#anyways. its DEAD now so i can rest easy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

st4rfckerz · 8 months

Text

car troubles | james kelly x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, age gap, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl etc), very brief dry humping, a lottt of banter, mention of masturbation, cockwarming (?), afab reader

summary: your neighbor james kelly fixes your car for you while you're home alone.

a/n: i lowkey don't like this fic 😭 but it's probably not as bad as i think it is, BUT hopefully you guys enjoy it more than me :)

it was a blessing and a curse for owning an old car. it was a curse since issues flared up so frequently, but it was also a blessing because it prompted your neighbor, james kelly, to fix it for free.

james was hunched over your car's hood, with a number of tools arranged next to him.

"i doubt this'll take long at all. you just have a dead battery, and maybe a few other mishaps but other than that your car is fine." james explains.

"sounds great. thanks again for fixing my car." you give him a friendly smile. james quickly returns the smile, followed by a small laugh.

"of course, you can always count on me for these kinds of things."

"noted." I fiddle with my fingers nervously before turning away.

"i'll just be inside so just come get me if you need anything."

"alright, will do"

he gives a small nod as he watches you disappear inside. his attention turns back to the vehicle.

ever since your family moved into your home when you were 15 years old, you'd always had a small crush on james. but after you entered college and spent so much time away from home, he had aimlessly plagued your thoughts.

you didn't mean for it to happen, but he just always managed to be the only person you'd think about when you're in bed by yourself. thinking about his tall frame, his long, slender fingers, and the way his arms would shine with sweat from fixing cars all day long always sent a flash of heat through your body.

some time passes and you hear a faint knocking at your back window, followed by the door creaking open just a tad.

"hey, she should be good to go now." he spoke to you as you sit at your kitchen island.

"that was quick, usually the shop takes like, 2 hours. i'm impressed." you chuckle. james gives you a smile and a shrug.

"no need to flatter me sweetheart, I've been doin' this forever."

a shortly lived tinge of arousal goes straight to your core after hearing the sudden petname. it always surprises you when he calls you something other than your name because he rarely ever does.

"if you want you could stay and rest for a little while." you had articulated the plan earlier that day of keeping him in your home while your parents were out, just to see where it would go.

"You wouldn't mind?" james' tired, weary expression lit up and he seemed more hopeful than he had in a while.

"I wouldn't be intruding on anything?" he nervously asked.

"not at all, it's just me here anyways. my dad's at work," you explain, flashing him an innocent smile.

"there's fresh lemonade in the fridge, and if you'd like you can use the shower, i know how hot it is outside."

james cleared his throat and looked over towards you.

"that'd be really nice, actually."

you didn't think it would be so easy to have such a smart man like james fall into your trap, but somehow it worked perfectly. he was in your house, and was about to use your shower. the only thing that was on your mind was simply how much of a genius you are.

"the bathroom's right upstairs, here i'll take you," he follows you upstairs and you lead him to the bathroom.

"there's the shower, soap, shampoo all that stuff." you explain as james stands awkwardly beside you.

"sounds good, thank you i really appreciate it." his voice sounds sincere and soft.

"its no problem really, take as long as you need, i'll just be in my room." you walk out the door before closing it behind you. soon, you hear the sounds of water running from the showerhead.

eventually, you hear the bathroom door open and a small cloud of steam escaping the doorway.

james spots you laying on your bed wearing tiny blue shorts, and a small white tee.

his mouth suddenly goes dry and millions of thoughts begin to swarm around in his mind.

how could you just lay there and look so perfect?

james has been a nervous wreck ever since he arrived at your house. he knew it was wrong to be so attracted to you because of the obvious age gap, but he just couldn't help himself.

he's seen you in so many ways, so many times; outside in the pool wearing nothing but a bikini, laying in the grass wearing your skimpy shorts and tank top casually trying to get a tan, he's even watched you change your clothes right in front of your bedroom window.

he always saved those mental images of you so he could fuck his fist later on.

james clears his throat and looks over at you, standing awkwardly at your doorway.

"oh hey." you smile. james glances over your room and notices your college flag plastered on your wall.

"college huh?" he points at the flag and begins walking towards your bed.

"yeah, I'm almost done actually." you reply sitting up and swinging your legs across the side of your bed.

"how much longer do you have?" he crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

"about 6 months? i'm so ready for it to be over," you sigh heavily.

"did you go to college?" you ask him.

"trade school." james nods

"i figured, you don't seem like you were the frat boy type." you joke.

james' face lights up in amusement as he laughs a little walking over to you. he decides to take a seat right next to you on your bed

"yeah... no. definitely not the frat boy type. never saw the appeal in them."

"me neither they can be obnoxious, can't stand them." you explain. an awkward silence stills before you both.

he looks at you, the corner of his mouth curling slightly in anticipation.

"you must have boyfriends back at college, don't you?" his slight change in tone and lift in confidence makes you a little nervous.

"oh no, i-i don't, college guys aren't really my...thing." you stutter. your gaze lingers on james, drinking his presence in.

his hair, still wet from the shower, glistened in the sunlight coming through the window. you could drool on the spot at the sight of his broad shoulders, muscles barely peeking out of from under his gray t-shirt.

"then what is your 'thing'." james shifts his body to face you more.

you shrug and shake your head.

"i don't know, i guess i just always went for older guys." you confess. you knew it was slightly obvious what you were suggesting but it was now or never.

a sly smirk appears on james' face before speaking again.

"really?"

"always have." you look down at your legs quickly. the way james was staring at made you feel like you were on fire.

"do you like anyone in particular?" james was itching at some kind of answer that could miraculously allude to himself.

"that's confidential." you try to avoid looking at him so he doesn't see the obvious blush spread across your cheeks.

"right, right." james had a small grin on his face as you revealed the answer.

he was almost giddy with joy. he knew what he wanted to hear, but he never expected you still had feelings for him.

"it's dumb, i know," a wave of embarrassment rushes through your body and you immediately regret admitting something so elementary.

"i'm sorry if it bothers you i don't-" james cuts you off

"it doesn't bother me."

"it doesn't?" james shakes his head and smiles slightly.

"no, does it bother you?"

"no." he begins leaning towards you slowly and your brain shuts down completely.

james was close enough to feel your breath as you spoke. his face was a few inches away from yours, and he was looking straight into your eyes.

there was a long pause for a moment. It was as if james thought you were gonna do something.

his voice was a little quiet as he spoke his next words.

"good."

james finally closes the gap between you and presses his lips softly against yours.

a tingle went up his spine as your lips came into contact with his. he had never anticipated this, but it felt different. it felt right.

his hand reached to touch your face and he pulled you in closer slowly, your bodies connecting more and more as he leaned into you.

the kiss deepens and a small whimper erupts in your throat.

james noticed the noise you made and smiles against your lips. his big hands grab your thighs and pulls you onto his lap.

he gently pulled you closer to his body again, his arm wrapped around your waist, and his other arm reached to caress your body as both of your lips touched.

james' lips connect to your neck, nipping at the skin along your jawline.

you moan slightly and subconsciously rut your hips against his.

he let out a groan as he gently broke the embrace to look at you.

"needy girl." he teases.

james grabs your hips and moves them harder against his center. he began kissing your neck as you rested in the position he held you in.

you feel his hand suddenly slip into your underwear.

"oh, sweetheart," james breathes out. he could feel how wet and needy you were for him

a pathetic whine escapes your lips as his finger draws antagonizingly slow circles around your clit.

"james please, i need you." the words that escaped your lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body.

he kept kissing your neck, his hand slither up your shirt, caressing and pinching at your nipples.

your words sent him over the edge and he let out a soft groan.

you needed so much more than his single finger. you mindlessly began to toy with the waistband of his pants, itching to just rip them off of him completely.

james was more than ready to let your hands do there work, as he lifted up his hips slightly.

"can i take these off?" james asks you softly, he begins pushing your shorts down your thighs.

you nod your head quickly and discard your shorts along with your shirt leaving you only in your underwear.

james' eyes shoot straight down to your chest.

"so perfect for me," he coos as he quickly latches his mouth onto one of your nipples, soon leaving little purple bruises on them. your eyes squeeze shut as you feel his tongue flicking against the bud.

the sound of a belt hitting the ground makes you jump slightly.

"i can't wait any longer." james mutters against your lips before pressing his mouth against yours.

his fast hands move your underwear to the side.

the feeling of his cock finally entering your dripping hole made your head fall onto his shoulder and a long breathy moan fall from your lips.

you can feel james' body shudders under you.

"oh, fuck," james waits a few seconds before finally thrusting upwards, moving your hips to meet his simultaneously.

the sound of yours and james' moans followed by the slight slapping of skin filled the air of your bedroom.

"you feel so good baby, so good for me."

if james kept speaking to you in that velvety tone you were sure that you were gonna cum a lot quicker than expected.

your mind was completely empty, not a single thought popped into your brain.

that was soon interrupted by the sound of your cellphone.

"it's my dad." you tell james urgently but he continues to litter your neck with small kisses and bites.

"answer it."

you stare at him blankly, the annoying ringtone still erupting from your phone.

your fingers hesitate for a moment before accepting the call and pressing your phone up to your ear.

"hey dad." you try to stiffle a moan as james begins thrusting up into you again.

it was so difficult trying to contain your moans while still trying to have a conversation with your dad.

"yeah, james came over mm-" your hand flies to your mouth.

you could feel james smirk against your neck as he continues to thrust into you at a faster pace.

"no-sorry, it was a cough."

he was relentless with his hunger for you, and didn't want to keep it at bay.

"be quiet baby, we don't need daddy hearing how good i'm making you feel hm?"

his voice was suddenly filled with a deep and lustful tone, but you loved it.

james heard the talking from your phone but it didn't distract him, it only sent a tinge of excitement in his heart.

he let his hands to roam all over your body, causing goosebumps to spread all over your body.

"he did a great job, the car...the car should be ok now."

your dad just kept talking. completely oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the phone.

james grins widely and let out a quiet moan, feeling your pussy squeeze around him.

his lips left your neck and he let his head lean back on the headboard. he didn't even stop his advances as he heard your dad talking. he just enjoyed seeing you try your hardest to stay quiet as he abused your cunt.

your dad finally says his goodbyes after asking a million questions regarding james' visit and you have never felt so relieved.

"that was a close one." james chuckled.

you let out an exasperated laugh, still not able to fully function. especially now that his fingers begin rubbing furiously at your clit, causing you to moan louder and buck your hips harder against his.

"j-james..." your body was shaking uncontrollably. that familiar not began to form in your stomach and fiery heat began to spread through your legs.

"you gonna cum for me pretty girl?" he taunts.

your face contorts in pleasure as you try to muster up any words that come to mind.

"m'so close-"

"i know baby i know, me too." the grip he has on your thighs grows firmer and his nails begin to dig harshly into your skin.

"come on sweetheart, give it to me." james thrusts harder into you, swiftly hitting your sweet spot everytime.

your walls clench around his cock as you cum, earning a loud, throaty groan from james. his warm seed coats your insides, leaving you feeling full and absolutely satisfied.

"there you go," james coaxes you through your orgasm.

james felt your sweat covered body collapse onto his and he kissed your forehead softly.

he kept his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close to him.

"are you okay?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth after a moment.

"mhm, m'ok" you flash james a tired smile.

he slowly opened his eyes as well and kissed your forehead. he let out another sigh as his arms were still wrapped around you.

then he spoke again, his voice filled with curiosity.

"so...what did your dad want to talk about?" he asked softly, still laying back on the bed with you on top of him.

"he was just asking if you had already come over and everything," you let out a snort.

"i definitely came." you look up at james to see a cocky smile across his face.

"stop," you giggle and slap his arm playfully.

"he also mentioned that he would be staying an extra hour at work."

james' demeanor shifted once you told him the good news of your dad staying longer at work.

"good," james leaned forward and kissed you again, grabbing your hand and pulled you down to the bed.

his hands slowly traveled down to your thighs, and he caressed it slightly before pulling your legs apart and situating himself in between them.

"because i'm not done with you yet."

#nai writes ୨୧ #james kelly #james kelly x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker

1K notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 5 months

Note

You can totally say no if your not comfy doing it but maybe you can suggest another writer who you may think might? But if yoir request are open is there anyway I can convince you to write on the topic of reader being Sara's best friend and has tried to come onto Joel multiple times (ie sneaking into his room etc) and then escalating to slipping a roofie into his drink one night while her and Sara are home on winter break from college? If you're not comfortable i totally understand and im sorry if I made you uncomfortable its just your writing for the darker stuff is so amazing 💖

locket.

2k, joel miller x dark f!reader | master list A/N: here's your dead dove in a pear tree 🖤 in a way, it's kinda the inverse of night talks 😅 didn't overthink this one, so FIWB. WARNINGS: I8+ big girthy age gap (44/21), drugs, dosing, f masturbation, dubcon unsafe p in v, somnophilia-ish, choking adjacent move, degradation (both), cum, dead dove december

You're tired of her hot Dad playing hard-to-get, and you're going to put an end to it tonight. You've come home with your college roommate, as you often do since your family lives far. Once again, her dad is dressed like a piece of meat. Tight, white, ride-me t-shirt. Cock bulging in his slutty joggers. He’s walking around double cheeked up on a Friday night in front of his daughter’s best friend. His daughter’s best friend who thinks about him every time she touches herself.

Sarah falls asleep fast, and you can still hear the TV downstairs. You put on your locket, take off your underwear, and adjust your oversized, wide neck t-shirt to make a wardrobe malfunction inevitable with the slightest movement. You creep down the stairs and pause at the landing, where you lightly caress your nipples, bringing them to full attention. You’re already tingling downstairs. You creep up to the edge of the living room with your arms straight down, pushing your boobs together, hands clasped together near your crotch as if you're cold. And to be fair, the air is a little cool on your bare cunt. You’re dripping for him, and the shirt barely covers your asscheeks. Joel barely glances, then does a double take.

