He thought about it. Yes, his days of drinking every day were behind him. But something new would soon replace them. He traded wine for a son who loved him like no other would.

Venti surely had never planned on this, had he known you were pregnant he would have tried harder to break his ugly habit of day drinking.

But what is done is done, he thinks.

Now he just had to raise a child. How hard could it be?

Albedo

He sums it up as a curiosity, rather than sentimentality. He admits that yes he loves you, but this thing, surely he was only keeping it alive- feeding it, burping it, changing it- to satiate his curiosity of how it came to be in the first place.

Firstly, he was under the impression that he was infertile, let alone thinking you were pregnant. It simply wasn't something he accounted for.

But you see it differently to him. You can see that what Albedo is denying as intrigue was really paternal love. You weren't quite sure whether he was trying to deny it, to keep the child at arm's length, or whether he was just dense. That wasn't something anyone had really associated with Albedo.

He supposes that, in a way, the baby was rather cute. It abstained from taking on many of his attributes, which he found himself thankful for. If he was honest, the baby was more similar to you in appearance. The only thing he theorised may be a piece of him showing was the fact that the child seemingly could not take their eyes off of their surroundings.

Its a gradually thing, a feeling that develops over weeks of caring for it. What started out as wonder at how it happened slowly melded into the realisation that he no longer cared, and the point was that it did happen, and he was content with that answer for once.

Xiao

Xiao very nearly drops off the earth after you show him the child. It could not be his- or yours- he's sure he would have been able to sense the pregnancy if you were.

The weeks after are filled with worry and Xiao's absence. He sits atop the roof of Wangshu Inn, looking out at the city in the distance, wondering if you and, by extension, 'your' child is still there.

He's desperate to take another glance, to put his guilt to bed, to prove to himself that the child could not be his. He's also terrified it could prove the opposite, leaving Xiao in more guilt than before and with more responsibilities.

Xiao may have never seen you again had it not been for Zhongl's insistence that he appear to him. With you sat beside him.

At first glance, he comes to realise that it is undeniable that the child is his. He could feel it, stronger than any feeling he had ever felt before. He felt his heart clench painfully inside of his chest as though it were crying for the moments they had wasted.

But he still can't bring himself to touch his child, too afraid to stain it with his sins.

He cries against you that night, sobbing apologies into your shoulder and muttering promises to his son.

Tartaglia

Bro straight up does not even question it. He's heard of such things before and he's so sure and secure in your relationship that the idea that it isn't his or yours doesn't even cross his mind.

If he's honest, its obviously his. The ginger hair was a big hint.

Ajax is honestly incredibly happy- he's always wanted a family of his own and he feels as if this was a gift from the archons. A child that no one outside of him and you know exists yet. He's aware of how good a position that is given how high his place in the fatui is.

He cannot resist telling his family, asking them to keep if close to their chest for the baby's sake.

He didn't get the chance to look after you during the pregnancy, so he's making up for it now. He won't let you do anything in the first few months.

"Stay here gorgeous, I'll feed her!", "You worked so hard you deserve an hour where you aren't looking after our child", and "I just found the CUTEST little outfit in the boutique- look!" are all common things to hear now.

He hasn't brought it up yet, but he really, really wants another one. One that he can help you with during the pregnancy and anticipate.

Zhongli

I feel as though there is no way for you to be pregnant and have him not know at some point.

In fact, he tries to hint it to you in the beginning and later outright asks you if you're pregnant. When you deny it, he's astoundingly patient, waiting for you to realise it yourself.

He understands that it must be absurd to hear that you were pregnant when you have no symptoms of it.

So he makes it a point to always be close by, or to have someone (usually Xiao) keep an eye on you.

It's just an average walk through Liyue Harbour when you drop to the floor and groan in pain. Your husband is immediately there to steady you, offering his strong hand for you to crush.

People gather around you both in concern, encircling you like you were some spectacle. Zhongli tells them to step away, and as people start to realise the gravity a green-haired doctor slips past the crowd.

You give birth in the street, never realising you were pregnant before leaving the house.

Kaedehara Kazuha

Kazuha has always been fairly good at going with the flow and this was no exception.

If he was honest, he knows that even if it wasn't related to you both, and you just picked it up off the street he would never refuse it.

He does his best to accept things and help you with things after, to make sure you heal well.

He's never cared for a child, let alone his own but he's willing to try his best in doing so.

And he's an outrageously good father given he had no time to prepare.

He fashions a baby bed on the crux, sleeping with the baby on his chest every night before finishing it.

It's you who finds out that your child will only sleep when sung to, after Kazuha has been doing so for the first few weeks.

Kazuha hadn't expected this but he has to admit that having a child has made him feel at home in every place as long as it is with you.

Thoma

Immediately Thoma panics. Though not for the reason you expect.

"Now I have to give short notice when asking for paternity leave"

Of course, he doesn't make it your fault, he's aware it's half of both of you.

When the Kamisato siblings find out, Ayaka is extremely excited. Thoma is given paid paternity leave, and Ayaka gets to coo at your tiny baby, marvelling at how it managed to occur.

Thoma is a wonderful father and he always volunteers to get up in the night for feeds and changes.

Fatherhood suits him well <3

He may have one moment of apprehension about the pregnancy, briefly questioning whether you had really given birth.

Before he reigns himself back in and realises that he knows you would never do something like that.

Arrataki Itto

Cue five minutes of pure silence while he tries to understand what you just said <3.

Bro didn't even know that was possible, like no way.

But at the same time, he understands that you wouldn't joke about this sort of thing. Plus the baby has horns just like her father.

He's in a state of shock for a few hours, a dumb expression painted on as he sits down cradling the baby oni.

And then finally he responds.

"Wait so this is like mine? I have to keep it and like look after it and stuff?"

Gorou

Gorou could smell something different with you from the beginning but with nothing to go on he didn't press it.

And at some point he just stopped noticing it, there was no reason to assume when he saw no real change in your behaviour.

Until he sees two resistance members charging towards him and beckoning him to follow them as they run off once more.

And that's when he finds you, sat low against the wall of a hut, sweaty and tearstained.

And then he hones in on the babe tucked between your arms and chest.

And then the guilt hits him. He could have known this might be the case, surely he should have made you leave just until he was sure of the outcome.

"I- I forced you into battle... And-and you were pregnant."

Kamisato Ayato

Ayato is very sure that you would never lie to him but he knows that the circumstances will be suspicious to many and that those who doubt may spread rumours given your unmarried status.

He loves you and he'd sooner die than have people spread vicious lies about you like you were some harlot.

But he really can't bear the idea of giving up your son.

So he bites the bullet and he, you, and Ayaka make a public appearance when you both introduce your child and the godmother, Ayaka <3.

People talked about you both but he couldn't care less when he had something so beautiful to look forward to now.

Tighnari

Tighnari is also there to watch you suddenly give birth. However he remains calm, easing your pain with herbs and scents.

He kisses your forehead and squeezes your hand to reassure you of how well you're doing.

He has never had experience with one in person but he knows of them, and he takes the subsequent weeks observing you and the baby, all while caring for you both.

He hadn't expected a child so soon but he had desire for a whole family someday so he took it in stride.

He takes great pleasure telling Collei, knowing how excited she would be.

Cyno

Cyno feels his whole heart thump when he comes home from a week of work away from you to see you in a chair, rocking a baby back and forth.

"Are you babysitting for a friend, sweetheart?"

You jump as if you didn't hear him enter and then relax when your eyes find him in the doorway.

"Not quite," you murmur as you play with the baby's tiny hand/

He grows curious and gingerly steps closer until he is beside you, looking down at the child.

He'd recognise that hair anywhere. And those eyes.

He felt as though he was looking back at himself from his past.

Instinctively he reaches out to gently caress the small face that peers up at him.

And then he looks back at you as if asking for an explanation. How did this happen? Surely, he would have realised you were pregnant.

Scaramouche

No. He's unwilling to even entertain the idea that you were pregnant with his child, to begin with. He was sure he was infertile. there was no way this thing was his.

And its that simple to him, you think. He leaves and you never meet again.

What you don't know is that Scaramouche, now Wanderer, is none the wiser to your existence, and the child you share.

Sorry, that's quite a sombre ending. I would like to mention that with Scara, he would ultimately return to you if he knew you <3

#xreader #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #genshin impact xiao #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact angst #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader

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painted-bees · 4 months

Text

[cw: explicit content🔞]

March 18th 2009

The top floor balcony of the humble recording studio overlooked a small backroad. It was just high enough to grant a view over the roofs of surrounding buildings, out towards the mountains, across the harbour. But thick cloud cover and the darkness of night collaborated to hide the Rockies from sight this evening. Instead, Raf’s gaze washed impassively over the array of city lights that extended across the harbour and disappeared into the distant North Vancouver neighbourhoods. He took a sip from the bottle of water in his hand and invited the evening chill to sober him up.

Behind him, the din of party revelry outcompeted the exterior ambiance of late-night city traffic. Hi-Note wasn’t usually so lively this close to midnight. Its business hours only ran until 8pm at the latest, and, save for the evenings when he used to jam here with Magritte, Raf usually had the place vacated and locked up within that same hour.

Today was a special occasion. It was the junior technician, Herbie’s, birthday. Since he had little where else to celebrate, Nels had hosted a surprise party for him in the studio. It wasn’t the first birthday Herb had celebrated in Vancouver, but it was the first birthday following a rather heartbreaking split with his once-steady girlfriend. The usually jovial lad had been, understandably, a lot more quietly introspective over the past few months. Once Nels had gained the knowledge that Herb had no big, exciting birthday plans this year, the rest was inevitable.

Raf had driven to work, and wholly planned to drive back home. Towards that end, he enjoyed his drink and smoke early, cut himself off early, and was now finally feeling clear minded enough to collect Margie and call it a night. Intending to do exactly that, Raf turned towards the sliding door of the balcony, downing his last gulp of water. And–discovered that Margie had found him first.

A smug grin and a playful wave preceded her sliding open the door. She stepped out onto the balcony, pulling the door shut behind her. “Ey, nice hiding spot, Ephrem!” She rubbed her hands together, watching her breath hang in the chilly air as she approached him.

Raf relented to leaning back against the balcony railing as Magritte dropped her elbows on it, beside him. “I was just about to go in and get you.”

She sighed and looked out across the harbour. “Past your bedtime?”

“Nah, the party’s winding down anyway. But I kinda wish I found you out here sooner. This view is really nice.” She sighed wistfully. “Glittery.”

He provided a self-depreciating smirk. You could set your watch to Raf’s night time routine and, typically, if he wasn’t in bed between eleven and eleven-thirty, he’d be grumpy if there wasn’t a good reason for it. A birthday, he supposed, was as good a reason as any.

“If you’re not ready to head home yet…” He allowed his easy capitulation to hang unspoken in the space between them.

Raf made no motion to herd her back inside. Instead, he placed his empty water bottle down by his feet and then settled further against the railing. He wasn’t worried about waiting much longer out here. Magritte had a low tolerance for cold, and the chilly March breeze would chase her back inside within a reasonable amount of time. Still, he didn’t want to give her the sense he was in any kind of hurry. Genuinely, he wasn’t.

“Yanno, this is the weirdest place I’ve ever worked at.” Magritte furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “Just a bunch of guys being pals, but also…not weird about it. And stuff gets done. And I–” She turned to look at him, “I help with that. Like, actually!” She turned her back to the landscape, electing to mirror Raf’s posture. “Okay, this sounds stupid but like…I’ve never felt good at a job before. Not just that, I’ve been proactive? I get to do stuff before someone has to ask me to do it? And, I do it properly? Wild. Nels even likes me!” She beamed up at him. “He called me ‘Supergirl’ today after hearing the vocal mixing I did for Cybele Fray.”

“Yeah…” Magritte pressed her palms against her cheeks and smooshed her face in a pensive gesture that wasn’t intended to look as silly as it did. “I’m worried I’ll lose interest and pitter out eventually. But until then, I’ll just enjoy feeling useful. And smart.”

Raf favoured her with a smirk, and wrinkled his brow in substitute for a shewed shrug. “Nels loved you the minute he saw you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the first job you feel competent at is the first job that has you working with audio and such. You’re doing what you like doing.”

And, Raf thought, employed by someone who actually knows how to manage you.

