#but i guess in a way temptation is always there and he does know it exists

[shuuenka]

know that I would gladly be, /the icarus to your certainty

#alhaitham #genshin impact #alhaitham genshim #i ophelia-ed cyno last time now i will icarus alhaitham heh #anyways based on one particular paining #who guesses the paininting gets a cookie or something #shuuenkaart #i don't think alhaitham would be icarus per se #because if we consider knowledge as the methaphorical sun #then he knows the lines #but i guess in a way temptation is always there and he does know it exists #and because he knows the temptation exist he can draw those lines and not fly close to the sun #so in a way it is inverted??? this is not sun but moon #anwas i am rambling in tags again #bloop

[astarion-obsessions]

Hold on, there is something I thought about. When Astarion approached Tav with "all his favourite lines" of flattery, leading to fake confessing his love to them, I was genuinely hurt to see that he would play with Tav's feelings like that, just for the sake of entertainment.

But now that their relationship progressed and Astarion actually confessed that he developed feelings for Tav, but still claims to not know how he would define their relationship, I get the feeling that he made the choice to fake confess beforehand for another reason than entertainment or seduction altogether. Hear me out.

Why does Astarion fake confess his love to Tav?

When I get a scene with Astarion, I always reload a thousand times to try out all the routes and see all his reactions, so what I'm about to break down will be no less than heartbreaking.

First let's take a look at what Astarion has to say. He starts the conversation with a clear goal in mind: he wants to seduce us again and he says so right away. He continues with very openly displaying his skills at charming people with honeyed words, seemingly enjoying himself while doing so. But what we have to keep in mind is that he's done that thousands and thousands of times already. I think it's safe to assume that he's perfected this mask of a smug, flirtatious man enjoying all this debauchery. 

But after giving us one suggestive line after another, he does something that does not match the tone of the conversation so far: his fake love confession. I mean, just look at him. 

He goes from completely exaggerated facial expressions and gestures: 

When I'm with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again with you.

To this:

I love you

We get a closeup of his face and see that he gets serious all of a sudden despite the fact that the conversation has been all fun and flirty just a moment ago. He draws his brows together, tells Tav "I love you" and then just looks at us with this serious and almost sad expression. Completely different from before when he was just toying around. 

And yes, I just said he's very practiced in playing pretend, but just the difference between shallow and cheesy lines about craving to die together and their perfect body whispering temptation in contrast to a simple "I love you" and then on top of that the difference on how he conveys it - for me it just doesn't fit together, this isn’t Astarion pretending. And furthermore he gains nothing from adding this confession. The flirty lines would have been enough to seduce Tav once again and therefore ensure their attachment to him, so that his protection is granted. And that is all he wants, at least in the beginning. 

But then, why would he voice this fake confession in the first place? And that's where my theory sets in. I don't think he would risk the trouble of getting more feelings involved than necessary in his "nice simple plan" - seducing Tav, sleeping with them, manipulating their feelings. For doing so, he simply wouldn't need a love confession. 

With saying "How about I say those little words. Everyone's favourite" he already suggests that he's said them to a lot of people already. And this surely is a way to charm and seduce people very fast, but with Tav he doesn't need to rush. They're tied together for an indefinite amount of time, he doesn't need to seduce them in a matter of hours or days before serving them to his master. And he's already seduced Tav successfully before, so my guess is this:

My explanation for the fake confession

The real confession scene, where he admits to having started to genuinely feel something for Tav, came a bit out of nowhere for me. (And don't get me started with our options to react to his real confession. I talked about that here.) I don’t think he would just willingly tell Tav that he's grown fond of them, when a few nights before he threw the fake confession their way without giving a damn about Tav's feelings - that just felt very out of character for him in my opinion. 

But what if he started to fall in love with Tav even before the fake confession? Think about it, he has slept with Tav once - successfully seduced - so all he has to do is sustain this kind of relationship. Saying all his favourite lines at Tav and trying to get them to sleep with each other for a second time would have been just that - sustaining the relationship at present. But then he says "I love you". And I say he does so purposefully. It's a test. Having someone like you enough to sleep with you is one thing. Having deep and complex feelings like love involved is something else entirely. So he tests the waters with this confession. He hides behind all of these flirtatious lines and places the confession at their end to throw a veil over its real meaning. 

It may be a lie either way - saying it just for entertainment or saying it to see if Tav is open for deeper feelings - but I think he exaggerates on purpose to trigger a reaction that speaks for itself. Does Tav care about these words? Is Tav hurt to see that Astarion is apparently willing to play with their feelings like this? Or do they not care about such vanities? 

I want to emphasise the fact that Astarion hasn't had the luxury to allow himself anything resembling these kinds of feelings for at least two centuries. Naturally, he would not just come around and open up his heart to Tav when all he's done until then was charming them just for his plan. He would want to reassure himself that this wouldn't turn against him if he dares to show such great vulnerability in front of anyone. He says it himself when he properly confesses that it is intimidating for him to make decisions on his own again. And confessing his feelings is exactly one of those intimidating decisions.  

Interpreting Astarion's reaction

To back up my take I want to take a closer look at Astarion's reaction when we reject him after the fake confession. After he laughs the confession off in one way or the other, he insists on having sex with you again. Here he sticks to exaggerated facial expressions and gestures, just like before with his honeyed words.

Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favourite lines at you, I’d much rather we got to experience each others’ full portfolio of talents once again.

But if Tav then turns him down with saying “I don’t think I really want this”, this is his immediate reaction:

Well, well, excuse me while I die of a broken heart.

He takes a few seconds to process what Tav said, and then instantly responds with another exaggeration accompanied by fitting gesticulation, ending with a fake smile. After that he just looks at Tav for another few seconds and his demeanor changes again:

In all honesty, it's a shame. That time was special to me. I've gotten on my back ten thousand times or more, and forgotten half of them. 

He loses his fake smile, averts his gaze and starts fumbling with his hands nervously. He can't hide his disappointment, but he tries to keep his face neutral - even if it doesn't work all too well. He tells us we were special before giving us a scrunched fake smile once again. It's really hard to watch…

But you… you I'll remember. 

For usually being rather quick to react and respond, we can see how difficult it is for him to react to Tav in this case.

Have a fine evening, dear. 

He pauses yet again, lifts his gaze to the sky and just looks so lost. Mere moments ago he was flirting and laughing, and now he seems so utterly desperate. And then, he can't even keep up his attempts of masking his sadness when his expression slips in the end and his face scrunches painfully for just a second before the whole scene ends. This really broke my heart.

Conclusion

This is definitely not the reaction of someone who was turned down for just another round of sex - even if this meant that Astarion's plan of assuring his safety didn't work out. Because then he could have just tried to get Tav to change their mind with another one of his favourite lines. Or he would have at least reacted like he does when you tell him to stay at the camp ("Oh darling, I'm hurt" which he obviously isn't). But he doesn't. 

Because this is the reaction of someone who dared to get his hopes up. Someone who thought that maybe, just maybe, these unwanted, complicated feelings for Tav which had slowly crept up, nullifying his nice simple plan, could genuinely lead to a relationship he didn't know he needed so desperately. Someone who is so devastated by a rejection at this point, that he doesn't even question it. He just accepts that Tav isn't interested in sleeping with him, let alone having feelings beyond sexual desire. It's just as it always has been. It's not as if Astarion remembers anyone caring about him, so why should it be different this time… 

And that's why I think this whole fake love confession was a way for Astarion to veil his growing feelings for Tav under the pretence of flirting, and had the purpose to find out if he could more or less safely confess his true feelings to Tav. 

Gods, this is so heartbreaking. I need to pat Astarion's fluffy head in my dreams as a redemption. 

#astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion romance spoilers #astarion meta #bg3 meta #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #astarion analysis

[rogueddie]

A Spot in My Life T | 953 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is keeping a spare sweater or blanket in the car because they always get cold

Steve Harrington is a bitch.

It's something that Eddie knew, all through high school, but he had thought that Steve had somehow became a new person- thanks to the Upside Down and constantly almost seeing the world end.

Steve isn't a bad guy, he can admit. He's still trying to keep an eye on everyone, make sure they're ok, even checking in with Eddie in his own way.

But he's very sly about it, hiding it being playful jabs, eye rolls and cocked hips.

It rubs him the wrong way. And it's only made worse by how much Eddie still likes him. It's as if the bitchiness only draws him in more, even as it makes his chest burn with irritation.

He tries to avoid Steve for as long as he can. He knows that finally befriending him like they both want will only end badly, but he knows he can't resist the temptation.

He enjoys the time before as much as he can, reveling in how often Steve will try to corner him so they can hang out, how much he whines and pleads and pushes. He enjoys the illusion that Steve could feel anything for him like he does for Steve.

And, when they finally do hang out, his fears are confirmed.

Steve is amazing. He's funnier than he comes across as at first too. He pays attention to what Eddie says and tries to get him anything he wants.

He's the type of friend that anyone would fight for, Eddie is sure. It explains how he ended up so popular in high school too.

If Eddie had known what Steve is truly like, he'd have been lining up for a scrap of his attention like everyone else.

"They're assholes," Steve explains, when Eddie finally asks about his old lackeys. "Tommy always took shit a step too far. I didn't need them. Probably shouldn't have befriended them in the first place."

"They were your friends," Eddie reminds him.

Steve sighs, leaning back. "Yeah, I guess. Just wish I'd realised sooner, how they were getting."

He never complains about the kids, not genuinely. In the quiet moments, when Steve is honest with an almost painful degree of vulnerability, he talks about how amazing the kids are. He talks about how honored he is to be friends with Dustin.

It only makes Eddies feelings inch ever closer to 'the L word'.

"You should talk to him," Robin suggests. "He really is amazing."

"I know, but... guys that are ok with lesbians still get weird about gay men, you know?"

"Yeah, but Steve isn't like that. Did he ever tell you the full story of how I came out to him?"

"It was after the Russian torture drugs, right?"

"We were in the bathroom, near the cinema. I thought we might have puked it all up, so we decided to test it, ask each other questions. So, I asked him if he was ever in love..."

"Oh... oh no."

"Oh yes. He liked me, told me so, and that's when I came out to him."

"Holy shit, Robin."

"But that's my point. He was a little surprised, sure, but he started making jokes, like, immediately. Didn't phase him at all. He got with it immediately. We're just friends, and that's not a problem for him."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back so it thumps into the wall behind him. "But that just makes him more hot!"

The story plagues his mind, to the point that it's the only thing he can think about when he picks Steve up for their next hang out.

In the dead of winter, Steve feels the cold worse than anyone else that Eddie knows. He runs hot, and the sudden temperature drops brings out the worse in him.

He's shivering when he climbs into Eddie's car.

"Fuck, why isn't your heating on?" He whines.

"It's broke," Eddie reminds him. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Don't worry? I'm gonna get hypothermia, Eddie! I don't want to turn into an ice sc- what is that?"

He takes the blanket that Eddie had reached back to grab, staring at it.

"It's a blanket."

"No shit, I mean... it's yellow."

"Yeah? You like yellow."

"You got this for me?"

"You see anyone else shivering in my van?"

"No, it..." Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie before slowly wrapping the blanket around himself. "Sorry, uh... thank you. This is, um, nice."

"it's nothing."

"It's not. Just- take the thanks, Ed."

"Alright, alright."

They're silent for the rest of the drive. It's so unusual for them that it has Eddie nervous, glancing at Steve every other moment.

When they finally pull to a stop, Eddie turns to Steve, who stays where he is. He stares out the front window for a moment, before turning to face Eddie.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, I am. Enjoying the warmth."

"That all?"

"... yeah."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"Wh- hey, I'm a good liar!" He tries to glare, but quickly backs down with a huff. "Alright, fine, but it's really sappy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Oh, no, the horror."

"Shut up. I was just thinking about how, like... there's so many little things in your life that are for me. My tapes in your room, spare clothes in your closet, this blanket... I really appreciate it, man. You've made space for me in your life. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, right. That's... yeah. Of course, Steve. You're always welcome. I love- uh... spending time with you."

"Good. I love spending time with you too."

"Good."

"Great."

Steve's smile is wide and goofy. He's sure that his own is just as cheesy.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

[grandlinedreams]

|| [AS!reader Masterlist]

|| warnings: as!reader, semi reader-centric from Az's viewpoint, more detail to pre-Cauldron meeting, protective Nesta, mentions of previous pieces to this series, little touch of angst, fluff, starfall!fic, mating bond, suggestive, nsfw: piv, unprotected sex (make informed decisions, kids!), soft sex, fingering]

The first time Azriel meets you, you're human. Painfully mortal but beautiful, even for the wary way you watch him from beside your sisters.

He thinks you may orbit closer to how Elain views it all, frightened rather than combative, no teeth on display like Nesta. But you do not shy away, nor do you lash out ㅡ you simply watch. You don't speak, but the protective shift of Nesta, other side of your fair coin, says enough.

He hears you for the first time, however, before they depart. You stand a few feet away, watching him before your lips part.

"For what it's worth," you tell him, "Feyre looks happier now. Happier than she ever was with us." You pause. "I'm glad."

The second time that Azriel sees you, it's as you're being thrown into the Cauldron. You fight much like your sisters, but you still go under ㅡ and reemerge as something you'd never wanted to be.

And just like that, you're launched into Azriel's life with all the force and grace of a shooting star.

"Guess what?"

From the way Cassian is grinning at him, Azriel isn't sure that he wants to know. There are a thousand reasons for him to be looking like that, all amused mischief as his eyes gleam.

"What," he says, weary as Cassian throws an arm around his shoulders.

"Mor told [Name] about how Starfall is coming up," his brother says and while his tone is conversational, there's smug edge to it that makes Azriel want to punch him.

"And?" He prompts, pulling free of Cassian's grip to avoid giving into that temptation.

"Come on," Cassian goads, "it'd be the perfect time to tell her about the mating bond." When Azriel tenses, Cassian gives him a look. "Everyone knows, Az. We can all tell."

The Illyrian doesn't blush outright, but color blooms a little on his cheeks as he counters roughly, "Everyone but [Name]."

Cassian's smile dims. "Well, yeah. But if you told herㅡ"

"No." Azriel's tone is quiet but sharp. "I won't do that to her." He won't force you, refuses to. You've already had so much taken from you, decided for you ㅡ he won't be the one to add more.

He's content with what he has with you now, truly ㅡ even though there have been several instances this last week alone where he's wanted to do nothing but kiss you.

He's waited this long, after all ㅡ what's a little more?

Despite being your twin, it isn't often that Nesta indulges in anything particularly affectionate with you ㅡ so when she offers to braid your hair for Starfall, you accept.

Sitting down in the chair before the vanity in your room, you watch her pluck your brush from the counter before you speak.

"Hey, Nes?" You wait for her soft sound of acknowledgement. "You and Cassian are mates, right? Like Feyre and Rhysand?"

"Yes," she answers slowly, watching you in the mirror ㅡ trying to figure out what you're trying to get at as she sets the brush down and begins finger combing through your hair. "Why?"

Your gaze drops from hers to your fingers, brow furrowing in thought about how to tread forward. "...What...what did the bond feel like?"

Her fingers still in your hair for a moment, and you can feel her gaze on you. Weighing, assessing ㅡ wondering why you're asking. Your gaze doesn't leave your hands. The fingers through your hair resume, sectioning it out.

"I don't know how to put it," she says quietly, quieter than you've ever seen your sister be as she begins plaiting your hair. You lapse into silence, watching her. For all her sharp edges, she's just as beautiful as she's always been ㅡ and you understand why Cassian loves her as fiercely as he does.

She sweeps the braid off your neck, winds it into an elaborate halo the same shade as her own ㅡ pinned into place by a handful of pearl-head pins.

"Like coming home," Nesta finally says, and your eyes lock. "It felt like coming home."

In the countless centuries that he's been alive, Azriel genuinely doesn't think he's ever seen anything as beautiful as you are.

You turn as he approaches, and he forgets how to breathe for a second, heart stuttering in his chest. Silhouetted against the night sky, your dress shimmers like liquid starlight ㅡ but his eyes flick to your earrings, the necklace that rests against your collarbone. Both are deep blue ㅡ the same shade as his siphons, his Starfall gift to you.

He tries not to read into it, even for the way it sends his heart beating faster at the idea of the subtle claim to you.

"There you are," you say as he approaches, "I was waiting for you."

"I was looking for you," he counters, smile tugging at his lips as you answer with your own, and when he reaches the railing of the balcony, you slip to stand beside him. "Not one for parties?"

"Not really," you admit. It'd taken a hearty glass of wine from Mor to keep you from changing your mind and hiding in your room ㅡ and even now, the slow sweep of Azriel's eyes over you makes nerves buzz beneath your skin.

Turning away for a moment, you pluck the neatly wrapped parcel from beside you and present it to him, trying to keep your voice steady. "This is for you."

Azriel blinks and then reaches to take it from you, paper crinkling beneath his fingers. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you say, trying not to think of the other parcel still on your bed, neatly tied with a bow. Instead, you busy yourself with watching as Azriel tugs the paper free carefully, popping the box open.

It's a sheath. Made of dark to match his fighting leathers, polished metal clasps wink dully in the light, and words are tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

"It's for Truth-teller," you say, resisting the urge to wring your hands, "I saw some like it at a shop and went in to ask if it'd be possible to make one custom."