His eyes fall on your breasts before reaching your face. His jaw clenches. After a few seconds, he asks, "What?"

"Sorry to bother you. I couldn't sleep."

"What am I s'posed to do about that," he grumbles, looking away from you, resuming his focus on the television.

You shiver and briskly rub your arms, feeling the air hit your exposed nipple for a moment, and you ask about changing the thermostat. He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and gets up. You shamelessly ogle the bulge in his gray joggers. While he's on his way to adjust the thermostat, you open your locket and drop a little medicine into his can of beer: half a sleeping pill and half a Viagra.

In the corner of your eye, Joel is lingering in the hall. He rubs his beard, looking at you while you pretend to look at the TV. He slowly walks forward. "Goddamn slut," he mutters under his breath, and you force away a smile as you sit down.

When Joel returns to the sofa, you're sitting next to his seat. You bring your knee up to rest on the sofa and feel your pussy exposed. He picks up a blanket off the other end and sets it in your lap.

"Take this with ya." He picks up his beer, and moves to the easy chair. You don't miss the way he adjusts himself as he settles into the chair.

You make yourself comfortable, and when you just sit there, he says, "thought ya said ya were cold.”

“I'm comfy now.”

You sit there in silence watching TV. He finishes his beer and gets another. You keep an eye on him. The sleeping pill seems to hit him first. His eyelids get heavy and he rests his head back on the chair. His breathing is steady. You think you see him getting hard. Yeah, something definitely moves in his joggers. He’s nodding off and jolts awake. He grabs his crotch and mutters, “fuck,” before he remembers you're there. You shift positions to lie on your stomach, facing him, with your ass exposed so he can see your butt cheeks.

“Go to sleep, darlin’. God damn.” Your heart flutters. Oh, now he’s done for.

“You sure?” You ask and go into a cat pose with your ass higher in the air.

“Yeah.” His eyes are half shut. He tries to be subtle about slowly rubbing himself for relief, but you can see just fine. “Fuck-” he interrupts himself with a yawn. He shakes his head at you. “gave me somethin’, didn't ya?”

You wet your lips and look down. “What makes you say that? Do you feel funny?”

“Like you don't know.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. You shift onto your side, then swing your legs around in front of you as you sit up on the sofa. “Well. . .I feel funny, Mr. Miller,” you purr as you spread your legs for him. “Yeah, I feel funny right here.” You slowly, lightly caress your mound near your clit with two fingers, then spread them to trace down your outer lips.

“Somethin’ wrong with you,” he shakes his head. His brow furrows and he swallows. But he doesn’t leave. . .He looks back at the television. Your body is churning out slick, getting ready for him, but right now it’s going to waste on his sofa. You gather some from your hole and bring it up to your clit. You grab a breast and begin to touch yourself. He’s sleepy, but he's hanging in there. The heel of his palm is planted in his lap.

When he begins to nod off again, you get up and approach the chair. He stays seated, awake but sleepy, and his breath deepens as you brace your hand on one arm of the chair. You wedge one knee between his outer thigh and the chair’s arm. Then the other side, so you're straddling him. You both look down at his visible erection. He looks up. His lips form a subtle pout, then part slightly. His brown eyes glaze over as he studies your face.

“Dress like you want it,” you whisper. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. You reach for his cock and he gently stops your wrist.

“I could be your dad,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“Please,” you whisper. Your hand doesn't stop, and he doesn't try to stop it anymore as you reach. You grab the rock hard protrusion and he silently grunts from the back of his throat. He’s throbbing against your palm through the thin cotton. Your breath hitches at the first contact. You twitch and ache for him. His brow furrows.

“‘If you’re gonna do it, do it,” he challenges you in a near whisper. He must be painfully hard. He can't take it. You massage him through the soft fabric.

Your lips part, and you tilt your head as you read his face.

He mumbles, “Gonna pussy out?” He cracks a little smile and adds, “with your pussy out?”

You sigh. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“Such a rotten girl,” he murmurs with half lidded eyes as his hands come to your thighs. You shiver in a bolt of pleasure as his hands wrap around the backs of your thighs and slowly run down to your knees, then up to your ass. He squeezes your cheeks, and his cock throbs in your hand.

“Coward,” he whispers with a snarl and takes his hands away, resting his arms on the chair.

You brace one hand next to his head on the back of the chair, and your heart shaped locket dangles as you take down his waistband with your free hand. His cock slaps against his white t-shirt, making a wet spot.

Good Lord. Your mouth falls open. You tug the joggers down more. He grunts softly when you cup his soft, fuzzy balls. Then you release them, grab his shaft, and hear yourself moan. Never felt anything stiffer. It's angry and now the tip is actively oozing. Your mouth waters and your body opens up for him.

He watches your face, then yawns again. You rub yourself and gather your slick, then wrap your slippery hand around his cock. You scoot your knees forward and hover over it. He inhales through his nose as you lower yourself to make contact. You pause with the tip just inside. It's already a stretch, but deeper inside, your core is begging for more. Your entrance spasms around his tip. He gasps and tenses, gripping the arms of the chair as you begin to sink down. He closes his eyes and winces as his cock divides your walls and you moan as your bodies become flush. You sit on his dick while your body makes space for him and you get even wetter.

“Fu–ohh” he tilts his head back. His neck veins strain. He's so goddamn hot.

You slowly tilt your hips and let out only an inch of him before bottoming out again. His cock takes up so much space inside you. You look down between your bodies. His white shirt has ridden up to expose the happy trail and the slight pudge of his lower belly. His stomach heaves with deep breaths. You begin to move on him, slowly.

“Ahhh, fuhh-uhhhk,” he sighs. His brows knit together and he watches you ride him.

You tilt your hips, seeking the pressure of your clit nudging his body. “Yeah,” you breathe and move a little faster. Your necklace swings, the silver heart getting closer and closer to him. Then his hand flies up to wrap around your neck, trapping the chain. His grip isn’t firm, but the presence of his hand around your throat is enough to freeze you on his cock and give you a surge of need. Your pussy spasms, your slick walls begging for the friction they've earned.

“You’re sick,” he mutters, then his hips punch up and he sighs. He lets go of your throat, then tugs your shirt down under your tits.

“Fuck,” he sighs, the corners of his mouth glistening with saliva. He reaches out and palms your breasts, then hooks his hands under your arms. He watches your tits move with your rhythm.

“How many times have you thought about this,” you ask.

“I don't think about it,” he claims, but his face says constantly. You massage your own breasts as you ride him, and he sighs. Hopefully he can't get enough. Hopefully he comes back for more. You roll your hips with a moan. That's why you didn't use a roofie - He needs to remember this. He needs to need it. “Mmm.” Maybe he’ll be desperate, mad. As he watches you ride him, his eyelids begin to droop again. Maybe he’ll be mad enough to take it.

You gently slap his cheek. “Stay with me,” you command, and begin to ride him harder. You slot your fingers into his hair. “When's the last time you came,” you ask, massaging his scalp as you move on his cock. “Hmm?” You pause with his cock all the way inside, and he twitches inside you. “Hmm?”

“Days,” he whispers. You start rolling your hips again. “Been days, ohhh–fuck.”

“You're gonna come inside,” you nod. His cock twitches again.

“Ohh, fuck. Are you–ohhh,” he sighs, “are you–ugghh.”

“It's okay,” you reassure him, “It's okay.” God, the thought of Mr. Miller nutting in your cunt has gotten you over the edge so many times alone. You're close. You bring your body closer against his and grind your clit into him, your body moving his swollen manhood, subtly rocking it as your clit presses into his pubic hair and your insides swell with the pressure of pent up pleasure. “Ohh, God,” you sigh and feel your body tighten, tighten, almost there. “Ohh, fuck,” you pant.

“Ohh,” he moans and his hips lift under you. The tension snaps and your clit pulses, making you whine. You grind into him as you pulse, release pressure, pulse, release more, losing yourself in waves of release.

“Oh, God,” you moan, fluttering around his stiff cock.

“Ugggh,” he groans and his hands come to your ass. He begins to move you on his cock as your climax wanes. He moves you harder and moans unrestrained. He grits his teeth, and his fingertips dig into the plush of your ass. ”Ohh,” he sighs and fucking erupts.

“Oh shit,” you whine, and keep clenching around him with warm bursts of him flooding your core. “Ohh God.”

“Oh, fuck,” he pants, bursting again and again, filling you with his seed. “Ohhh,” his pulses fade and you come to a rest in his lap. He lays back against the chair breathing heavily. You lean forward and hug him. He doesn't have the energy to push you away. Soon, he's snoring and you're just sitting there enjoying the fullness of his cock and cum.

“Mmm,” you sigh softly and begin to push yourself up. You let his cock out and some of his cum comes with it. You scoop it up from around his tip and draw a heart on his shirt, imagining how cute it'll be when it's dry and hard. Then you get off the chair entirely and draw a few small hearts of cum on his joggers. You pull the waistband up for him, then plant a kiss on his lips before leaving him there. Then you go back upstairs and put on your underwear before you get back in his daughter's bed.

-----

Thank you so much for reading, ILY 💖 If you really like dark reader, you might wanna try my ghostface fic every inch

---

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not receiving a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" link on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

#bfd!joel miller #joel miller x reader #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #dead dove december 2023 #dead dove #joel miller smut #dark!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #best friend's dad!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️

928 notes · View notes

neet-elite · 5 months

Text

Alone Time — (SDV) Sebastian

Pairing: Sebastian / Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 5,597 Warnings: Exhibitionism, established relationship, doggy style, masturbation, creampie, cum eating Synopsis: Rather than voice his concerns over the fact that your constant wiggling—which he knows is intentional—is distracting him enough from his game to cause him to miss easy shots, he’d rather offer you the same niceties in return. After all, it’s the least he could do when you’re so insistent on making him feel good, right?

A/N: Try and guess what game inspired this piece :D... ALSO!! I hope you all have a very happy holiday season! I'm a bit late on writing anything holiday related, so I might try to do a mini series for Valentines? Perhaps include some other bachelors? Maybe... Kent? Anyway, stay safe and have fun everyone!

Taglist: @beet-roots / @birdielouwho / check my pinned to see how to get added!

Rather than voice his concerns over the fact that your constant wiggling—which he knows is intentional—is distracting him enough from his game to cause him to miss easy shots, he’d rather offer you the same niceties in return. After all, it’s the least he could do when you’re so insistent on making him feel good, right?

The warmth from your body against his is all too nice. Your back pressed snug against his chest, legs crossed in his lap, whole body encased within his arms as he leans slightly forward to try and play just a little better for his team; of which are already complaining at him. Vitriolic messages pop up on his screen, and he rolls his eyes in return. It’s not like he’s the only one playing, right? And then Sam…

“C’mon bro— What’s with ya today?” Sam whines through the headset, the high pitched tone he adopts probably loud enough for you to hear too, Sebastian taking a deep breath in response.

He’s about to reply, but then you shuffle some more. Getting comfortable you quietly whisper so that only he can hear, but he knows you better than that. Been dating you for long enough to pick up on your little tells, and he certainly knows that you aren’t just getting comfortable. A smile automatically makes its way to his lips, a means to deal with frustration you offer him. Then, quickly, a tut. Because he’s died again thanks to your comfort, and the bouts of anguish his friend expresses in his ears prompts him to tug you closer to his body. His head rests on your shoulder while his keyboard arm wraps loosely around your tummy, a soft calming hum pressed against your ear. You’re soothing to him, even when you’re being bratty.

“Maybe try pulling your own weight then.” He teases Sam, and his smile widens with you as you giggle at his harsh words.

Still, this is your fault; he hasn’t forgot. The deaths in game and his sloppy aim, it’s your fault his team is losing right now. Sure there’s an argument to be made that his team shouldn’t require him to be making all the best plays, and should in turn pick up on his slack; but he knows that at least Sam is trying his best. He’d intended on doing the same tonight too when he asked you for an hour or so to himself, but your idea of ‘alone time’ seems vastly different from his own. Not that he has any room to complain when he also tries to get comfortable, wiggling his weight around under you to match your movements. Feels nice, he thinks to himself. Real comfort.

While he’s still dead in game, the arm that’s around your waist drops just a little further to play with the fabric of your shirt, slowly continuing down until his palm makes contact with your thigh to give it a squeeze. It’s an almost automatic action, borne out of the love he holds for you, but he can’t deny that the little squeak you let out in response isn’t cute, and that it doesn’t give him a good idea. If he has to suffer, then he’ll make you endure some suffering too.

Quickly, he hits the mute keybind for his headset before the death timer ends and shifts one ear off so that he can better hear your response. “Let’s play a game.” He whispers to you, and his cock twitches against your ass the moment you tremble against him.

“Yeah? What kind?” You ask so innocently that his cock twitches again, clearly showcasing the effect even just your voice has on him.

“Don’t get caught.”

And just like that, he’s unmuted again. Game character brought back to life to once again return to battle. Though this time with a different purpose, no matter how much it’ll upset Sam. A one man mission, if you will, focused solely on getting his hands back on you rather than on his mouse and keyboard.

… It doesn’t take him long to die again, another back and forth of “How did you miss that?” from Sam and a curt “Sorry bro.” from Sebastian before his hands find home again, both of them this time prompting you to stand up momentarily.

No words are said as he unbuttons his tight jeans, lifting his hips up just enough to tug them down over his knees as his eyes beg for you to do the same. Staring at your cunt until your clothing is removed too, and even then his vision only flashes up to your own for a second before he’s eyeing up that pretty little wet spot between your legs. He’s adorning much the same as precum dribbles down his length, staining his boxers see through because you’re just too tempting. The result of having you sit on his lap, wiggling your ass against his cock, for all of, what? Ten minutes? A short enough time for him to probably be embarrassed about, but he can hardly think about anything else other than getting his dick wet with the sight of your cunt so close to his face.