It’s true that Hi-Note made excellent use of Margie’s savant-like skills, but not all of it had been absolutely enthralling to her. A bored Margie was difficult to keep on task, but somehow Nels had managed to navigate her ‘on again, off again’ pattern of productivity. Largely, Raf noticed that Nels cycled her off monotonous tasks before they had a chance to bore her–no matter their state of completion. And then, he’d put her back on it as soon as she looked ready to smooth her brain on something simple and repetitive again. Raf had taken that observation–and applied it at home. Very quickly, he helped her build a habit of taking just one dish out of the sink, washing it, and putting it away, any time she found herself in the kitchen during a moment of aimless roving. Not always, mind you…but often enough. One thing at a time, and the order of it doesn’t matter.

Raf considered whether or not he ought to affirm to her for the umpteenth time that she was one of the most brilliant people he had ever met. But the window of opportunity closed when she continued talking.

“Life’s been really…easy this year, so far. Like, the easiest it’s ever been. I like it. A lot.” She turned her eyes up to him with an unspoken question that he couldn’t quite read.

“Same.”

“Really?” Her questioning gaze pressed further.

Raf measured her for a moment.

Yet–there she was.

Until she showed up, he had been living alone in a two bedroom, downtown apartment; a feat of luxury by Vancouver standards. He’d have described it as a relatively ‘small’ space; each room was big enough to fit a bed, a dresser, a night stand, and little else. But, two bedrooms were still two bedrooms. Near Yaletown, no less. Truth be told, the income he was making at Hi-Note would not have been enough to afford it, if he had to rely on it alone. But he had been rather uncompromising about having a spare room for guests–until Magritte moved in. Now, that room was hers; guests be damned.

It was a bit strange to think about. Generally, Raf preferred being alone. He found that living with anyone else always came with more stress than it was worth; whether it was with a steady romantic partner, or a family member. He was fairly certain that he’d never lend himself to the horrors of rooming with a friend who barely knew him. The very idea had felt like a violation against the sanctity of his home–the one place he could withdraw and hide into when he needed the peace and quiet to sort himself out. He didn’t trust family nor lovers to respect his space when he most needed it. A roommate as impersonal as a friend would have been much worse, and for absolutely nothing.

He had first invited Magritte to crash at his place on an impulse. Though he feared the precedent it may have set, she didn’t overstay her welcome. In fact, she had barely stayed at all. That hadn’t surprised him nearly as much as his resulting disappointment had. And so, he invited her again. And again. And again. And each time, he confirmed for himself that she was simply…good company. He slept easier on the nights she occupied the guest room. His mood each morning felt buoyed by her presence, even before she emerged to greet him in the kitchen. He just liked talking to her. The baseline of her mood seemed to always be several levels more pleasant than his own, and the way she carried her joviality made it infectious, not grating. Even on the mornings when she had shuffled into the kitchen muttering a preemptive apology for her irritable mood, she had been sweet about it.

Magritte did something to his brain chemicals that medications just couldn’t compete with. But what that was exactly, he had no god damn clue. The only other thing he could think of that would come close to eliciting the same kind of response from him–might have been something like…having a box of fluffy kittens gently dumped on him. Maybe that’s what she was to him; a box of sweet, soft, wobbly kittens–personified. It would certainly explain the cuteness-aggression she often provoked; that overwhelming desire to just scrunch her up into a little ball and tear her apart with his teeth…affectionately.

Oftenly, so did she.

Now she had her own key to the apartment and, over the winter, the guest bedroom had slowly been transformed into her disorderly, war-torn little nest. A true nightmare to behold for all the clutter and chaos; clothing haphazardly strewn across every inch of floor, and a plethora of dirty cups and plates on–and around–the nightstand by her bed.

Strangely, it didn’t bother him. She had warned him of her negligent cleanliness habits well in advance. In fact, she had initially cited it as her reason for not wanting to overstay at his place. In response, he had given her the room to do with as she pleased–on the sole condition that she kept the door closed and ensured her mess never breached containment. If he didn’t like it, he simply didn’t have to look at it. Aside from leaving dishes in the sink (and occasionally on the living room coffee table), Magritte had been pretty good at maintaining her end of the bargain. By and large, her messes stayed confined to her room.

When it came to the matter of Raf coveting his peace and quiet, Magritte had proven to be no trouble at all. That was remarkable, considering how loud she was in almost everything she did. But, most evenings after work, she straight up ignored him. She spent her time holed up in her bedroom, playing music and browsing the internet. Raf had once expressed appreciation for Margie’s unobtrusiveness–and was met with a mixture of disbelief and tremendous relief from her. Apparently, most others hadn’t found the same kind of comfort he did in a roommate that happily kept to themselves. She had grown accustomed to worrying that her ‘shut-in’ behaviour was excessive and inconsiderate, because if someone didn’t come and pull her away from her hobbies, she was liable to get lost in her solitary activities for hours. For Raf’s part, he was just content knowing she was there if he felt in need of company, but rarely did he feel compelled to call upon her for it. He liked her little routine of being present in the mornings, joining him for lunch, winding down with him for an hour after work, and then emerging once more for dinner before they both disappeared to their respective corners of the apartment for the rest of the evening–until bedtime.

While Magritte spent the days in her room, she developed a habit of spending most of her nights in his bed. He accepted the blame for that. Generally preferring to sleep in cooler temperatures, he neglected to consider that his love for a brisk chill wasn’t universally shared. To his quiet horror, he learned one morning that Margie’s feet were often corpse cold. The nail beds on her toes would turn purple from poor circulation, she’d get sensitive little blisters under the skin, and the ache of being chilled through the bone would keep her awake at night. Genuinely, the bones in her feet were colder than the ambient temperature. He wouldn’t have thought it possible if he hadn’t felt the impossible iciness of her skin with his own hands.

She had laughed, telling him that this was just how things always were for her during the winter months. It’s why she so greatly preferred the sweltering heat of summer. And that’s when Raf offered to let her cosy up in his bed. He always felt too warm at night, and she had literal ice blocks for feet. The solution seemed pretty obvious to him.

And so, she had spent most of the winter nights with her feet pressed against his back, tucked behind his knees, or sandwiched between his legs. That same arrangement led Raf to discover that sleep came easy when he had something–or someone–to curl his arms around at night. And just like that, over the course of three short months, Magritte had nearly extinguished his reluctant dependence on sleeping medication.

As far as roommates were concerned, Magritte was…an unusual one. If he had tried to explain any of the peculiar details about their mutual arrangements to literally anyone else, he knew what it all sounded like. He had considered that maybe he was attracted to Margie; head-over heels in love with her. The problem was, he had been in love before. It made him stupid. And it made him unmanageably paranoid. Weird elation tangled with exhausting, antagonising suspicion; the highest highs and lowest lows. Margie didn’t make him stupid nor particularly paranoid. In fact, he had been able to navigate her with a level of clear-minded ease that was somewhat unusual to him. Perhaps it was in the way she spoke plainly and honestly with him. Despite how hard he looked for it, there was never any hidden nuance to the things Magritte said, wanted, or felt.

Paranoia still sunk its hooks into him the same way he had grown to expect it–but a different part of him, a voice of reason that he had been working hard to cultivate, granted him a very small, very rare sense of satisfaction when he turned it to Margie’s defence. So he cared for her, at the very least. But she didn’t burden him with the dizzying gauntlet of infatuation. He wasn’t in love with her.

But she was easy to be with. And, under her influence, life had felt much kinder.

“Yeah, really.”

Raf watched relief wash over Margie’s features, and she let out a little chuckle. “Oh, good. ‘Cus, yanno…usually, if I’m having a good time, it’s ‘cus someone else is running themselves ragged for it. And I don’t want you to–”

“I promised I’d tell you if things ever started feeling off,” Raf cut in. “It’s been weird, but not off-putting. I’ve liked it, so far.”

Her eyes held him with an expression he couldn’t quite identify, something close to tearful. But there was a delighted, grateful reverence in her gaze that wounded him in a peculiar way. He felt compelled to soothe it.

“Hey.” Impassively, he pushed himself off the balcony railing to stand and turn towards her. “Can I try something?”

Her mouth twitched upward in a quizzical smirk. “What?” Raf tilted his head to one side, and leaned in just enough to spur a response from her, “Oh-! Yeah? Yeah!? Ok, yes!”

He kissed her.

If he liked it? If it made him uneasy? If it did anything for him, at all?

It was a soft, gentle, fleeting little gesture; he didn’t hold it for more than a second. It was just a taste, to see–

To see what?

He lingered as he considered it, and just barely had time to register the broad grin on Magritte’s face before he felt her warm hands cup his jaw. She pulled him into another, far more impassioned kiss of her own–and he met her lips with the energy to match.

As her fingers snaked around the back of his neck, he felt his hair raise beneath her touch. He leaned into her more bodily, bracing against the railing with a firm, steadying grasp. He hadn’t intended anything more than a chaste little peck, but he felt Margie’s soft lips part to invite his tongue, and was loath to leave her wanting. Her fingers ran up the back of his head, combing through his hair, and then curled back down to tenderly caress behind his ears.

A thrill of warmth originating from her hands shivered through his body–to his groin. It coaxed a surprised purr out of his throat, and he caught it in his mouth before turning into a snort through his nose. He broke the kiss, pulling away from Magritte’s grasp to drop his forearms onto the cold balcony railing beside her, curling over himself to rest his forehead atop them.

There was a moment of silence as Raf found himself more thankful than ever for the chill evening breeze. And then Margie’s tentative voice met his ear.

“S-sorry. I got…I got a little carried away.”

Raf reluctantly lifted his head to shoot her a self-deprecating smile. “Not just you.”

He watched her brow furrow with concerned bewilderment for a brief moment before the combination of details clicked in her mind.

“Oh-!” Her eyes grew wide with mischievous delight, “I gave you a boner!” The exclamation came as hushed as she could manage, but her triumphant grin spoke volumes.

He shut his eyes in a beleaguered wince. “Don’t sound so pleased.” He opened them again when he felt her lean against his arm.

She tilted her head to catch his gaze, and wore a cheeky smile. “We can go home and do something about it, if you want.”

Hold on, now. “Nnn…”

Well, maybe?

He cast her an incredulous look.

“Or not!” She pulled back with an exaggerated shrug. “I know people get weird about that kinda thing–or–maybe I’m weird about it. I dunno, I’ve never been bothered by, uh…” The sentence dissolved into a weak chuckle, and her cheeks flushed pink under the faint, warm lighting that emanated from within the studio.

Raf had never been one for casual flings. Some manner of romantic attachment had always been prerequisite before the idea of sex could carry any appeal to him at all. But then again, he never had a friend as openly straightforward as Margie before. She was as uncomplicated as they came, and Raf recklessly wondered if that would at all be compromised by taking up the offer she had just presented to him. It felt irresponsible to even consider it, but…

Your stupid fingers in my hair got me feeling some kind of way.

Embarrassing, how easily he had been turned on. But then again, it had been a fair few years since anyone had touched him like that and, woe betide him, a man was still a man after all.

It was wrong about Margie. And if it wasn’t, well.

And then there was the matter of Margie’s confidence. He liked the kiss–he obviously liked the kiss. Her ensuing proposition wasn’t a wholly unwelcome one, either. But, for someone who claimed she wasn't able to read between the lines with people, she was an expert adept at reading far too much into anything that could be perceived as a rejection. She had escalated things, but he had started it–and he didn’t want her to feel shame for reciprocating the way she had. The awful, feral part of his brain that he loathed screamed like a banshee; the usual chorus about ulterior motives and emotional manipulation. It was wrong, of course. It was always wrong.

Except for when it wasn’t.

If I die, I die. Fuck.

“Sure, let's try it on.”

Margie stared up at him with those wide, blue eyes, but her brow was tense with uncertainty. “Really?”

He provided a small shrug. “We already share a bed. This’ll just be another weird thing we do in our growing list of weird things. Maybe we’ll change our mind on the way home. But at the very least, I wouldn’t mind another kiss or few.” To illustrate his point, he leaned in and pressed his lips sweetly against her forehead.

When he pulled away, Margie stood up straight and bounced on her heels, holding her face in her hands. “Okay, okay! Yeah!” She darted towards the door and slid it open. “I’ll go get my coat, and–!”