Hope sparks in Azriel's veins, sings at the fact you had it made especially for him. "It's beautiful," he murmurs. "Thank-you."

Relief floods you, but you're not done yet. You exhale softly, steeling yourself. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

Azriel stills.

"I'm still adjusting to all of...this," you say, gesturing vaguely, "but it's been easier for me, because of you. I appreciate what you've done for me. And I ㅡ I'm not sure if I really understand the whole concept of mates, but.." You can feel his attention on you, unfaltering as you force yourself to meet his eyes. "You make me feel safe in ways nobody else has, and I ㅡ I love you, Azriel."

Azriel stares at you. And for one horrifyingly too-still moment, you think he's going to reject you. That you're wrong, that the pull you've felt has been all you ㅡ and then he's kissing you.

His hands, scarred and just as beautiful as the rest of him, cup your face gently as you lean into him with wordlessly eager curl of your own fingers into his shirt.

Idly, Azriel notes that the stars have begun their yearly descent, but neither it nor the sweet strains of music matter when your lips are so soft against his.

"We are," he murmurs against your mouth when he finally convinces himself to pull away, wiping at the tears that slip from your eyes. "Mates. I've known for a while."

You blink up at him. "How long have you known?"

He thumbs at the soft plush of your cheek. "Since that first time I took you for a flight at night."

Your lips tremble. "Oh," you say. "Oh."

And then you're crying again, and Azriel is all too happy to kiss every single tear away.

If he died right now, he'd die content.

You're against him in the way he's only allowed himself to dream about, face tucked into his neck and breathing steady, heartbeat a perfect match for his.

Gone is your dress, draped against a chair in your room, swapped for the comfort of a sweater of his, black material that drapes to your mid thigh and wreaths you in his scent. The earrings and necklace have stayed, and he'd be lying if he said it doesn't feed into that instinctive, territorial need.

"Still have something for you," you mumble, half-asleep lilt to your tone that makes him squeeze you to him tighter before he relents, letting you pull away from him.

"You're going to spoil me," he says, and you huff a soft laugh.

"Maybe you deserve to be," you answer with a gentle tug to that bond, one that he answers in kind. You return with a small box, presenting it to him with the glimmer of starlight in your eyes as he sits up.

The ribbon wound around it is also blue, a touch that makes his lips quirk before he's opening it. Nestled in the middle is a tiny tart of flaky crust and mixed berries, sugar sprinkled carefully over it.

"I was told that I had to offer you food to show that I accepted the bond," you say, quiet as you watch him pull the tart from the box. "Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks?"

Azriel blinks. "You made this?"

You nod. "Before everything," you say, voice quiet, "when we were still...I used to sneak down to the kitchen and watch the cooks."

Azriel brings the tart to his lips. It's sweet, the crust crisp ㅡ but more than that, he lives for the way your eyes light up, the happiness that vibrates down the bond and magnifies his own.

He swears he'll do whatever he has to in order to keep seeing that beautiful smile of yours.

"Come here," he murmurs, opens his arms for you as you crawl back onto the bed to fold yourself back against him ㅡ and then his fingers are under your chin, tilting your head up for a kiss.

Kissing Azriel is something that you're absolutely certain that you'll never get tired of. The kiss deepens, and he tastes of berries and sugar, making your head spin more than wine ever has.

The creep of his fingertips against your bare legs makes you shiver and press into him, soft noise leaving your lips. Azriel's hands curl against your legs for a moment before he's kissing you harder, a little rougher ㅡ and then he's turning, pressing you into your bed as his mouth leaves yours.

The work of his teeth against your pulse makes you jolt with a soft moan, and you're squirming by the time he pulls away to look at his handiwork, pupils almost engulfing his iris. "Beautiful," he rasps, and you reach to pull him back against you.

Your fingers slip beneath his shirt to span against toned muscle and warm skin, delighting in every twitch and shiver you get as you explore.

There are slots in it to allow his wings, and you slip your hands free so that he can remove his shirt before you're touching him again. Your fingers trace the dark whorls of ink over his shoulders, following the delicate curls until he's pinning your arms above your head.

"If you keep touching me like that," he tells you, "I'm going to lose my mind."

Slotted between your legs, you can feel the hard press of him against your inner thigh, and he groans when you arch into him.

One hand keeps your wrists above your head as the other shoves the material of his sweater up, pulling until he's tossing it over the edge of the bed.

The soft sound he gets when he palms at your breast makes him wonder if he can come from just your noises alone ㅡ and then he's mouthing at your ribs, kissing against your navel and then back up to your lips.

The kiss is deceptively sweet for how he pairs it with the slip of his hand between your legs, groaning at the abundant arousal that wets his fingers.

A choked moan leaves your lips as he slides a finger into you, the pulsing clamp of your walls around the intrusion as your brow knits, hips jerking against the exploratory thrust of his digit, soon joined by a second.

You pant as he works you open, the curl and spread of Azriel's fingers making you writhe as pleasure pools in your lower belly.

Azriel doesn't miss a thing, taking in every little twitch of your body, the sounds that you make ㅡ committing it all to memory. It's all far better than what he'd imagined, and his name has never sounded better than when it spills from your lips as you tighten around his fingers.

He eases you through the pleasure that sweeps over you, murmuring such soft praise into your skin that your chest aches. His fingers slip out of you, your whine of protest cut short by the way he kisses you soundly.

There's the gentle coax of your legs to part them a little further ㅡ and then he's bare against you, nudging at your slick folds before he sinks into you.

Light sparks at your fingertips, calmed by the slot of Azriel's fingers between yours, pushing them down into the bed beside your head as his hips roll against yours.

Azriel takes his time with you. He keeps his pace steady and languid, the creak of the bed beneath you and your shared moans a quiet symphony he wants to hear for eternity.

Your pleasure crests a second time with the warmth of his mouth at your breast and this time you take him with you, the hot spill of him making you whine his name ever so sweetly.

He takes you two more times after that, finishing with you splayed out over him, your backdrop the night sky beyond your window as you put all the stars to shame.

#ㅡmine. #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #az x reader #i'm going to bed now i'm tired

[bbunisre]

02: MEGUMI IS LIGHTWEIGHT (1.3k words)

Panda’s parties are always the same—borderline annoying, misogynistic rap music pulsating in your ears and a lot of dancing. A lot. So when you enter the party, swinging your car keys with your fingers and shooting acknowledging nods at mutuals, you’re not surprised to see the same once again.

“They’re here!” a rogue Panda yells, coming through with a red cup.

He hands another one he's holding to you, an unspoken understanding of your frequent drinking habits. It wasn’t that you were an alcoholic (past you would say something else) but you were known for your high tolerance.

“Where’s that bastard Toge? I need to have a word with him.” I ask Panda.

“Oh, I think he’s upstairs. Probably making out with some chick, I don’t know.” Panda shrugs easily.

Even if Panda is the closest to Toge, you know in a heartbeat that Toge is not easily drawn to the temptations of lust as easily as Panda thinks he is. In fact, you guess that Toge's most likely playing on his Switch upstairs, avoiding the party that Panda’s forced him to come to.

You turn to Tsumiki, “I’ll go. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” she smiles at me, “Come back soon though. Don’t kill Toge.”

Megumi’s listening to your conversation whilst Yuuji and Nobara argue about who’s the beer pong champion out of the two of them at the entrance of the house. You pull them by their sleeves so they’re not in the way of passing guests anymore.

Sometimes, it feels like you’re babysitting them.

“Can’t promise, babes,” you tell her with a half-shrug.

Tsumiki’s phone starts ringing, “One second.”

She steps out to take the call, leaving you and Megumi a foot apart from each other, “Megumi, how about you?”

“Sorry?” he asks.

Forgetting what Toge's said is a lot more challenging than you expected. You push down the uneasiness in your gut.

“It’s your first party, is it not? How are you feeling?” you ask.

Megumi's expressions are hard to read but after being around him for so long, you’ve become accustomed to his body language.

“I will be alright. Thank you.” he replies politely.

You smile, patting his shoulder, “I’ll come and check on you later.”

Megumi nods and you take your leave to the second floor, a breath of fresh air coddling you at the escape. When you see the familiar Toge in Panda’s bedroom, your estimate is correct. Toge is sprawled on Panda’s bed, playing some Otome game on his Switch. He says he plays it because it’s cringe and he wants to make fun of it...you're starting to think that he really does enjoy it.

“Y/N.” Toge notes.

“Toge.” you reply, sitting on the bed next to him.

He switches off the game and turns to you as you take a languid sip of the drink, “Has Megumi asked you out yet?”

You almost choke in the process, furrowing your eyebrows and swallowing properly. Setting the drink aside, you hit Toge, “You’re out of your mind. He doesn't like me.”

��I mean, it’s always been kind of obvious if you ask me.”

“What are you talking about?” you sigh, “There’s nothing. You’re being delusional.”

Toge rolls his eyes, “No, you are. And he does have a massive crush on you because he was so desperate to believe that you didn’t like girls.”

“That’s a huge sentence coming from your mouth,” you comment, laying down next to him.

The reverberations of the music downstairs make its way up Panda’s creepy staircase and into the bedroom walls.

“He does,” Toge affirms, “I’m sure of it. Besides those tweets, there’s definitely something there.”

“Why are you so insistent about it?” you ask, turning to the white-haired boy.

It’s odd; Toge is usually reserved and calm so when you see him ramble passionately about Megumi, you’re not too sure what it can mean.

“I don’t know,” he answers, turning to you also, “But remember when you broke up with…?”

He waits with bated breath for you to approve.

You sigh, “You can say Choso, Toge.”

“Yeah, Choso...” he nods along, “When you broke up with him last year, he always asked about you through me. You were a mess, a really bad mess, like a really, really, really—“

“A mess. Got it.” you state, remembering those tearful nights.

“Don’t know why he didn’t ask Tsumiki. Maybe he was scared of being found out. Maybe—“

“Maybe he didn’t want Tsumiki to keep thinking about me. Don’t you remember how worried she was about me then? He probably didn’t want to pressure her and he couldn’t ask me because I wasn’t talking to anyone.” you theorise.

“I mean, you could be right but those Tweets.”

“The kids were probably just making fun of him.” you say, getting up.

“Where you going?” he asks.

“Chill, princess. I'm not gonna leave you now.” you respond, walking towards the opened balcony. You can’t believe Panda gets this whole view to himself.

Toge follows you outside and the two of you sink onto the couch outside, watching the neighbourhood as Toge passes you a joint from Panda’s secret stash.

An hour later, you remembered that you’d go check on Megumi. Sure Tsumiki is there too but she’s super popular, everyone will be talking to her while Megumi explores the unfamiliar terrain by himself.

So you say goodbye to the high Toge and walk back downstairs. Everyone’s dancing and hands drag you to dance but you push them away, saying you need to use the bathroom.

“Where is he?” you ask yourself, wondering around Panda’s house.

You see Tsumiki and Panda talking on the couch, Yuuji and Nobara playing beer pong but where’s Megumi? He's gotta be here somewhere.

“Y/N…”

A heavy hand lands around your shoulders.

“Megumi! Are you okay?”

Megumi’s lids are heavy as he leans onto you.

“Did you drink?”

“I…I thought he said it was a mocktail. I think I had too many cocktails.”

Of course he did.

“Okay, relax. I can’t drive right now because I drank too, but we can go out for a breather, how does that sound? There isn’t much space here for you to sit down.”

Megumi nods, barely processing your words with his eyes closed.

You inhale and prepare for the journey through the pushy and overly welcoming crowd as you make your way to the front door. The excited partygoers ask about his conditions but you give them brief summaries as you battle through the crowd. Finally, when you’re through the front door with a heavy Megumi, you make him sit on the porch’s stairs, “Wait here. I’m gonna get Tsumiki to drive you home.”

As you’re about to leave, he grabs your bicep, “Don’t go.”

You’re staring.

Very obviously staring.

“Please…” he whispers weakly.

“Okay, I won’t.” you answer, sitting next to him. There aren’t many people coming in and out of the party now. Most of them are getting drunk.

Right now, you’re trapped in your own world with Megumi. The last thing you wanted to do tonight, especially after what Toge told you. You didn't know he cared for you that much.

But it can't be true. Megumi can't like you. You're his sister's best friend.

The silence is louder than the rap music playing inside.

“How are you feeling?”

“I regret coming.” he responds.

Slowly, his head tips to your shoulder. You’re not sure if he’s realised he’s done it or the alcohol has consumed every working thought in him.

All you can muster is a nod as you’re glued to his side—thighs pressed together, shoulders smashed and his unruly hair prickling your cold neck.

If what Toge says is true, which it’s not, what would you do in this situation? Would you confront Megumi or would you flee?

“I can go get Tsumiki—“

“Y/N.” he states.

“Yes, Megumi?”

You can’t stop that gut-wrenching sensation in your stomach. Megumi looks up at you, long eyelashes fluttering open. You know what’s coming before it even comes.

“I like you. I like you a lot.”

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

TAGLIST: @k4romis @moonmalice @ahseyy @loltartaglia @sircatchungus @rinowinne @sad-darksoul @br66klynbaby @nymphsdomain @pastatata @tobaccosunbxrst @zellwa @porcobrainr0t 

LENA'S NOTES - another chapter because ily guys <33

#jjk crack #jjk x reader #jjk smau #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk reactions #jujutsu kaisen smau #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fluff #megumi smau #megumi fushigure smau

[viranellee]

you'd never guess (i'd never know)

synopsis: the only thing eddie roundtree likes about billy dunne is his younger sister.

warnings: smut, dirty talk, swearing, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill, but it's never mentioned)

a/n: the lack of eddie smut on here is appalling

⁠ ♡

“Where are you going?”

Frozen in your tracks, you slowly turn around and meet Eddie’s still sleepy but inquisitive gaze, and as his eyes look you over from head to toe, it morphs into a distinctive shade of lustful. You allow yourself the liberty to admire him as he does the same to you - unguarded and vulnerable in his half-awake state, the nest of tangled light brown hair on top of his head, his naked body painted with love bites underneath the white hotel sheets.

You want to kiss him.

“Sweetheart, c’mon. Come ‘ere.” He tries coaxing you, but you know the rules by now. No matter how sweet the temptation is, no matter the things his deep, husky morning voice does to your insides, no matter the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest everytime you lay eyes on him, you need to be unfailingly secretive about this, whatever it is, between you two. Otherwise the deadly tornado of a man your brother Billy is will turn it into ruin with a single flick of his hand.

Even still, it seems that you’re the only one rightfully worried.

"Eds, I have to leave, you know this.”

Something hardens in his gaze for a moment, but it quickly slips away. It pains you to watch it. You lean down to kiss his cheek in an attempt to make him feel better, but he turns his head around, capturing your lips with his. You gasp and instinctively fist your hands into his hair as he rearranges you to sit on his lap. There’s something desperate about the way he holds you and kisses you this particular morning and it sets everything in you on fire. You moan into his kiss despite your brain screaming at you to get the fuck up and leave before anybody finds out you’re not in your room. Eddie seems to sense your overthinking, as he usually does, and slips his cold hands underneath your blouse, letting his long fingers trace your spine, trying to soothe you.

"Focus on me. Don’t think about anything else.” Eddie instructs and you suddenly feel lighter.

You kiss him again, a silent thanks for bringing you back to the present, and it’s his turn to moan as he presses you down on his hard-on.

"A couple of kisses and I’m already rock hard like a fuckin’ teenager. Jesus, the things you do to me.” He mutters, more to himself than you, but the words still manage to leave their impact on your nether regions.

“Eddie, Eddie…” you pant as his mouth begins to place greedy kisses down your neck. “We’re…we’re going to be late for breakfast.”

He laughs against your skin and you swear you’ve never felt something so good.

“I’m already having my breakfast, sweetheart, and it’s much better than the shit they serve down there.”

Fuck.

---

“Anyone got any idea where Eddie and my sister are?” Graham asks his friends, in the midst of swallowing his piece of omelet.   

Warren shrugs.

“Eddie’s probably still sleeping. I mean, when has he ever shown up for breakfast on time? Let the guy get some sleep, man.” 

Graham nods a couple of times, deeming the explanation logical. It doesn't stop him from thinking about the person left out from it.

"Yeah, sure," he starts "but my sister always shows up. I...I don't know, maybe she slept in this time, but maybe I should go up and check." 

Karen suddenly pipes in from her place next to Graham, putting her hand on his thigh. 

"Don't. For we all know, she's just sleeping in." She says, looking at Warren from across the table pointedly, who takes the hint and nods reassuringly at Graham. "And you know how she gets when someone wakes her up. Let her rest." 

"But what if she's hungry when she wakes up?" 

Karen sighs, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds. Warren inhales sharply, a tell-tale sign of him holding in his laughter. 

"Graham. She isn't an infant. I'm sure your sister is fully capable of getting breakfast for herself." She says, but he still doesn't look entirely convinced.

"Yeah, but I don't want her to be alone." Graham pauses. "I don't want her to feel lonely, y'know." 

"Hey, chill man. She and Eddie wake up around the same time anyway, they usually get breakfast together, don't they? I really don't think there's anything to worry about." Warren adds, as he takes the last bite of his P&J sandwich. 

Graham silently leans back in his chair and Karen takes the opportunity to change the subject.

"Anyway, uh, how's Lisa, Warren?" 

KAREN SIRKO: I knew she and Eddie were fucking from the moment I saw them together. 