He leans forward for a greedy inhale despite your shy attempts to push him away, it only turns him on more with your scent overwhelming his senses. Sam’s voice is distant in the background, an exhausted sigh as he assumedly dies in game alongside Sebastian. But it’s difficult to properly hear whatever annoyed string of words is echoed into his ear as he guides your hand down to his cock, a soft huff of air escaping him when you’re forced to make contact with how hard he is. See what you do to me, look at how hard I am already.

What’s worse is the gasp you sound following, causing his eyes to roll back and lag behind in his game, much to Sam’s very apparent dissatisfaction.

“Helloooo, Earth to Seb?”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be there in a sec.”

True to his word for once, he manoeuvres his arms around you while you still stand, peeking his head around your hips just so that he can die in game again. He’ll have to apologise to Sam later, blaming your distractions as the cause behind his lacklustre performance. And to be fair, he wouldn’t even be lying about it. Feeling you move around in an effort to remove your panties diverts his attention instantly, effectively leaving his character a sitting duck. It’s no surprise that he’s dead again.

What follows is a mad dash to undress as discreetly as possible, limbs entangled and hushed giggles shared together until his cock is free and your cunt rests before him. He’s quick to urge you into turning around after a squeeze of your tits, standing to bend over you slightly as you stick your ass out for him and wiggle playfully. It almost draws a curse out of him, but he’s too mindful of the third unknown party in his headset to fully share his appreciation for your lewd display. He figures sliding his cock between your folds is thanks enough, a satisfied groan caught in his throat else he blows his already flimsy cover.

“Are you ready to finally start playing?” He hears Sam huff, and Sebastian laughs only to hide a moan at how wet you are already.

“As I’ll ever be.”

It’s not lost on him the double meaning behind his words, the warm wet coating his cock as he readies himself for gaming again, still standing as he hunches over you a little more to accidentally rub his tip against your swollen clit. He has to remind you to hush when you gasp in return, no matter how much he’d love to hear just how much he affects you.

The clicking of his keyboard soon fills the room again, his tummy tense with the position he has to hold in order to keep his cock tight between your legs, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Part of him would even argue that he’s able to focus a little better now; despite how often his cock jerks against you for attention. Being so close to you as you accept his cock between your legs is comforting, feels like home. Sam at least seems more impressed by his performance even if only because he isn’t complaining as much any more, leaving Sebastian’s ears open to hearing all of your little pants and groans. Every minuscule movement he makes to type away at his keyboard, or to move his mouse around the screen, his cock rubs against your cunt and leaves him struggling for air. Holding his breath in an effort to remain hidden from Sam, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your ass push nicely against his pelvis in an asking for more. And he wants to give you what you’re asking for eventually, but it’s a bit too much fun teasing you like this; you deserve some teasing after leaving him hanging since the game started.

Sliding his cock with ease, he starts small little humps. Too slow to even be considered as such, really. A gentle rock back and forth as he does his best to focus on not dying again in fear of becoming suspicious, but enough to offer you some relief. Really leaning over you to angle his cock just perfectly between your legs, biting down on his bottom lip to keep his appreciation quiet, but letting his hand wander to your hips during downtime in order to give you small little squeezes. A small reminder that he loves you, and that the slick gush of your cunt coating his cock wet is certainly appreciated. Well, if the fat drops of precum that thud on the floor beneath him weren’t evidence enough, anyway.

He knows you’re enjoying it too when he feels you shudder against him, the barely there push of your hips back as he easily rocks forward, forcing his eyes to slowly shut as a contented sigh escapes him.

“You good?” Sam asks down his mic, but Sebastian knows it’s not a genuine attempt to check in; especially considering the abrupt fuck! that follows as his friend dies yet again in game. It’s a pleasantry, and he’s thankful for once to not have Sam’s full attention.

“Mhm.” He answers, much too sultry to be considered normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it hardly seems to matter as Sam dives into another rant over how unfair the game is.

Given that Sam is distracted at the moment, Sebastian offers you a chaste kiss. Pressed right into the crook of your neck as his hips speed up just a little. Humping his cock against your wet slit with more purpose, a faint squelch soon filling the air to match his movements. He’s happy to have turned the gain up on his mic, knowing that the sound of your cunt is all his in this moment.

It’s a bit ironic, really. Deep down he’s a selfish man, knows you know it to be true too when you wiggle against him for more and he merely ignores you; favouring pretending to play and lazily stroking himself against you. But there’s a certain rush that comes with knowing he’s basically sharing you right now. To have Sam on the other end of the internet unaware of your slut behaviour, partaking in the act with you under Sebastian’s control. A lump forms in his throat, a coil in his tummy, and he distracts himself by cupping your tits.

And it doesn’t help that your cute sounds keep increasing in both volume and frequency as his fucks try to match your need, making it more difficult for his mind—and his cock—to remain focused on the task at hand. Which was it again? Gaming, or fucking? Your pretty voice clouding his judgement; it’s a good thing he can’t see your face from this position too. If he did, he’s sure he’d give up on hiding immediately, sit you on his desk and fuck you live in voice chat.

“Fuck—” He accidentally lets slip, doing his best to hide the gratification in his voice behind a cough, but it’s useless. The tip of his cock keeps catching against your hole with how slippery you are by now, and his chest hurts with how much he wants to push it in. A small huff quickly following as he hears your taunting giggle in return. As punishment, he watches you struggle to hide your own excitement with a pinch of your nipple, rolling it between his fingers before lightly circling it. With bated breath, he awaits the confrontation.

There’s a pause before Sam answers him with a stupid: “What’s up?”

And then there’s an even bigger pause before Sebastian replies with: “Nah, nothing man.” Because he’s too busy letting go of his keyboard and mouse so that he can take hold of your waist, pinning you down and holding you in place for him to snap his hips against you in quick thrusts for a second or two. Long enough to leave you panting, and for him to reconsider his position on sharing you. Carrying himself with a real fuck it attitude as he tells himself just the tip. Just a little of his tip inside of you should be fine, right? It’s clear that you want it, and his cock is just begging for it too with how much he leaks all over your slit, dripping precum down to your thighs as he messily humps away against you.

It’s not long before he dies again, not that he truly notices. Too busy debating with himself on whether he should slip inside or tease you some more; but you remove the choice for him by angling yourself just right to ease his tip inside. Silence falls over the room, a breathy moan caught in his throat at the sudden warm tightness around him, while his head is thrown back briefly to really lean into the good feeling. It’s dumb how good it feels to have even just his tip inside, one hand dropping to fist away at his rock hard cock while his tip rests in your hole. Masturbating while inside of you, as if that would offer him any relief.

“…Seb—”

“Seb—”

“Sebastian!”

The full name call from Sam grabs his attention, and a stuttered “Y-yeah?” finally claws up his chest, followed by a tight jaw and harsh gulp. He’s doing his best to remain attentive to his friend whilst also gently rolling his hips into you, inch by inch—which is easy considering how wet he is—almost as if on instinct. Like he was meant to be buried balls deep inside of you, gripping onto your hips so desperately that his nails dig in.

If he’s already been caught, then he might as well continue. It’s too bad that Sam isn’t the brightest.

“What are you doing bro? You’ve been in base for like… Five minutes at least!”

He almost feels bad for how genuinely upset Sam sounds, but the squeeze of your cunt as you assumedly hear Sam’s whining over the headset convinces him otherwise. A curt sorry is all he can muster in response, voice shaky and tone insincere as he begrudgingly lets go of your waist to return to the game. It’s hot, actually. Immediately. The soft little whines you let out as his attention goes elsewhere, paired with the faux attempt at ignoring you only turns him on more, cock twitching as he warms it fully inside of you. He’s got no idea what’s even happening in game, vision hazy with the constant squeezing shut and rolling with every little move you make. That, and it’s difficult to focus on Sam’s advice when you start to move on your own accord.

The feeling of your tight cunt moving back and forth against him is almost too much to bear after such a long teasing session, even if he is partly to blame. Such a tight little cunt, fucking his needy cock so well. He wants to praise you for taking control, for making him feel so good, but he’s preoccupied and can’t let his friend or team down, right? Plus, it’s at least a little fun doing something so intimate so publicly, in the safety of his own house; his own desk, while his team is none the wiser. And he thinks you think so too with the way your hands gravitate to his arms, holding onto his wrists to make it impossible for him to play very well.

You’re making the game too challenging for him. Both on his screen and his self proposed one, his greedy cock convincing him to match your movements once again with small fucks forward. Nothing too obscene, nothing that could get picked up on his mic, but enough to leave his breathing laboured and his actions on screen faltered.

“Seriously Seb, what’s up with you tonight—”

“God, keep going—”

Fuck it. You feel too good! Unfairly wet and warm, sucking his cock off so well that he simply doesn’t care for hiding any more. If anything, he wants to show you off now. Look at how good she makes me feel, do you hear how wet her cute little cunt is? Hands off the keyboard and back on your body, he starts to pick up the pace and fucks into you faster. More precisely, now that he’s only focused on you and your perfect body.

A moan falls from his lips and it seems to kick-start your own too, knowing that he’s got no intention to keep you a secret any longer. Turned dumb with every buck of his hips forward and rendered stupid with every tug back, the tight suck of your cunt prompting him into spilling moan after moan down his headset for Sam to hear. There’s only you and him in his room in the moment, and the thought of Sam even existing as you squirm on his fat cock, pumping into you fast enough to have his desk squeaking against the floor, doesn’t even register. Really, no point is left in hiding his degeneracy, letting himself fall down onto your back to sandwich you between the desk and his chest in an effort to have you making even more noise now. A selfish want to hear just how much you love him. “So good, yeah?” He taunts you from above, voice barely above a whisper as he focuses solely on driving his hips forward and burying himself as deep as possible into your hole. Over and over again, humping you against the desk like he isn’t currently in the middle of a game, balls papping! Against your sticky thighs like Sam isn’t on the other end of the net gasping alongside him, an almost inaudible holy shit, Seb… ringing in his ears and forcing him to confront reality.

But you take him right back out of it, a short cry of his name in-between sobbed whines is all it takes for his grip on you to tighten, muscles tensed and veins popping with the amount of effort it takes for him to not cum on the spot. A reminder that despite the audience, you belong to him. That it’s his cock splitting you in two, bending his knees a little to get a better fucking angle while his arms wrap around your waist, truly keeping you pinned under him as his hips buck into you like a dog in heat. It’s too much, knowing that Sam is listening to him fuck you; almost too hot for him to handle. Cock twitching and head empty as he repeatedly fucks you up the desk, knocking a few figures and items off in the process.

And he smiles when he hears Sam whine too, coerced by the suck of your cunt to indulge in the praise he’s wanted to all night.

“Taking cock so well, fuck—” he half laughs, both in adoration of you enduring his fucking, and because he can hear Sam fisting himself in the background too. “Tight little hole.”

Having both his partner and his best friend receptive to his cock at the same time is not something he’s ever thought about before, but he can’t stop obsessing over the sounds filling his ears now that it’s happening. Shocked sighs and needy whimpers, the wet slap of his skin against your own, grunting into the feeling of your cunt tightening around his cock when he hits the right spot, momentarily struggling to push any further in as he chokes on a moan. He’s about to praise you again, intentionally trying to make Sam as embarrassed—or turned on, he can’t quite decide through his foggy mind which is more likely—as possible, but someone beats him to it.

In a tone that Sebastian has never heard before, but one that instant goes straight to his cock and draws more precum out to stain your insides with, Sam meekly speaks up. “Um… Could— I mean, if it’s alright, can you uh… Y’know, describe it?”

He can almost hear the blush in Sam’s voice, muffled behind a hand to keep himself as quiet as possible so as to not alert his family, a soft shuffle of clothing matching the squelch of a fist tight around a cock. God, he can imagine the scene so perfectly, and it ruins him. Almost as much as your cunt has already wrecked him, staring down at where his tip meets your hole, watching with heart eyes as his cock completely disappears into you over and over again. Hypnotised by the ring of cream at the base of his cock, the light sheen on your ass and thighs from God knows what fluids. He almost forgets to reply to Sam.

“What do you mean?” Seb asks, though it’s redundant. He knows what Sam is asking for, but it’s too much fun teasing him. Teasing you, his thumb coming down to rub messy circles against your clit while the other raises to your tits, prompting you to push up off the desk a little to instead rest your chest against his greedy paw. “How tight she is? Cause fuck, man—” he trails off into a breathless laugh, caught off guard at just how much you seem to be enjoying being spoken about. Like you’re just an object, a means to get off in the moment. A hole. Fuck that’s hot, his tummy flipping in response to your eager shoves back against his cock, attempting to meet him half way but he’s too quick for you. Too needy and greedy to give you time to catch up, impatiently showing you off without taking you into consideration besides making you feel good; and he knows he’s doing just that. Hopes your hiccuped moans are caught by his microphone for your audience to fawn at.

“Or how wet she gets knowing that you’re listening?” he continues, flicking at your clit with each fuck of his cock, standing up fully now to throw his head back at all the little huffs Sam lets out, how you cutely start to try and deny how degenerate you are, but his cock quickly shuts you up with short snap thrusts. “Fuck, baby— so pretty…” he kindly offers you between pants and groans, mindful to still pay attention to you as he bullies Sam.

“Really?” Sam quickly questions, the disbelief in his voice causing Sebastian’s hips to stutter into you, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as a rough hiss crawls up his throat. “Ah… She sounds so pretty, Seb...”

And you do. Sound so good when stuffed full of cock, the strain in your voice as you struggle to remain standing strokes his ego almost as well as your cunt does his cock, your legs wobbling under the weight of his selfish fucks and prompting him to keep you steady with a hand on your waist again. But Sam’s words give him an idea, and he slows his pace only for a moment. Cooing sweetly down at you as you cry out at the loss of stimulation, the desperation in your sounds urging him to keep going; but he holds off. It’ll be worth it, he thinks as he speaks a terse “Here.” And tugs his headset off, forcing it onto your head before letting his hips continue.