She stopped short of scurrying inside, and turned to ensnare him in a tight little hug. Raf didn’t have time to close his arms around her in response before she broke away from him again to scamper down the hall. He stared after her for a bewildered moment as she disappeared around the corner, towards the stairs.

By the time he caught up with her again, she was already downstairs saying her farewells to the Hi-Note crew. She wrapped Herb up in an energetic hug that he happily reciprocated.

A large hand clapped Raf on the back before a familiar voice behind him asked, “Everything good?”

He turned to see Nels favouring him with a warm smile.

“Yeah, I was just…” He pointed a loose finger towards the ceiling, “taking a moment.”

Of everyone in the room, Nels was the only person who knew about Raf’s disorders. He was the first glimpse Raf ever had of what a ‘proper’ father was supposed to look like. The man was raising three daughters at home and brought that same air of patient, fatherly responsibility into the office with him each day. Raf, in particular, had been adopted by him as a kind of nephew. Nels was a best friend to his Uncle Bill, and Bill trusted him to help Raf settle into a good circle of friends and acquaintances. Raf had been reluctant to grow familiar with anyone who wasn’t his Uncle, but with a significant amount of encouragement from both his Uncle and his therapist, Raf stuck it out with Hi-Note through the several occasions he had been tempted to quit on a bad vibe, misinterpreted comment, or fearful hunch. So far, it had been working out favourably for him. The pay wasn’t great, but Raf didn’t need the income of a steady job. Rather, his therapist had been right to say that getting out of the house and expanding his ‘library of positive experiences’ was much better for his health than isolating himself at home, rotting under the grimey weight of his paranoid assumptions and suspicions.

“You got a piece of cake, right?” Nels fished for an excuse to keep Raf around.

“Nah, Margie scarfed down enough for both of us.”

Reeling back with a dissatisfied but good humoured growl, Nels insisted, “Oh, you gotta try this one. The icing is–”

“Too sweet,” Raf cut in with a defusing laugh. “I had a bite. It’s good, but a taste was plenty.”

“It’s already midnight,” Margie’s voice interjected, “If Raf had it his way, he’d have been in bed an hour ago. Cake ain’t gonna fix that.”

“Bah!” Nels waved them both off, defeated. “Fine, go. Get out of my building, you kids don’t know how to have fun anymore.”

“Fun? In this economy?” Margie clutched imaginary pearls before her expression of mock dismay dissolved into a grin and she opened her arms for a parting hug.

Nels swooped down to envelop her, and for a moment his broad body fully eclipsed her from Raf’s view. “Drive safe, be good. See you on Monday.” He pulled away from Margie, turning his gaze to make sure the sentiment landed with Raf as well.

Raf provided a lopsided smirk and a gesture that was something between a wave and a salute. A chorus of goodbyes followed him and Margie out the front doors of Hi-Note studio, and Margie waved back over Raf’s shoulder until the doors closed behind them.

“I like them,” she said with a happy sigh.

“Yeah.” Raf led the way to his little, dark blue sedan parked against the street curb and watched her shuffle gleefully towards the passenger side. “They like you, too.”

Hard not to.

He got into the car and turned on the engine.

–

The ride home was tricky for Magritte as she tried hard to temper her expectations. Raf was a skittish person by nature, and she had to be very careful about not overwhelming him or applying too much pressure with her eager enthusiasm. Any time he felt like he had put himself into a corner by overpromising or obligating himself too irrevocably to something, his instinct was to escape it–no matter what ‘it’ was. But there was nothing irrevocable nor obligatory about her offer to sleep with him tonight. Not ‘sleep’ in the literal sense of the word, for once. No, if he let her, she was going to suck his spirit out through his dick and fuck him into the ground. Good god, she had been wanting this for months.

But Raf, being Raf, was liable to change his mind at the very last minute. And if he did, she wasn’t going to take it personally. She wasn’t. Nor would she be upset, nor disappointed, nor in any way disparaging about it. The most she could do was make sure not to push the topic too eagerly on the way home, and to avoid offering up any obstacles that might serve to dissuade him.

…Which made it very difficult for her to bring up one particular topic of concern before they had passed by the last 7/11 and it was too late.

“I guess, um…Should we pick up condoms? I can run in and get them.”

She held her breath as she watched him consider the question for a moment.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t a matter of protecting against diseases. They both had a clean bill of health, and came to know that about each other when she experienced a rare episode of anxiety regarding the last guy she had stayed with. In her weird panic, she greatly overshared a plethora of details to Raf. He had been remarkably cool about it, and walked her through the entire process of getting tested–something he was no recent stranger to.

Rather, she didn’t want to tempt fate on getting knocked-up; not when life was just starting to become enjoyable again. The idea of pregnancy was a lovecraftian horror to her, and the stress of dealing with something like that to any extent just wasn’t worth the gamble. She was on the pill, yes…but even that wasn’t guaranteed protection. And, with how often she forgot to take it, she wasn’t sure it protected her at all.

“I mean…” Raf began, hesitantly.

Magritte spared him the trouble. “Or not, if it’s a pain in the ass.” She shrugged with a disarming little laugh. “It’s a bit out of the–”

Raf cut her off. “No, it’s fine, we absolutely can. It’s just that I’m–” Without taking his eyes off the road he produced a scissor-snipping motion with his fingers.

Margie stared for a bewildered moment before her brain picked it up. “Wait, what? Really? Why?” She had leaned towards him with that last question before realising it was probably a shitty thing to ask.

But, if it bothered Raf, he showed no sign of it. “I don’t want kids, and I had…an unpredictable ex.”

“Oh!” Margie had the good sense not to press him further, and leaned back into her seat. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Well, lucky me.”

She delighted in the humoured snort she coaxed from him. His easy smile and relaxed posture assured her that he wasn’t grappling with any second thoughts.

That won a sidelong glance from him. “So..?”

“Straight home, garçon!” She chopped one hand into the palm of the other with mock urgency. “The minutes are precious!”

And indeed, though he had kept his hands to himself for much of the ride home, and in the elevator up to his apartment, Magritte found herself pressed between his body and the door to his flat as he warmed her with a voraciously weighty kiss. She received it gratefully. The heat of him, the molten softness of his lips, the scruffy, tickling hairs of his chin–

She hadn’t realised that his free hand–the one not curled amorously around her body–had been busy unlocking the door. She’d have staggered backwards when it opened, had Raf not preemptively braced her with the arm that held her.

He broke the kiss in order to assure that their half-stumble into the apartment didn’t devolve into a full stumble. But still, he kept a steadying arm around her, and she rewarded the preservation of closeness by pressing a string of kisses down his neck and towards his collarbone. Her hands had found their way beneath both his jacket and t-shirt, the flesh of his torso hot against her forearms and fingertips.

She heard the door close shut behind them, and the familiar sound of the keys dropping onto the counter before the hand that had been holding them cupped the side of her head. She felt his lips press against the opposite temple.

She had been able to kick off her shabby, loose-fitting boots without pause, but she reluctantly peeled herself away from Raf in case he wanted to take his sneakers off with a little more care. And, perhaps…to give him some space to think. Taking the opportunity to remove her jacket, she chucked it haphazardly across the couch.

Raf was measuring her with a gaze when she turned back towards him.

“Second thoughts?” Her smirk carried a cheeky confidence that worked hard to cover the self-conscious tone in her voice.

“No.” His bewildered inflection and raised eyebrows explained plenty; he had expected to turn against the idea by now.

“It’s a bit impulsive,” Magritte conceded.

Raf provided a slow nod, “It is…”

“I’d really like it, though.”

“I want you to.” He seemed to chew on that for a moment, as though it had answered something for him.

There was an awkward standoff while neither of them moved, and in that brief moment, Magritte deeply regretted putting the space between them. Finally, Raf approached her and placed a kiss onto her forehead while his hands gently teased the elastic tie out of her nest of auburn curls. She wrapped her palms around the back of his neck as she felt her hair fall loose from the messy bun it had been wrangled into.

“Promise me this won’t fuck anything up.” His voice was low and quiet in her ear. The pleading tone was only amplified by the lingering manner in which his cheek rested against the side of her head. His warm breath against her slightly chilled skin inspired goosebumps.

She pulled back to look him squarely in the eyes. This was far from being her first tryst with a friend, and she knew herself well in this regard. “I promise it won’t! Not for me, but…” She offered an apologetic half-smile. “I can’t promise it won’t change things for you; I don’t control how you react. So, really. Really, really, really–if you’re not sure, then I’d rather…not. I like things the way they are. I like doing things with you. To me, this is just another thing I like doing that I think would be really fun to do with you. Not at the expense of anything else, though.”

He searched her features with a scrutinising stare, and she didn’t shy away from it.

“Nothing changes,” He asserted, “we’re just friends.”

“Good friends,” she offered back with an impudent grin.

He mirrored her expression with a scoff and a lopsided smirk of his own. “The friendsiest friends.”

“But, friends just the same.”

Her conviction was rewarded with another kiss, his lips melting against hers as she felt the tension in his muscles evaporate through a sigh. Her hands glided up his arms, over his shoulders, and around to the back of his neck. As she gently combed her fingernails through his hair, she remembered that delightful little noise she had coaxed out of him on the balcony. What had done it? Was it the kiss? Or…

Her fingers traced the contours of his scalp and, as she curled them towards her palm, they lightly caressed the back of his ears. Her thumbs smoothed over the muscles of his jaw, but before she completed the gesture, he broke away from her.

“Alright, friend.” He curled his upper lip to flash teeth at her in a playful snarl. “Get your lily white ass into the bedroom before the last brain cell navigating my good manners is starved of oxygen.” He turned her toward the hall, and a pat of his hand against her butt provided her with all the motivation she needed to oblige his request.

She whisked herself down the hall into his room, and left the door just slightly ajar for him. She knew he wasn’t going to follow her right away. He had his evening habits to tend to; checking the door, setting the thermostat, turning out the lights, and taking his meds with a tall glass of water. It would have been silly of her to think that the promise of tits and ass would throw him off routine.

Magritte took the opportunity to shed her clothes, throwing off her shirt and wiggling out of her tight tank top–a personal compromise for her disdain for bras. She shimmied out of her denim shorts and leggings both in the same gesture. Her underwear, though, was of a cute, boyish design and she decided she’d give Raf the satisfaction of peeling them off her, if he so wished to.

Wait, just the underwear? Is that weird? She considered putting the tank top back on, and failed to gather the motivation for it. And so, she settled upon a better idea. Grabbing one of his t-shirts out of the second drawer of his dresser, she pulled it on, over her head. Hell yeah, guys love this shit.

No sooner had she put on his shirt than he walked in to see her wearing it. She turned to him with a sheepish grin, tugging the bottom hem over her thighs.

Taking a sip from the glass of water in his hand, Raf clocked the shirt and favoured her with a humoured hum. “Comfy?”

She provided a coy nod, and, before she could do much else, he abandoned his glass on the top of the dresser to close the distance between them. His arms caught her up into more of a ‘scrunch’ than a proper hug, and he came down on her with a frustrated growl, burying his entire face into the side of her neck with the sound of exaggerated chomping. The combination of lightly grazing teeth and his rough chin against her skin elicited a startled yelp from her before sending her into a fit of uncontrolled giggles as she was effortlessly bowled over onto the bed.

“I changed my mind.” He snarled, “I’m gonna eat you, instead. Hungry, horny, it’s all the same.”

“It’s not, though!” Her words were barely intelligible, warbling with laughter.

As she struggled in vain to wedge a hand between the soft flesh of her throat and his coarse goatee, his mock gnashing softened into playful kisses. Regaining her composure and chasing away her giggles by clearing her throat, she snaked her hands beneath his shirt.

“I’m worth more to you undevoured, I promise.”

“Remains to be seen,” Raf muttered into the hollow beneath her ear.

“Well…let's see.”

Her thumbs smoothed over the trail of body hair from belt line to belly button, before her palms passed broadly over the front of his stomach, around his sides, and up his back. Digging her fingers into his shoulder blades, she tilted her chin back and drew in a long breath as his lips travelled down her neck, towards her collar bone.

Distracted by the pleasant textures of his mouth, Magritte’s attention hadn’t followed his travelling hands–until she felt the heel of his palm press broadly against her clit through the fabric of her underwear. Instinctively, her thighs tightened around him, and her hands abandoned their near-completed task of unbuttoning his jeans; grasping the waistline instead. She coiled into his touch as his palm lifted away to drag his fingertips lightly up, towards the top hem of her panties. From there, they slipped easily under the close-hugging fabric to sink into the warm folds between her legs.