WARREN ROJAS: For the record, I had no idea they were fucking. 

GRAHAM DUNNE: [sighs] Can we not talk about this, please? 

---

"Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you look so good bouncing on my cock like that." 

You don't know how long you two have been going at it. What you do know, however, is that Eddie Roundtree, the insatiable sex maniac, has already put you through five different positions and this is the sixth one.

"Eddie, I…I don't think I can..." You start saying as you feel your strength leaving your body, but he knows. He always knows. 

He tightens his hold on your hips and drags you up and down his cock and you have to physically put a hand over your mouth when he hits that spot inside of you. 

"Found it, huh?" He comments, with that goddamn cocky glint in his eye and you would have normally rolled your eyes at him if it weren't for the fact that they were already rolling towards the back of your head. 

"Shut...up!" You pant, and he smirks. As soon as you see that smirk, you involuntarily tighten around him. Eddie groans when he feels it and you lean down to kiss his Adam's apple, and then - him. He cups the back of your neck with one large hand and you shiver.

"I'm, I'm close. Eddie, fuck!" You barely manage to stutter out and he goes even faster, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. He presses a sweet kiss to your collarbone and immediately goes back to whispering filthy things into your ear.

"Cum for me, love. Cum on my cock." He urges, breathless, something swimming in his eyes you've never seen before, and you do just that. 

You think you might have screamed. You don't know. All you remember is Eddie.

You hide your face in his shoulder, sensitive and exhausted - he cums shortly after, your name on his lips like a prayer. You sigh when you feel him soften inside of you. He falls back on the pillows and you fall along with him, head on his chest and his hand playing with your hair. 

It's comfortably silent after that, so silent in fact, that for a second you think Eddie might have fallen asleep. You tilt your head upwards to place a kiss on his jawline, but you find him already staring back at you, an uncharacteristically contemplative look on his gorgeous face. 

"What?" You question, growing increasingly worried. 

This is it, you think, this is when he ends things. 

My worst fear is coming true.

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Y'know, I've played in front of hundreds of thousands of people. I know what anxiety feels like. But laying in that bed with her, looking at her, was the most nervous I'd ever felt in my entire life. 

"I…" He begins and closes his mouth, as if carefully choosing his words, but doing nothing to ease the pit in your stomach. "Well..." 

You stand up upright, a typical "Dunne frown", as he liked calling it, on your face. 

He should look me in the eyes, at the very fucking least. 

"Oh, is this what you're doing now? Fucking me one last time before you reject me? You've had your fun, is that it?" 

Y/N ROUNDTREE: I do admit that I... misjudged the situation. But when you've been with assholes in the past, sometimes you come to conclusions a bit too quickly. 

Eddie's face scrunches up into a mixture of shock, confusion and slight sadness.

"What?" He asks so loudly that it makes you feel embarrassed. "What in the actual fuck are you on about? Why would you even think that? Sweetheart, I was going to say I love you."  

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I'll never forget the look on her face, swear to God. [laughs] 

"What?" You parrot back, just as loudly. It takes a beat or two for the words to sink in.  When they do, you start laughing like you've never heard anything funnier. 

Eddie simply looks at you like you've grown two heads. 

"Oh, Eds. Please don't lie to me like this." You cover your face with your hands.

Suddenly, your hands are being gently pulled away - he's staring at you so softly you think you might die. You might have actually died and this is your heaven. It certainly feels like it. 

He whispers your name and you whisper his back. 

"I love you." He says, cupping your cheeks,  and keeps repeating it as if trying to get it through your head. 

"Eddie…" you breathe against his lips. He pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb, pupils dilated like you're his new favorite drug. You might actually be. "Eddie, I lo-"

"SOUNDCHECK IS IN 30 MINUTES, ROUNDTREE, GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THE DAMN BED!"  

Fuck.

---

EDDIE ROUNDTREE: She might not have told me she loved me that day, but - [shows wedding ring] - I know. I know.

⁠♡

#daisy jones and the six #daisy jones & the six #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie roundtree fanfic #karen sirko #graham dunne #warren rojas #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree smut #I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM YOUR HONOUR!!!!! #not an eddie apologist because he's done nothing wrong ever #josh whitehouse #djats fic #djats tv #eddie loving

[tripleyeeet]

PROUD

SUMMARY: Halsin can’t help but indulge a bit after a particularly long day.

PAIRING: Halsin & Original Female Character (Elyra belongs to @bloodlessbhaalbabe)

WORD COUNT: 2,164

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, oral sex (fem receiving), light choking, overstimulation.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Wrote this as part of a trade with Mystical! First time writing Halsin so hopefully he isn’t too out of character???

MASTERLIST

-

The mood is low. As everyone stumbles tiredly through the veil of the Last Light Inn, even Halsin can feel the ache. A throbbing touch of pain radiating through his spine, spreading across the upper portions of his back like a violent wave.

Stepping past Jaheria who welcomes them back, he can’t help but groan and reach around to try and soothe the spasms that have begun to erupt. Pushing his thumb into the knotted flesh he tries his best to alleviate the pressure to no avail, prompting a huff to escape his lips that the elven woman beside him all but frowns at.

“You sore?” she asks, staring with such deep concern that Halsin has to look away and force out a soft smile to deter her from worrying. Knowing that if she doesn’t she’ll simply forgo her own struggles to aid him in his.

“I’m fine, Elyra.”

“Excuse me, Elyra?” Narrowing her eyes, she leans forward, placing her hands defiantly on her hips as she surveys his frame. Picking apart every section of bruised skin covering aching bones until she’s satisfied with her research, prompting her to huff. “You never call me that.”

Even he can’t help but grin at that. Well aware that she’s right. It’s always dear or heart or love —terms of endearment he wishes to whisper against her flesh in the heat of the night but is unable to do so thanks to his own goals.

Goals, he can’t help but silently curse as she steps towards him, instinctively arching her back in that flirtatious manner as she presses a hand to his chest.

“You’re delirious, Halsin.”

“What, for calling you by your birth name?”

Her eyelashes flutter as she nods, and it’s at the moment he thinks he might be dying. The lack of air in his chest causing a newfound pain to spread at the same time his heart fails to keep up its usual rhythm. All while his mind does somersaults trying to find a way to avoid the temptation of her beautiful lips pulling into a wide grin.

“How about I help you out with a nice massage, huh? We could go back to my room, smoke a little bit and just hang out?”

Right off the bat, he knows he should decline. Given the lack of control he already has around her on a good day, it’s obvious that if he were to allow himself the opportunity to get that close, he’d certainly give in. Resulting in yet another distraction on his way to break the curse.

Not that he considers her to be a particularly bad distraction. In fact, despite his thoughts sometimes telling him that she’s no good for him, he knows that’s not the case. Elyra is in fact very good for him. A woman so perfect that, even though those same thoughts are currently telling him to say no and to bid her goodnight, his body merely accepts her offer with a small nod. Allowing the woman to excitedly grab his hand and pull him up the stairs with such gracious ease that by the time he’s lying on her bed, stomach first, everything thought he’s ever had is gone.

“Does transforming into all those creatures ever mess with your bones?”

Lifting his head to laugh, he then cranes his neck to see her face twisting with focus. Her eyes narrowing as the pressure of her hands glide around his back —her lips pursing once she hits a particularly rough spot.

“I suppose it does wear one down after a long day.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I mean, could you imagine having your entire skeletal system just magically shift into something else? Gods, that would be so painful.” She cringes at the thought before her eyes suddenly widen, prompting Halsin to laugh again. “Wait, I guess you do know, huh?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“No wonder your muscles are all fucked up right now,” she points out, digging her palm into a particularly rough spot that has him instinctively groaning. A low guttural noise that he knows he shouldn’t feel embarrassed about, yet in the moment it’s all he can focus on.

“Sorry, should’ve warned you about that one. You’re real tight in the shoulder area.”

Clearing his throat, he’s suddenly too overwhelmed to continue, causing his body to shift to the side; her hands reluctantly moving away when their eyes inevitably meet. Pausing as he allows his weight to rest against the base of his forearm, unable to further move due to the fact that he wants to be closer.

More than anything, he wants to feel those calloused hands of hers wrapped around him, toying with his hair or fingers —pressing into the grooves of his chest as they descent to far less innocent lands.

Lands he has to force himself to forget about as he reluctantly pushes upwards, feeling the heat of Elyra’s stare become too much.

“Thank you for the massage,” he tells her then. And although he has every intention of shuffling off the edge of the bed and leaving, all he ends up doing is readjusting his position. Allowing his legs to extend and accidentally knock against her knee as she too gets on the bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem tense, big boy.”

Almost immediately, both of them know what she means when she says it. However, Halsin being too focused, fails to comment. Instead, averting his gaze as thoughts of her circle through his mind, granting Elyra enough time to crawl towards him.

And unfortunately for Halsin, it’s a sight he can no longer ignore. As her chest is practically exposed in full thanks to the angle, the only thing he can think about is touching her. Grabbing her waist and pulling her into his lap so that he can ravish her as thanks. Which is exactly what he does without even realizing it. His body and mind failing to connect until he feels their lips collide, prompting everything inside him to restart, realizing what he’s done.

He’s passed the threshold. Not only that, but he’s fully sprinted through the room too, winding up inside her bed with no desire of stopping once he feels her teeth snagging his bottom lip, playfully pulling the skin with a grin.

“Careful, my dear heart,” he warns her, but all she does is continue. Pushing him past the point of no return in the form of hands caressing his cheeks and a tongue that seamlessly slips through to touch his own.

Which prompts him to flip her onto her back. In one quick motion, causing her to wildly laugh and tug his hair, forcing him down to capture her lips. Neither one of them wasting time as he cages her against the mattress.

“See, I knew you were tense.”

Without warning, his hand glides down her side with careful precision. The pads of his fingers applying pressure to all her plushest parts before he inevitably lands on her inner thigh. “Seems you might be as well.”

Rolling her eyes, she gives his hair another tug, demanding more. “You haven’t even touched me yet, how would you know?”

He’s tempted to make fun of her then. To tell her that every waking moment he knows because she’s the most open person he’s ever met, but then he sees the way she’s looking at him. So desperately needy and tired of waiting. So completely set on what’s to come that all he can do is hum and pry his fingers from her thigh to push her skirt out of the way.

“Would you like me to touch you?”

And for once, she’s speechless. The words failing to exit her mouth as Halsin draws a long line across the fabric laid over her cunt. The edge of his knuckle pressing against her clothed clit, refusing to move until she nods her head. An action so simple, yet impactful that despite every part of his mind screaming at him to stop —to focus on what he came here to do instead of falling further into the loving palm of this beautiful woman— he refuses. Instead, guiding his hands to respectively brush her underwear to the side, feeling the heated flesh of her pleasure practically gush in his hands.

“More… please.”

Her voice is just as breathless as his lungs. As he runs his knuckles up and down her folds, gently burrowing the bones into her crevice, he can’t help but grin. Knowing that with just the touch of his hand, he’s somehow able to bring forth something new within her. Something needy and wild —a visceral wine escaping once he uncurls his hand, tentatively pushing a finger inside.

“Tense as ever, my dear heart,” he practically whispers, leaning down to kiss her face. Pressing his lips to her cheek, then her chin, stopping at the top edge of her neck to take a deep breath. “Why I can barely get a finger in without you clenching those walls of yours.”

In response, she twitches around him. Unable to deny his claims, he can feel her give in. The pulse of her cunt wetting his fingers. The way it practically sucks him in as he proceeds to slip another one in at the same time he nips her neck with his teeth.

“So smug, aren’t you?”

Suckling the wound, he grins against her before pulling back to look at his work. To see the warmth of her cheeks spread down to the base of her chest. The heat from his curious fingers eliciting more of a response than he intended to receive.

“Not smug. Proud.”

“Proud?” She lets out a laugh, bucking up her hips when he begins to slowly pump in and out, testing the waters further.

“Proud to call you mine for the evening,” he explains, his free hand rising to grip her chin so that he can brush a finger across her lower lip. “Also, proud to know that I can render you speechless with just a touch of my hand.”

“You should be pro—oh fuck.”

His thumb circles her clit as he chuckles, watching her head fall back. The red tone of her hair resembling a fiery halo sprawled out across the wrinkled bed sheets beneath them. “Sorry, were you saying something, my love?”

He can feel her defiance through the tenseness of her muscles. Both beneath and around his fingers. Every part of her threatens to retaliate until she feels his hand lace carefully around her throat, the pressure of his fingers stopping her in her tracks.

Which only spurs him on further. Feeling the submission she offers in response to one measly touch, it’s as if every thought he’s ever had about waiting is gone. The mere idea of it exiting his mind once he begins lowering himself down, staring at her curious eyes until they vanish behind the fabric of her skirt and all he sees is her cunt.

Swollen and dripping, it’s a sight that has him feeling ravenous. A hunger so foul stirring in his stomach that he fails to wait for permission, prompting him to practically rip the fabric from her hips and dive in.

And almost immediately, another groan slips out of him. The sound reverberating off her flesh in a way that has her bucking up again, taking back control. Forcing him to work that much harder as he grabs her hips, locking her in place. Prodding her folds with his eager tongue —playfully nipping her skin in between to tease and extend her pleasure.

He can tell she hates it. Or rather, hates the patience he’s thrust upon her as he builds her up only to stop and pull away, heavily breathing against her entrance as a way to further taunt her.

“You’re a —you’re a sick bastard, Halsin, whatever your last name is… I can’t remember right now.”

He chuckles against her clit before taking it in his mouth, suckling the flesh as he eventually pushes two fingers inside again, feeling her tense. Noticing the immediate build he’s once again provided when she begins to heavily breathe and lace her fingers in his hair, begging him not to stop. To please, never stop.

So, he doesn’t. Even when she’s shaking beneath him, every muscle in her body releasing the pleasure she desperately sought to gain from him, he continues. Brutalizing every part of her cunt with languid, pressurized licks and greedy fingers that pump and curl. His body providing whatever stimulations she requires and more until they’re both spent on the bed, heaving out breaths neither of them has enough energy to gain as he slowly crawls up to rest on her plush stomach, smiling at the way her eyes narrow in false annoyance.

“I’m almost mad at the fact that you’re good at that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s gonna make waiting for that cock of yours an absolute living hell. I can already tell.”

#proud #halsin fan fic #halsin smut #halsin x original female character #halsin x ofc #halsin x oc #summer writes

[elcpsstuff]

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 9)

A/N: This series needs to SLOW DOWN. I remember being on ep 1😭

Synopsis: It’s the Fourth of July in cousins

—

The fourth of July in cousins is a big deal. Susannah always goes full out by decorating the entire house. This year, it’s gonna be different, I can feel it.

John would be coming up for the fourth, and even though it’s with his girlfriend i’m still happy to see him. Things have been tense with me and Laurel this whole summer. I didn’t know if Mr. Fisher was coming.

Here I am attempting to put a sheet on the bed, but it won’t budge. I’ve never been good at these, and after a couple of tries I end up falling onto the bed frustrated.

“Need some help?” I look over and see Conrad leaning on the wall. My face instantly turns red.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah sure.”

He comes over to me and we’re so close, but I don’t say anything. He has this smug look on his face like “I’m better than you” which made me annoyed but also blush at the same time.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I mean, I wouldn’t say that Conrad and me are like friends again, because you sure has hell don’t look at your friend and think “I wanna kiss you.”

But we’re something.

“See, that’s how you do it.” He says smirking.

“Shut up.” I say while throwing a pillow at his face.

“Hey!” He throws one back and then I just look at him for a second contemplating if I should even ask, “Is your dad coming up for the fourth?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

“Okay.” I say silently.

How are you doing with Laurel and John?” He asks and it’s because a long time ago I told him about my relationship with Laurel and John. I cringe at the thought now.

“I guess i’m fine.” I say shrugging.

“Your obviously not.” Conrad argues.

Why does he suddenly care? I wanna be angry at him, but I can’t.

I hear some commotion downstairs and then I hear Johns name being called. It’s the perfect excuse. Conrad is way ahead of me already though.

“Guess it’s time to meet the new girlfriend.” Conrad teases.

“Shut up.” I smirk and then we both make our way downstairs. Jere, Steven and Belly are already waiting by the front door and staring at the window.

“Damn, she’s hot.” Jere says pointing at the figure.

“Ew, Jere stop!” Belly hits him on the back and he whines a little. He’s such a kid.

“That could be like, your new future stepmom.” Conrad says nudging my shoulder. I practically barf at his words trying to imagine that 20 something year old being my step mom.

Once John and the girl who was named Victoria came in, we all said our awkward hi and then made our way outside. The girl was really nice, but the last thing I needed was another change of moms.

The debs ended up coming shortly after and once we were all settled in, I couldn’t help but notice Nicole and Conrad in the pool. I tried not to look but my temptations always got the better of me when Conrad was involved. He was smelling her. Okay?

“So yn, Belly, Shayla? I heard your all debs this year.” John says uplifting the mood.

I smile and nod, “Yeah, i’m excited.”

Laurel sighs, “I just don’t understand why girls wanna be apart of it. It’s clearly just for people who don’t know who they are and think a debb ball can shape their personality.”

Ouch.

Me and Belly stared at Laurel awkwardly and Shayla said she had to use the bathroom. It’s best she got out of there.

“So, me and Belly are just girls who don’t know who they are, what they want, but we want a deb ball to shape our personality?”