The surprise in your squeaks as he gives you no warning almost has him cumming on the spot again, knowing that Sam now has direct access to your dirty sounds causes his cock to leak some more, offering an even louder squelch as he bullies his tip inside of you again and again, a palm laying flat against your sweaty back to rub soothingly at. Or at least he tries to, but his movements are rather shaky due to how tense he is, muscles taut as he puts all the effort he has into getting you off, into making you moan even louder now that you have the headset, his free hand playing with your clit again, toying with the amount of slick that gushes out of you with every shove of his cock inside your tight little hole. “Tell Sam how it feels, baby—” he encourages you, words carried with a cocky attitude because he knows how good you feel. It’s a bit difficult to ignore it anyway with how loud you’re being.

Your instantaneous babbling is so cute, his heart hammering against his chest in time with how hard his cock twitches at the almost sentences you make and the cut off word he fucks you into. It’s cute how hard you’re trying to stay upright, to communicate effectively just as he’s asked you to do, but what’s even cuter is how the only coherent word that manages to spill from your pretty lips is close. He can feel it, too. The tightening of your hole around his fat cock, the way your body shakes and trembles as you teeter on the edge. All he really has to do is thumb at your clit a few times and you’re cumming around him, gushing wet from your cunt that he humps faster into; couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. The sound of his name in your broken voice is too hot to stop, surely you can understand.

“Yeah, fuck— yeah.” He huffs against you, leaning back over you to fully fuck his cock inside of you and then fucking you some more. Buried all the way to the hilt, little minuscule humps into you to ensure that his load reaches as deep as possible; because he’s close too. You can hardly blame him after your indecent display, even just hearing your ragged breaths as you attempt to calm down from your high as his cock disallows you a moments reprieve is enough for him, knowing that you’re fucked breathless on his cock. “Is inside okay?” He quickly thinks to asks you, and an uncharacteristically high pitched moan escapes him when you quickly nod and beg please; followed by a string of even needier sounding curses. Like he can’t quite believe just how lucky he is in that moment.

For a second he wonders how Sam is fairing. He knows just how turned on he is from hearing you get fucked silly himself, but he hears it on a regular basis. Surely Sam must be struggling too, hearing it for the first time, right? Maybe they’ll cum at the same time, hearing you beg for him to cum inside must set Sam off too. Maybe Sam is imagining it’s him fucking you instead of Sebastian, hearing the way he’s rocking you back on his cock more so than he is fucking into you, making you grind your ass against him as he humps his cock further inside. And then he leans down more, presses his face against your neck so that he can moan down the mic with you as he reaches the tipping point.

“Sam’s close.” You whisper, and it’s his breaking point.

Shooting his load inside of you, a silent wail gets caught in his throat until he allows himself to pull out just a little, promptly fucking his cum back inside to let his cock fully unload inside of you. Then the moans spill, mixed with gasped swears and whines of overstimulation. Sloppy fucks, uncoordinated as he fills you up with cum, squeezing his eyes shut because it feels too good to openly allow someone else to hear how good you make him feel, secretly wishing he could hear Sam’s response too. “Holy shit, fuck—,” he curses to himself, milking his cock in your tiny hole even when he’s done. Empty. Still, he wants to feel the warmth of your cum filled cunt. “Oh my God—” he whispers to himself, hips idly pushing into you once he’s completely drained. Still, he wants to feel close to you.

But he’s quick on the after care, despite his fucked out lungs, he still has the breath to praise you. Taking to gently kissing your neck and cheek once he’s done, cock still warming inside your cunt. “Did so good,” He promises you, remembering to let go of his bruising grip of your hips in favour of a soft squeeze hug around your tummy. “So proud of you.” He continues, delicately lifting the headset off your head to give you a break after such strenuous activity, and putting it back on himself. Still, it’s as if it’s not there. Placed on purely out of habit, regardless of the fact that he trails kisses down your back, his cock slipping out in the process to leave cum dripping down to the floor. What a pretty sight. “Good job baby.”

As he makes his way down your back and comes to your ass, he automatically kneels on the floor and spreads your cheeks open, gasping at the sight that greets him. Your winced hiss at the feeling of his fingers so close to your used cunt tugs on his heart, but his cock still twitches at just how pretty you are when covered in his cum. Mindful of his mic, he angles it away from him before diving in, letting his tongue lay flat against your slit to kitten lick at. Aiming to soothe you, and maybe to selfishly clean you a little.

“Fuck me…” Sam laughs down the headset, and it puts a smile on Sebastian’s face. He hopes you can feel it, wondering what Sam must be saying about you. “Uh… Yeah. Thanks, Seb.”

“No problem.” He speaks against your cunt, rolling his tongue around your clit so slowly, knowing that all he must be doing is riling you up again, but he wouldn’t mind a second round. He doubts Sam would either. Maybe this time he could turn his cam on, the thought alone causing his cock to jerk; of which he pets at it lightly.

There’s a few seconds of silence that follows, not that he minds. He’s quite content to eat his cum out your cunt for the time being, but he can feel the tension from Sam even through the headset. “We should do this again.” Sebastian speaks up, hoping to break the awkward air and also to show a genuine interest in sharing you again. The way you end up on your tip toes while he tongue fucks his cum back out of you tells him that you like the idea too.

“Wait, really? God I— I’d like that, yeah. Fuck, even if this was a one time thing I—”

“You don’t understand. She loved it.”

In response, Sam lets out a shaky breath. He’ll talk to Sam about it later, maybe visit him tomorrow with you. But for now, he has to clean you up.

“Be right back.” He says, throwing his headset away in order to pick you up; intent on taking you to the bathroom, however the feeling of you nuzzling into him stalls him for a moment, and then you speak up.

“So what do I win?”

Your question catches his attention, and he’s sure his confusion is written all over his face from the way you slyly smile back. He doesn’t miss the way your voice cracks, and how you have to cough to get it out properly due to the intense session. It’s cute, and he wants to hug you all better immediately. “What do you mean? Haven’t you had enough?” he jokes with you, cheeks warm at the way you giggle in response.

“Never.” You quickly shut him up, and he supposes he’s not much better… Already thinking about a round two. “But I mean about the game. Don’t get caught, right?”

Oh, right. Yeah. The game that he completely forgot about the moment he entered your tight cunt.

“Technically, you lost. So I’d like my prize now.”

Thinking of one on the spot is harder than you’d imagine, especially considering his cock is already hardening again when remembering what started this whole night, and the fact that he’s just came harder than ever, so he settles on a kiss. A soft starting one, full of tender love and affection, but one the quickly grow more needy, impatient, tongue down your throat as he finds himself needing to paw at his tip again.

He really should turn his cam on.

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sebastian smut #- writing

769 notes · View notes

withlovemark · 1 year

Text

to be loved - steve harrington

warning: mentions of steve's wounds, little angst! but it's a happy ending i promise

pairing: steve x reader

words: 2.3k+

summary: steve finally allows himself to believe in love again

an: i posted this a couple of days ago? and just now realized it got deleted. not really sure what happened there. anyways, found this in my drafts a week ago? (i have no concept of time). i didn't want to leave it rotting there so i wrote a quick ending and here you go. hope its okay!

three light taps, a knock that echoed throughout the boy’s dimly lit room, a sound enough to startle him after the events that have taken place in the past few days. not a single other person was in this house, a normality that he has accepted. steve’s parents were never around and he had no other relatives that would even care if he was still alive. his friends were a bunch of high schoolers, except for robin and…you.

he knows he’s messed it up with you. he can see it with the way you avoid his glances, the way you would choose to sit in the furthest chair away from him, the way you would get quiet when he was around and the way you stopped yourself from reaching out for him. the familiarity of your touch is no longer accessible, becoming only a memory. he can’t blame you though, your last words to him still replaying in his mind, loud and clear.

“i don't think i can do this anymore steve, i can't keep coming to your house, sleeping in your clothes, doing things that friends aren’t supposed to be doing, just for you to still be thinking about her.”

he’s about to roll over onto his bed. to sleep the remnants of the past away. to keep ignoring everything like he always does and get ready for a new day, pretending he was healed. that he was okay. he was not.

nowadays, it’s easier to slap a smile on his face instead of talking about his feelings. the last time he let himself truly feel something, he got his heart ripped out of his chest and trampled upon like it meant nothing, like it was a rock you could use to skip stones, one that you could let go of and not care enough whether it comes back to shore or get lost in the deepest parts of the lake.

another knock makes its way to his ears. he thinks he’s imagining it until another one comes. grabbing the bat he hid between his nightstand, he slowly made his way to his bedroom door, feeling absolutely drained. the pain on his stomach, from the demobats that got a taste, still stinging, a pain that travels throughout his body with every miniscule movement. slowly, he carefully unlocks his door, ready to swing, until his brown eyes meet your wide, shocked ones. letting out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he slowly lowers his bat.

“hi,” you whisper, “i uh, got in using the spare key,” a sheepish smile on your lips, holding up the silver key that was hidden in the dead plant placed on his front door. the key he told you about so you could sneak into his house at any given moment. the key that led to love marks all over his body, painting pink and purple constellations. the key you haven’t used since that night you decided to end whatever it was there to end.

“you agreed to no feelings, that we would just be friends with benefits and that's it, you know that's all it could be,” steve has his face resting on his palm, his once perfectly styled hair going in different directions. like this - bare chest, lips still red from yours, neck stained beautifully by the artwork you left behind, he looked like he belonged in an art gallery.

“i-i know, but i-i couldn’t help it…it’s just so easy to fall in love with you,” a confession that leaves the boy paralyzed, doe, teary eyes staring up at his brown ones — almost pleading.

“stop. you don’t know what you’re saying.” he’s angry. mad that those words could slip past your lips so easily. mad that even though you’re looking at him like he somehow brought the moon to you, he still can’t find it in himself to believe it.

“steve-,” you try to reach out for his hand but he pulls away before you could even feel him. all you want is to pull him into your arms, to remind him that he is worth loving but you see the battle in his eyes, the war that’s taking place in his mind and you know he has his kingdom closed, walls up, ready to strike and defend himself at any second. there is no room for you in his castle, you see that now.

“i-im sorry,” your voice was gentle, afraid he’ll completely lock the gate on you. the last thing you wanted was to fight, you’re defenseless when it comes to him.

“let’s just pretend that none of this happened and we can go back to being friends, nothing changes and for the sake of us and the others, no questions asked,” his words were met with silence that cuts through like a sword against your neck.

you felt detached from reality, feeling like you were watching this conversation happen instead of being a part of it. you had no control when you slowly got off his bed and quietly switched back into your clothes, his words transferring a sort of numbness to your whole being.

he watched as you removed his t-shirt from your body and tossed it into his laundry bag, slipping back into your own clothes, making him think that his old t-shirt looked way better on you. yet all he did was watch. watched as you gave him one last forced smile and walked out of his room. the sound of the front door opening and closing traveling throughout the house.

the days that followed after were stolen glances, opposite directions, uncomfortable silences, tiptoes, lingering feelings, longing stares, tension. neither one budged nor made the effort to even act like friends, going along with the others like they were fools when in reality, there can be no one more foolish than the pair.

“hi?” he greets you just as quietly, head tilted, confused, like a puppy who was hearing a new sound for the first time. he sees you glance at his bandaged stomach, eyes traveling up to his bruised neck and notices the way you want to reach out to him but just like all the other times before, you stop yourself.

“i-uh i brought you some food, and a first aid kit,” your voice still a mere whisper, he nods, guards down, stepping aside as you walk into the room you’ve been in countless times before.

you placed the bag on his vanity, taking out it’s contents one by one and like before, he sat upon his bed and watched — a bowl that seemed to contain his favorite chicken noodle soup coming into view, it’s aroma hitting his nostrils, a clear tupperware filled with your famous homemade chocolate cookies, one that smells like home, the ones the kids would fight over with, resulting to an extra batch made just for him since he never won.

he suddenly realizes how hungry he was, not really having the motivation nor the appetite to keep his stomach full. his body responds by lightly growling, a sound he hoped you didn’t hear.

“you should eat,” you break the silence, looking at him through his vanity mirror, “gonna need all your strength back to make sure you can always play hero,” you send him a small smile, he softly chuckles at your words, eyes falling to his sheets which suddenly became interesting, when was the last time he changed his sheets anyway.

“i also brought you new bandages so you can change that every couple of hours, make sure it doesn’t get infected, with all these monsters around, that’d be the lamest way to go, y’know?,” you joked, trying to lighten the air. he stares at your back, contemplating. regardless of the fact that you were always an arm length away, he missed you.

he wants to be selfish. he wants to be taken care of, to be loved.

and for the first time in a while, his mind is silent, focusing only on the fact that you are there.

making his way over to you, he wraps his arms around your waist, hands falling on top of each other, sitting tightly on your stomach, his head hiding on the crook of your neck, light puffs of air falling from his lips causing goosebumps to rise all over your body. he feels you stiffen, holding your breath, before relaxing back into his chest, hand gently hovering over his. you stay that way for a while, a minute or two, before you turn around, still in his embrace. slowly your hands make their way to his neck, fingers dancing lightly around his red, bright scar and ever so gently, landing around his cheek, eyes on yours, “are you okay?”

with those three words, the gates open and with it came a river of tears. he shakes his head no and this time, he lets you pull him into your arms as he found solace in your warmth, your perfume that smelled like the sweetest of flowers, making him feel like the sun was on his back as he laid his head on your chest. your fingers immediately run through his silky hair and he feels like a huge weight has just been lifted off his shoulders.

“thank you for being here,” his voice hoarse from the quiet cries that slipped past his lips, he pulled away, admiring the way the moonlight from his window reflected itself into your eyes, brushing back the strand of hair that dangled in front of them.