Raf’s firm, steadying grasp around her ribcage slid up to appreciate the soft, pliable curves of her breasts hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt. His fingers teased the hardened nipples while she manoeuvred her lower body beneath him. She freed her legs out from under his lap so that her thighs hugged around his hips and, in swift order, she ghosted her hands down to find his belt. As she worked to unbuckle it, his mouth caught hers. His tongue teased her lips apart and she welcomed it with her own.

His kisses had a soft, buttery quality reminiscent of a girl she once loved, and it was a feeling she treasured. His lips, smooth and warm, melted against the tense contours of hers in a sensasion she could only describe as ‘creamy and comforting’.

She felt his fingers tease her apart, and they traced the contours of her sex with gentle confidence, exploring her geography. Though his mouth worked fervently against her lips, throat, and collar bone, his touch between her legs was restrained and methodical. She had expected him to plunge knuckle deep into the first hole he found–as men in her experience were typically inclined to. But his fingers only teased her entrance before gliding back up her moistened crease to find–

“Oh-!” Margie flinched as a shock jolted her body. Not painfully, but in a manner comparable to having an icecube suddenly pressed against her, unexpected.

Raf stilled the moment she had tensed.

“Sensitive.” His observation was murmured into the crook of her neck before he purred more audibly into her ear, “Sorry, love.”

She paused. His fingers had begun to work firm, broad circles around her clit in a way that, at first, didn’t feel like it was doing anything special for her. But quickly, she felt a building pressure begin to heat her core.

Sensitive?

She wasn’t, though. In the past, complaints had been made that she took too long to get off. Her previous fling had joked that only a jackhammer could provide the adequate stimulation she needed. When it came to sex, she knew herself as a veritable puzzle box of distractibility and dulled senses. It meant excellent stamina and fun sensations, but a proper orgasm delivered in a timely manner required her own effort more than the effort of her partner.

“No, no,” she began placatingly, “you didn’t–”

That same heat rose up to prickle her chest and cheeks. Margie pressed her mouth against the top of his shoulder to muffle a reverent, “Motherfucker.”

That was not the appropriate choice of words to praise him with, but that’s what forced its way out of her throat. He had found that sweet spot almost as easily as she might have found it herself, which led her to the realisation that she had been robbed–robbed–by previous lovers. What the everloving fuck.

She couldn’t help but let out a confounded little chuckle into the fabric of his shirt, and he responded with an amused little “Mmh.”

Without even meaning to, she had tensed her grip around him. Her arms held him tight, with handfuls of his shirt balled into her fists. Her legs had constricted around his waist and the leverage they provided allowed for the needy manner in which her hips writhed to meet his firm and steady touch. It was a greedy moment while she abandoned her attempts at reciprocation, intent on appreciating the way Raf kneaded her between his fingers. Her long drawn sighs of pleasure slowly devolved into a breathy panting–which fell into near perfect synchrony with his purposeful, hastening strokes between her thighs.

If she had been paying attention to her breathing, if she had noticed when her voice began releasing a single, ragged note every few breaths, she might have asked for pause. But, she hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than the growing warmth between her legs and the tense swell of pressure gathering in the very pit of her stomach. And it grew, hotter and hotter, with each purposeful, dexterous stroke of his fingers. Oh–she was sensitive, now. Between her thighs, she could feel every small vibration that met her. The way his fingers worked pleased not just her clit, but the rest of her aroused sex as well. Every small movement he pressed into her, she felt across the entire organ. Her thighs closed around his waist as she lifted her hips to find her pleasure against his fingertips. She felt the muscles of her stomach draw tight.

A sharp gasp preceded a short, trembling “Ah-!” that escaped with her breath. All that tension, that gathering pressure, broke like a wave through her body. It had built up so quickly that the orgasm took her by complete surprise, and she writhed against Raf’s fingers as she rode it out; her face buried into the crook of his neck, eyes shut tightly.

She didn’t relax her body nor lift her head as the ripples of pleasure subsided, but she felt Raf’s fingers withdraw from her.

“Hey.” Raf’s voice crooned in her ear, and his hands on her waist pressed her lightly back, coaxing her to release him from the death-grip she held him in.

Reluctantly, she unfurled from him, uncoiling her arms, and dropping her knees to hang off his outer thighs. The rough texture of denim against the back of her calves reminded her that he still had his pants on. She came, and he was still wearing pants.

She hazarded a sheepish glance up towards his face, and was met with a modestly small smile, made very smug by the upward arch of his eyebrows.

“That’s what you get for the balcony boner, you little shit.”

Raf lifted himself off her, but she grabbed the front of his shirt with flustered defiance. “We’re not done!”

“You sure?” His incredulity wasn’t the least bit sincere. “Because it seemed to me like you–”

“No!” She scrambled to sit on her knees atop his bed and jabbed a demanding finger towards his waist. “Take your pants off!”

He hesitated, and for a moment, Margie genuinely worried he’d say ‘nah’. But instead, he leaned in for another kiss and obliged her command. The sound of his belt clattering outcompeted the sultry feeling of his lips for her attention, and her eager gaze turned automatically to assess what she was working with.

She had expected to see an aching erection. Usually, by the time the pants came off, guys had been hard as hell and ready to go. Instead, the man who had just rubbed the easiest orgasm she’d ever experienced out of her appeared lightly fluffed at most. For a brief second, she wondered if her playful brattiness had ruined the mood. And then, she considered…that possibly…she just wasn’t attractive to him.

She returned her attention to their kiss as she chewed on that thought a bit. As far as girls went, she was a bit of a gremlin. A goblin, even. She wouldn’t dare call herself a ‘woman’ nor even a ‘lady’--those words gave her gender expression far too much credit. But even so, she was mostly comfortable with her appearance. Regardless of that, sloppy tomboys weren’t everyone’s preferred cup of tea, and it didn’t have to be. She had slept with people she didn’t personally find attractive before and it had been fine and dandy, all things considered.

You can be ugly and still give killer blowjobs.

She smirked to herself, and, as she combed fingers through Raf’s hair with one hand, she allowed the other to travel down his torso until her palm curled around the soft, warm skin of his shaft. Her fingertips coiled along the underside of it, tracing a firm, straight line towards the base of the glans, and she massaged the head against the ball of her thumb with gentle, coaxing strokes.

His body responded to her touch; the malleable flesh stiffened in her grasp and filled her hand substantially. In return, her caresses grew more broad and firm; the heel of her palm only abandoning the sensitive tip for the brief intervals when her fingers endeavoured to tease and cradle his sack.

She felt Raf’s fingertips trace lightly up her spine, beneath her shirt, in a manner that provoked goosebumps. Once they found the loose curls of her hair, they followed her locks up to the nape of her neck, and brushed passionately over the base of her scalp. He hadn’t pulled his lips away from her, except to nip lightly at her jaw and ear.

A small “Hmm” escaped him, sounding more contemplative than pleased, and it prompted her to pull her gaze back and assess his features. He only mirrored her measuring glance before bestowing a sweet little kiss on her nose.

"We good?" She asked as cooly as she could manage.

"Yeah?" His response warbled on a laugh, and it coaxed a reassured smile out of her. "I'd say so."

“...Gave you another boner."

"Oh." He glanced down and said with a sardonic tone, "Shit, thanks for telling me. I'd have never known."

By the time his gaze returned to her, Margie met it with a stony, straight face.

His amused expression wavered. "...What?"

Holding his gaze, she pressed down on his erection with a forefinger before turning her eyes to watch it as she let it spring upward in a marvellously undignified display of structural tension. The juvenile mistreatment of his manhood left Raf at a temporary loss for words and Magritte stifled her laugh into a snort. Before he could chide her, she shoved both hands beneath his shirt and lifted it, intent on freeing him of the garment completely. With a muffled exclamation, he complied, lifting his arms and finishing the job of pulling it off, over his head.

Taking the opportunity to plant kisses across his chest and down his torso, Margie didn’t glance up to see his expression as her mouth dragged hungrily past his belly button and over the strip of body hair that led her down, towards the prize waiting for her between his legs. She rested her cheek against him, atop the unruly patch of honey coloured pubes that crowned his crotch, and closed her hand around the length of him. She was hopeless at measuring the size of anything with just a gaze, but he filled her grasp with a satisfying heft and was certainly longer than her hand. Favouring him with a well-appraising hum and a few loving strokes, she lifted her head to face her challenge. She peeled back the foreskin with a tender downstroke, before kissing the sensitive pink tip.

The scent of him was far from unpleasant; a heady musk that excited her senses goaded her to take him into her mouth. Slick moisture met her lips when they pressed against his flesh, and, when they parted to draw him in, her tongue was quick to receive him. She held the head of his cock in her mouth as her tongue swirled and lapped hungrily over its smooth contours. He provided texture more than taste; his scent informed the flavour perhaps more than anything else. Inside her mouth, he was velvety, warm, and gratifying to explore. She pulled her lips back over the gentle curves until they came together to kiss the tip again. Her tongue flicked out to lap the head’s underside before the rest of her mouth followed, and she drew him in deeper than before.

She repeated that course, cherishing every bit of him with her tongue before pulling back to kiss the tip, and then drawing him into her mouth deeper with each successive round. Her thumbs had run up his inner thighs until they found the silky skin of his sack. She held and massaged it gently, appreciating the supple texture beneath her fingertips.

Initially, Raf’s fingers had teased and entwined themselves in her nest of curls somewhat languidly. But slowly, his hands grew tense against the back of her head, occasionally clenching into fists around handfuls of her hair. She thought–and hoped–that he’d start pulling, but any time he came close to doing so, he quickly released his grip. She could have lamented that, but she appreciated the same restraint applied to the motions of his hips. As a precaution, Margie placed a steading hand around one side of his waist, but she knew from experience that this was poor defence against an overeager thrust. Under her palm, she could feel his muscles tense and flinch. That, coupled with the slight, uneven rolling of his hips, betrayed his urge to buck against her mouth. For his considerate efforts, she rewarded him by trying to decipher and match the pace that his rigidly subdued movements suggested to her.

“...Christ.” His breaths had been coming up deep and steady and the muttered profanity was barely audible to Magritte, but she caught it with a thrill.

In response, she closed her eyes and pulled him into her throat so that her lips were flush against the hot skin of his lower abdomen. Her throat constricted uncomfortably around the intrusion that had smoothed over her tonsils, and she pulled back before it forced her to gag. Taking a deep, steadying breath through her nose, she allowed herself a precious second before swallowing him again. Her throat was no happier for it, but making a man's dick disappear was her favourite little party trick. Raf’s fingers brushed over her jaw in a gesture that permitted her to release him, but she ignored it in favour of challenging her gag reflex a third time.

“Margie–!” He cupped her face more firmly, and this time, she obeyed what was clearly a request, not a suggestion.

She pulled back, hollowing out her cheeks so that he left her mouth with an audible *pop*, and turned a sheepish smile up to him.

He met her gaze with a mix of awe and incredulity.“Holy shit, warn me next time.”

Providing him with an unrepentant shrug, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Too much?"

“I mean, not if you’re trying to get this done and over with real quick.”

To that, Magritte flashed her teeth in an impish grin. “Finish him!”

Her poor yet unmistakable Mortal Kombat impression caused Raf’s brow to crease quizzically before a bark of laughter escaped him. “No, why are you like this?”

He flattened his palm against her face, and she let out an ineffective chihuahua-like snarl as he irreverently pushed her backwards so that she laid flat on her bed. She landed with a fit of giggles, and she felt his thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties. He slid them down past her knees and Magritte was able to wriggle the garment down, off her ankles. Kneeling between her legs, Raf grabbed her by the waist and playfully dragged her towards him so that her hips met his.