Laurels face turns red. “That’s not what I meant yn.”

Belly rolls her eyes, “That’s what it sounded like.” It was actually nice to have Belly on my side. We felt connected again.

“Will you both stop it? Yn, stop enabling bad behavior for your sister. Be an example.”

Laurel was starting to raise her voice, and I could tell something else was on her mind. Maybe it had to do with John bringing his new young girlfriend, but whatever it was, was making her angry.

“I’m not doing—”

“Stop arguing me.” At this point people were starting to stare more than I would have liked.

“Just because yn said something I agree with doesn’t mean she’s “enabling bad behavior.” I can think what I want.” Belly protests.

Laurel laughs, “Sure. I need a drink.” And with that she was gone. I saw Conrad’s eyes linger to mine and he had the last look I wanted to see on his face. Pity.

—

A couple of minutes later, I was bored out of my mind and saw Jeremiah, Conrad, and Belly in the kitchen. I rushed in their to see what they were doing.

“Yn! Come help us!” Jeremiah yelled. I nodded and Jeremiah pulled me by hand into the kitchen. I then sat next to Conrad who was squeezing pomegranate into the blender.

“Adam would be so pissed if he found out we were using this.” I say laughing.

Conrad then turns to me, “He won’t find out, he’s not here.” He sounded a little happier than I thought he should and Jere got kinda annoyed, but me and Belly ignored it. The whole time she was eyeing me and Conrad which made me feel weird.

I added the vodka and Conrad tipped it so it could go even more which made me laugh. “Conrad!”

“You know what my favorite thing was?” Conrad says while blending the drink, “Whenever Laurel would put Adam in her place she would be like “Adam”

“Hey kids!” The weirdest thing just happened. Mr. Fisher walked through the door. Great timing by Conrad. Jeremiah smiled and went to hug Mr. Fisher and me and Belly stood awkwardly occasionally giving each other looks.

Conrad stayed silent. I noticed his hand shaking under the table and I grabbed it, stroking his fingers with my thumb. I knew all about Conrad and Mr. Fishers relationship. It wasn’t pretty.

I knew Conrad didn’t want him here, but why? What could he have done that changed Conrad so drastically?

Susannah and Laurel came inside and Susannah tensed up immediately. It seemed the only person happy to see him was Jere.

“Conrad, can we talk?” Mr. Fisher says but Conrad shakes his head, roughly letting go of my hand. Just like that, his guard was up again.

I felt this urge, this want to be there for him. He didn’t look okay. I knew the look on his face all too well. It only happened once, but when it did, it was scary.

—

Last Summer, Age 15 (Almost 16)

Mr. Fisher constantly compared the kids. Even though Conrad was the golden child, did that even matter? I knew Conrad wanted to be nothing like him, and I respected him for that. Poor Jeremiah didn’t know any better, though.

They had just had a nasty fight. Susannah, Adam, and Conrad. Conrad had jumped in to defend Susannah, but it only ended bad. Me and Belly were listening from the pool, because they were screaming so loud we didn’t need to go any closer.

10 minutes after the fight I knew I needed to find Conrad. I ran inside despite Belly’s questions and walked upstairs. It wasn’t until I heard pacing footsteps and heavy breathing that I went towards Conrad’s room.

“Conrad?” I ask.

No response.

I walked into his room to see him walking back in fourth, holding a hand to his heart. I shut the door immediately and run over to him.

My hands are on his face, but worry is all I can trace.

“Con, what’s going on?”

“I-I- c-can’t..”

My eyes widen at this sight. I had only seen it in movies, but I knew he was having some sort of attack. Panic Attack.

I pulled Conrad’s hands away from his heart and looked deep into his eyes. “You’re okay. It’s fine. Follow my breathing.”

He shook his head at first but I started to stroke his hair and eventually we fell onto the bed together. His head was buried in my neck and he was still trying to get his breathing back to normal.

“Conrad.” I whisper and he looks up.

His eyes are bloodshot red and my heart was breaking for him. I have never seen him like this before.

“Is this about the fight?” I ask.

“I think..” He says laying his head back down. His grip on me becomes tighter.

“Your okay. Breathe, Conrad.” You continue to stroke his hair and even place a kiss on his head.

“I need you.” Conrad whispered.

My heart felt like breaking into tiny little pieces. But at the end of the day, Conrad was the one who could put me back together.

“I’m right here.”

“Don’t leave me.” He practically begged.

“Conrad. I’m not gonna leave you, okay?” He turned to face me and then he just nodded.

I wanted to kiss him. Right then and there. So bad.

Instead he laid back down and I stroked his face while he hugged my stomach.

Something had changed. We never had acted on this tension that was always here. We knew not to. But things were changing, and I didn’t know how much longer of an act I could put up.

—

Present Day:

The debs and boys all decided to go down to the beach with the margaritas we had made. We were all sat in a circle.

Belly was having a little bit too much fun, and the drinks were getting to her. “We - we should play a drinking game?”

Jere laughed, “Tell that to your boyfriend, look who we found.”

Cam comes around the corner smiling but he’s not alone - he’s with Josh. Oh boy.

I could see Conrad’s insides curl up at the sight of Josh. It made me feel weird, excited, and angry at the same time. I decided to ignore them because I couldn’t deal with him. He acts like he likes me and then completely doesn’t care.

“Josh! Cam!” Me and Belly both signal them to come over to us, and Josh smiles sitting next to me.

“Long time no see.” He says through a smirk.

I giggled and even though Conrad was looking at me, I don’t care. My life isn’t centered around him, and I’ll do anything to prove it.

Belly smiles, “Alright! Let’s get on with that drinking game.”

“Cheers to that!”

And so we did.

Too many margaritas later, I felt fucked. This isn’t the most, but I definitely do feel fucked.

“Okay, okay, what if we play never have I ever with a twist?” Nicole suggests in her half drunk state.

“I’m interested.” Steven adds.

“Basically instead of all putting a finger down, someone asks someone else if they’ve done whatever, and if you’ve done it you drink.” Nicole explains.

“That’s confusing.” Gigi says.

“Sounds fun!” Belly counters.

So we played.

When it was my turn, I looked around to see who I was gonna ask. I looked them dead in the eye until they were looking back at me. Jere smirked.

“Jere, i’ll pick you.”

“Fine, what?”

“Never have you ever, fucked around with two people from the same family?” I closed my mouth with my hands, and I was shocked. Usually I would never ask that, but drunk me was the total opposite of me.

“Easy.” Jere immediately downs the drink and we all start making gagging noises. He really is a man whore.

After a couple more go arounds, it was safe to say everyone was fucked up. Conrad was the only one close to sane which surprised me. He always surprised me.

“Alright, Alright, yn your turn.” Nicole says pointing at me.

“Hit me.” I say.

“Never have you ever..” She sits thinking for a minute until a smirk plastered her face.

“Had sex before?”

Fuck.

All eyes were on me, and either answer was just bad. My eyes dared not to graze Conrad’s, but boy was he staring at me.

“Nah, yn is clean.” Steven says but I don’t move.

“Yn?” Belly asks in a suprised manner. Even Josh was staring at me.

“Uh..” I looked down at my drink, thinking about what my next step should be.

Steven looks at me with wide eyes, “Yn..?”

I sigh, “I would drink.. but..” I slowly put my drink down, “I can’t. Because I haven’t.” A wave of relief fills me when everyone starts laughing and saying i’m such a tease. Conrad isn’t laughing though. He looks like someone just punched him.

“gosh yn!” Shayla jokes.

—

After we left the beach, I stumbled back to the house obliterated. We were sat on a bench and we’re watching the boys play football, (by that I mean me and belly staring at Conrad)

Belly ended up saying some shit about Taylor and Steven hooking up to Shayla which made things weird, so they ended up going somewhere else. I don’t know if they left or not but I couldn’t stop staring, thinking. Conrad.

The way he looked at me when Nicole asked that question. It broke me. But he could do that. Break me, love me, and my heart would still belong to him.

Eventually it was just me and my margaritas watching him, so I got up and made my way back to the house.

My body aches for more of the margaritas. So that’s what I did. I downed a shit tone of them. If Belly had had 7, I had 14.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

So here I was walking around the house laughing to myself. How ironic. I heard the outside shower turn on and in a fit of desperation run over to where the sound is coming from. Low and behold the Conrad fisher is there.

“Hey.” I say.

He half smiles, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, actually.” I reply. I usually would never even dare to think these words, but maybe getting drunk will help me get my emotions out.

I continue, “Everyone left. So drink a margarita.”

“Okay just leave it out there and I’ll get it after.”

It was too late, I wasn’t even listening to him. I was fucking staring at him. His abs. His wet hair which could do many things to me i’m ashamed to admit. He’s so beautiful. Beautiful things are made to be admired.

And Conrad Fisher was beautiful.

“I’ve always liked you with wet hair.”

Conrad then turned around in the shower and his face dropped a little, but remained calm. “What’s so romantic about wet hair?”

I shake my head, “You just don’t get it. You never do.”

He goes to say something but I hold my hand up. “Allow me to demonstrate.” Without another word I run into the shower, the cold striking my cutoffs and crop top.

“What are you doing?!” Conrad yells over the water.

I smile and ruffle with his hair, “This is romantic, Conrad.”

He then grabs my arm and brings it back down, but he doesn’t let go. Not right away. His touch lingers.

Then, my heart dropped. I knew I had to ask him while the time was right.

“Why did you look at me like that earlier?” I ask.

He looks at me shyly, “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes at his confusion, “When she asked me that question! Don’t act like you don’t know.”

I could see his cheeks turn red and then his gaze is all I can see. He stares into my soul. My body feels like it’s on fire but I don’t mind. As long as I’m burning with him.

He steps closer to me and moves a strand of my hair out my face. “You know why.”

Longing turned into regret. Regret. I should’ve never asked. I already knew the answer.

“Yeah. I do.”

And then I was rushing away.

—

My eyes open to the lights being turned on in the room. My head is cluttered with thoughts. I had no idea where I was.

“How you feeling?” I turn to see John which makes me smile.

“Horrible. I don’t know what came over me.” He smiles and sits next to me on the bed.

“That makes two of you, but at least you weren’t so drunk you knocked over Susannah’s cake stand, along with her too.”

I cringed, imagining that happening in my head.

“Well, at least you didn’t run into the outdoor shower where Conrad was and start playing with his hair.”

My dads face turns red which makes me giggle slightly.

“What happened between you two? You were best friends.”

I shrug. I wish I knew, and a while ago I would’ve known. But it’s a shit show of a summer. Everything I thought was true wasn’t.

“Where’s everyone?” I ask.

“Belly’s sleeping, Jere and Steven are shooting fireworks. Conrad’s.. I don’t really know.”

“What about Susannah and Laurel?”

John sighs, “Big fight. Laurel left.”

I gasped, “What?” All he does is nod.

“She was being really annoying today though.”

“Don’t talk about your mother like that, yn. You know things have been hard and I know she shouldn’t blame you for things you can’t control, though. I’ll talk to her, okay? She loves you.”

I nod and he kisses me on the forehead, “Get some more sleep, ynn”.

I nod and lay back down as the lights shut, the door closing behind me.

I close my eyes and imagine everything I had been hoping for. And when I open my eyes, I think it might be coming true.

—

A/N: AHHHH! You guys were like 2-3 chapters away from the major drama I can’t believe it! Yn and Conrad drive me crazy sometimes but we’re okay🫶🏻

tag list: @kkrenae @callsignwidow @drikawinchester @johannelis2302nely @allnrsnz @galaxy13sworld @paytonloiselle @i-think-you-are-gr8

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #team conrad #team jeremiah #tsitp #belly conklin #conrad x reader #love #summer love

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Do you think Chase would go after any future ninjas?

Like, obviously, he wouldn't go after someone like Mac Antfee, but would he go after the ones with more potential? Like Randy, for example, especially since he summoned that giant earth worm that one time while he wasn't wearing the mask makes me think he has some form of magical potential.

Or maybe First managed to struck a deal with him to prevent him from pursuing any future ninjas? That's also an option that came to mind.

But what do you think?

Oh dude I have so many thoughts about it! I think I mentioned something about it in the first post, but I believe that after First, Chase would probably keep an eye on the Norisu Ninja succession line. But, the details would depend on the AUs.

For example, a basically canon AU where First wins a VS event and does not join Chase's Fallen Warriors harem. There could be two variations: in their fight conditions First could state that Chase never bothered anyone from Norrisville/Norisu line if First won (but that's too boring xD) or the 'unbother' conditions could have been only extended to First and not his successors.

So in this case, Chase would retreat back to his Fortress, and after First ascends into Ninjanomicon, over the years he would make surprise visits to Norrisville whenever someone worthy of his attention appears.

Would he actively try to recruit the future ninjas? I mean it would depend, but I think if one particulary powerful caught his eye, he might make an attempt to get them as a Fallen Warrior, (also as a way to grate on First's nerves). However IMO, those attempts wouldn't happen too often, only because the more powerful the Ninja is the more chances are:

they are either of particular strong will (like First) and can resist the Corruption during their tenure as Ninja and successfully give up their mask/memories/power when needed - and in turn resist Chase's offers/manipulations.

OR they are not that strong of will and will fall into Dark side and thus loose the Mask and most of their power. In that case, Chase still can try to get them into Jungle Cats army OR he can take them on as a minion! I mean, imagine a disgraced Ninja with memories but no Mask/Suit power, being suddenly offered another power by an evil warlord with a beef with your ex-boss??

So I actually think Mac Antfee would be an interesting specimen for Chase! I mean, it seems to not happen often, a disgraced Ninja while not overly powerful, but decent enough, that escaped The Ultimate Lesson, since Antfee was like the only one in recent decades. And while of no particular overwhelming skill or honor, Antfee certainly had ambitions and Chase could use that. And more importantly Antfee would decide himself to join evil, which is an big thing for Chase.

Besides, imagine Chase taunting First about how he picked up the dishonored Ninja he discarded and turned him to Dark Side? Like Oof, talk about divorced exs arguing about whose side the kids take, lol.

Randy, on the other hand is certainly no minion material, but firmly potential Fallen Warrior/Jungle Cat candidate. We all know that he is freaking powerful and took to Ninja powers/suit like duck to a water which says a lot about his pre-existing natural abilities. But Randy also falls into category of 'Strong Willed' powerful Ninjas that are not easily swayed by corruption/evil.

But I guess one can argue that he is constantly swayed by selfish needs, thanks to Howard's influence HAH, but he is also always quick to fix those mistakes, so it kind of cancels each other out? Though, one could also say Randy is vulnerable to manipulation, of which Chase is a master of, so like?? If Chase does decide he wants to get Randy as his Fallen Warrior, which is highly likely especially after RC9GN finale, ooooooo it could be an incredible temptation to get the one who could be equal to/if not greater as First.

So yeah, in basically canon AU I think it's highly likely Chase will make visits to Norrisville, to scoop out potential so to speak, with various results.

Now, there is another variation, I call Favorite Warrior AU, which is basically different outcome for VS event, where First lost, but in case of his loss he made a deal that since Chase is getting him - he would leave anyone associated with Norisu Ninja in the future alone. And Chase, as honorable as he is, would certainly accept those conditions, because well, he is getting what he wants after all. BUT he also predicts/creates a loophole to that deal (because he can be sneaky like that! >;3).

And the loophole is - while Chase himself promised not to actively pursue any future Ninjas, he promised nothing about actively avoiding them if they pursue him. And why would they pursue him, you would ask? Well, because of the First himself!

I mean imagine, in the Ninjanomicon there is a record about what happened to First (like, he still shared/recorded his memories in the book and joined Chase after, because he is honor bound to do so, and its all written down) and a warning for future Ninjas to never get into anything associated with Chase Young, the immortal warlock warlord, prince of Darkness and etc. because they would end up in his servitude, like First. It's a cautionary tale, a warning, a record of what happened to their Norrisville founder.

What do you think dumb Ninja teenagers would do??? They would try to figure out more of course! Granted not all of them, but perhaps a great number would try to seek out Chase for very different reasons.

Like, I would imagine the more honorable, goody-two-shoes would attempt to rescue First from this servitude. The success of their attempts would vary, but most of them Chase will send off back with their tails tucked, failed in their noble if dumb pursuit. Some, who are stronger, would be perhaps played with, in an attempt to make them join Chase too. (First would be very frustrated, if a little proud, to see those idiots try to save him, because he made a deal for them to be safe and here they are throwing themselves into the lion's den.)

Then there are those who would seek out Chase with less honorable intentions. Those who fell to corruption and are tempted by Dark Side, but lost the Mask, title and most importantly all that power. They would seek Chase in hopes of pledging their loyalty in return for power they so crave. And well. While Chase is certainly not going to say no to more people/ex-ninjas turning to evil, he would be more picky about accepting those kind of ex-ninjas into his Fallen Warriors army. (First would be most saddened to see those who fell into corruption though. I think he would feel guilty and like if he hadn't lost, they wouldn't have known to try and seek Chase and thus fall further into evil.)

Mac Antfee would belong to a second category (after escaping Ultimate Lesson, he would try to get more power from the one who captured the most powerful Ninja ever, because logic) and Randy will belong to the first category (that baby idiot will read that Ninja Prime was turned into a cat warrior by an evil warlord, and will be like 'Oh shoot I know what we gonna do today Nomicon, Howard! We are gonna save First Ninja!' and probably fucking succeed, lol.)