“i-i thought i was gonna lose you,” words that broke the boy’s heart. he can’t even imagine what he would have done if the roles were reversed. “i-i was so scared,” you continue, trying to hold back the tears that were begging to fall.

“hey,” rough palms making it’s way to your cheeks, softly caressing you, golden eyes shining, “you will never lose me.”

“haven’t i already?,” you cry out. you hated the way you danced around him like he was a stranger. hated the fact that you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in him, afraid you would cross the line that the boy remarkably drew out and completely lose access to him.

“no,” he lightly shakes his head, “ no….hey, look at me,” his finger under your chin, gently pleading for your eyes to find his. “i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere, i’m sorry i’ve been running, i was just…scared,” he admits.

“scared of what?,” you urge him on, waiting for the answer to the problem you’ve been trying to solve. his hands find their way around yours as he looks down, composing his thoughts.

“i was scared you would finally realize there will always be someone better, that you’d leave and i’d be all alone again,” he spills his truths. and you can’t fathom how blind you’ve been to not see it. the reason behind nancy appearing in his thoughts.

“i’m not her, you know?” you say quietly. he nods, “i-i know,” he says guiltily.

“and i don’t want better, steve…i just want you,” you confess into the night, steve feels all the air rush into his lungs, almost like he was learning how to breathe for the first time. he searches your eyes for any signs of doubt but only saw his own reflection in them.

“do you want me?” you barely heard your own voice, afraid of the answer. he scoffs, “god, is that even a question?,” you look at him, confusion etched onto the creases of your eyebrows and steve almost wished the bats got him instead of realizing that he has left you doubting his feelings for you.

“of course i want you,” his brown eyes staring deeply into yours, “i can’t get you out of my head, all this time all i wanted was to be near you, to hold your hand, god, y/n i’m in love with you and i prayed, god i prayed to a guy i barely believed in that we would both make it out there alive because i-i can’t imagine my life without you and-,” he’s breathless, telling you everything he has wanted for weeks. word after word stumbling out of his lips as your smile grew with every syllable, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

you pulled the boy towards you and like magnets, you connected, quickly placing your lips against his before your eyes drowned in your favorite color, the smile forming on his lips evident “i said it before but i’m in love with you too.”

his eyes soften, finally allowing himself to believe those words, soft lips meets yours once again, battling, making up for all the lost time, hands automatically finding its way up his brown curls like they were meant to always be there, his, around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible, fearing that if he let you go, you’ll disappear as if it was a dream.

but as you make that little sound, the one that drives him crazy, butterflies erupting in his stomach, he knows that this is better than any dream he could ever imagine. you were here with him. you were in love with him.

your hands slowly starts making its way down to his body, but before the situation could escalate, he can’t help but break the kiss off, the pain from his wounds still evident, he lets out a sharp moan, “ow,” snapping you back to reality.

“oh my god, i'm so sorry,” you apologize, inspecting his bandages.

“don’t be,” he reassures you, a light kiss placed upon your lips, “you’re worth it,” he teased, causing your giggles to harmonize, his forehead leaning against yours, a content sigh slipping off his lips. two eyes crinkling, sharing light smiles.

“as much as i would love to stare into your eyes forever” you break the dream-like state, “i worked really hard on that chicken noodle soup and it would be a shame for it to go to waste,” you laugh and he holds on to the moment as long as possible.

“now, we wouldn’t want that, plus we have forever to lovingly gaze in each other’s eyes,” he winks, sending you into a fit of laughter. he kisses you one more time before grabbing your favorite t-shirt, his t-shirt, in his drawer and handing it to you.

an: i really don't post in this acc unless i have something to post lmao. also, currently in my bridgerton phase so don't mind the profile pic, or do mind it? feel free to let me know your favorite bridgerton :)

#steve harrington x you #stranger things x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #love.c.#steve harrington x reader angst

1K notes · View notes

ghcstao3 · 5 months

Note

Ghost takes Vampire!Soap home to meet the fam for Christmas. Finding out very quickly that Soap is very good friends with everyone else and would have been invited anyway.

Ghost was the last to meet him.

sorry this is so late and also so short </3 i'm not sure why i struggled so much, my brain just wasn't braining for this prompt :')

“…just—I want to ease them into the whole vampire thing, yeah? I don’t want—“

“Simon, I get it.” Soap stops Ghost in his tracks, smoothing his hands along Ghost’s biceps. “I know how to deal with new people, love. I’ve been undead for a while now, remember?”

Ghost rests his forehead against Soap’s for just a moment. Despite the sun-kissed colour of his skin, there’s a pleasant, grounding coolness in its touch.

“I know, Johnny, I—I just need them to like you.”

“Well, vampire or not, I’m sure they will,” Soap says, grinning bright. “It’s a MacTavish charm guarantee.”

Ghost scoffs, shoving Soap away only a moment before grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers, squeezing lightly for courage as he finally knocks on the door of his mum’s home.

It’s less than thirty seconds before the door swings open, and both Ghost and Soap can hear the commotion inside leading up to it. It puts an easy smile on Ghost’s face, and when Soap brushes his thumb over Ghost’s hand, his tension finally begins to melt from his shoulders.

Ghost's mum greets them with a warm smile, halfway through saying hello to her youngest son when her expression suddenly falters, her brow furrowing in a deep, yet brief confusion.

"Mum, wh—"

"John? You aren't supposed to be here for another few days!"

Ghost looks between his mother and Soap; between confusion and a sheepishness that would surely stain Soap's face red if he still had the blood for it.

Soap clears his throat, glancing at Ghost only to look away once their eyes meet. "I had a... change in plans."

Ghost's mum laughs, shaking her head. "Well, no kidding." Her eyes flicker to Ghost and Soap's tangled hands and sighs a fond exasperation before stepping back to pull the door further open. "Right, come on in, you two. Before all the heat escapes."

Soap, suddenly appearing desperate to get inside, is quick to try and drag Ghost in along with him like it'll help to breeze past whatever that had been about—but before he can cross the threshold Ghost is tugging him back despite Soap's squawk of indignation.

"I'd better get an explanation for this, Johnny," Ghost hisses. "Why didn't you tell me you—"

"Don't worry about it, darlin'," Soap says hastily. He slips his hand free from Ghost's, presses a chaste kiss to his lips, and hurries inside.

If he weren't already dead, Ghost thinks he might kill Soap.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing #if anyone has ever noticed the inconsistency of me vs making ghost younger or older than tommy #no you haven't. be Quiet #he will be made how i see fit

172 notes · View notes

vtoriacore · 2 years

Text

✧ it’s giving . . . jealousy

note: im back from the dead and bringing you leona content cause damn it he's so 🤬💓💓💓 also if you spot any mistakes in this, no you won’t /j but pls spare me i was writing this half asleep 💀

synopsis: in which you seem to be paying a bit too much attention to your kitten, and leona isn't a big fan of it.

He glanced away for three seconds. Three god damn seconds. It was such a short span of time, ans yet that spawn of the devil had somehow managed to snuggle up into your lap and had the audacity to look smug about it too.

"Tsk, why is this thing here again?" Leona, trying to hide his irritation and failing doing so in the process, rolled his emerald green eyes so far back he could practically see the stars.

"This thing has a name first of all, for your info its Wolverine Junior the Second. Address him by his name please," you began to pet the tabby cat as he purred out in content before continuing your monologue like response, "and second of all, he is here because he was meowing outside to be let in after you so cruelly kicked him out."

"You've gotta be kiddin' me, your stupid cat wanted to go outside. This little bastard is manipulating you and you're fallin' for it." The beastman leaned against the headboard of his bed as he eyed the cat, who seemed to be staring back with fake innocence.

"Can you believe the nerve of this guy Wolvy Junior?" you focused your attention on the cat, not being able to resist the urge of speaking to your furry companion (the small one in your lap of course) in a high pitched, baby voice, "how dare he accuse you of that when you're such a cute widdle baby boy."

With a prolonged meow, the kitten eagerly rubbed its head against your hand, shortly before giving it a small lick.

Before Leona had the chance to make a sarcastic reply to your comment (and condemn the cat for even trying to play coy), your excited voice rang out throughout the room; "Leona oh my God he licked me! Can you believe it? I think I'm going to cry he's so cute! Why can't you act a bit more like him, hm?"

"That's it. Either get this damn furball outta my room or c'mere and set him down." With a steady glare directed at the cat in your hands, Leona crossed his arms. You couldn't tell whether he was serious or not, but you figured you'd never get a chance like this again seeing as he'll probably permanently ban you from his room after this fiasco anyway.

"What, are you gonna fight him? He'll beat your ass Leona, don't even try it." You had to stifle your laughter as your lover stood up in a record speed to approach your form, even the tabby in your hands looked somewhat pleased at what you've accomplished. Before he could get too close however, you got up from your spot on the floor with the kitten still in your hands and moved away from Leona.

"Oh yeah? You wanna play cat 'n mouse with me? Fine. Don't go cryin' when you lose, 'cause I won't go easy on ya." Accepting your indirect challenge, the tan male quickly tailed your form as you tried to dodge his attempts at grabbing you. You only succeeded for the first minute however, as the tabby resting in your arms was slowing you down and Leona just had to have amazing agility and stamina.

Before long, you had found yourself laying on your back on Leona's very comfy mattress as he firmly circled your waist with his hands. You quickly set the cat down next to you as laughter emitted past your lips at the fact that Wolverine Junior seemed to be pawing at your lover's arms in an attempt to get him off you; Leona however, didn't pay him any mind as his gaze focused solely on you.

"Not so tough now, huh?" With a small smirk embedded on his face, the beastman leaned in close to your face until his lips met yours in a brief kiss. You couldn't help but reciprocate.

"Oh shut it . . . You just got lucky." You smiled in content after he pulled away, entangling one of your hands in Leona's hair and petting the base of his ears (he would never admit it but the action always brought him comfort). You submitted your other hand to the small kitten who was still trying to defend whatever was left of your honour, melting at how quickly he gave up fighting Leona and settling his small head in your palm instead.

"Oi, hands on me . . . " Your lover's voice came out hushed as he placed his head in the crook of your neck, silently nuzzling his nose against it as a sign of affection.

"You need to learn to share honey." You pecked the crown of Leona's head with a small, playful eyeroll.

"Like hell I will. I'm not letting that cat steal your attention away when it should be on me anyways."

"I didn't know you were that jealous of him."

"I ain't jealous of some stupid cat." You quirked your eyebrow at the response; the cat meowed as if it were mocking Leona. The beastman simply growled back. This was really turning into something straight out of a comedy show.

#leona kingscholar x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #leona kingscholar

1K notes · View notes

wannaeatramyeon · 11 months

Note

PLEASE MORE OF THE HOTUB MEETING THINGS ITS SO FUNNY AND I LOVE UR WORK FOR LOOKISM

Hey Anon! I responded to the other anon but I got inspired to write more crack. What is continuity, you ask? Well who the hell knows.

Men of Lookism: Bathhouse Meeting Part 3... with Guests

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4: Women of Lookism

What is this, a crossover episode?

As more naked bodies file in, the tension could be cut with a knife.

The establishment was supposed to close off the bathhouse for the rest of the night. Any further admittance being strictly forbidden. This has never happened before, there must be some scheduling mistake.

Even with the fights and squabbling breaking out from before, the easy air was no longer.

All eyes are on the men entering.

Recognition dawns.

Turns out, they are not out of place here.

Gun Park makes the first move.

"Warai Oni," he bows, "We finally meet."

Baek Seongjun returns the greeting with reverence, "Shiro Oni."

"The fuck is wrong with your eyes?" A rude voice cuts through.

"Taehoon!" Yoo Hobin scolds under his breath, elbowing him swiftly in the stomach. He'd much rather face the wrath of Taehoon, who would likely just kick him a few times, than the infamous Gun Park, who would probably murder him. "Don't you know who that is?!"

"Why the fuck would I know?" Seong Taehoon does indeed throw a kick at Hobin, who manages to jump out of the way in time. How dare that little asshole elbow him.

"That's Gun Park!" Snapper is practically vibrating with excitement to be in the same place as him. "He was voted most popular by a fricking HUGE margin!"

Gun smirks at the last part but of course his partner comes to rain on his parade.

"So what? His eyes are freaky, aren't they?" Goo Kim teases, materialising next to Taehoon and resting his head on his shoulder. "He's so ugly."

"Get off!" Goo pouts as Taehoon pushes him away.

"Hey," Jason Yoon nudges Johan Seong, "There's that Taehoon. Do you think we should say hi?"

Johan doesn't bother to look, making a move to get out of the water anyway. "Whatever. Any crossover was years ago."

"So what's your backstory?" Baek Hangyul asks the man sitting to his right.

"Nothing interesting," Jinho shrugs. "I'm just crazy."

"Same." Hangyul smiles at him, having found a kindred spirit.

Seo Haesu studies the menu on the wall, mind never too far from food, and wondering what he should eat next.

"Hi," he greets the guy now next to him, eyes also scanning the menu.

Johan looks over and nods.

"Welcome to the Sad Boy Simp Club!" Ryuhei throws his arm around Kim Munseong.

"Sup," Zack Lee says, joined by Xiaolong and Warren Chae.

"I... guess that's me." Munseong grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Can I join?" Wangguk overhears, thinking that he deserves at least an honorary membership.

Confusion paints Munseong's face. "I thought you and Rumi...?"

"Sort of. It's all very rushed. No one's satisfied-"

Xiaolong suddenly breaks off from the group "Sorry, excuse me!" having spotted someone in the distance.

Ji Yeonwoo feels strangely exposed as he walks nude into the room. Not that he's shy, but he feels vulnerable. Like someone is constantly watching. He heads for the water as quickly as he can, wanting to cover up.

Mangi relaxes in the water as Yeonwoo settles next to him.

Two bald heads belonging to Jerry Kwon and Brad Lee catches his eye. He smiles to himself, comforted by the sight of his bald brethren.