As he descended upon her with a flurry of kisses, she felt his erection lay flat across her stomach–the slick coat of moisture it wore from her mouth cooled on her skin. She couldn’t help but writhe eagerly beneath him; one hand in his hair while the other grasped and clawed needily along his lower back. His hands worked much more purposefully. One arm coiled around her shoulders to brace the both of them as the other snaked down her belly, fingertips finding the warm, damp flesh between her legs. He teased apart her lower lips, pressing a firm thumb just above her clit and massaging it gently. His middle and ring fingers skated easily downward to find her opening; tender and wet with her arousal. He pressed a careful finger into her and, when it sunk in with ease, he inserted another. With gentle strokes and twists, he acquainted himself with her; winning pleased hums and a determined roll of her hips as he felt the boundaries of her interior. His breath came up in heavy sighs as he kissed, bit, and sucked the flesh of her neck. She was aware, too, of how his hips rolled against hers with a neediness that mirrored her own.

His fingers withdrew from her and, for a moment, so too did his lower body. With keen anticipation, Margie wrapped her legs firmly around him for leverage, sinking her heels into the back of his calves as she lifted her hips up to receive him. He didn’t leave her waiting. She felt his cock press against and part her flesh to make space for itself. Swollen with arousal, her body provided pleasant resistance before surrendering to envelop him. He sank into her with gratifying ease; fitting comfortably between her legs. A delighted gasp escaped her when he drew his hips flush to hers, eliciting a ripple of pleasure that radiated out from her inner flesh, down into her toes. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, and her knees lifted to hold him as closely to her as possible.

At the sound of her breathy little mewl, a chuckle rose from Raf’s throat followed by another one of his contemplative hums. This time, though, an unmistakable satisfaction boiled in the low rumble of his tone.

In Margie’s opinion, this was one of the best parts of sex; the initial feeling of having that aching, hungry gap between her thighs filled the warm, hefty girth of her lover. But there was something uniquely gratifying about hosting Raf in this manner, and the reason wasn’t a mystery to her. Without question, he was the most good looking man to ever find himself between her legs. From the first day she met him in Granville Station, she had been charmed by his lopsided smirk, dorky goatee, and aloof demeanour. His torn jeans and goofy dollar store sunglasses hadn’t been able to outcompete the easy charisma and gentle kindness he carried with him. He had a handsome face, a nice body that he took care of, and a mindful confidence that belied the tumultuous anxieties that plagued him. As she had gotten to know him better, she only adored him more.

‘Adored’. Hah, who am I kidding.

She loved him, no revelation there. He didn’t have to rub an orgasm out of her and stick his dick in for her to realise that. She loved easily, and recklessly, and had known she was pooched after their very first jam session. He had been fun to play with, gave her kind praise and honest feedback, and made her feel like he genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. That and a pretty face was really all it took to win her loyal affections.

But he was a skittish creature, and she loved him enough to find joy in whatever form their relationship took. Otherwise, she’d have overcrowded and overwhelmed him, and he–like all the others before him–would have grown to resent everything he initially claimed to like about her. She likened herself to salt; best enjoyed sparingly, and never on its own. It’s why she had been so reluctant to move in with him, despite wanting to spend every minute of her time with him. Too much salt. She feared becoming unpalatable.

Well, now he’s balls deep in me, purring comfortably in my ear–which means I’ve got no choice but to make him cum so hard, he sees stars.

She had tried to moderate her behaviour and failed. She failed the very moment she accepted the keys to his apartment. She failed when he sweetly offered to let her snuggle him in bed so that he could help warm her feet. There had been mornings when she woke up to the maddening feeling of his stiffness pressed against the small of her back. She had remained very still and very quiet so as to not let him know that she had been awake before him, but good lord every muscle in her body had wanted to squirm against him. Without fail, the very moment he woke up, he’d carefully–very carefully–untangle his limbs from hers and turn away before getting out of bed to start his day. And without fail, she’d spend the consiquent morning too cumbrained to even see straight.

Just like she couldn’t say no to an apartment key and nightly snuggles, she couldn’t say no to a kiss. She couldn’t help but push it to see where it’d go. And now she was here. Remarkably. Unregrettably.

‘I couldn’t help myself,’ said the scorpion, ‘it’s in my nature.’

A bit too late, Margie realised that Raf’s satisfied rumblings in her ear had been forming actual vowels and consonants.

“Hm-?” She returned to the present moment with a flinch she hoped he didn’t notice.

“I like your little noises,” he replied.

“Oh.” Magritte blinked, running fingers through his hair. She used the back of her heel to caress the curve of his butt with irreverent affection. “Well then, giddy up, Mister Ephrem, and I’ll give you a cacophony!”

She felt him grin against her jawline before grazing it with his teeth and providing an affirmative little growl.

His hips withdrew, only to rock forward into her again. His first few strokes were of a careful, measuring pace until he repositioned his knees further apart and closer to her body. Dropping his forehead down onto the mattress, over her shoulder, he grabbed her waist with two firm hands and pulled her up closer to him. He curled his torso to plunge into her more deeply. The angle of his cock struck a pleasing cluster of nerves inside her body, and she inhaled sharply as it retreated over her swollen flesh to slam back in against it in steady rhythm. Each time, his dick slid out of her until she was empty save for the stretch where they met; the lips of her cunt covetously hugging the contours of the cock’s head. And then he’d part her walls again with a forceful, hungry thrust; smoothing the mounds of velvety muscle that constricted around him and resisted his departing strokes.

Every few thrusts forced a note of pleasure out of Magritte’s throat, carried on ragged huffs of breath. At first, her punctuated little cries only had to compete against the sound of Raf’s deep, steady breathing and the faint creaking of his bed. But, as her thighs became sticky and sodden from her arousal, the percussive sound of flesh on flesh began to drown out her little moans. Like the true musician he was, Raf searched for the right fingering to coax the sound he wanted out of her. His thumb pressed against the flesh right above her clit and rubbed it in quick, small circles as he continued to drive his cock into her.

The feeling of being kneaded firmly between his fingers and his dick provoked a strangled cry that bubbled out of her mouth before she even registered it. A sharp, quavering breath preceded another ecstatic wail, and then another. She curled her arms tightly around the back of Raf’s neck and attempted to muffle the chorus of her euphoria against his shoulder.

The mounting tension caused her muscles to clench. The way his dick pushed against the walls of her cunt as it constricted around him only intensified the pressure that welled up inside her.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck.” They were barely words, carrying the same quaking tone as her blissed-out yowls.

In response, Raf reached up to roughly smooth her hair back and cradle her head. He buried his nose into her hair, and pressed clenched teeth against her temple in a gesture that might have initially been intended as a kiss. His thrusts had grown desperate and uneven, but the hand that worked her clit remained fastidious in its efforts, bringing her so, so, so achingly close.

“Good girl.” His voice was a breathy growl against her skull. “Come on, now…”

Her legs had been wrapped around him so tightly that her muscles ached. But it provided the leverage she needed to buck against him with fervent need. He drove into her with short, rapid thrusts, barely withdrawing to slam as deeply into her as their bodies would permit; hitting up against her tightening core–until the dam of pressure burst to release a flood of sensation across every part of her. In the seconds leading up to it, Margie had fallen completely silent, drawing in a long breath that she held in her chest until the crashing wave of her orgasm forced it out of her. She felt the pulses of pleasure throb in her lower abdomen, caressing the man inside of her in a way that she never consciously could.

At some point during her climax, Raf’s hands had both found her waist again, gripping her rapaciously as he chased his own pleasure. His breaths came up in short, uneven bursts, and the undeliberate groans being drawn out of him composed the greatest piece of music she had ever delighted in hearing.

She writhed her hips to meet him at every feverish thrust. Slowing to longer, powerful strokes, he slammed into her once, twice, and with a quiet growl, he buried himself as deeply as their bodies would allow. His strong grip pressed her hard against him, holding her firmly in place as the force of his orgasm punched the breath out of his lungs. As he came inside of her, his hips strained against her body with the feral desire to empty himself deeper.

This, too, was one of the best parts of sex, Margie decided. She’d never gone about it without a condom before, and while the thrill was almost certainly a psychological one, the verdict was in; she very enjoyed the feeling of having her insides painted lovingly white. She liked it a lot. With the covetous squeezing of her thighs and abdominal muscles, she made it known to him.

The two of them remained locked together in a hot, messy, panting heap on the bed for an immeasurable moment before Raf nuzzled his face into the crook of Margie’s neck with a long, bodily sigh. She drew a hand up to affectionately caress his neck and the back of his head.

“W...we good?” Her voice came up raspy, cracking on the second word, and she couldn’t help but exhale a little laugh at herself.

“Mmh,” was the most Raf could conjure for a long while before he muttered semi-intelligible, “Magnifique.” He echoed her laugh with one of his own before bringing his arms forward to prop himself up, off of her.

As she allowed him to decouple from her, she curled her hands under her chin, reluctant to sit up with him…for reasons relating to gravity and fluids.

Sitting on his knees with her legs across his lap, Raf provided a mollifying grin that favoured one side of his face. “I, uh–shit.” He dropped his face into one of his palms with a self-deprecating laugh. “Ejected some of my brain cells there, I think.”

“A shower might help with that,” Margie offered with a broad smile that flashed her teeth. “I’ll take one with you.”

–

It had been as though they spent the evening doing any other typical thing. It could have been a night of board games, for how casually Magritte navigated the aftermath of their activities. Raf had expected some manner of uncomfortable, condolatory discussion that went long into the early hours of morning; how they had liked it, whether or not they’d do it again, what it meant for their relationship, if it meant anything at all. But that conversation never occurred.

Margie had made her enjoyment known while she shared a shower with him, and bestowed easy praise on his ‘excellent fingering’. In turn, he confessed that he could grow quickly addicted to the adorable little trills, yelps, and moans he had been able to coax out of her. Not to mention the other things she could do with her mouth. Dieu, mon fucking dieu.

The rest was clear enough to be obvious without discussion. Sex could just be another thing they did together when the mood struck–if it stuck at all. It hadn’t come with any promises or expectations, not any more than playing music or snuggles in bed had. It was the best Raf could have hoped for.

Magritte seemed wholly uninterested in applying the pressures of romantic commitment onto him. If there was ever anything she wanted, she could never help but to edge it into conversations one way or another–he knew that much about her. Instead, she seemed entirely set on making sure she didn’t bring up anything even approaching the matter. She said she liked things the way they were, and, while his brain could question the truth in that–or in anything she said–he was of much the same opinion. Perhaps they had both come to the same understanding. Something about love, especially romantic love, brought out the worst in people. It had always seemed like a battle of wills; two people trying to deconstruct and reshape one another to fit the impossible moulds that would ensure the longevity of their relationship. How could anyone endure that kind of transformation without poisoning the relationship with resentment? He’d never know. He didn’t have to find out.

Laying in bed at three in the morning, showered, satisfied, and cosy, with Magritte purring tiny snores in his arms, he couldn’t have asked for more. Whatever it was that he and Margie were enjoying together–friends with benefits?–suited him, so far. For all it mattered, she could decide to move across the sea next week, and he’d be unharmed by the decision so long as they remained on friendly terms. And that felt safe.

What they had…it felt safe.