So yeah, in this AU Chase basically agrees to leave Norrisville alone, because it would become an effort-free warrior making machine for him, lol.

Anyway, sorry for the long post, hope my answer was entertaining at least! ;D

#que? #ninja showdown #my mind is so scrambled it was such an effort to write all of this down lol xD

[drconstellation]

The Passion Of Jimbriel

Part 1: The Entry into Soho

The story of events leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus, and the days following, until his ascension to Heaven, are collectively known as the Passion narratives. It comes from the Latin "to suffer," or "to endure."

More than one op has mentioned there are parallels to this in S2, so I thought I would try and find how well the whole narrative was followed. Oh yes, is the short answer, it certainly does! And how! And in places you might be surprised about. I hope this series of metas might answer some of the odd mysteries of "why is that there...? that are still floating around at the moment for you.

I've tried to match the narratives to scenes and incidents in S2 as closely as I can, but I only have sketchy Anglican Christian background, so if you have had a more thorough Catholic upbringing than me and see something I have missed, slip me a message and I'll do my best to edit things.

A word of warning before we start - it's not a linear match-up. I'm planning to run through the traditional sequence of the Passion in order, but will match with the S2 scenes as needed, and those are scattered back and forth in time. It's Catch-22 again - everything thrown up in the air and landing at seeming random places, where ever they seem to fit best for the narrative.

AZIRAPHALE: Ah, you startled me. GABRIEL: Is that good? AZIRAPHALE: I just didn't see you coming.

I actually thought I might start with this little scene, where Jim gives Aziraphale a jump-scare by creeping up next to him silently. Annoyed, Aziraphale tells him to make some noise as he moves about, and Jim trolls him with some creaking noises, before starting to sing.

There were prophecies about the arrival of Jesus, but the ironic thing here is that Aziraphale, someone who has a vast collection of prophecies and is someone you could consider an expert, had no warning of Gabriel's arrival - he just crept up to the door as a nasty surprise!

Starting proper, there were the three temptations while Jesus was fasting in the wilderness.

Making bread out of stones (I've also covered the Eccles Cakes here in the Altar of Eccles Cakes. They have multiple purposes!)

2. Being tempted to jump from a pinnacle of a temple and relying on angels to break his fall.

3. Being tempted to worship Satan in return for ruling all the kingdoms of the world.

This one was actually covered in S1, at Golgotha. I know Crowley mentioned to Aziraphale that he was the one who tempted Jesus, but I wrote a meta about it because I realized most people were missing the joke in the TWO demon names that Aziraphale suggested Crowley had changed his name to, and how that relates to that particular temptation.

The last miracle performed before the Passion was the raising Lazarus from his tomb, four days after he had died.

After Crowley is dragged down to Hell for an interview with Lord Beelzebub and finds out they are being threatened with the Book Of Life for being involved with Gabriel, he rushes back to Aziraphale and says they have to hide them. As they decide they will try a shared minor miracle Jimbriel descends the spiral staircase:

GABRIEL: Hello. Where did you come back from? CROWLEY: Outside. GABRIEL: Outside? Hmm. Is it big? Can I see the outside? CROWLEY: No, no, no, no, no. No, no no. You need to stay here, inside the bookshop. We can look after you in here. Just stay here.

Inside? Inside the tomb? Aziraphale has even 'wrapped' him up for the occasion.

Later, we find out that:

AZIRAPHALE: Jim is in his bedroom upstairs. I told him bookshops are always closed on a Wednesday. As for Inspector Constable, at a guess, they were sent to verify the 25 Lazarii miracle you and I seem to have accidentally performed together the other night. CROWLEY: That's how you lot measure miracles? How many times it could have brought someone back from the dead?

Uh huh. The miracle of Lazarus.

The Entry into Jerusalem

Jesus made his way into Jerusalem by donkey to show that he came in peace, not as conquering king on a horse. Gabriel does the same.

But he walked in, you say, on foot!

Yes, but he walked by the Dirty Donkey pub on his way to bookshop.

Next, was the Cleansing of the Temple.

What temple? The bookshop, of course! Is it not a temple of books?

Aziraphale sets Jim to cleaning it, with a duster.

I'd say you could also call the bookshop a temple to Crowley - it is decorated in his colours, after all. The presence of Jim initially drives the merchants and money dealers demon away, snatching his sunglasses from his mini-altar as his goes.

The last step on the Passion I'll cover in this meta is the Anointing of Jesus. It tells the story of how Jesus had an expensive perfume, worth a year's wages, poured on his feet from an alabaster jar by woman who was considered sinful. The gathered Disciples were aghast at this waste - they asked why she did not sell the perfume instead and give the money to the poor. Jesus thanked her for preparing him for burial.

This one had me stumped for a while, and I had to think hard about where something had been "poured out" on feet, because I was pretty sure no one had been "anointed" on the head, which is another version of this part of the narrative. Then I remembered seeing a GIF that was Aziraphale focusing on the floor for a number of seconds after Crowley had upended the box Gabriel had carried to the bookshop with his fly in it to read the message on the bottom of the box.

My precious...! You poured them out at your feet, Crowley!

Alabaster is a soft white stone that is easy to carve. The bland cardboard box makes a good analogy for this. And in it we see Aziraphale has filled it with priceless treasures - not one but two lost Shakespeare plays!

If at this point you are going "Wait - Wot? Now you're telling me both Jim/Gabriel and Crowley are playing the part of Jesus here?" I'm saying yes. It's not the first time I've said it. I'm not the only op who has been saying it, either. And as we head into part two of this meta you'll see Crowley take on more of this role from Jim/Gabriel. The two of them have a lot in common, much more than you might have suspected or might even want to acknowledge. This is the past echoing into the present again. I think it also gives us some interesting things about the future to contemplate.

Next: Part 2 - Trials and Denials

Where we move on to the Last Supper, and the Arrest of Jesus before his before he is judged before a court of priests and then Pontius Pilate, and the gathered crowd.

This post was inspired by @mr-period 's long meta Remembering Something Forgotten-Where is Jimmy Boy?

More reading on the Dirty Donkey in my meta here.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #good omens analysis #good omens theory #gabriel #jimbriel #the passion of jimbriel #the passion #golgotha #the dirty donkey #i am in the fly #25 lazurii

[arachine]

— 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

+ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college! steve harrington x bimbo! reader

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in which steve attempts to study for a really big test, and reader distracts him…

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content, explicit language, thigh riding, dry humping…it’s really tame

+ 𝐰𝐜: 4.3k

+ 𝐝𝐭: @cesot

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: wow, i am so fucking creative naming this distraction, how incredibly unique of me (not). anyway, this was a request which can be found here! 

The big analog clock centered on the wall has been the only source of sound these past few hours. It ticks, and ticks, and ticks—a sheer reminder that time continues to flow, yet your boyfriend remains unmoving. You’ve been laying here for what feels like an eternity, but really it’s just been five hours, and you know that much because you’ve watched through bored eyes as the big hand on the clock made five revolutions. 

He’d promised you earlier when you arrived at his dorm that he’d be quick, that he’d only be studying for an hour or two—which were bold-faced lies! Because one hour turned into two, and two turned into three, which then turned into you counting the specks of freckles on the back of his neck, until ultimately, you’d forgotten what exactly it was you had planned today. 

As the big hand nears its 6th revolution, you sport a small frown, turning over into a starfish position to release an agitated sigh. If you laid down any longer you’d fall asleep, and you didn’t come here to sleep and be ignored, you came here in hopes of catching a movie later with your boyfriend, you think. 

“Stevie,” the pet name comes out in a drawn sigh, “you almost done yet?” The brunet responds with a brisk ‘yeah, yeah, just a little longer’ followed by a ‘going through the last topic now’.

“You said you’d be ‘a little longer’ like three hours ago,” you sit up, swinging your feet off of the bed to walk to where he sits at his desk. It’s cluttered in textbooks, leaves of loose paper, pencils, eraser markings, and empty coffee cups—all a testament to how incredulously long he’s been sitting here studying. 

The state of it wasn’t nearly this bad earlier, but you assume at some point in time in which you were finding ways to entertain yourself, he’d slipped out of the room to make more cups of coffee. When you stretch out a gentle hand towards his face, he almost flinches, but gives in and relaxes his cheek into the palm of your hand.

His eyes are tired, drooping. The rings of brown that normally glisten like droplets of honey, are now dull, and the skin under his eyes have given way for new bags to settle. Thumbing his cheek briefly, you dip down to his height, wrapping two arms around his neck. The tip of your chin rests firmly against his shoulder, and it digs into skin when you open your mouth to speak. 

“Baby, let’s give it a break, hm?” you leave a feather-light kiss on his cheek, then another on the edge of his jaw, pulling the hem of his shirt down to leave a kiss on the junction between his neck and shoulder. 

“Can—can’t,” he breathes, “gotta be prepared for tomorrow, and right now you’re distracting me.” You nip at his neck when he utters the last bit, eliciting an exaggerated ow from the boy. 

“Well,” you round his chair until your knees brush against his, “you should’ve thought about that before promising your girlfriend to a movie.” Now the entirety of your weight finds solace upon his lap, and the old wooden floorboards creek and crackle in response. 

“Oh…” Is all he says. “You’re right, I guess…I guess I lost track of time.”

“Mhm, you left me all by myself with nothing to do,” a pout graces the lower half of your face, “gonna make it up to me?” 

You synchronize your words with an avian flutter of your lashes, giving him your biggest of doe-eyes, the eyes that you know he can’t resist—the ones that always, without fail, get him into trouble. God, you were such a little vixen. He considered himself a strong man—in the way that he was impenetrable to temptation (a lie)—but when it came to you? 

For you, he’d follow you all the way to the ninth circle of hell. All you had to do was bat those pretty little lashes, and he’d roll over for you like a mutt. Steve Harrington, former IT boy of Hawkins High, was a goner. 

“Yeah, I will—I promise,” there goes that promising again, “but my test’s tomorrow, don’t you want me to pass?” He rests his calloused hands on the fat of your hips, thumbing the skin above your skirt in deliberately slow circles. 

In his mind, he’s comforting you, trying to get you up and off his lap so that he can resume studying passive transports and how facilitated diffusion works—or whatever bullshit he was learning that had absolutely nothing to do with his major. 

But in your mind…in your mind, all you could think about was kissing him silly; kissing the tiredness out of his eyes and returning them back to the big, brown opals that always made your heart skip a beat whenever he looked at you.

“You said I was a distraction,” your voice trails, “so, why don’t I do my part as a distraction and make you feel better…just for a little bit!”

Steve glances down at his desk, then glances back to you and your frowning face, then back to the desk, until he finally gives in with a breathy sigh. Yeah, he could take a tiny break; he could do without looking at the hundreds of flashcards scattered all over his desk, and the cups of coffee, and the—

You grab his face and kiss him. The first kiss is quick. Sweet. And the remnants of your cherry flavored lip gloss coat the plump of his lips. As soon as he darts out his tongue to taste it, the flavor seems to melt and disappear, like it’d never been there. So, this time it’s him who kisses you again, and again, and…again…and again. 

Each and every one all of his own volition, equal parts urgent and wanting. He was kissing you like a mad man, as if he’d gone minutes, hours, days without oxygen and you were his only supply. For a few seconds, all you can hear is the intake of breaths, quick and shallow, leaving the other’s mouth in frenzied desperation. 

You can hear the heavy, rhythmic thumping of hearts beating asynchronously, though, one is louder than the other—yours. It beats erratically for the boy in front of you, and you can feel and hear the pang of it in your ears, stomach—core. It beats the loudest there, the place you need him most. 

Your hands glide down the curve of his neck, across the points of his shoulders, down his chest, and stop just above his belt. He can feel you playing with the notch, dragging your deft fingers along the metal, and glazing just over the tent in his jeans. He should stop this, he knows he should—but he can’t, or rather, he’s paralyzed. 

His body, mouth, and hands are moving all on their own accord, rendered useless, like he’s teetering the line between puppet and master. Move, stay, touch, kiss–taste. Those are the words being repeated to him in a loop right now; they’re whispered to him sweetly like commands, and he listens. He listens because his mind is telling him to, and you just look so pretty right now, how could he not be entranced? 

Enough teasing, you decided. The tail of his belt is pulled from the loop of his pants, but before you can unbuckle it, a strong hand takes hold of your wrist. That’s when Steve hears another voice, a voice that sounded a lot like Dustin’s, telling him to stop and keep it in his pants or he’d be a failure. God, even amidst a situation like this, the brat’s attitude prevails. A true cockblock. 

“Ok,” a kiss, “we should,” another, “s-stop,” he pulls away unceremoniously. When he opens his eyes, he’s met with a confused, agitated you—a very out of breath you, but nonetheless, a very confused, very agitated, slightly angry, you. 

“But why?” It comes out drawn. Hushed. Steve can hear the breathiness, the wanting. He can hear it because he was the very reason for it, having stolen all the air from your lungs. 

“Because if we don’t stop, I’m gonna make a mess of my pants,” his eyes gesture to his crotch, ushering yours to follow suit. He was hard, the outline of him prominent against the dark blue of his denim jeans. You could help him, fix it so that it wouldn’t hurt, if only he’d…

“C’mon, knock it out,” the brunet defensively pushes your face away until it’s out of reach. His entire hand engulfs the expanse of your face, and you mumble a groan against it, smearing away the last of your cherry flavored lip gloss. 

“You done?” He queries. No response. “I said, are you done?” This time you nod your head against his palm, the forming of a pout not far behind. 

“Will you try to kiss me again?” You shake your head once, twice, following up with a muffled ‘nuh-uh’. With a sigh, he retracts his hand, squinting with skeptical eyes as you sit up and straighten your back. 

“Ok, ok, we can…we should…yeah. You have to study,” you breathe, trying to convince yourself that you could be patient and wait for him to be done. But then you look at his lips. His spit kissed, gloss coated lips, that were swollen because of you. 

And his hair…god, it’d been styled to perfection prior, and now it was a tousled mess, a mess that you wanted to keep on messing, but you had to hold your composure—had to reaffirm yourself that you could wait and help your boyfriend study for an important test. 

“Yes, you have to study,” your hands reach for his shoulders, fingers squeezing the fat of them as you look seriously in his eyes. 

“I have to study, t-that’s—that’s right,” he repeats, straightening his posture. There’s a brief pause. Just eyes staring back into each other, and blank faces. Steve glances to his lap, and then back to you, and then he glances again, emitting a cough from his throat. 

“Are you…uh, gonna get up? It’s kind of uncomfortable.” 

“No, I’m good right here, thank you for asking though,” you smile, turning in his lap to sit sideways. Steve laughs, god bless your heart.

“Yup, yeah, great. I’m glad you’re comfortable.” If you weren’t going to move from his lap, then you’d at the very least have to be still. Very, very, very still. 

“‘M gonna help you, Stevie!” He raises a brow. In the span of 30 seconds, you’ve gone from trying to get into his pants, to attempting to be productive. Steve was no genius, but if he wasn’t getting the concept, there was no way you’d understand it, let alone help him study. But now you’re grabbing for the flashcards, with a toothy grin plastered across your face, and fuck…he’s so enamored with you. 

A subtle smile graces the curve of his lips, and he decides to indulge you. The first thing you do is outstretch a hand to the haphazard pile of flashcards strewn on his desk. You hover your hand over the cards, mumbling an ‘eeny, meeny, miny, moe’ as you whimsically maneuver your pointer finger, until finally, it lands on its target. Mischievously, you quickly grab the chosen card and press it to your chest, sitting up a little straighter so that you can read it aloud. 

You clear your throat, “What transport mechanism requires the use of ATP?” It takes a massive amount of self-restraint to not laugh in your face. The answer is endocytosis, of course, and he knows this because you’ve got the side with the answer facing him. He doesn’t know whether or not he should tell you, or pretend to ponder over the answer—but for now, he’ll save you the embarrassment and opt for the latter. 

“Hold on a second,” he taps his chin to show that he’s thinking over the answer, “is it…endocytosis?” 

“Good job, Stevie!” Unconsciously, you lean in to kiss him but he prematurely stops you with a stern finger. 

“Uh, uh, uh,” the boy tuts. Your shoulders and back fall into a sad curve, a look of frustration settling on your face. Just how much longer was he going to torment you?

“Right, yeah, okay…next question!” Just as you’re about to pick up another card, Steve grabs both of your wrists. 

“Actually, I think I should study on my own, by myself—just for now! And then I promise to let you test me when I’m ready,” he puts his hands together in a praying position, “just sit still for a few minutes.”

It’s laughable, really, how you’ve spent the entirety of your day confined in a mere dorm room. Seven hours earlier, it was sunny, clear skied, and warm. But now, as the night sets in, and the moon creeps out, you find yourself growing jealous. Jealous of the people who spent their days outside—jealous of the girlfriends who’re probably snuggled up against their boyfriends at the movies! 

Occasionally, you can hear the opening and closings of neighboring doors, the padding of feet trekking across the carpeted hallway, and the fleeting conversations of passing residents. You wonder if they can sense your agony, if they can feel it emanating through the thick, cemented wall. 

Your eyes glance over to the clock, taking note of the big hand’s microscopic movements. It’s gone around for another two whole revolutions. Two hours of sitting. Two hours of waiting. Two hours of tortuous, painful silence—albeit the occasional flipping of pages, heavy sighs, and ticking. 