A set of doppelgangers meet up.

"Baek Seongjun!" Xiaolong calls out. The other blue haired man smiles politely at him.

"I'm sorry for stealing your design," Xiaolong, contrite, executes a 90 degree bow.

"Don't worry," Seongjun dismisses any concern or ill-will, "It's not your fault. Besides, I'm dead."

From afar, Eugene keeps a close eye on Yeonwoo, observing him from the moment the latter walked in. Almost a doppelganger of his own if his growth spurt would kick in and if he could put on 30lb of muscle.

Goddamnit. He wants a glow-up too.

181 notes · View notes

rosanna-writer · 2 months

Text

a simple name and everything has changed (3/?)

Summary: we said hello and your eyes look like coming home, Rhys POV chapters Or: Rhys's slow realization that he's mated to Prythian's most chaotic human (and how much he loves her for it) Warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault, discussion of food insecurity and disordered eating Word Count: ~3.5k

This is Rhys's POV of ch. 19 - your mom's ring in your pocket, which is the initial discussion of the ring and the Weaver's cottage.

You can find it Here on AO3 or below the readmore.

It was a small miracle that I managed to read Azriel's entire report with Feyre standing so close to my wings. More than anything, I wanted her hands on them again. But for now, I was content with just the easy, comfortable way she rested her free hand on my shoulder. A small thing, perhaps, but Under the Mountain, it had been beyond my wildest dreams.

She was also peppering me with questions, and after she'd been deceived by Tamlin, it was clearly important to her that I answered all of them completely. So I did. The lack of information Azriel had been able to dig up worried me, and I didn't hide that from her, either.

Amren arrived shortly after that, and the size of her stack of books seemed…promising. Azriel might have run into dead ends, but I hoped he was only one at least.

"Research. As requested before you leave for Illyria, Rhysand," she said, dropping everything on the table.

Unsurprisingly, Feyre responded quicker than I did. "Research on what?"

"On you, girl. And whatever power has been thrumming in your veins since you were Made."

Feyre knocked back the last of her tea as if it were a shot of alcohol. If she were wishing she'd had something stronger before dealing with Amren first thing in the morning, I didn't blame her in the slightest.

"And I assume you found something, or we wouldn't be having this conversation," I said.

"I have theories, but books aren't enough to prove anything—we'll have to run tests."

I let my hand drift to Feyre's lower back. The thought of running tests on my mate rankled me, and I forced myself not to snarl, lest my Second bit my head off in retaliation.

"We don't have time for dramatics today. Please explain."

"Feyre has been claimed by the Night Court, and she's mated to its High Lord. It stands to reason that she's a creature of Night. But at the same time, her Making was a boon from Spring Court magic after taking Tamlin's place in the Great Rite. She may be…something else entirely."

The same thing had crossed my mind before, on nights I tried to focus on the sound of Feyre's slow, steady breathing across the hall instead of my own spiraling thoughts. I'd found my mate in the very court that had taken my family from me, and that didn't feel like a coincidence.

The violence should have ended the moment Tamlin and I became High Lords. But now, my newest recurring nightmare was of a third head in a box, sent down river by the Spring Court just like my mother's and sister's.

"If Tamlin thinks I stole power from him and swore fealty to Rhys on Calanmai…" Feyre said, and at the sound of her voicing my fears aloud, I couldn't hold back a growl.

Amren nodded, a quiet signal that she understood that the growl wasn't aimed at her. "Agreed, and because treasure troves with objects from both Spring and Night are few and far between, it's time to stop stalling. You have a promise to keep."

Perhaps I should have growled at her anyway—I needed at least another century before I could look Feyre in the eye and tell her about the ring waiting for her in the Weaver's cottage. She'd risked her life to free me, and I was certain that if I came anywhere close to insinuating she still had something to prove, she'd have my balls. And rightfully so.

Just the thought of telling her was enough to loosen my grip on my power, and pathetically, the darkness drifted towards Feyre, clinging to her arm as if it were afraid she'd leave.

"Find another method," I ground out from between clenched teeth.

"Feyre has to go claim it anyway."

"She's already proven more than enough."

"Spare me, Rhysand. We all know what you were thinking when you put that bargain tattoo on her finger."

Amren was right, though. The look she was giving me was familiar—I'd gotten used to it when I was a boy still mastering my powers and she was tired of me giving anything less than my best during a lesson.

"Tell me what you're talking about this before this comes to blows." Feyre shrugged my hand off her back, and I slid it into my pocket before I made a bigger fool of myself and reached for her again.

It truly wasn't fair that Feyre looked that beautiful when she was angry.

Amren, of course, wasn't going to deign to provide an explanation. It wasn't her business anyway. I took a breath and steeled myself, fully expecting the full truth would fan the flames of Feyre's temper.

"There's a ring," I said. "An heirloom of my family, passed down from female to female. My sister wasn't born yet, so my mother gave it to me when I was a boy. A reminder that she was always with me, even during the worst of my training, and I safeguarded it with preserving spells, the way our kind do for anything valuable. When I reached my majority, she took the ring away and gave it to an ancient, wicked creature called the Weaver, who added it to the collection of treasures she amassed over millennia."

It wasn't everything, and Feyre was smart enough to figure that out on her own. "Why would your mother give it away?"

Gods, I could kill Amren for this. She pretended to be above it all, but I knew during her next meeting with Mor, she'd be sharing every last detail of me squirming.

"Another test. If I were to marry or mate, then the female would either have to be smart or strong enough to get the ring back. And if she wasn’t either of those things, then she wouldn’t survive the marriage. I promised my mother that any potential bride or mate would have to pass, but I think if she were still here…she'd agree that you've already done more than enough."

I waited for more of Feyre's anger, but she just blinked, clearly bewildered. "A wedding ring?" she said, as if it weren't patently obvious.

"Yes, but you're under no obligation to—"

When she spoke again, the uncertainty making her voice waver damn near broke my heart. "You— You haven't…sent someone after it before me, have you?"

As if anyone would have been stupid enough to want to marry me. I couldn't imagine what could have put the idea in her head.

But then again, I'd been the one who'd made her feel unwanted enough to run off to the House of Wind as soon as we'd returned to the Night Court.

"Cauldron, no," I said, scrambling for a way to remind her—in front of Amren, of all people—that there had never been anyone else for me and never would be.

"And this isn't— You're not…proposing?"

Cauldron boil and fucking fry me. Now was hardly the time to be having this discussion—I had no idea what Feyre's views on marriage were or if the mating bond changed them. She'd always be my mate first and foremost, but…I couldn't deny the appeal of calling her my wife too, and she might be more comfortable with a more human way to refer to me.

But it was just as likely she was feeling rushed and didn't want any of that at all.

A pounding at the door heralded the arrival of the rest of my Inner Circle, and I made a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as we filed into the sitting room. I hadn't been able to think of anything to say, and they'd saved me from continuing to gape at Feyre like a fish.

Feyre went quiet as the conversation turned to dealing with the Illyrians who'd supported Amarantha. From Cassian's report, it seemed that there were more than I'd expected, but news of my return had sent them scurrying into the forest to hide. We'd have to flush them out.

I didn't relish the thought of several days in the Steppes, away from Feyre. But I knew the Illyrians, and I'd lose more respect by staying in Velaris and sending someone else to do my dirty work. Then again, it might be for the best—I wasn't sure I wanted Feyre to witness me kill again, no matter how much they deserved it.

Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and Feyre filled it. "If we need to make a statement to keep control of Illyria, then we could give them to the Weaver and kill two birds with stone."

If Feyre wasn't exactly the sort of person who might have once felled two birds with a single stone, I would have thought she was joking. But I knew better. Feyre didn't like waste, whether that was food scraps or ammunition or a taking a life; she was merely efficient and the farthest thing from squeamish.

Strong enough to survive the marriage indeed.

"Are you suggesting that we allow a death-god to eat a few rogue Illyrians in exchange for the return of your wedding ring?" I said, smiling.

Feyre didn't smile back—her face was set in that characteristic determined grimace of hers. "Amarantha refused to free her human slaves. I'm the Night Court's resident human. What better way to punish them for supporting her than turning them over to me?"

She had a point, and the rest of the Inner Circle seemed to think so, which was a relief. If Feyre were to accompany us to Illyria, I wanted to avoid objections from Cassian and Azriel.

"If we're cracking a few wing bones, Feyre might as well get a turn," Cassian said.

"It's Illyria, not Velaris, so word will get out, which we can spin in our favor. Distaste for slavery instead of petty revenge against those who supported the bitch who made Rhys her—" Mor said, then stopped.

Whore. That had been what she'd about to say. I should have been used to it after fifty years, and it wasn't as if Mor was flinging it at me as an insult. My cheeks burned with shame anyway.

"The bitch who hurt him," Mor amended, and somehow, it made me feel worse. I hated the thought of any member of my family feeling the need to tiptoe around me.

"I'll never be offended by you telling the truth. Even about that," I said. Mor took my hand and squeezed it.

"No one reasonable would fault you for slaughtering your rapist's supporters. But for the unreasonable ones…it's also true that involving Feyre could help dispel the rumors that Prythian's savior is a pawn you intend to discard."

I understood—for the most part, the other courts were more concerned with rebuilding the damage that Amarantha had caused, and they likely would be for decades. But as Mor had worked to put treaties and agreements back in place, there had been more than a few polite—if very pointed—inquiries regarding the wellbeing of Feyre Cursebreaker. For now, Mor's letters back had contained equally pointed reminders that the Cursebreaker had been through an ordeal and didn't deserve to be bothered. We couldn't keep that up forever, though.

"Assuming the Weaver is willing to bargain, it's not a bad plan," Azriel said. From him, that was a ringing endorsement.

"Hell of an assumption, though," Cassian added.

Feyre was looking at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to weigh in. I was suddenly uncomfortably aware that I had the authority to order her to either come to Illyria or stay back in Velaris, regardless of what her wishes were. I considered Feyre my equal in everything, but there were ancient laws and magic at play. Emissary or Lady of the Night Court…either way, her power was limited.

If nothing else, I wanted her to know that I wouldn't command her to face any danger. I had the bravest mate in Prythian, but Feyre deserved a chance to rest instead of shouldering the weight of the world. "All of it is your choice, Feyre. If you don't want to risk leaving Velaris, no one will force you," I said.

"I'm not shying away from any of it. I'll go," she said without hesitation.

Nothing stopped Feyre. I dropped my shields just enough to let her feel my swell of pride at her willingness to face this head on, even after everything she'd been through.

Cassian mussed her hair, and a memory came to me, unbidden—he used to do the same thing to Azriel, back before the War, when Az was still sporting those hideous bangs that swooped low across his forehead. And they way Feyre was trying and failing to scowl at Cassian…my heart squeezed. My own sister had always given me that look when I'd gotten on her nerves to break up the monotony of formal court events.

"Send your mate and your dogs out to the yard if they insist on playing, Rhysand. The adults still have matters to discuss," Amren said.

"Amren, if you wanted to play—" Cassian said, taunting her the way he always did when she called him my dog.

And as if on cue, Mor groaned. "Can we not? We're supposed to be working."

Under the Mountain, I'd resigned myself to never hearing them bicker like this again. After a decade, I'd forgotten their voices, their faces. That's when I'd stopped hoping.

Hearing it again while I shared the sofa with Feyre…it felt like a gift. She caught my eye as Cassian smoothed her hair back into place, and I smiled, just grateful for all of them.

But I could hardly afford to get maudlin with a court to run and Prythian in disarray, so I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

The meeting was a long one; I trusted Mor and Amren to keep everything running smoothly in my absence, but there was so much more up in the air than usual. Unfortunately, they'd likely be at it for a while—according to Cassian's reporting, the rogue war-bands had scattered, and it would take time to track down each group that had splintered.

There was work to be done, so none of us lingered longer than necessary. We were up before the sun the next morning.

As I was washing my face, I felt a pang of anxiety from Feyre's side of the bond. A few disjointed images and feelings crossed the bond—a tree covered in snow, the twang of a bowstring, hunger pangs. It vanished as quickly as it came.

Something had stirred an old memory for her, I supposed. But it seemed she'd mastered it, so I refrained from giving her a fright by winnowing into her room while she was still dressing.

Instead, I met her downstairs and immediately lifted her into my arms to fly. Feyre felt like she'd gained a bit of weight, which was good. The tangible evidence she'd been eating right and gaining muscle from training soothed some of my worries.

I started to ask if she was alright, but the second her feet were off the floor, she relaxed and buried her face in my shoulder. I couldn't help but smile. Since returning home, I'd quickly learned that she wasn't a morning person, and there was something adorably Feyre about the way she'd clearly decided it was too early to talk—but not too early to cling to me.

"Good morning to you, too," I said.

"We have somewhere to be," she said, somehow managing to sound both half-asleep and accusatory.

I kissed her temple, then winnowed us into the sky above Windhaven. The immediate cold rush of air against my face felt like freedom. Feyre—now fully awake—cried out and held on tight as I spread my wings.

My shoulders immediately barked in protest, even though all I'd done was slow the descent. Feyre wasn't particularly heavy, but I still wasn't strong enough to fly upward while carrying her—the latest goal the healer had set for me was getting above the wards around the House of Wind to winnow down to the street with Feyre in my arms.

But now we were gliding to the ground smoothly, and that was progress. Incremental, but still progress, even if my back strained with each occasional flap of my wings.

Fearless as ever, Feyre lifted her head from my shoulder to look straight down at the camp below us, despite the altitude still being enough to turn the stomach of anyone wingless. I expected more questions, but she was silent as she took in the view.

From the air at least, it didn't appear that Windhaven had changed much. Amarantha had mostly considered Illyria beneath her notice, and while her beasts had been free to roam into Steppes, they'd avoided it. Too few resources, too many warriors with killing magic.