#hi-note #rafael #magritte #it's balls oclock and no one is awake #post smut #I've never written a smut before lmfaoo I am so sorry about this

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allthebestnamesweretaken · 15 days

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I’ve been wondering a lot lately about how I think Zutara would happen without changing the events of the show too much, though there are some here and there. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:

We would see signs of Zuko’s feelings first. But he doesn’t say anything, because he feels like he doesn’t have a chance and he doesn’t deserve her even if he did. As for Katara, well she told Aang there was too much going on to even consider romantic feelings. And this is partially true, but also she just doesn’t know what she feels exactly. Then she goes to find her mother’s killer with Zuko. After this she looks at him differently, she feels she can trust him. But no one knows how Zuko fits into the gaang just yet. There isn’t an exact moment for her when she thinks “I’m starting to like him”, but instead they find this rhythm. Then he asks her to join him at the Agni Kai with Azula, which she does. When he takes the lightening for her, she’s so scared that he’s dead. She puts Azula on ice (haha) and rushes over to try and save him, scared out of her mind that he’s dead. He can’t be dead. All these emotions hit her at once as she tries to save him. She does. His hand goes over hers and he thanks her, and in that moment she feels something. She doesn’t acknowledge it, but she feels it nonetheless. She thanks him. And as the next few days pass and all these things are happening so fast around her she keeps going back to that moment, and she realizes her feelings have changed. She likes him, without a doubt in her mind she knows she does, but she has these complicated feelings for Aang so she pushes that away. When Aang comes to talk to her outside of the Jasmine Dragon he tells her he loves her and goes in for a kiss, but she pulls back. In that moment she knows she doesn’t love him in the same way. Her feelings were a jumbled mess of love, loyalty, reverence, fear, being grateful to him for changing her life, and probably a bunch of other things she couldn’t name. But none of them were romantic. So she was honest with him in the best way she knew how. And Aang accepted this, though you could see him shrink a bit. A different kind of sadness and grief filled him, and everyone felt it. Saw it. But Katara doesn’t approach Zuko, she couldn’t do that to Aang. Besides there’s too much work to be done. And Zuko doesn’t approach Katara, because no matter what connection he felt at the Agni Kai, he couldn’t do that to Aang. And how does he know it wasn’t one sided? Him and Mai didn’t get back together, but she was still someone he’d considered a friend. As time passes the gaang gets busier and busier, they’re reorganizing the world after all. But they send letters. And Katara and Zuko both notice that their letters to one another are different than the letters they send everyone else. Then Katara opens her most recent letter from Zuko, her stomach filled with the same butterflies she felt at the Agni Kai when he held her hand, and in it he finally says he loves her. He doesn’t expect anything, but before he resigns himself to a marriage for the sake of the Fire Nation he had to tell her. Just once. And she writes back, telling him how much she loves him too and how she wished she could have said it sooner but she couldn’t for so many reasons. But instead of sending it, she makes her way to the Fire Nation. Zuko is told Master Katara from the Southern Water Tribe is here for him and he tells his advisor to let her in his study. She comes in, and she’s even more beautiful than the last time she saw him. His first thought is she’s here about the letter, she’s angry. She looks very determined after all. He immediately starts apologizing, then she smiles and almost runs into his arms, shifting his world on its axis with a kiss.

Wow that was wayyyy longer than I thought it’d be😅

#zutara #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #prince zuko #katara #enemies to lovers #bare bones zutara fic #someone write this for me #anti anti zutara #zutara fanfiction #zutara fic #zutara fandom #zutara forever

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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Well for a part two I was thinking it could happen a few years later or something like that. Daemon and reader are married, she is pregnant but she doesn't know that yet. I was thinking it would be sweet for Daemon to figure that out. Maybe Caraxes gets extremely overprotective of reader. They could have a small argument wholr caring for Caraxes and it would turn in the dragon growling at Daemon when he would rise his voice at the reader. It all becomes real when she faints one morning after getting out of bed so Daemon calls the maesters and they confirm that she's pregnant. and maybe the moment of the birth, Daemon holding his first child and getting to place a dragon egg inside the crib. Just general sweetness. I would be very pleased if you'd like to write this ! If not it's perfectly fine ! Thank you !

I love your brain! It’s filled with fascinating ideas. Also I love protective Caraxes. It’s just perfect.

Newsflash: I’m shit at writing birth scenes cuz I’ve never done it by I tried my best despite some possible inaccuracies.

Reader is female per request. Just letting ppl know beforehand before I forget.

Here’s part 1 for those who haven’t read it.

Your love for your Daemon has often left you blindsided to his darker impulses that you had soon became repulsed by your sudden faux ignorance to his crimes you’ve long kept silent about. Yet you found yourself still in love with him as the day you understood the word and shown said love in a multitude of ways that you probably shouldn’t have; so when news of Rhea Royce -Daemon’s bronze bitch of a Lady wife before you- having passed away on a hunting trip, the cause having that been of her horse being frightened by some means, crushing and as an result paralysing the poor woman. Those minor details didn’t catch your eye but what was added onto it oh most definitely did; apparently it was said that her head had been caved in and along with the apt timing of Daemon’s visitation at the Vale almost corresponded perfectly to the time of Rhea Royce’s death also too perfectly to be ignored by the public.

It fell together so seamlessly that it was no longer thought to be an outlandish accusation to assume that Daemon Targaryen, your husband, had killed Rhea Royce out of cold blood. You found yourself at a loss for words, torn between creating a false narrative to save face and protect Daemon’s ‘innocence’ and going mad within your denial of the truth presented before you as clear as day. It was obvious that to live someone was one thing but to defend their unjust cruelty towards others was another. Maegor was called ‘the cruel’ for good reason, given the how history written him to be; as it seemed history held an eternal grudge against house Targaryen and was willing to bury those who bore the name as repercussions for the wars they’ve waged and the homes, families and kingdoms that now laid to ruins because of them. It was only a matter of time before Daemon received similar treatment long after his passing, have his history written through venomous words and accounts from those who only ever spoke ill of him in life and death. It was also a matter of time before history treated you just as equally horrid as it would Daemon, Rhaenyra and Viserys.

Unfortunately you knew that many of the cousin members and even the king would already be privy to whom the most likely culprit was, given how eagerly Daemon was of disgracing Rhea’s name and insulting her beauty by claiming that the sheep of the Vale were prettier then her in front of an audience. You also knew that you’d sooner be caught in the crossfire unwillingly as a means of tarnishing your name along with his for keeping dark secrets concerning the kings brother for as long as you have in hopes of toppling you both and be done with it once and for all. No matter how much you wished to fight by Daemon’s side you have found yourself unable in your current state as of late; you know naught of how or when it came about but it is believed that it had started the first morning after you and Daemon consummated the marriage. Only then did it seem to linger longer then you had hoped days prior and have yet to speak a word of it to Daemon never less the Maesters but that could wait as there were more pressing matters to confront your beloved on firstly.

“Is it true?” Daemon’s ear picked up at your voice as he lowered himself from Caraxes back, “my spouse, you look as radiant as ev-“ “silence your silver tongue husband and answer me, is it true?” You cut him off venomously, not particularly in the mood for his honeyed words. “Why don’t you cease speaking in riddles and tell me what ales you so much to bare the vipers venom on your words.” Daemon began to hate the fact that slowly and surely enough your eyes were beginning to open and see him for whom the seven kingdoms truly saw him as. No longer were you carefree kids anymore and sooner or later uncomfortable realisations would have inevitably been made. Yet Daemon didn’t think that they’d poisoned your mind so quickly as they have and for which he would have their tongues for so they would never speak a word within your presence to doubt his character ever again; because to Daemon you were merely voicing the accusations that the kingdom have made against him, that it was the Seven kingdoms and his own brother that were forcing you into thinking him, your beloved, a villain in means of causing a rift between you too.

Daemon has fought tooth and nail to have you and he wasn’t planning on letting you slip over to their side so easily. Yet when the words flew from your lips and into his skin, Daemon could feel the prickling feeling of ice flooding his once fiery veins. “That you killed Rhea Royce as a means of selfishly securing yourself of the royalties of Runestone.” The air between you felt as though at a boiling pit and a subzero zone simultaneously as it only became increasingly difficult to breath in either conditions. Caraxes seemed to physically stiffen at your words as his eyes shifted from you to the back of Daemon’s head who’s silence didn’t help his case nor hinder; feeling as though you were in danger the Blood Wrym moved to shield you until he practically eclipsed the entrance to the cavern like stable of his. No matter how good natured his actions may have been they didn’t simmer the unease within your chest when Daemon looked at you like a stranger.

“Your believing them too now?“ he says eerily, lingering in the air to further build upon the unsettling feeling within your stomach as everything within you screamed, urged you to run from the one person who sworn to keep you safe since a young age. So when you didn’t and his hand laid upon your cheek felt as cold as ice as your breath hitched at the contact and instinctively pulled yourself away from his grasp and in the the broad front of Caraxes who towered over you silently in thought. “They’re poisoning your mind my beloved, they’ll say anything to cause conflict between use because they are jealous that what we have is real in comparison to them. We made our own choice whilst they did not in they wanted to spend their putrid lives with; they want to see us fight, the want to see us collapse so they may move in and claim whatever they want as their own. What evidence do they even hold over me to stake their claim?” Daemon’s eyes searched your tearful ones only to find that deep down you were at war with your heart. “Your visitation to the Vale is enough evidence, you snide comments is enough evidence, your eagerness to bed another whilst still in relations with her is enough evidence to be made against you Daemon. They have everything you have ever said against Rhea Royce and had it engraved in their memory for moments like this. Your carelessness has brought about your own end my beloved and in due time everyone will know. If they don’t already.”

You felt yourself fighting hard to remain able to withhold your ground during your squabble as your consciousness wavered in and out of focus as Daemon’s words only sounded muffled in your ears as though you’ve been held underwater; yet it didn’t take a fool to not notice the enraged look upon his face as he closed the distance between you two, gripping your wrist a tad too tightly for your liking and along with the anger in his eyes made you all the more fearful that in your moment of weakness, Daemon would take the life of his second victim, his sweet childhood friend, out of fear that you’d betray him like everyone else did. It scared you to think that the one person you’ve loved more then anything held the ability to kill you right then and there without any witness nearby to oversee the curfuffle nor come to your defence. Instead you closed your eyes and awaited the worst when Caraxes leaned his long next over you to shove Daemon away, causing his hand to loose grip of your wrist as he fell on his backside harshly. “Caraxes! What is your issue! You’ve been like this for awhile now!” Daemon yelled up at his dragon who merely roared in his face, silencing the Targaryen quickly.

Neither you nor Daemon were quite certain what had caused Caraxes sudden change in personality because in recent memory the dragon had always been seen more so by your side then Daemon which raised some rumours that have long since been forgotten by mostly everyone. In reality however Caraxes was merely protecting you and the unborn babe within your womb and in turn had be growing protective of you ever since he could sense the additional life next to yours. So when Daemon exuded a threatening presence towards you and in extension his kin, was Caraxes final straw. Daemon had ruined everything in his life thus far and the dragon didn’t want the only consistent in his life since he was a babe himself to face because of his human’s impulsiveness; To Caraxes you were just as much apart of him as Daemon was and to be apart from you was akin to loosing a limb, all though it maybe gone, you can still feel it’s presence episodically.

Whenever moments like the one between you and Daemon were to ever arise, Caraxes felt the need to protect you, his mother, and going against his Targaryen counter part to ensure your safety even if it means harming another to achieve it. “Caraxes.” You whispered faintly before allowing the dragon to encouragingly nudge you out of the stables, allowing you to rest your full weight against him as he escorted you back to the castle, where he’d await to see you from the windows of your chambers before clambering back to the stables to whack Daemon upside the head with his tail for good measure before forcefully shoving him out also. Still angry at him for threatening yours and your child’s safety.

The next morning became a struggle for you in particular. The mere act of getting out of bed had become a difficult task as you heaved with all your strength to push yourself in to a sitting position before trying your luck once more to push yourself to you feet when all suddenly became black and your body slumped to the floor; causing a great thud that alerted Daemon, who had long since calmed down from your argument, to quickly take to his sword and rush up to your chambers in perpetration to fight off whoever sneaked into your room whilst you were in your most vulnerable state. Only to find your body pressed uncomfortably against the cold chamber floor, unmoving, fearing the worst; Daemon threw away his sword to one side as he rushed to your aid, cradling you in his arms, his face a mere contrition of all the emotions he was feeling in that moment. Guilt over never apologising to you for his heinous actions against you, anger over his own need to protect his pride when he swore to protect and defend you just as much, sadness for how your dream life seemed to have taken for the worse then he promised you and an overwhelming feeling of being lost without you guiding him like the light he knew you were.

Daemon wasn’t the only one who heard your fall as several servants rushed not too long after the prince to check upon you but not out of your safety but only out of fear of what Daemon would do to them if they had left you in such a state. However as much as they prayed to be spared of any punishment, it seemed to have gone unheard as when they opened the door to witness Daemon hold you in his arms so crushingly tight; they were met with fierce violet eyes that pierced through them and into their souls in hopes of sparking a fire that would kill them from the inside out. “What are you idiots standing there gawking like seagulls?! Fetch the Maesters!” Daemon roared in anger, watching as they scrambled, shoved, pulled one another behind the other as they raced to get out of the room to evade Daemon’s wrath. The prince scoffed in disgust but his features quickly soften as he looked down at you with all the regret one man could ever bare upon his face; the day of your argument haunts him so but nothing haunted him more then the look of fright within your eyes at his sudden outburst, almost as though you were anticipating a repeat of his actions at the Vale.