The pressure on your lower back from sitting in a slouch builds gradually, until it gets to be too much and you have to change your position. You do it once, but it’s still uncomfortable. Then you shift again…and again, until your weight rests upon a single thigh. For now you’re comfortable, content. 

But then Steve makes the mistake of bouncing his knee. He does it intermittently, unconsciously, and he thinks nothing of it. You can tell because his eyes scan the contents of the book with unfettering concentration, his lips only ever moving to repeat something back to himself. 

Experimentally, you rock against his thigh. No reaction, other than the rise and fall of his denim clad leg. The brisk movement has your heart pounding wildly within its cage, it feels good. An iota of relief from the dull, aching pain between your thighs that had slowly begun to fester the moment you stepped foot in this room. If you were smart enough, you’d try and make it a little less obvious, and blame it on discomfort—and if you were smart enough, you probably would’ve gone home a lot sooner. 

But right now you weren’t thinking with your head (not like you ever really did), you were thinking wholly with your cunt, and right now it was telling you to move. Get off on your boyfriend. Make yourself feel good. So, you do. You move, teeter back and forth, letting your clothed cunt glide against his knee. By now, you’re more than sure that Steve has caught on to your little display of disobedience, and he has. 

“What are you doing?” The question falls flat because he knows exactly what you’re doing—because he can feel it—the wetness seeping onto his jeans, and the pulsing of your cunt. 

“‘M not doing nothing,” you lie through your teeth, shifting yourself once more so that now your body is turned towards him. Steve gets a glance of the wet spot on his pants before you settle all the way back down, and the sight of it makes his dick twitch. Jesus Christ. Playfully, you resume your movements, pressing yourself down hard against him, letting a breathy sigh spill from your lips like silk. 

“See, ‘m not doing anything,” your hands wrap around each other to encircle his neck, lips dangerously close to his, “just sitting down like you told me too.” The warmth of your breath on his neck sends shivers down the column of his spine. Your mouth hovers over it, but never plants itself. 

It’s like you’re toying with him now. Making him do the waiting. And he supposes he can’t be vex with you because it kinda is his fault for promising to take you out. But fuck, he couldn’t take the torment. He wanted to be selfish, wanted you to just kiss him, touch him, and sink down on his cock—studying be damned! 

His impatience gets the better of him. Throwing his book to the floor, he grabs the base of your neck and forces his lips against yours. It’s urgent, spitty, and completely unrhythmic, but he likes it. He wants more; more to feel, taste, touch. 

“I’m sorry, baby” he breathes in between kisses, “Let me make it up to you, yeah? Can I feel you?” You whimper in reply, detaching yourself from his lips to rest your head on his shoulder.

“It’s a l-little too late for sorry, Stevie,” the words come out in a stutter, each one in syncopation with the rolling of your hips. 

“Yeah, I know, baby. I know,” his tone is airy, “C’mere.” The brunet grabs you by the waist, maneuvering you into a position where your legs dangle off the sides of the chair. In this position, he can see everything. Your thighs, your panties, the prominent wet spot that contrasts the baby pink fabric, the coquettish expression molding your face…

It feels like there’s a seed stuck in his throat, and if he were to speak, utter anything above a whisper, it’d grow. Fester. Come out as something sinful. If you were privy to any of the thoughts he had within the last 30 seconds, you’d think he was disgusting, he thinks. His hands smooth over the bare skin of your legs, first experimentally, then greedily, roaming frantically until they stop at the flesh between your thighs. 

He squeezes the skin there, uses the palm of his hands to spread you open—wider, all for his voyeuristic pleasure. Steve likes the sound you make when he does it, sends another twitch straight south, but this time it hurts. It hurts because he’s so fucking hard, he can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock, like liquid hot magma. God, he was growing restless.

The relief he seeks is right in front of him, sitting prettily in her bow-adorned panties, rutting pathetically atop him. You were so cute, so determined, with your lip tucked between your teeth, and your hands grabbing at his clothed chest. But it wasn’t enough. He needed more friction. 

The boy’s hands find solace once again on your thighs, grabbing, pulling at flesh until they finally rest on the fat of your ass. He kneads it once, twice, before pulling you down hard against his crotch. 

Yes, this is what I’ve been chasing, the voice in his head thinks. And it is. He gets this way every time; forgets briefly just how good you feel against him—and then the memories come back. Like flashes, waves of pleasure. It’s like witch craft, almost. Or drugs, the effect you have on him. Yes, it was like drugs. And like all addictions he needed his next fix.

Repeating the motion, he drags you back and forth against him. It’s rough, hurried, and the grip he has on your hips is vice. You’re sure it’ll leave a bruise for you to discover tomorrow, but that’s neither here nor there. All you can focus on is the face he’s making, the sounds he’s making. 

They’re breathy and quick, and whiny. He’s whining for you, muttering incoherencies under his breath but the few words you can make out are ‘feels so good’ and ‘please’. That, coupled with the pussy drunk look in his eyes, has your stomach knotting up. 

“Steve…” the sound of his name sounds melodic coming from you. He wants to hear it again, and again, and again until you can no longer say it. 

“What is it, baby? Hm?” 

“Think ‘m gonna…’m gon–“ He thrusts up, the point of his zipper catching on your clothed clit. A loud gasp emits from your throat, and he swallows it with a kiss. He takes his time with this one, moves his mouth slowly so that you can catch up, pushes his tongue inside so that he can taste you, every inch of you. This one is dizzying, in every sense of the word. 

You try to pull away for air, try to push his chest, but he takes a heavy hand to the back of your head and keeps you still. Keeps you down, pressed against him, so that he can rut up into you with unadulterated ferocity. Eventually, he retracts his hand so that you can quickly catch your breath. A tether of saliva connects the two of you, and it thins the further you pull away. 

Right now, in this moment, under the cheap, dim light of his dorm room, Steve thinks you’re the prettiest he’s ever seen you. Yeah, you always look pretty, could never be anything less than that in his eyes…but there’s something different tonight. Makes him wanna burn the scene into the backs of his eyelids, compartmentalize it so that he can replay it in his mind. See you exactly like this. 

“You’re so—fuck—beautiful,” Steve confesses. He inches closer to your face, hovers his lips over yours. “Do you know what you do t’me?” 

You want to respond, say something, anything, but decide to just grind down harder against him. You’ve never been the brightest, never particularly been good with words, so you let your body speak for you…let his name pour from your lips like a mantra because it’s all you can offer him. 

“Steve, Steve, Steve!” Your hands curl around his biceps, the tips of your fingernails digging into flesh, “you feel s’good.” 

“Come on, pretty girl, why don’t you show me.” He reaches a nimble hand down to your skirt, pulling the fabric up and out of the way. The wet spot has grown considerably since the last time he took a peek at it, now it covers the entirety of the front, all the way up to the pretty pink bow. Fuck, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not after this. 

“Holy shit, you’re so…I can see your pussy like this,” the brunet swallows thickly. He keeps your skirt up with one hand, and uses the other to rub your swollen nub. It’s sticky, warm to the touch. He starts out with slow, deliberate circles. Tries to get a feel for it and coax reactions from you. 

He finds that the faster he rubs it, the more he can feel you clench around nothing, and the more you start to slack against him. The dizzying pace of his hand, paired with the force of his hips (which haven’t stopped thrusting up into you), has you teetering the edge of euphoria. You’re close, and he knows it. 

“C’mon, c’mon. Let me see you, gorgeous,” he drops his hand from your clit to pull you down firmly against him. 

“Cum,” a thrust, “for,” another, “me,” the boy presses you down for a final time, the grip of his hands on your waist so hard, you see stars. All at once, the gears turning in your head come to a full stop. It’s like a system overload, and any and all control you thought you had over your body is now gone. 

Pathetically, you fall weakly into his arms, your body limp, like a puddle of gelatin. A shrill cry escapes your throat, and crescendos into a hushed sob. The sight of your trembling body only encourages Steve further. He uses your limp body like a sex doll, continues to fuck up into you until his balls begin to tighten, and a warm, gooey substance leaks onto his briefs. 

“Shitshitshit!” A series of expletives leave his lips, probably a bit louder than he anticipated. He breathes heavily through his nose, silencing the rest of his moans by biting down onto your shoulder. Before he comes down from his orgasm, he pulls you to sit up, and rests his forehead against yours, open-mouthed breaths fanning your face. 

You’re barely aware of what’s going on when he attaches his lips to yours, but you kiss back; kiss him slow, and steady, and allow him to breathe life back into you. When you open your eyes, you’re met with another pair. Those beautiful, big, brown opals that you missed. 

“Hi,” Steve’s hand comes up to cup your cheek. You nuzzle into it, taking it in your hand to kiss his wrist.

“Hi,” you whisper, laying your head on his shoulder. For a moment, the two of you sit like this, letting the light of the moon coat your bodies. It’s you who breaks the silence first.

“So, looks like you made a mess of your pants anyway.” Steve raises a perplexed brow, but then recalls the time he told you he didn’t want to ‘make a mess of his pants’. In response, he chuckles. 

“Yeah, guess we match now,” he lifts your skirt to show you your sodden panties. You feel a wave of heat rise to your cheeks.

“’S all your fault!” A weak fist makes contact with Steve’s chest. Yeah, he was definitely failing tomorrow’s test. 

© all content belongs to arachine 2022. no reposts, modifications, plagiarizing, or remaking of any form without proper credit. 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x black reader #steve harrington x black reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut

[cloudrumble23]

It was a nice afternoon. One of those days where the temptation to spend the whole day outside instead of working on important chores was nearly unbearable. Jeremy's other friends had already gone home, leaving him alone with Mike on the grass in the front yard.

Mike was picking at blades of grass, not really focused on Jeremy anymore. The conversation had died when their other friends went home, and neither of them particularly felt like starting it again. So neither one of them did.

Jeremy laid back in the grass, feeling the sharp blades tickling his arms. "Hey, Mike. Aren't you hot in that jacket?"

"Hmm?" Mike glanced over at him for a moment, turning his head away again as his face reddened.

"Aren't you hot? You look like you're overheating, buddy."

"Oh, no. I'm... I'm fine." Mike shifted uncomfortably in the grass. "I'd rather the heat anyway."

Right. Mike ran extremely cold for some reason. He always wore that jacket in the summer. In other months, he layered up even more. Jeremy smiled to himself at the one time he and his friends convinced Mike to take the jacket off for once.

His face reddened as he recalled how toned Mike's arms were. He wondered just how strong Mike was. He didn't act strong, not really. Sure, he was loud and obnoxious sometimes, but so was Jeremy. And he didn't have a problem running during P.E., but weight room days were awful, as Jeremy's muscles always hated him after those first few days.

"Jeremy! Come in and get the laundry done! You can sleep on the lawn after you finish your chores!"

Jeremy sat up. "Yes, Mom!" He glanced at Mike. "I suppose this is-"

"I can stick around a while longer."

"Oh." Jeremy was a bit surprised, but Mike knew his responsibilities better than Jeremy did, and if he said he could stay, then that was Mike's business.

"Sorry. My, uh, room is a bit of a mess." Jeremy scrambled to collect his dirty laundry from the floor as quick as possible, intensely aware of the fact that Mike was standing behind him in the hallway. Mike, the neat freak, who'd flip out if someone wore their shoes into the house, who had lost his mind when his little brother accidentally dropped a full bowl of cereal on the floor.

That Mike was currently able to see all of Jeremy's messiness, in the worst possible way. Is he even going to want to be friends with me anymore? Jeremy wondered. This was it, wasn't it? Mike was going to ditch him, and Jeremy's stupid crush would never go anywhere.

"It's fine, dude." Jeremy couldn't even detect any irritation or discomfort in his voice at all, and he wasn't sure if Mike was being sincere or not.

"I wasn't prepared for company, otherwise I would have-"

"Jeremy. I said it's not a big deal." Was Mike amused? That was his teasing voice. "I'm not really surprised anyway. You kind of are a mess."

"I-" Jeremy opened his mouth to protest a moment before realizing that Mike was just joking with him. "Well, I guess so, yeah." He laughed awkwardly. "I gotta get this in the washing machine now."

Mike nodded. He wasn't in the way or anything, so Jeremy honestly didn't know why he'd felt the need to say anything. They just kind of stood there for a moment, before Mike glanced around him back into the room. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?"

Mike pointed, and when Jeremy turned to look, Mike tickled him. "Hey! Hands off!" Jeremy's attempts to push Mike away from him were unsuccessful, as Mike's strength gave him a distinct advantage. "I gotta..." Jeremy gasped a breath between words. "Mike, the laundry..."

"Fine, fine." Mike stopped tickling him and stepped back. Jeremy regretted making him step back, missing his closeness immediately.

He went to pick up the laundry basket again, and Mike whistled. "You know, it doesn't look as bad in here as you think it does."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just clean up the trash and make your bed and it's basically clean. Cleaner than the basement at my house anyway."

"There's a room in your house that's messy? I'm shocked, Michael. Shocked, I tell you." Jeremy nudged him playfully as he started toward the cramped laundry room.

"Ha ha," Mike rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind them. "You're hilarious, Jer."

"I know I am. I am the funniest person on the planet," Jeremy declared, dumping his clothes in the machine and setting the temperature. "Could you grab the soap? It's on that shelf there."

"Yeah, sure." Mike handed him the soap, going quiet for a moment. Jeremy continued setting the machine before closing the lid. "You look so good doing laundry..."

Jeremy froze. Surely Mike hadn't meant that in a... no, he must've meant it platonically. Neat freak that he was, Mike probably was admiring his ability to clean or something. Still, his face burned at the thought, and he replied, somewhat confused, "Thanks?"

Mike's eyes widened significantly as his own face flared red. Oh. So he had meant it that way. And from the look of it, he had not meant to say that out loud at all.

Jeremy cleared his throat, a goofy smile spread across his face. "Neat freak."

"...Huh?" Mike was still trapped in an internal panic over what he'd said, hands coming up to cover his mouth.

"I said," Jeremy swallowed, his throat feeling dry, "you're such a neat freak, Mike. Complimenting my laundry skills like that." Why did I say that?

Mike's eyebrows scrunched, showing his confusion. "Jeremy, what are you talking about?"

He should address it, shouldn't he? It was clear Mike was expecting him to address it properly. "Do..." He couldn't do this. "Mike, do you..." He swallowed again. "Do you like me?"

"Like you? Jeremy, you're my best friend."

Not what I was going for, Jeremy thought to himself as he laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, I know that. But I mean, do you like me? Like, would you date me if you had to?"

Mike trembled, stumbling against the wall. "I... if I had to? Of course, Jer."

I shouldn't have phrased it like that. Jeremy scolded himself. "Cool..." Jeremy shrugged, feeling out of place and very uncomfortable with the awkwardness in the room. "I'd date you without having to," he suddenly blurted out.

Mike blinked. Once. Then twice. And suddenly, he was shooting forward, pulling at the front of Jeremy's shirt as he kissed him. Mike was kissing him. Jeremy eagerly kissed him back, hoping this wasn't just his imagination.

"So... you do like me," Jeremy whispered when they finally stopped. "And I look good when I'm doing laundry, huh?"

Mike's mouth twitched, but he still elbowed Jeremy. "Oh, shut up."

"You can't stand the sight of me cleaning, can you? It's just so attractive to you. Why, Mike, I bet if you had your way, you'd just watch me-"

Mike kissed him again to shut him up. "Fine, you win, Jeremy! Just shut up for once."

Jeremy grinned. "I think I can handle that. For you."

Based on this post by @hearts4ggy (sorry to tag, but you deserve credit for this!)

#cloud writes #michael afton #jeremy fitzgerald #jeremike #mike afton

[pparadiselost]

happy ending.

masseur iwaizumi hajime x fem reader iwaizumi's feelings run deeper than he expected. warning(s): nsfw, sex worker iwaizumi, ambiguous relationship minors do not interact.

“hello again,” the all-too-familiar voice welcomes you with a bright smile. “the pretty lady’s come to visit me.”

your heart threatens to beat out of your chest as you lay down on the massage table. a thin robe separates your bare body from iwaizumi hajime’s expert eyes, acting almost like the last line of defense between the man and your nearly-demolished pride. this kind of back-and-forth relationship was nothing new to you, and especially him, yet your stomach swirls like it’s the first time.

your eyes flutter shut, and you force a deep breath through your mouth. a large, calloused hand teasingly flutters over your exposed legs, rubbing slow circles up from your knees to your thighs. his fingers are slick, all oiled up with massage serum, and they glide over your body with little resistance.

even if it’s for your pride, you know goddamn well that attempting to resist him would only be a farce that he’d see through in an instant. 

“not even a ‘hello’?” iwaizumi laughs, pretending to be hurt. “i got excited when i heard that you were coming to see me today. you know how much i like seeing you.”

you had sworn to yourself each and every time you came crawling here that this would be the last time, swearing off of this temptation for good, but without fail, you somehow found yourself here not too long after. god, you always thought you were better than this, better than to turn to such underhanded ways to take care of your needs, better than to turn away from every other functional solution in the book.

better than to become dependent on a sex worker.