Thanks to Cassian's reports, I knew Illyria was more or less intact, but it was still a relief to see it for myself. In those last seconds before Amarantha had taken my power, I'd chosen to protect Velaris, throwing the rest of my court to the wolves in the process. It was sound strategy—if anyone could defend themselves, it was the Illyrians, and there wasn't much worth saving in the Hewn City—but not being able to protect everything had left me with a heavy sense of guilt that had weighed on me for fifty years.

During the war, my father had treated my mother's people as cannon fodder. Perhaps I wasn't any better, despite striving to be.

It took all of my concentration to keep from stumbling as we landed. Centuries of muscle memory were the only reason I didn't break an ankle and drop Feyre in the process. But it looked effortless, and that was most important.

I set Feyre down, and—as usual—she slipped into a role naturally, standing up straight and maintaining eye contact, a clear signal she wasn't afraid. That she wasn't lesser.

Devlon approached, flanked by the same warriors as always, and for a moment, I could almost believe no time had passed since I'd last been here. "Your dog," he barked with a nod at Cassian, "already completed camp inspections yesterday. Don't tell me you've brought a human to check for dust in the barracks, too."

I bit back a growl at the way he'd spoken about Feyre. Starting a fight within seconds of my return hardly sent a message that everything was under control. If it weren't for centuries of practice holding my temper back around Devlon, his brain would have been leaking out of his nose.

"After fifty years away, it's good to see your sparkle hasn't dimmed, Devlon. Feyre Cursebreaker is a member of my Inner Circle, and she wouldn't be here to clean up a mess if you'd kept a tighter leash on your men," I said.

And perhaps crushing minds would be unnecessary—Feyre was already reaching for an ash arrow. I'd never seen her shoot, but it didn't surprise me that she pulled it out of the quiver with expert, lethal grace. She knew exactly what she was doing as she smiled and tapped it against her thigh.

Devlon scowled. "These last fifty years have been difficult for us all."

It was all I needed to hear to be sure that he'd keep Windhaven in check while we were in the forest. Devlon might have hated me, but he was reliable and followed orders despite looking for loopholes and grumbling about it. If he wasn't insulting me to my face, the situation was still salvagable.

"I'm not interested in hearing your excuses. The current state of your camp is pathetic, and if I see one more misstep, you can consider yourself court-martialed," I said, then started off for the trees.

I was desperately curious to know what Feyre thought of Illyria. Growing up in this place had shaped me—in many ways, even more than Velaris had—and the part of me that craved my mate's approval needed to hear that she didn't hate it here.

I reached down the bond, intending to ask her, but as I opened my shields slightly, a silver of a thought slipped through from her end. …Rhys's stupidly long legs…

It was a miracle I didn't laugh aloud, just kept my face blank as I reached through the opening she'd left for me. Stupidly long legs? But you look so delicious framed between them.

"Save it for when we're back home, Rhys," Feyre muttered.

Behind me, Azriel snickered, but I didn't have it in me to care, not when Feyre had just called Velaris home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her nock the arrow in her hand. Even to acute faerie hearing, her footsteps were silent. Her eyes were wary as she scanned the trees ahead of us, and her nostrils flared as she took in the pine-scented air.

A couple weeks of comfortable domesticity with her in the townhouse had nearly made me forget that Feyre was, at her core, a predator. Not quite a warrior, but someone shaped by years of stalking, trapping, skinning, and gutting, all to keep her family fed. Someone who slipped through the forest with all the lethality befitting the Queen of Nightmares.

I'd watched Feyre trap the Middengard Wyrm like a rabbit, but perhaps that had barely scratched the surface.

#feysand #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home #a simple name and everything has changed #he really went through the FULL SPECTRUM OF EMOTIONS here

28 notes · View notes

thewiz9062 · 17 days

Text

OK so

@smilingcrittersthingig 's Reborn AU has completely mentally beat my ass for the past 5 hours (compliment) so I'm just gonna. Rant.

THIS DESTROYED ME.

if I was an easy crier I actually wouldn't be typing this cause I'd be inconsolably bawling in my room

I can't even say that they're wrong for hating him, I mean he killed them and I'm not excusing him but GODDAMN I FEEL SO BAD FOR HIM AS WELL.

Like ppl joke abt how catnap is so devoted to the prototype but compared to simple "belief" He was PHYSICAL and actually tried to help him escape the hellhole that was playtime co.

(If you're not aware it's either theory or fact (i can't remember) that Theodore [Catnaps soul] had attempted an escape attempt via the help of the prototype and they got DAMN close but Theodore was fatally injured and instead of leaving him there to die the prototype had to go back and let them turn him into catnap.)

The prototype was so adamant on keeping him alive that they went back to their CAPTORS just so he wouldn't die. SHIT, I WOULDVE STARTED WORSHIPPING TOO!!! Even if he didn't make it out they didn't abandon him, so he had full belief that one day, under THEIR order, him and the rest of the critters would leave that place.

So imagine the heartbreaking moment when he realized that his fellow captors, his friends, both in form and mind, don't share the same sentiment, maybe even calling him crazy and violent.

And he just? doesn't know why??? Maybe he can admit the prototypes methods were a bit too confronting but it's not like they didn't TRY the non confrontal method. He thought they'd agree, they'd follow him but it wasn't the case.

So, well, he listened to the prototype. And that included killing his friends, yes, and it's stated (in the au) that he does regret it and I'm crying again great (positive)

And now they're all there, everyone that has either indirectly or directly been killed by him are there and they want him dead now too. AND HES PROBABLY STILL CONFUSED ON WHY THEY EVEN WENT AGAINST HIM AND WANTS TO KNOW. BUT ITS NOT LIKE HE CAN JUST GO ASK THEN THEYD ATTACK HIM PHYSICALLY OR VERBALLY ON SIGHT SO NOW HES S C A R E D OF THEM.

AND YOU CANT BLAME ANYONE BUT PLAYTIME.CO BECAUSE THEYRE ALL VICTIMS HERE. I CANT.

Oh and this.

I THOUGHT IT COULDNT GET ANY SADDER THEN YOU SHOT ME WITH THE DOOMED YAOI. HELL ITS NOT EVEN DOOMED ITS POST-DOOM. E V I L . THE FACT THAT DOGDAY PURELY HATES HIS GUTS AND WANTS HIM GONE AND DEAD THE MOST OUT OF ALL OF THEM IS GONNA KILL ME.

And then to add the final stab through my heart (compliment) I went to scourge for the enemies chart and-

HE HATES HIM SO MUCH! AND CATNAPS THE ONLY ONE OUT OF THE TWO WHO WANTS TO RECONCILE EVEN IF ITS JUST A LITTLE BIT AND WOULD MISS HIM QUITE A BIT WHILE DOGDAY JUST WANTS HIM G O N E . I CANT ANYMORE (I so can I love this)

You so did this to make people depressed for a week, it's working. And I love you for it.

Anyways we love angst in this household please keep it up I'm eating this au up for another 2 weeks buh bye

Edit: I'm so sorry for editing this so much the thoughts won't go away

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #dogday #catnap #smiling critters au #angst #AAAAANGST #IM CRYING BOTH HAPPY AND SAD TEARS AS WE SPEAK #smiling critters reborn au

42 notes · View notes

montywithchildhoodtrauma · 3 months

Text

So from the look of the new hotel Lucifer might be staying with them from this point on, becoming a beloved main character with the rest.

I love this fact but... I haven't seen the topic of his depression come up yet with this new living situation.

Sooo head cannons.

Warning, this will contain suicidal thoughts, intrusive thoughts, self harm, throwing up, and thoughts of self harm. If this triggers you in any way shape or form, please, for your safety don't read.

People often talk about depression meaning you sleep a lot and you're sad all of the time. And yes that is one thing that can happen, but people don't often talk about the exhaustion of being too tired to do anything and your brain to loud and filled with hateful thoughts that force you awake. Lucifer often lays in bed for hours, the night ticking away slowly. He knows that he has to get up soon but the thought of not getting any sleep hurts his head. But he can't, and he doesn't know why- hes exhausted and tired but his head wont shut up-

He stays in his room for days on end. Any attempts to coax him out of his room fail, after a while they just start leaving plates of food that never get eaten outside of his room.

He often forgets to eat. Doesn't deserve it anyway

Sometimes he purposely doesn't eat. Hes just gonna throw it up again-

He wanders the halls of the hotel when everyone else is, theoretically, asleep.

Man drinks so much coffee he should be double dead, five times over.

The only one who hasn't vented to Husker. (Its only a matter of time- Huskers hidden all of the wine and champagne)

Everyone now has their own custom Duck! Alastor's is set to explode soon but lets not talk about that (A lamb duck is set carefully at the bottom of a lovely statue, wonder who it could be for...)

After staying in his room for days he does wayyy too much for everyone, it's concerning.

Depression meals! (Its- two slices of bread and cheese?)

Non depression meals! (Very nice- Coffee isn't a meal)

He and Alastor have been given separate kitchens due to... complications...

Pancakes and jambalaya don't go together- Holy fuck, they don't go together-

He keeps his windows shut and covered at all times, no matter how stuffy his room gets- It would be so easy to just fall, everyone would think its an accident, no one would care~

The windows stay shut. One little lock between him and a free fall

He tries to avoid Nifty as much as possible, not that shes really interested in him anymore, she just... freaks him out.

Depression meal squared! ( All he did was add a second slice of cheese)

Wonder where all this blood's coming from... it's staining the corners of Lucifer's sleeves.

A few knives from the kitchen have gone missing... ah Nifty probably took them.

Interventions won't work! Hes the king of hell!

Damn it, the puppy eyes get him every time.

Refuses to join in on the trust exercises. Hes almost as stubborn as Angel on that front.

He often forgets what hes doing or what he should be doing.

I'll make a part two if anyone wants me to!

#hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin charlie #hazbin characters #hazbin hotel lucifer #self h@rm #tw depressing thoughts #eating disorder trigger warning #husker

40 notes · View notes

exuviiaes · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 & 𝐈

i've hoarded your name in my mouth for months ; LOOK HOW LONG THIS LOVE CAN HOLD ITS BREATH.

synopsis : BECAUSE THE WORLD IS FULL OF MADNESS & WRETCHED EVILS, A SURVIVOR FALLS PREY TO THE DEPTHS OF GRIEF AND GUILT INTERTWINED. but in the midst of chaos, beneath the catastrophe, leon knows where his heart lies all along, knows that there is always a home to return to. it'll always be you, he tells you. it always has been. character : leon kennedy quote cr : sierra demulder warnings : MINORS DNI. female reader. word count : 1.6k

THE PROMISE OF A TOMORROW DOES NOT EXIST IN A WORLD WHERE THERE IS AN EVIL WALKING , the dead among the living , tragedy upon tragedy in the renewal of man and MONSTER. the promise of a future does not exist in a world where the end lingers in the shadows, hungry for doom and damnation.

leon kennedy knows of horror and loss as it flourishes in his existence, feels the end of days surge in his bloodstream, but even then, he would endure heaven and hell if it meant coming home to you.

there is no belonging without you, after all, and it is in reunion that you are both reminded of this.

YOU LOVE LIKE IT IS A DESPERATION, a need, a wanting, & you are almost afraid you will choke on this heavy desire, but you succumb to the feeling, drown in the waves. lower and lower and lower you go, mind sinking until everything has consumed you and all you know is the feeling of him inside you.

"leon--" your voice is so fragile in this moment, the longing so prominent in the way it breaks, "i need you so bad--"

it's not enough-- god, this isn't enough. the distance you have shared all these months has weighed too much on the heart, the pressure so hideously insufferable, and even with him beneath you now, your palms resting on his chest as your hips move on instinct, it's still--

god, you can't even think straight, gasps harsh and haphazard, frustration pooling between your legs no matter how much you touch him. you need him more than he needs you, but if you ever dared tell him that, you're almost sure he would spend the day desperately fucking you in means to prove you wrong. your back arches at the pleasure that rushes up your spine, but you can't chase it, thighs trembling as you sink down onto him, feel his cock hit all the right angles.

"please, i--" and you sound so pitiful ; the whimper that escapes drips with such need that you almost sound love drunk, and maybe he'll tease you, make you do all the work, but you swallow your pride anyway because damned if you do, damned if you don't.

"easy there," he tells you, hands on your waist, voice far more gentler than the way his hips thrust up into you, "you've already got me, baby. hope you didn't forget that while i was gone."

and the way he looks at you-- there is something so excruciatingly tender in his gaze, the corner of his lips slightly raised in a knowing smile. there is something about this all that makes the tears surface before you can even realize you're crying ; maybe it's the way his hands are on you or the recognition that he's home safe and sound, or maybe it's the way you are still left wondering when he has to leave again. you swallow that lump in your throat, imagine that you can rid of that sorrow and selfishness and bite your lip so hard that the taste of rust threatens to come. but leon notices all too quickly, a faint flicker of concern on his visage as he pulls you forward until he's kissing you. it's that muddled mess of love and heartache and familiarity that binds you together, and you both wonder how you have survived this loneliness.

"you've got me." he mumbles against your lips, smiling when your body rocks against his once more at the mere words of comfort. "i'm not going anywhere, so be a good girl and show me how much you missed me."

you shudder at the way his hands fall back to your waist, lips peppering kisses along your jaw, voice low and heavy with want. you inhale, shaky, nod aimlessly as you straighten your posture, nails gently trailing down his chest as you sit up. your hand rests over his heart for a brief moment and you almost think you feel that wild beat beneath it all, remind yourself of the humanity that lies under the greatness and kindness and devastation of it all. he trembles at the feeling, laughing softly at that little spark of surprise that lights up in your eyes at his reaction. his thumbs trace lazy circles into your hips as he lightly guides your movements, allows you to take control as you find your rhythm. it's slow and agonizing and tantalizing, this dance between lovers, but leon has always been patient, watching your expressions with adoration as you find the motions, head lulled back and eyes shut as you surrender modesty and humility in sacrifice for euphoria.

patience soon turns to pleasure, dwindling self-control quickly spiraling beyond recover. leon's grip tightens as he tests the waters, resolve thinning and weakening at the sight of his forever taking all of him so well. when he slams your hips down on his, he cannot tell what he loves more: the feeling of you tightening around him or the flustered cry that he drags out of you with each thrust.