He didn’t care what anybody thought about him, he couldn’t care less if in their eyes they see a monster but he couldn’t stand to be viewed the same in yours. As children he swore to protect you from all those who’d dare chase you harm but he didn’t know that there would come a day where he’d be the one bringing harm to your front doorstep. Now he wasn’t certain he was going to be given the time to repent for his actions as he held you close against his chest, refusing to let go even as the maesters came through the doors, tried their might to pry you from his arms only for him to tighten his hold before giving in to their pleas to check you over under the circumstances that he were to stay by your side. “My prince,” the Maester began after checking you over thoroughly before coming to a resolution, “it seems that your spouse is with child and has fainted but luckily has not sustained any injury that would cause her highness nor your child any prolonging issues.” Daemon’s eyes never left you face as the news struck him. All this time you’ve been with child and he has the nerve to place you in a stressful situation where your emotions would be tested to their limitations; He grasped your hand tightly in his, “thank you, you may leave us.” He dismissed the Maesters who bowed and left your chambers so the prince could shed his tears in peace. “We’re going to have a child.” Daemon muttered to himself, resting his head gently against your stomach, “we’re going to have a child. Oh gods bless this day and the many more to come until their arrival. I promise to better myself not only for you my love but for myself, Caraxes and our unborn child.” He promised.

The day of your child birth came swift and soon though not without excruciating pain. Though it was all the more rewarding when you got to hold your child within your arms with Daemon by your side. “Healthy as a horse your highness.” The midwife claimed before handing you the child that clutched to your fingers, cooing. You looked to Daemon who only stared down at the child with love, reaching a finger out to stroke his cheek and smiling when the child’s smaller fingers grasped onto his longer nimble one like a life line. “Have any thoughts on what we should name them my love.” You asked softly as to not disrupt the baby form their slumber. “I believe it is in your right to name the child as only one of us had bled to give them life my beloved.” Daemon said, kissing your slightly sweaty forehead gingerly, never breaking his gaze from the babe bundled in the blooded cloth. “Rhaenar.” You concluded post haste, smiling when the child cooed at the chosen name, giving their incoherent approval. “Rhaenar it shall be.” Daemon replied, holding you tightly against him as you both looked at your child, taking in the features they inherited from the both of you from Daemon’s facial features to your eyes and so forth. The silence lingered for as long as you allowed until Daemon removed himself from your side to elsewhere in the room, leaving you albeit confused until you saw him return with a pitch black dragon egg within his hands. You were aware of the Targaryen customs for when a new child under their house is born, they are gifted an dragon egg that will hatch into their bonded dragon; So to bare witness to it for your own child left a warmth within your chest knowing that for good or for bad, you were a Targaryen as much as your child was.

“I handpicked this myself,” Daemon explained as he placed the dragon egg into the crib with care, “may I?” He asked, gesturing to the child. “Of course they are your child as well Daemon.” You chuckled as you handed Rhaenar over to him, watching with love and adoration in your eyes as he cradled the child to his chest, smiling brightly when the child reached for his face to which he leaned down for the child to poke and pull lightly at his platinum locks. “I shall protect you and your mother from all harm but that also means that when you get older you must uphold that same promise also.” Dameon spoke softly to the child before angling them so they were facing you on the bed, “your mother is the most beautiful in all the seven kingdoms, even if she does bite my head off from time to time.” You scoffed playfully, “I do no such thing Rhaenar, don’t listen to your fool of a father. He tripped over his one feet when I said yes to being his.” Daemon covered the child’s ears as he glared at you playfully, “don’t want you ruining my reputation in front of our child now or else he’ll think I’m soft.” “You are soft though Daemon, hate to break it to you.” He chuckled in response as he placed the baby down in the crib though not before pressing a kiss to their forehead and a quick ‘I love you’ to join you in bed. “Such a tragic fate to befall a man to unconditionally love his child and lady.” He joked, stealing a kiss from your lips. “Yes how unfortunate indeed.” You joined in, snuggling against his side as you both watched over your child protectively.

Bonus:

Caraxes strained his long neck to the window of your chambers to get a look at the child, cooing softly as he watched the two newly made parents snuggle up in bed whilst watching over their child. The babe would grow into someone extraordinary under you and Daemon’s parentage the dragon concluded. Though he’d soon smack Daemon once more for claiming that he chose the dragon egg when in actual fact it was Caraxes who had chosen the egg. Daemon was going to gift an ugly mishmash of a brownish-red egg before his dragon pointed him to a more suitable egg. If one squinted however not only would you be able to see that while it was an entirely pitch black egg there was hints of fiery red here and there. Caraxes was happy to see his family grow slightly larger, though more so he was happy that his Targaryen decided to grow up for the sake of you and the family. He couldn’t be more prouder…now how was he going to explain that he practically demolished some architectural structures just to bare witness to the childbirth…

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mssonepiece · 3 months

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🩷High School Sweetheart🩷

🩷Chapter 1🩷

The Text?

Megumi Fushiguro x fem!Reader; Modern AU, no curses, cursed spirits or possession of cursed techniques; Reader and other characters are in college.

1.3k+ Words

Next Chapter

Dear Megumi, we've been friends since middle school and I've been thinking maybe it'd be nice to know if you feel the same way that I do about you.. I hope I don't regret this... I feel more close to you than any of our other friends and lately I can't stop myself from wanting to be around you all the time, it's okay if you don't feel the same. I love being your friend and I'm so scared to lose that because of this.

Looking at the message you typed out on your phone five minutes before you think of how this is the corniest text you've ever written up in your life. It would be utterly embarrassing to send this message just to be left on read or be told that your feelings are not reciprocated, making things awkward between the two of you. But you've felt as though you've had this crush on Megumi for so long that it's either shoot your shot and try to be something more or force yourself to stop hanging out with him in hopes to lose all romantic feelings toward him. Will that ever happen though? Would you be able to lose feelings even if you did ignore him? The more you think about the situation the more you feel like the text is a bad idea. Is it a good idea to ruin this friendship for the chance of something... more. Ding

~After The FaceTime With Maki~

You and Maki talked on the phone for a good hour and a half before you had to end it short for a bit of grocery shopping. You should have done it much earlier in the week, then you could have stayed on the phone longer. If you don't go today though then you will have nothing to eat tonight. On the way there you think back about what Maki told you over the phone. She of course had more to say about Mai, they've been living together for a year now in an apartment their parents pay for but Maki is the only one doing the daily chores around their house. You think that if you were her, you would have made Mai do more or move out way sooner. Maki of all people is surprisingly patient with her though.. at times.. It seems like she's also having the usual problems with her father too. They always seem to have some sort of dispute going on but today was particularly bad. He doesn't accept what college she has chosen to go to and is trying to have her drop out and transfer to the same college that Mai attends. Mai goes to a more high-league school but Maki has no interest in going to a school that is only to help her family's public image... It's that bad. Well her father called again pestering her this morning and when she declined for the hundredth time, he called the college board saying that Maki was very interested in transferring soon, even asking for her transcript. He's taking things too far, you can't help but feel bad for her. Wishing you could have talked to her more on the phone and carried on walking the short way to your local market.

The sun is setting, casting a beautiful blend of colors across the cloudless sky. On the side of the sky where the sun has already subsided, stars are starting to appear. Your feet slowly stop moving forward as you crane your neck up, getting a better view of the whole night sky. You could look at it forever but the awkward feeling of standing in the middle of a sidewalk was creeping up on you, making you take slow steps towards the market again. It's a silent walk other than the cars and people passing by. It's peaceful. Well until the sudden thought of wanting to share this moment with Megumi. Leading to a slideshow of thoughts. Your head felt like it was spinning and full of so much information that it just wanted to drop on the hard concrete ground.

The market doors seem to appear in front of you out of nowhere, arms instinctively reaching out to pull the handles. Maybe you've been a little in your head lately because of this whole Megumi thing but none of the choices of action are appealing. If you were to end up ruining your friendship with Megumi over some high school crush then you’re sure you could never forgive yourself. He’s always been there, mentally and physically. Ever since you first became close in middle school he has been the first friend you would choose to hang out with, even though he can be a bit of a bore sometimes he is good company. You could be sitting in silence together for hours, him reading a book and you playing a video game, watching a show, or sometimes reading along with him and neither of you would have anything to complain about. But if you carry on feeling like this without ever telling him then it would soon be too hard to even be around him anyway. It’s slowly becoming a comfort to have him just hanging around whenever you have something you need to do. You would have even asked him to come along shopping with you if you had not felt embarrassed by the whole text you wrote up earlier, and didn’t even send. The urge to text him now is strong but what to say isn’t coming to mind. You’re better off getting what you need from the market and going back home. Maybe then you'll be able to think of something to send him.

Setting the few bags of grocery’s down on your dining room table you finally take a deep breath for the first time in what seems like hours. Reaching back for your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, you open the messages app.

After updating Kirara and texting Maki again about your crush situation, you decide it’s best to put your phone away for a bit while you make dinner. Choosing to ignore the fact that you told both of your friends you were going to text Megumi. But also sending a text to Nobara that will catch her attention, riling up her pho mo.

Your kitchen isn't very big, only having a small one bedroom apartment often doesn't come with much foot space. You still try to make it look nice with decor and furniture. Plants really have helped with brightening up your home, bringing different greens and yellows throughout your house. It makes you feel like your apartment is 'homey' and more livable. Everywhere you've lived before here never really felt like your own. Going from your family home, to a year long roommate situation, and finally now you rent your own apartment off-campus. It's such a different feeling knowing that you have the place to yourself and of course the responsibility of the bills will definitely make you feel that difference too. It's close to campus, just a short five minute walk. You're even able to stop by Starbucks everyday, you don't.. but you could. You basically live in the center of town so you can walk to most places with ease, making rent much more tolerable too when not having to pay for a car. You'll have to deal with your college loans later in life, but that's the least of your current worries.

Dinner is as boring as usual, chicken and rice. Anything that is quick and easy to make so that you can relax sooner. It doesn't take long to make the rice and start on the chicken. You start to feel like it would have been better to order food but it's all worth it when you get to sit on the couch with a steaming bowl of chicken and rice. Situating a pillow in your lap, then the bowl of food on top. You use your right hand to hold the bowl in place on your lap and the other to reach for the tv remote now that you're comfortable, turning on the television to Netflix most recent watches. Episode 13 of "Orange is The New Black" brightens the display from the dark loading screen previously there. You raise your hand to the spoon sitting in the white glass bowl and take a bite from it as the show starts. You hear a faint ringing of an iPhone from the kitchen but choose to ignore it til the end of the episode.

Masterlist

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Tag List~ @m00nglad3-mp3 @we-loveebony

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen smau #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #maki zenin #kirara hoshi

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thanksjro · 5 months

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Transformers Holiday Special (2015) — Wishing You and Yours a Delightfully Secular Wintertime, Containing Absolutely Zero References to the Birth of Christ

Despite what some might like to think, Christmas isn’t for everyone; even with all the commercialization, at its heart, it’s still about the Baby Jesus. You can tell that we haven’t shaken the Christian connection, because the cover for this special issue has the father, the son, and the holy spirit, which is hidden behind the company logo.

And if Rodimus doesn’t stop screwing around, his resurrection’s gonna have to happen a lot sooner than Easter.

Because this is a comic special, things are going to be a little different. Instead of one standard-size issue, we’re getting three mini-stories, each with their own writer (from each of the comic runs that were publishing at the time) and artist. Our stories are listed here:

Don’t worry about what Ultra Magnus is up to behind that text.

Now, you may ask, why on earth am I covering this issue, which is a specifically Christmassy one, now, when it’s not currently Christmas? Well, according to Roberts, the story “Silent Light” takes place after MTMTE #49, and #50 is when the crew manifest for the Lost Light gets shaved down some, so realistically, this is when “Silent Light” happens in continuity. So I want you to keep in mind that Getaway’s Christmas isn’t going so great.

I won’t be going back to catch up on the other runs’ plots, as the Christmas stories are stand-alone.

Getting into it, our first story is:

Penned by Mairghread Scott and drawn by Corin Howell. We open up on a cityscape featuring a happy sun and some eye-searing narration boxes.

I went to Howell’s Twitter to see what her deal was, and was greeted with a banner consisting of a sexy succubus lady with her boobies out, so I’m going to assume she simplified her style for this issue, since mecha are hella difficult to draw.

Also, I hope you like the structure of How The Grinch Stole Christmas!, because that’s what we’re getting for the next little while, complete with chunky, white text on painful-to-view red.