“c’mon, where has my chatty little lady gone?” iwaizumi snaps you out of your thoughts when his fingers knead suggestively at the curve of your thighs. his hands are no stranger to your body, and your body immediately begins responding to him as his fingertips explore your legs. “normally you’re so eager to talk to me. you have to tell me where you want me to massage you, or i won’t know how to service you best.”

your mouth feels dry when you manage to peel your eyes open. he glances down from above you, and his eyes are as warm and enticing as always. you hate how physically attractive he is: broad shoulders and chest, toned biceps built up from his years of massaging clients, big hands that easily grab and coax your body into a state of relaxed euphoria. it’s like his presence is a drug in it of itself; just knowing that he’s staring at you and giving you all of his attention has you squirming underneath him.

“i-i felt lonely,” you squeak out. “i wanted to be with someone, and all i could think about was coming to you…”

“so you were thinking of me,” he murmurs. a coy smile tugs at his lips, and you swallow thickly. He's ridiculously handsome, and you hate how lecherously your body responds to everything he does. “that makes me really happy, did you know that? knowing that a pretty lady like you thinks of me makes me feel really good.”

his voice is low and sensual, and he continues to rub at your thighs. your core twists and throbs dully, already feeling the effects of his hands on your legs. part of you wishes that he wasn’t so sweet with you, so ready to indulge whatever fantasy you had, but the other part of you revels in hearing that. 

you sigh as he works out the tension in your thighs, his hands traveling dangerously upwards. just the sheer anticipation of seeing him had your pussy drooling while you changed out of your clothes, swapping them for the massage robes you had grown accustomed to, and whenever his knuckles travel higher and higher, your core pulses.

you want him. you want those thick fingers inside you, teasing at your needy cunt and fucking you out of them. your head spins with desire, and your body flushes with heat. 

“let me guess…” he pinches at your flesh gently, dragging up the hem of your robes up to your waist. you shudder when his hands drop down to your kneecaps, and he pushes against them gently to spread your legs open. a shiver runs up your spine when the cool massage parlor air rushes against your inner thighs and up your exposed slit. “if my pretty girl is sounding this stressed, then i have no choice but to give her some special treatment… you don’t mind now, do you?”

you shake your head. “please… i want it.”

“good girl,” he praises sweetly. “i know what’s best for you. i promise i’ll make you feel reeeeeeal good in a little bit. you have to trust me, okay? gotta make sure that pretty body of yours can keep up with me.”

you nod. you’d let him do whatever he wanted to do to you so long as you’d get to stay with him. your eyes never leave him as he continues to massage your legs sensually, making sure no part of your lower half went untouched. you know he means best, but having him touch you without anything to alleviate the heat coiling and pooling in your gut feels like pure torture.

he can see the way your body trembles underneath his palms, your curves filling out his palms and submitting to his touches so easily. “you’re doing so good for me, dollface. you know how much i love working with you. you always take what i give you, that sweet body of yours… it’s like you were made for my hands.”

“iwa-,” you manage out. you want to rub your thighs together so bad, alleviate some of the pressure in your stomach that’s choking up your senses. your cunt won’t stop clenching around nothing, your hole fluttering excitedly whenever his hands would slide up a little too far.

“i know, pretty, i know,” he soothes. “i’m doing my job. i’d hate to make you all sore when you came to me for the exact opposite.”

sore? you’re pretty sure your body’s about to cave in on itself if you don’t get him to do something. the last thing on your mind is about how you’re going to feel later. a sick part of your mind reasons that if you end up sore after this, you can always come back to have iwaizumi work out the knots. a perfect excuse to visit your momentary sweetheart once more.

your breath catches in the back of your throat, and a pathetic excuse of a moan escapes you when he massages the part of your body where your thighs meet your crotch. his fingers move in suggestive motions back and forth right next to your drenched cunt, shamelessly making a mess between your legs. you’re sure iwaizumi has noticed how wet you are by now, and he’s purposefully sticking to his professional shtick just to rile you up.

if that’s the approach he’s going for, it’s working. as much as you hate to admit, it’s taking everything in you to not grind against his wrist every time he touches near your crotch. your mind is foggy and heavy with lust, your rationale easily clouding over with primal need. iwaizumi has a knack for sending you spiraling into this animalistic like state, where all you can think about is having your cunt stuffed stupid on his massage table. 

“you’re holding out so well for me,” the young man murmurs. his voice is sticky and sweet like honey against your ears, and you want to taste his mouth on yours. “do you think you’re ready? think i’ve prepped you enough to take me?”

“yes…!” you gasp. “i’m ready- ‘m ready to take you-”

two fingers move to your core, and he presses his knuckles against your drooling core. you whimper as he slowly spreads your lips apart and finds your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles onto your sensitive nub with his fingertips. heat jerks up into your core, and your pussy’s desperate to have something inside it, to have something stretching out your walls and fucking into you. 

iwaizumi hums to himself as he toys with your clit, his honed eyes watching every twitch of your body as he plays with you. he isn’t brutally rough, just rough enough that you can feel every purposeful movement of his wrists and fingers, enough to send you recoiling into the massage bed with pleasure. his other hand latches onto one of your kneecaps, forcefully keeping your legs spread out so that you’re fully exposed to him. you grip at the side of the bed, trying to keep yourself grounded in some way while iwaizumi imitates the motions of a vibrator against your clit.

“nngh…! mmh- iwa- please-” you almost unconsciously buck your hips against his hand, your back arching into his touch. “need more- please, i’m so horny-”

he moves his fingertips up and down your slit, coating his fingers generously with your slick. you moan as he ghosts over your hole, not indulging you with the pleasure of penetration just yet. it’s so humiliating, having your cunt spread out all vulnerable for a man who’s taking his time admiring you and teasing you to your limit, yet you can’t help but get aroused at everything he’s doing to you. 

“does this feel good?” he asks. “it’s my job to make sure all my clients feel good before anything else.”

you swear that this man is going to be the death of you. you sob out, “yes! yes, yes, it feels good! don’t tease me like this, iwa- need you in me- need you inside my pussy-”

“oh?” he laughs. two fingertips prod at your entrance, and he laps up the sight of your pretty cunt fluttering at the touch. “you weren’t even saying hello to me earlier, but now you’re feeling rather chatty, aren’t you?”

“‘m sorry-” your body burns with need. if you don’t have him right now, you don’t know what you’ll do with yourself. “please, i’m sorry, i really am- please, iwa, finger me already…”

“now, if you give me a direct command like that, i have no choice but to follow.” he smiles down at you. you grit your teeth as he slowly sticks his two fingers inside of you, your walls eagerly clamping down on his knuckles as he penetrates you bit-by-bit. a strangled moan rips through you as his knuckles stretch you out, and you can feel every little movement of his fingers as he buries himself into you.

you nearly shut your legs from the overwhelming feeling, but iwaizumi keeps a firm hold on your knees. he chides you mockingly, “ah, ah, ah, dollface. i can’t do my job if you don’t give me proper access.”

he can feel your cunt tightening and squeezing around his fingers. his cock strains against his pants, imagining how good it would feel to have your walls all fucked out on his dick instead. but iwaizumi is a professional, and no matter how much blood rushes south as he watches you whine and squirm just from being penetrated on his fingers, he keeps his cool.

everything about this man is unfair to you. his fingers feel inhumanly good inside of you, and before you can even give him your usual clear, he’s already pumping them in and out at a moderate pace. your stomach curls in on itself, and you whimper, your pussy making lewd squelching noises. you know he’s not doing much, only moving his hand back and forth in the general motion of fucking, yet you already feel so heavy-headed and buzzed off of it.

“my pretty lady’s so desperate today.” iwaizumi likes the power rush this gives him. he has you right where he wants you—all at his mercy underneath his hands. you’re already acting this fucked out and horny from his fingers that he can’t fathom how dicked-down-dumb you’re going to be once he gets you ready for the real deal. “did you miss my touch that much? hmmm?”

he scissors you carefully, wiggling his fingers inside of you. you jerk violently against the cool massage bed, crying out loudly as the knot in your gut coils violently. “d-don’t move like that-! don’t be so rough with me…!”

“so sensitive too,” he whispers. despite your cries, he doesn’t stop his onslaught on your cunt. he keeps moving his fingers in a way that drives you mad, has you shaking and mewling to no avail under his touch. he fucks you out on his fingers, curling them into your cunt in a way that has you seeing stars and pumping them in and out to feel your hole clinging to his knuckles greedily.

nothing, absolutely nothing, escapes his notice.

“let me guess.” he plunges his fingers into you again, probing around for your sweet spot. your nails dig into the soft material of the bed, leaving crescent moon marks into the foam. “you couldn’t get off properly since the last time you were with me, could you? no matter how much you tried to fuck yourself on the toys you have home or cum on your fingers, nothing could make you feel good, could it? you just had to come back to me in order to feel anything, to take out everything that’s been building up in you?”

you don’t dare answer him. iwaizumi knows your body like it’s the back of his hand, having explored every inch of you over and over again. he knows you don’t stand a chance against him, not when he knows the perfect ways to egg your body into perfect submission.

if you won’t speak to him, then he’ll simply find a way to force you to answer. he twists his fingers so that his fingertips fuck right into your g-spot, and the effect is immediate.

“iwa!!!” you shriek. your buck your hips suddenly, right into his touch, and he’s nearly unraveled you right there and then. his grip on your tightens, keeping you pinned down against the bed with no choice but to take his fingers as he tortures your g-spot.

“that’s what i thought,” he chuckles darkly. “couldn’t hit that spot right there on your own now, could you? you’ve gotten too used to how i feel. why else would you visit me this much? my pretty lady can’t get herself to cum without me. you need me in order to feel good again.”

“fuck. fuck-!” pleasure overwhelms your body, rushing all through your veins like an incessant monster demanding to be noticed. your cunt shamelessly squelches and gushes all around his knuckles, and your hips can’t help but grind against his fingertips. it’s almost inexplicable, the effect iwaizumi has on you. he knows this best, and he savors the power rush it gives him to see you like this, practically squirting all over his wrist while he keeps you stuck on his massage table.

your orgasm nearly breaks you. iwaizumi feels your plush walls contort and cling to his fingers, and he continues to coax your climax for as long as he can. you’re panting, your body twisting and turning as you squirm under his touch, but iwaizumi wants to keep you in this drunkenly euphoric state for just a little bit longer. 

he thinks you look beautiful like this: your body weak and pliant for him, puffy pussy overstimulated and spread out on his fingers, your cunt glistening with your cum and pulsing around his hand like it's begging for something bigger to stretch it out.

something like his cock, for instance. 

you shudder. your body feels ridiculously heavy, as if your blood was replaced with lead, and the after effects of your orgasm cling to you. your mind is numb and foggy, reeling from the mind blowing pleasure that iwaizumi forced out of you, and your breathing turns ragged as you lay there all sprawled out on his work table.

“that’s a good girl,” the dark-haired man praises. you shudder again when he pulls his fingers out of you, and iwaizumi admires the sticky string of cum that connects his fingertips to your hole. “bet that felt good, didn’t it? yeah, i know it felt good cumming on my fingers.”

his entire body screams at him to fuck you. his cock strains against his pants, practically choking against the tight material of his underwear, and despite the calm demeanor he keeps, iwaizumi’s barely keeping it together himself. his base instincts are tempting him, telling him to toss his pants off and grab your thighs, to pull you flush to him and fuck into you more like an animal than a man, to fill that slutty pussy of yours up with the cum that you’ve been so desperate for and to feel you shake under him from how good it feels to have your hole stuffed and fucked.

he shakes his head. no. you’re not here for him to use. you’re here to see him, to feel good yourself. it would be unprofessional and straight wrong of him to view you so selfishly, to look at your body with so much lust that he swears he’s going to asphyxiate. 

he rubs gentle circles into your thighs, waiting for your breathing to stabilize. “hanging in there?”

“yeah-,” you gasp out, nodding your head slightly. “felt good- that felt so good, iwa…”

he laughs, and he hopes you can’t hear how shaky his voice is. “don’t get all weak on me now. we’re only just getting started, doll. you ready for me, or do you need another minute?”

iwaizumi wants to ravish you. it isn’t right for him to feel this strongly towards a client, towards someone that he shouldn’t hold any feelings for, but the way you tempt him makes him want to scream. he doesn’t see a ring on your finger, no mention of a boyfriend making you so unhappy that you have to come see him instead to sate your sexual needs, and he wants to daydream so bad. he wants to think that he’s the only man that can make you moan, that can make you feel good, that can make that cute cunt of yours squirt all around him until you can’t even breathe.

it’s bad. he has it bad.

“i’m ready…,” you eke out. something inside him stirs sadistically at your voice, and his mouth feels dry as he methodically undoes his pants. you stare at the bulge in his boxers, your pussy throbbing at the thought of his cock inside you, and when he pulls his underwear down, your eyes widen at the size.

this isn’t the first time you’re going to take him, and you doubt it’s going to be your last. but you’d be damned if you thought that you were going to have any of it easy. you swear you can already feel the burn, the stretch, in your cunt, and you’re grateful that iwaizumi took the time to loosen you up with a round already.

he pats at the table, motioning for you to get into position. you scoot down so that you can press your crotch up against his, your legs hanging off of the table while iwaizumi stands over you. his dick rubs up and down your slit, coating himself with a generous amount of your slick. you can feel him twitch against your cunt, desperate to be buried deep inside you, and your pussy painfully clamps up against nothing. 

“i don’t think i’ve even done that much to you, but your body’s already ready to take my cock,” he remarks wryly. “gonna make you feel good, alright? stop me at any point if something doesn’t feel right.”

“don’t worry.” you smile at him weakly. “that’s never an issue. you’re so sweet to me, iwaizumi. there’s a reason why i keep coming back to you.”

he grabs his hard cock, lining it up with your entrance. he doesn’t push himself in immediately, but rather, he grabs your hips tightly. his dark eyes meet yours, and your chest tightens when you see the dangerous expression that swirls in his irises.

“hajime,” he breathes. “don’t call me ‘iwaizumi’ while we do this. say my first name.”

iwaizumi doesn’t wait to hear you respond before he’s sliding himself in. your mouth immediately falls open when you feel his cock stretching out your walls, heavy and invading every inch of your sensitive hole. he’s being careful, but even then, it feels like he’s splitting you into two. you whimper, clenching your eyes shut as your velvety walls envelop his dick completely, and he lets out a low groan when he feels you fluttering and pulsing all around him.

he hasn’t even bottomed out inside you, yet your pussy welcomes him in so greedily. it’s like that insatiable cunt of yours was made to take him, made specifically for him to fall in love with and for him to fuck out on his cock until you couldn’t even think about having sex with other men. 

“ohhhhhhhh, fuuuuuuuck-!” your voice is airy and drawn out, and iwaizumi wishes he could record it to play it over to himself over and over again. it’s wrong for him to feel this way, to let his heart reach through his bones and flesh towards you, but you keep squeezing his cock and trying to burn the imprint of his dick into your plush walls. 

and this is coming from him. he’s seen all sorts of clients, fucked all sorts of different people with that cool professionalism he prides himself with, selling out his body like some kind of commodity because people are willing to fork over money for him. 

but when it comes to you? iwaizumi’s convinced you’re a gift sent from heaven. you look so angelic—body all laid out for him, eyes clenched shut as your drooling cunt adjusts to the stretch, legs hooked over his hips, your entire body drunk off of him.

“feeling that good already?” he teases lightly. his calloused hands slap at your hips, and the slight sting makes you clench up around him. “not so fast, pretty lady. we still have a lot of fun in store for us. i can’t serve you properly if you’re going to let yourself go this quickly.” 

“c-cock feels so big-,” you whine out. his stomach lurches when he hears you moan, his swollen length threatening to twitch inside of you. the most animalistic urge to pound into you ruthlessly overtakes him momentarily, but iwaizumi swallows heavily and draws his hips back carefully instead. 

you let out such a breathless gasp when you feel his slick cock slide out of you before slowly penetrating you again. your walls clamp up and follow him, trying to suck him back into you, greedily clinging to every inch and vein on his girthy dick. what a greedy cunt you have, already broken in so obediently thanks to iwaizumi’s constant efforts, that it’s willing to eat up whatever the masseur is willing to give you. 

and he knows you’re feeling good. “c’mon, you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart. you can take it, can’t you? you’ve taken me before—yeah, that’s it, baby. gonna make you feel good on my cock. that pretty pussy of yours is doing so good…”

your gut twists at his words, and the heat that floods your stomach goes right to your head. your body feels sticky and hot, already overwhelmed from earlier. he’s so dirty even with his praise, and having your hot masseur’s cock splitting your cunt in two doesn’t make the throbbing in your core and skull feel any better.

“c-can’t take too much-,” you sob out, your voice shaking. “‘m still so sensitive- i just came-”

“you said you were ready, doll,” he reminds you. his voice pulls you through the fog and fatigue and overstimulation clinging to your nerves, and you peel your eyes open to look at him. your cunt won’t stop coiling around him, and he pumps his dick in and out, in and out. he’s not being particularly rough or even that demanding, yet having him fuck you slowly like this makes your toes curl.

it doesn’t even feel like he’s fucking you anymore. you swear that it feels like lovemaking, like he’s touching you in the way a lover should, rather than a monetary exchange between a patron and a worker… you’re overrun with the urge to cling to him, to call out his name like he asked you to.

he fucks his dick into you, carefully and lovingly. your pussy eagerly takes him in, sticky walls rubbing up all against him and making his head spin. iwaizumi wishes he could properly articulate how you feel, how good your body feels when he’s balls deep inside of you, but all he can fixate on is the way your cunt drools and sticks onto him. 