"you--" you gasp when he goes faster, feel your face heat up with shame and exhilaration at the noises that fill the bedroom. "i thought you wanted me to prove how much i--" the words die down into yet another whimper at the sound of his groans beneath you. his movements become more aggressive, needy, and he shows no sign that he's willing to be merciful. "--fuck, leon-- you wanted me to prove how much i missed you, not the other way around."

heartbeat to heartbeat, skin against skin, leon knows damn well what his request was, but you are entirely too captivating that he can't help give into his senses, urged with the need to see you come undone.

"sorry," he says, breathless, grinning when you grab his hand as if it could anchor the sanity that gets lost in the flux and flow, "i'll make up for it, angel."

with one hand holding yours, the other releases its grasp on your hip, slides up your waist, frantic touch dancing across your bare skin as it grazes your stomach, then presses firmly as you jolt in response. the sound you make causes your body to burn in embarrassment, but the way leon looks up at you almost resembles something of worship, gentle reverence in blue hues. there's something so incredibly warm in his eyes that draws you in, lures you like sirens in the seas, but before you can even think to lean down and kiss him, he wets his thumb with his saliva and brings it to your clit, the dreadfully slow drawl of the circular motions making you lose your senses entirely.

you're biting your lip again, unable to silence yourself at the newfound high that sends tingles through your body, makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

"you're doing it again." leon tells you, and somewhere in the softness and concern in his voice is an underlying command to relax and give in.

you want to blame him, tell him that your first thought was to cover your mouth, silence all those filthy noises you didn't know you could make. it's his fault, you decide, because he knew exactly what you would do and held your hand tighter because he wanted to hear you. it takes you a little too long to regain your composure, but the moment you think to speak, he's picking up the paces again, and god you feel him so much, feel the way he fills you up as he thrusts in and out at a sickening sweet pace.

now you're the one squeezing his hand like your life depends on it and it takes everything for you to not move away, because it's all an overload on your senses-- the fullness of it all and the way his thumb applies just the slightest bit more pressure on your clit, movements quickening.

you're so close, so close so close -- and he knows this, intends to be the reason for your undoing and ruin, so he tells you it's okay, that you can let go and that you're doing so well for him, taking him so good just like he knew you would. he tells you that he misses you, misses the feeling of you, and maybe those declarations are what puts you over the edge when you finally come, throat ravaged and sore from all the moans and pleas that spill from your lips. it's the way you clench around him, body twitching as you ride that high out, feel him follow you soon after in desperation.

his movements slow, eventually come to a stop. the silence is the bedroom is deafening -- a significant contrast to what it was minutes before, save for the labored breaths that fill the air.

something snarky lingers on the tip of your tongue, but when you open your eyes and look down at him, he's looking at you like that again -- like he's learning what love is again, like he's realizing all over again that you're his happiness, his end game, his ever after, and your mind goes blank, the haze of euphoria all too powerful. so instead, you let out a shaky exhale, smile blithely as you lean down and kiss him.

it's careful, cautious-- quiet, reverent, wanting. it's love, you think, and he tastes like safety and divinity and all you've ever wanted. you lie on top of him for god knows how long, fatigue settling in as his hand wanders up and down your back, slowly lulls you to the edge of slumber.

"i missed you, leon."

he presses a kiss against your temple, tells you he reciprocates the feeling tenfold, pulls the blanket over your bodies to shield you from the cold air.

"--love you, too." you mumble, "might fall asleep on top of you, sorry."

"right where you belong." leon laughs when you absentmindedly smack his chest, words of protest dying down when he holds you closer, warmth shared and known. "love you, too."

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut #im going insane im eating my hand ive never written smut this long or this detailed !!1 #which it's not even tht much but for me it is LMAO #the fruits of my labor . this took so long #&& atlas! writing

179 notes · View notes

flipping-the-coin · 6 months

Note

What was Ratchet and Optimus's reunion like?

𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙎𝙢𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙣, 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙀𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙘𝙝.

(𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩? 𝙄 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙩.)

𝙏𝙤 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

Hello questioner! I am sure you were probably hoping that Ratchet or someone else was going to respond, but I snagged this file first and I thought it would be good to give my thoughts. Did you know Optimus fell asleep with this question on his desk? He's always so tired and I don't think he realizes it. I wonder if he even knows how to recharge without being forced to his berth sometimes. I don't mind coming in to give him a thermal sheet though. Its one of the few times I get to see him without it being for something work related.

Anyway, to answer your question, Ratchet and Optimus's reunion is a little bit... complicated. Well not really, but I should say they kind of had two. There was the public one back on Earth and in the Council Chambers, but there was also their private meeting. Both of them are always stuck in their heads or busy with something or other, so I don't think they know about how much I know. I'm not the most well informed because of how big the guard are now, BUT being around the Council Chambers all the time lets me know the important stuff.

From what I know, Optimus and Ratchet haven't done anything really... intimate. However they are still kinda loud. Their private meeting was largely recorded by agents walking the halls, at least the audio at any rate. They need to get Ratchet's room soundproofed if they are going to keep hanging out in there. Its not usually a problem since Ratchet recharges like the dead, but Optimus is not like that. I've seen him at his worst and he's not exactly easy to deal with when it comes to getting him to recharge.

From what I gathered, there was a lot of reassuring going on as Ratchet tried to get Optimus to rest. Plenty of lovey dovey words and all that slag. I don't know all the details of their private reunion, but I could tell there were a lot of tears involved. Optimus cried and I think after he finally fell into recharge, Ratchet must have gotten up because my agents noted a LOT of cursing and angry planning. None of it was aimed at Optimus, but yeah Ratchet is not right in the head and Optimus is unstable. They got to be together though! I am happy that they could meet again because since then they haven't really done anything not work related together.

So yeah, based on what I know, it was very emotional. They still need to get their room fixed though. I don't want to hear when they finally get around to doing Conjunxed couple stuff. Or better yet, they can go get an actual hab. Those two live and vent work and I am pretty sure that isn't healthy.

Hope that was a reasonable answer!

#maccadam #transformers prime au #transformers #two sides to a coin au #transformers prime #smokescreen responds #smokescreen #optimus #ratchet #optiratch

37 notes · View notes

dominimoonbeam · 8 months

Note

Hi, first I wanted to say that I really love your writing and thank you so much for sharing it.

You're amazing and so talented and you made me addicted to your writing. The way you write characters is so real and your way of writing scenerios in general makes me so Invested in the story.

Another thing, I don't know if you accept requests and if you don't feel free to ignore it:

Can I please ask for Sam comforting darlin after a long week when they basically shut down from stress? (Can you tell I'm projecting?😅)

Please don't feel pressured to do it, I know you're working on a lot of stuff now too so maybe just keep the idea for the future?

Anyway I wish you a happy rest of your week, take care of yourself and rest if you need to!

Anon! Thank you so much for all the kind words! You're not the only one needing some comfort and care lately! I think something about this season has been rough for people for a bunch of different reasons, myself included. I've got you! Or at least, I tried. Hope you like it! And I hope things turn up and go smoother for you soon!

Sam/Darlin comfort fic below the cut. Will probably reread and post it on ao3 later on.

They were tired.

Dead tired. Like they wished they were dead. No, no, that was bad. They didn’t wish that. They just… It had just been such a long fucking week and it felt like everything was going wrong. Nothing big enough that they could point it out or complain. Just, off. And they hadn’t been able to sleep. And it seemed like the longer it went, the longer they hid it well enough that no one pressed for an explanation they couldn’t begin to come up with, it got heavier rather than lighter.

When they got home that night from a job, they were actually relieved Sam wasn’t back yet. The last thing they wanted to do was to drag him down with them. God, he deserved so much better than them. They tossed their keys on the side table, toed off their boots, and hung up their jacket. The side of their face throbbed. They’d gotten hit with a fucking bat. David thought their cheekbone was broken and had only finally allowed them to go home because he knew Sam would take care of it.

Darlin sat down in the big chair, their favorite chair, and told themself they’d just sit for a minute. And then they’d shower, see if their face was really that much of a mess, and if it was, maybe they’d drag their ass over to the clinic and get a healer there to fix it. They felt bad making Sam patch them up all the time, but they also hated the idea of anyone else touching them let alone mending them.

They could put an ice pack on it. Maybe the swelling would go down on its own.

They sank back in the chair and closed their eyes. Just a minute.

Sam was still at the Solaire house when he got a call from David.

His heart always lurched high in his chest when he got a call from David, his first thought always that frantic fear that something had happened to Darlin. Why else would David call him instead of Darlin or instead of using the group chat?

Sam stepped away from the big table of squabbling younger vampires and a very amused William.

“David?”

“Hey Sam,” David said, voice gruff but easy, instantly relieving that tension in Sam’s chest. “I just wanted to check in and see how they’re doing.”

The tension was back. “What?” Darlin had been off for almost a week, barely talking but not willing or ready to tell him why. He wasn’t sure they knew themself, not yet. But somehow he didn’t think that was what David was talking about.

The pause stretched. “Are they not home yet?”

Sam was already grabbing his jacket and waving heading for the front door. “They might be, but I ain’t. Why?”

David sighed. “Sorry. It’s not an emergency, Sam. The job got rough and they took a bat to the face… I would have taken them to a healer but they insisted—”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding. Of course, they would. “I’m heading home now. I’ll let ya know when they’re patched up.”

He called Darlin in the truck but they didn’t answer, which conjured a mess of panicked thoughts. What if they’d passed out behind the wheel? The thought of his Darlin in a twisted wreck was hard to push away and almost immediately replaced by other tragic imaginings.

He exhaled small relief when he saw their car in front of the house.

The front door wasn’t locked. Darlin never locked it when they were home. And there they were, asleep in the big chair. He sighed and put his keys down with theirs. Another step inside and their eyes opened. Well, one opened, the other was swollen shut.

“Damn…” Darlin winced as he closed the door. They sat up with some effort. “Sorry, I think I fell asleep… What time is—”

“Don’t you dare stand up,” he warned when they were starting to tip forward. He was already in front of them, gently catching their shoulder to ease them back. He kept his voice in a low hush, thinking their head had to be hurting inside and out. “You shoulda called me, Darlin.” He knelt beside their leg, carefully fingering hair out of their face. The bruising was new, like it had only just begun, and the swelling was bad. It looked like their cheekbone was broken. “David said you got hit with a bat?”

Darlin sighed, shoulders slumping. “I wasn’t paying attention and this guy… Yeah.”

Sam clicked his teeth to keep from snarling at the idea of ‘this guy’ whoever the hell he was. He reached toward their face but they caught his wrist and pulled it gently down to their heart instead. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, surprised.

Darlin smiled weakly, eyes already closed again. “I know. You always are, cowboy. But I don’t…” They sighed, their smile gone. “I don’t want to cost you anything right now, you know?” Their voice had gotten small, like they were far away inside themself.

Sam kept his hand to their chest, feeling their heartbeat through his palm. He leaned against their thigh, so they’d feel him right there next to them, practically leaning into the chair with them. “You never cost me anything,” he whispered back. “Healing you is a privilege. It makes me feel like there’s something I can do for you. I love you, Darlin.”

Their face pinched, not a wince but close, and he thought if they opened those eyes, they’d be teary. His other hand stroked up the side of their thigh, squeezing them gently. “Tell me what it is,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.” He said it quietly, like it could be just between them.

Darlin sighed and he heard all the exhaustion and strain in that breath. “I don’t know. I just… It’s been a bad week. It’s everything. I just feel… Everything. And I’m tired and I hate myself and I can’t… I can’t take things from you when I feel like I’ve got nothing to give.”

Sam watched them the whole time they choked out that barely audible confession. They’d never told him these things, but they didn’t shock him either. They hurt, because he never wanted them to feel like that, but they didn’t shock him. “Do you trust me, Darlin?”

That good eye opened enough to look at him, surprised. “Of course. I love you.”

He stroked his thumb against their collar, above their heart. “I’m going to heal you and then we’re going to take a bath. You can talk or you can relax. We’re going to get some well needed sleep and I’m going to order your favorite food. And every step of the way, I’m going to remind you that you’re incredible and all the reasons I love you, all the reasons your pack loves you, and all the reasons my clan loves you. You get to feel however you feel, Darlin, but that voice in your heart telling you bad shit, that’s asshole is lying.”

A tear rolled off Darlin’s lashes, even though their mouth was set in a stubborn line, like they refused to acknowledge it.

He reached up slowly, so they could stop him again if they needed to argue about this more, but he also couldn’t leave their face like that. His fingertips brushed the edge of the bruising and Darlin’s eye closed as that warm magic slid through their skin, spreading out. The delicate bone in their cheek healed and the swelling went down.

They exhaled relief when they opened both eyes and blinked at him.

He could see an apology building in their eyes, trying to form on their tongue. He took their face in both hands and leaned in, touching his forehead to theirs the way he’d seen the pack do. “Trust me,” he pleaded. “I ain’t ever going to lie to you, Darlin, and we’ll get through bad weeks together.”

Darlin stayed tense for another few seconds, like they might push this comfort away, but finally they sagged. Too tired maybe?

Sam smiled when they tipped their face into his, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. He kissed back and then pulled them to their feet to lead them to the bathroom. He had to make a dash back to his jacket to send a text off to David, telling him Darlin was fine but they were taking tomorrow off.

#thank you anon!#sam/darlin #redactedverse #comfort fic #dark feelings #angst #hurt/comfort #<3 #dominimoonbeam

45 notes · View notes