Our story opens with all the transformers from the colonies visiting Cybertron and making friends with each other. Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts, which pisses off President-King Starscream to no end. Being the drama queen that he is, Starscream feels that everyone should be paying attention to him 24/7 and feed him grapes as he reclines on a sofa, because hasn’t he done enough for all these sorry sacks of shit? He hasn’t even caused a war, unlike the last guy who was in charge. Bumblebee (who is a ghost) tells him to just be fucking nice for once in his miserable life, but Starscream wouldn’t be Starscream if he could settle down like that.

Our god-king of the planet calls for his aide, Rattrap, who is going to be in his alt mode for the entirety of this story, to help him set up for a public broadcast addressing his need for attention and adoration.

He sends Rattrap off to deliver the tape to the news, which seems to consist of two very sleep-deprived individuals. Because they’re apparently the only two robots stupid enough to attempt to cover the nightmare hellscape that is Cybertronian current events, the last bit of Starscream’s tape is cut off when one of them falls asleep on the switchboard. This turns Starscream’s personal worship holiday into “For the Love of God Be Nice to Each Other” Day. Everyone takes to it beautifully, getting BFF tattoos, going on vacation with their husbands, hugging in the straightest gay way possible, holding parades, giving each other bombs, and getting absolutely shitfaced.

Starscream, distraught that nobody is giving him the emperor treatment like he had wanted, sulks in his twin bed, then moves to his dinky little throne as the night wears on, making the most miserable faces he can the whole time. Eventually, Chosen One Day ends, and he’s been completely ignored. Very sad.

Then, there’s a knock on his door, and Starscream creeps over to the peephole just in time to be smashed flat by Wheeljack slamming the door open. Last time we saw Wheeljack he was assumed dead by most, and floating in a tank at Starscream’s behest. He’s gotten better since then, clearly.

Wheeljack came with friends— the entirety of the main cast for Windblade/Til All Are One, to be exact— and they’re here to make sure that Starscream isn’t completely alone on this friendship holiday he accidentally invented. Everyone toasts to his good, totally intentional idea, and Starscream decides against killing all of them for at least the next 24 hours.

Now pay attention to this next story, because it’s actually canon-relevant, because of course Roberts would write a holiday special mini-comic that ties into his overarching plot. Fucking nerd.

Our artist for “Silent Light” is Kotteri (or Kotteri!, as it’s been written on some of their other publications) the pen name for Ikumi Fukuda. Kotteri is primarily a manga artist, having created their own works and well as working on other projects. I admittedly can’t find much on this person, not even their preferred pronouns, TFWiki itself using “they”, which I will default to. All of the info they’ve provided themself is, of course, written in Japanese, but even running things through a translator only proves that information to be purely professional. Their personal Twitter is protected, and my follow request was never answered, as far as I know. There’s a fan Twitter account for their art that claims “she”, but I have no way to verify, and I don’t want to assume anything based on art style, because that’s sort of shitty. Let it never be said that I didn’t do my due diligence here— I fucking hate using Twitter.

We open with Rodimus having just returned from Meteorfest, a festival where you surf on meteors and avoid your co-captain and SIC’s calls like the putz you are. He’s greeted by said co-captain and SIC decorating assembling a Christmas tree cloaking machine and finishing each other’s sentences like an old married couple. Rodimus tries to deny the existence of Minimegs, then we get our heavy-handed and lampshaded explanation for the crux of the issue. Megatron handles Minimus like a baby doll as the two of them explain that the Lost Light is about to hit Mauler territory.

Maulers are notorious for wanting the Cybertronians dead, but Megatron is too much of a macho man to pussy out and go around them. So instead, the crew will be hiding in special sleeping pods that will mask their spark signatures, and pray to their pantheon of gods that no one notices the ship the size of Manhattan. Brainstorm has like fifteen new inventions, despite being on house arrest from his lab. Megatron’s autobot badge is wearing a hat. Merry fucking Christmas.

Over at Swerve’s, it would appear that everyone’s favorite television junkie is closed for business, as it’s just him, Nautica, and Whirl, sitting on the floor getting absolutely shit-faced on subspace-filtered engex. This might’ve been an issue, as folks are supposed to be bedding down in their B.E.D.s for the next leg of the trip, but Swerve slipped Magnus some Bing Crosby earlier so they’re cool right now.

There’s a banging at the door, and Whirl decides to answer, even though it’s not his bar, because if it’s trouble come a-knocking, it was probably looking for Whirl anyhow.

When Whirl answers, however, it’s not Magnus having caught wind of Nautica disrespecting the Autobot code, but an entirely different flavor of problem.

Now, I know that thing Whirl’s holding looks like a fucked up Hitachi Wand, but it is, in fact, an entire-ass baby robot. It seems that when Cerebros (Fortress Maximus’s friend, if you’ll recall) sent the engex through the subspace, this infant Cybertronian (Luna One-ian?) got mixed in with the other supplies.

We learn a bit about how baby Cybertronians work before we remember, oh right, this kid is gonna get everyone killed if they catch wind of her spark, since there isn’t a B.E.D. for her. Yes, it’s a girl! Congrats to our three idiots on their Cybertronian gender non-conforming little princess.

They gang decides to shunt her back through the subspace hatch, so they head over to where it’s currently being housed— the office of Ultra Magnus. Nautica, using her wits and all the tools in her arsenal, smashes the window to the office and they break in. The empty Magnus Armor sits in the dark like a grim monument to being married to your job. Whirl informs Nautica how to comfort the baby that he super for-sure doesn’t care about, handing her off while he uses his titty glass to replace the window in the door. Swerve tries to bite through iron chains holding the subspace hatch hostage, only to be stopped by the sound of justice coming down the hall.

The gang, of course, looks suspicious as hell standing stock straight immediately in front of Magnus’s office, but Minimus rather likes the change of pace out of these goofy morons, and is maybe also trying to deflect his embarrassment at being caught performing his own personal karaoke. He sends them off to their B.E.D.s, and it looks like all’s well that ends well until Whirl asks where Sparky is.

Yes, he named the baby.

Don’t worry though, he’s totally not attached or whatever.

Nautica, in her panic to not be caught stealing/vandalizing/using equipment she doesn’t have the clearance for, stuffed Sparky in the Magnus Armor. And also put the helmet portion back on the body, for some reason. Anyway, it looks like our little princess is gonna be a load-bearer when she grows up, because Magnus is up and looking for hugs. Nautica, a paragon of level-headed thinking in times of crisis, handles this in the best way she can.

And that’s a wrap on Minimus Ambus! Let’s give him a hand, folks! And let’s also give a hand to the new Ultra Magnus, Miss Sparky Whirldòttir! Where did that little scamp get to, anyhow?

Swerve nominates himself to be the one to drag Minimus to a B.E.D. to sleep off his concussion, leaving Whirl and Nautica to track down the baby.

The scene changes to Megatron announcing a last call for beddy-bye time on the intercom, just as Ultra Sparky enters the room. She looms over Megatron, putting him in a very compromising position as he hits the intercom button with his arm. Rodimus, climbing into his own B.E.D., wishes that his co-captain and SIC would stop being gay for, like, five minutes, or at least wouldn’t do it where it can be broadcasted throughout the whole ship in audio format.

Whirl and Nautica come save Megatron from the onslaught of physical affection, stating that “Magnus” has had a bit too much to drink. Megatron orders them to bed from his fetal position on the countertop.

It’s bedtime, but we still haven’t figured out how to get the kid back to Luna 1 so the Maulers don’t super-murder the whole crew. Nautica leaves Whirl to figure it out, getting into B.E.D. and wondering who the fuck knocked on the door in the first place. Whirl tells her not to worry about it and to go to sleep, so he can be the one to deal with this mess.

Whirl, notorious for doing all the nastiest jobs— former Wrecker, intended bullet sponge for the time travel situation, attempting suicide via Megatron— is going to add another tally to the list labeled “Reasons My Peers Don’t Really Like Me All That Much”, by throwing an entire baby out the air lock.

However, Whirl is being written by Roberts, who would never allow the number of robot babies to go down, so Sparky’s adorable assimilation of Whirl’s signature physical features gets him right in the soft underbelly he swears doesn’t exist.

Wow, Roberts put a baby in that robot. Surely this is as overt as we’re going to get with this imagery, since we’re in a major publication and not some fan-fiction!

ANYWAY

Whirl wakes up in the Medibay, emptied of infant and freaked the hell out about it. Velocity— who I will remind you is basically the only medical doctor on the Lost Light, since everyone else is too busy getting railed by weeaboos and joining unethical polycules to do their actual jobs—informs him that his daughter is, in actuality, a massive colony of scraplets that combined to look like a newborn.

It turns out that Nautica is a bit of a snitch, having spilled the beans after she woke up. Whether or not she thought Whirl had thrown the baby out the air lock isn’t really addressed, but thank god he didn’t, because then we would have had to send everyone’s favorite gun-addled dipshit to jail for the rest of forever. Checking security footage revealed who the mystery knocker was— it was the scraplets, forming the shape of an arm.

When Nautica asks how the hell they all survived this, seeing as Whirl kept the murder baby, Whirl informs her that he cut off power to his own spark to allow everyone else to live, including his sweet baby princess, winning him a #1 Dad mug, and also several emails from Rung to please make an appointment with him.

Whirl’s miracle Christmas baby lied and stole with the intent to murder everyone on board, and that makes her the ultimate daddy’s girl.

I hope you’ve all enjoyed this canon-important holiday special story about Whirl becoming a father.

In our third and final story, it appears we’ve been transported to Whoville, by the talent of our MTMTE Season 1 colorist, Josh Burcham. Within Whoville resides Anna Log, a human woman who owns two turbofoxes and sleeps in full military body armor on her couch. The wall in her living room suddenly explodes, revealing a late-night visitor.

Motherfucker, you are supposed to be on the ship right now.

Mega-Claus fusion-cannons Anna Log, and we cut to a film noir office where none other than Thundercracker has his feet up on the desk. The art grayscales for this section, as he narrates that he’s a detective. He’s wearing a fedora. It’s January 7th. He has a mysterious past and probably thinks that makes him very sexy.

The phone rings, cueing Buster, Thundercracker’s puggle, to put on her own fedora, and the two go to see the crime scene, where Thundercracker is the same size as a normal human man and wears a trench coat.

It turns out that Anna Log is the director of security for the entirety of planet Earth, which is sort of a big deal. When Thundercracker and the cops look at the security footage, they see who did it— Santa Claus, played by Megatron himself. Fucked up.

Sure, pal.

Thundercracker must now fly to the North Pole and kill Santa, because that’s how the law works. He transforms, flies by Club Penguin and a Coke commercial, reflects on his job, and then gets ready for a fight with Santa’s security measures, as Busters glowing nose warns him of incoming danger. She’s very talented, Buster.

Thundercracker makes quick work of the cybernetic security reindeer with his twin energy katanas and Buster’s jetpack. He kicks down Santa’s door to find the jolly elf himself standing in the dark, potentially rabid. The two start kung-fu beating the shit out of each other. It should be noted that this Santa isn’t the Megatron Santa, who shows up behind the two as they brawl, but rather original-flavor fat man Santa. How Thundercracker didn’t notice this isn’t addressed.

Thundercracker demands to know why Megatron dressed up as Santa Claus to commit a murder— the murder part made sense, Director Log and Megatron would be diametrically opposed— and Megatron reveals the greatest slight against himself he’s ever known.

Framing Santa for murder ain’t exactly gonna turn that coal into a diamond, Meggy baby.

Thundercracker clocks Megatron, he becomes besties with Santa Claus, and they ride a flying tank into the sunset. Thus ends Thundercracker’s most brilliant writing project yet, which he was reading to Marissa Faireborn this entire time.

Marissa isn’t terribly impressed, poking holes in all the little nonsense bits, while also not feeling thrilled about having been killed off in the first two pages of Thundercracker’s book. While the two argue, Buster and Ayana Jones make a Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown! reference together, and the issue closes out with a big ol’ Autobot symbol, even though Thundercracker was a Decepticon, Ayana and Marissa are humans, and Buster is a goddamned dog.

Thus ends the Holiday Special. Up next, more direct story progression!

#transformers #MTMTE #holiday special #jro punches me in the face #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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