“so deep-,” you choke back a wave of lewd moans. your core flares with heat, with need, and every time his cockhead teases your insides, you shudder with ecstasy. it’s so wrong, to be so dependent on someone that isn’t even your lover to let out all of your pent-up libido, but it feels so good. “you’re going so deep…!”

“i know,” iwaizumi whispers. “i can feel your pussy taking me in. you’re doing so good for me, pretty girl. does it feel good?”

“yes! feels good, feels so good-,” you eagerly reply. “faster- you can move faster- wanna feel you more-”

oh? the knot in iwaizumi’s stomach hardens, and you let out a wanton whimper when you feel his grip on your hips tighten. you know you begged for him to give you more, yet when he snaps his crotch against yours a bit rougher, your body threatens to give out on you. he’s already pushing you to your limits, stretching out your seams, yet for some reason, you can’t get enough of how good it feels to have him break you over and over again.

“let yourself go, beautiful.” iwaizumi’s voice is haunting, determined to coax you into melting away. he wants you all tucked out and fucked in his arms, and your mind blanks every time you feel his cock ram into you with that much more force. your body lurches and shakes on the massage table, letting out loud gasps every time his dick plunges into you. 

“so good-!” you throw your head back, hands clawing at the sides of the table. “oh- god, fuck, fuck- fuuuuuck, you’re going to make a mess out of my pussy…!”

“haven’t i already?” iwaizumi lightly quips back. “you wouldn’t feel the need to visit me this much if i hadn’t.”

“more- more-,” you pant. your thighs quiver around his waist, locking around his body and trying to force him in further. you should know better than to trust him this much, especially when he’s fucking into you raw, but all your sex-crazed mind can think about in that very moment is having more of his cock inside of you. “ruin me, iwaizumi! break me even more!”

iwaizumi?

he furrows his brows, and his hands move from your hips to grab at your thighs. before you can look up at him, he’s forcing your legs apart and pinning them down to the table, spreading your cunt out wider and fucking into you harder. 

you immediately squeal and try to flail underneath him, the new angle and depth instantly scrambling up your insides. but iwaizumi’s grip on you is tight, and he holds you in that half-mating press-half-standing position as he drills his dick as deep as he can into you.

“i thought i told you not to call me that.” his dark eyes lock with yours, and your breath hitches in the back of your throat when you see how feral he looks. something unhinged and uncontrollable swirls behind his all-too-strained composure, and with how aggressively he’s pounding into you all of the sudden, you must have done something to him. “didn’t i tell you to quit using my last name?”

you’re fucked. you know deep down you are. with how iwaizumi’s ruthlessly angling his cock, making it feel like his cockhead is slamming right up against your womb, you can’t do anything other than letting him do as he wants. and god, does it feel good to let him have his way with you. 

“i’m sorry-!” you splutter out. you sound absolutely pathetic, your words starting to slur and rise in pitch. he’s perfected the art of breaking you apart piece by piece, and the wet noises of his cock rearranging your guts makes you only feel wetter and even more aroused. it’s too much, the way he’s stretching you out and teasing your sweet spots. “n-not too rough-! if you keep moving like that, i’ll cum…!”

“isn’t that what you want though? isn’t that the reason why you came to visit me? because that cunt of yours couldn’t feel good on its own?” his nails burrow into the soft flesh of your hips, and you moan out. everything hurts. everything feels too good. everything makes your body feel like it's been lit on fire and left to burn. “c’mon, sweetheart. i’m only here to do as you want me to. it’s not my fault if you can’t listen to my instructions. i’m going to make you cum all over my cock, break that cute pussy of yours with how good my cock is, and make sure you come back here begging and drooling for my dick every time you even so much as think about getting horny.”

the tension mounting inside of you is too much. you can barely think straight, too focused on iwaizumi pounding into you like a bull in heat. his balls slap against your ass, reminding you that you’re completely at this man’s mercy. you want to beg properly, grovel and whine underneath him to be nicer to you, but the way your hole desperately inhales his length betrays your rational intentions.

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry- i’ll be good-,” you promise. you’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for or what you’re promising to behave for, but the last thing you want to do is get on iwaizumi’s bad side. this is the only time he ever acts like this, acts so selfishly that it turns you on to the point where you think you’re about to enter cardiac arrest. you can’t help as much as he can’t: his cock feels perfect inside of you, like it was made for the sole purpose of pleasuring you and filling you up. “i can’t control myself…! feels like i’m going crazy-”

“yeah?” he pistons his hips into you, and the onslaught makes your vision go blank. “gonna lose yourself like that over my dick? over your masseur’s cock?”

“yes! yes, yes, yesyesyes-,” you breathe. “never had anything like your cock before- your cock is the best!”

“stroking my ego now, huh?” he chuckles. the pressure in your stomach won’t let up, but you feel your orgasm tingling around your senses. dangerously, slowly, like a snake slithering in the grass—even when he’s being brutish, iwaizumi’s movements are controlled and calculated. he’s only doing this to make you feel good, to find a way to maximize your pleasure, so that you turn into nothing more than a shell of a person. 

“please-,” you weakly blurt out. “‘m so close- so close to cumming… need just a little more! don’t tease me this much- i can’t do this anymore…!”

“you know what to do.” what iwaizumi wouldn’t give to reach over and hold you in his strong arms. to kiss you while you fall apart, tongues sloppily intertwining with one another as he mouth-fucks you while you cum all over his length. he’d touch you better than any lover could, pleasure you like you’re his partner. but he keeps his place, putting more force into his thrusts so that you shudder and thrash around futilely under his touches. 

it’s not right for him to want this or to demand this from you, but iwaizumi doesn’t care. you trust him, honestly more than you ever really should, and he wants to believe that maybe somewhere in your heart, you want this as much as he does. 

“say my name,” he demands. “just like how i told you to in the beginning. say my name, and then i’ll let you cum.”

you’re desperate. your stomach warps and wrings itself out of need, and you don’t even have the consciousness to think about whether or not this is appropriate. all you care about is cumming and cumming all over iwaizumi’s faithful cock.

“haji!” his name feels right on your tongue. it tastes sweet, like the syllables were made for you to moan out. “hajime, please! let me cum!”

that’s all he needs. everything about you feels lethal. your pleading eyes, body spread out all for him as you take his cock, pretty voice calling out his name like he’s always dreamt you would. he knows he’s going to be jerking himself off to this moment for months, hearing your voice echoing around his ears like the call of a dedicated girlfriend rather than a client. 

“fuck- fuck!” iwaizumi grunts. you shriek when he buries himself deep into you, cock brutally stretching out your cunt as he stuffs his entire length into your pussy. “take it! take it all…!”

he cums inside of you, spilling all he has into your fucked out hole. you feel his dick twitch and pulse before something hot floods your insides. it scalds you, and you arch your back at the sudden feeling before you’re cumming all over him too.

that’s so dirty. your pussy drools and clamps up all over his dick, milking him with all its got. iwaizumi’s made you cum plenty of times before, but this is the first time you’ve ever came from being creampied. it’s lewd, so ridiculously lewd, that it fills you with equal parts shame and pleasure. 

how far the mighty have fallen. 

your cunt flutters around him, and he groans, thrusting through his high. your head feels numb, and your senses nearly give out on you. your breathing turns shaky as you practically convulse underneath him, pussy overwhelmed with the mind blowing sensation of your second orgasm being forced out of you. you already felt stuffed full just from his cock, but having his cum rush into you makes it feel like you’re being bred pregnant by him.

the thought makes your heart skip a beat. it’s horrid, but you can’t deny the fact that it tempts you.

you don’t realize he’s pulled himself out of you until you feel his semen leaking out of your abused hole. iwaizumi takes a step back before almost collapsing against the wall, inhaling desperately as his hawk-like eyes never leave your form. there’s something possessive about the way he looks at his pearly cum oozing out of your cunt, and as much as it fills your face with heat, you don’t have it in you to close your legs just yet.

even through the haziness of your climax, you can’t help but think about how pitiful both of you are. separated by the wall called professionalism, you wonder if these fleeting moments of understanding are about as close as you’ll ever get with being honest with him. or at the very least, letting your heart speak for itself. 

…

…

…

“how much do i owe you for today?” you pull your coat closer to yourself, gripping your wallet in his hands. iwaizumi doesn’t look up from the cash register, but he waves his hand and dismisses you.

“don’t worry about it. i don’t mind letting you have today’s session on the house.” he pauses slightly before he glances up. the awkward silence between the two of you is both tragic and heartwarming, and you quietly pocket your wallet. 

“are you sure? i don’t mind paying. i’m your client,” you offer meekly, only to be met with his adamant refusal. 

the story always begins, ends, and repeats the same. 

you shuffle here, craving iwaizumi’s touch. he has his way with you, lets you have your fun, before you pay and disappear before he can ever do anything more. that’s all it should be and all it was ever supposed to be. he wonders when that line became blurred and at what point that he began wishing that the obvious ending would change.

there would come a day when you find someone, a man that you could love without all of these scary unknowns. maybe then you’d be satisfied and no longer find the need to visit him, and he’d be left here, alone in the massage parlor without the thought of you to keep him company. maybe he’d yearn for years on end, praying that you’d miraculously walk through the doors one day to see him again.

but good things don’t come as easily to men like him.

you smile and lean over to place your hand on top of his, breaking him out of his thoughts. “thank you, then. you really didn’t have to do that.”

“will i see you again soon?” he asks. even under the guise of politeness, his emotions betray him. and as for you—you swore that you’d stop coming back, that you’d quit being so dependent on iwaizumi for your sexual needs. 

but how can you say no when he asks you so directly?

you nod. “yeah. i promise to be back soon. you’ll be here for me then, hajime?”

his answer is what you expect. “always.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi hajime #x reader #fem reader #my writing

[eiightysixbaby]

make a good girl bad

‘my love, did i mistake you for a sign from god?’

word count: 4.3k

pairing: eddie munson x chrissy cunningham

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. smut smut smut smut!!! chrissy’s family is described as being religious - chrissy rejects/slanders this. if this makes you uncomfy please do not read! mention of chrissy having strict parents, unprotected piv, creampie, oral (m receiving), praise and slight degradation, borderline corruption kink? if you squint? chrissy’s not a virgin but eddie definitely rocks her world. brief mentions of drugs (weed).

summary: chrissy’s sick and tired of being hawkins’ resident good girl now that she’s over a year out of high school. when she sneaks her way out of sunday mass with her family, she finds herself claiming a whole new religion: eddie munson.

a/n: aah okay i switched it up from the eddie x reader content for a minute and am feeding my hellcheer heart! needed some nastiness between these two. i absolutely adored writing for them and i’m so happy with this! this fic was loosely inspired by the song ‘the summoning’ by sleep token (listen here) as well as ‘snake charmer’ by blink-182 (listen here)

“You’re running a horrible temperature, dear. I guess you’ll have to stay home from church this morning” Chrissy’s mother tsked, setting the thermometer on the bedside table.

Chrissy’s little ruse had worked, and she gets to skip Sunday mass. Which never, and I mean never, happens. Her mother looks disapprovingly at her before speaking “Well, you’ll have to make up for this next week - perhaps we’ll attend Saturday and Sunday mass. We’ll be back later this afternoon,” and with that she leaves the room, shutting Chrissy’s door behind her.

Chrissy smiles to herself after the door is shut, silently celebrating her small victory.

She doesn’t like lying to her parents, she really doesn’t. But she’s just had enough. The thing is, Chrissy is sick of the life she’s living. She doesn’t want to go to church with her parents every weekend- she doesn’t give a shit about any of it. She’s sick of being a good Christian girl, a golden child, ‘perfect little Christine’. Chrissy turned 20 at the end of June, she finally feels like an adult, and the wild temptation buzzing in the warm summer air has her going stir-crazy. She wants nothing more than to escape her white-picket-fence suburban oasis, sick of being trapped in the prim and proper bubble her mother holds her captive in. In all honesty, Chrissy really can’t be mad at anyone but herself. She could’ve gone away to college, could’ve left Loch Nora in the dust, but instead she chose to stay at home (she leads a cheer camp for the high school in the summer and is a co-coach for the squad during the school year). And she loves what she does, really. But she’s so damn sick of her parents strict rules and playing the role of the good girl all the time.

Chrissy wants to be bad. She wants to get drunk and smoke weed (well, she already does that but.. she wants to do it freely, without a care in the world). She wants to wear tight skimpy clothing, and dance to raunchy music. And most of all, Chrissy wants to have sex. Lots and lots of good sex. See, her ex-boyfriend Jason never cared much about her pleasure while they were together, always making sure he got off and then… they’d be done. Nothing good for her. She genuinely deserves to win an award for Best Supporting Actress for her performed enthusiasm in bed with him. Anyway, Chrissy wants to get fucked, hard. And she thinks she knows just the guy to go to.

She’s been scheming and plotting and planning the downfall of her parents’ golden girl and her entrance into general badassery for a couple months now. And it starts with Eddie Munson (hopefully) ((most likely)). Eddie has a reputation for being the town freak, but he also has a reputation for being insanely fucking good in bed. Chrissy always eats up the gossip on Friday night hangouts with the girls, ‘I heard his dick is like, huge’ ‘He had some girl screaming in the bathroom at Lisa’s party last week..’. She first got to know Eddie for herself when she started buying weed off of him in secret, back in her senior year. She developed a crush on him quite quickly, but she suppressed it, never spoke to him outside of those private moments - what with Jason keeping her attached at his god damn hip to parade around like a show dog. It was nearly impossible to escape his grasp. But now that she’s single, she’s been dipping her toes further in the water with Eddie. Getting a better taste of what he’s like. Talking with him longer when she goes to buy from him, lightly touching him on the arm, dropping more and more subtle flirtations, which he always reciprocates. And god, he’s extremely alluring. He’s sweet as pie, adorably goofy, and always treats her like a queen when they meet. He always has, even when she was too wrapped up in Jason to be a better person to him. But honestly, the moment she first spoke to him she knew she needed to have more.

As soon as her family leaves the house, Chrissy leaps out of bed. She slips out of her pajamas and puts on a short little sundress, one that she never wears around her mother, and turns in the mirror to get a glimpse of herself. The dress stops just below her ass, and it hugs her gently in all the right places. She puts her hair in its typical ponytail, and spreads a dusting of coral colored eyeshadow on her eyelids, finishing the look with mascara. When she deems herself ready, she grabs her car keys and heads out the door. Her palms are sweating as she grips the steering wheel, but nevertheless she backs out of her driveway and exits her neighborhood. Her family usually goes into town after church - and today there’s a bake sale at the library - so she knows she has a good few hours to make her own. She hums along to Heart on the radio as she drives, the breeze blowing her bangs off of her forehead. She pulls into the trailer park, spotting Eddie’s van gleaming at her from the back of the park. She pulls up to his address and quickly applies a thin layer of shiny gloss to her lips, puckering them at herself in the mirror, before exiting the vehicle. She almost feels guilty for coming over unexpected but.. he did tell her to stop by any time she needed anything. And right now, well.. she needs something. She needs him.

She steps away from her car, knocks on the door… tugs nervously at her strawberry blonde ponytail. She hears footsteps inside, shuffling around heavily. The door swings open and there stands Eddie, clad in a tattered Judas Priest t-shirt and a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants, curly hair mussed slightly. She feels her mouth water at the sight of him, like Pavlov’s goddamn dog drooling at the sound of a bell. The thoughts racing through her mind right now would have her mother calling for an exorcism if she could hear them.

“Cunningham, hey…” he starts, fidgeting with the silver rings on his fingers. “Did you, uh.. did you need something? Run through that weed already?” He asks, smiling lightly at her.

“No, no I’ve still got plenty left,” Chrissy responds, and her voice feels small. “I’m here for a different reason, actually? I’m here for you.”

Eddie, very clearly confused, opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out.

“I, um, need a favor from you, Eddie.” She’s shifting on her feet, nervous to say what’s on her mind.

“Well, shit, Cunningham, anything for you,” Eddie gives her a toothy smile.

“I- I need you to fuck me, Eddie. I want to have sex with you,” Chrissy blurts, and she swears she’s never been this bold in her life. Her cheeks heat up as she looks up at him. “I was supposed to go to church with my family this morning but I faked sick… got out of it… and, um, I figured it was the perfect time to ask you.” she’s more nervous now, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope, like maybe this is stupid. Maybe she should just go back home.

Eddie genuinely, honestly, is convinced he died in his sleep or something and this is some sick joke his mind is playing on him. Chrissy’s huge blue eyes are staring right through him and he feels like a pile of goo. He’s liked Chrissy since before she ever started buying from him. Admired her from afar, wondered why she stayed with Asshole Jock of the Century Jason Carver, when she clearly deserved so much better. He never thought he stood a chance though, and it really wasn’t his place to ask questions. Chrissy shifts on her feet, and the sound of sneakers on gravel brings Eddie back down to earth.

“E-Eddie?” She squeaks out, and he realizes he must be standing there like an absolute doofus, drooling over her like she’s a piece of cake.

“I- you- I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be rude, but you snuck your way out of church, came here on a Sunday morning to… have sex… with me?” Eddie manages to get out, his cheeks turning pink.

“I’m not missing much, I don’t believe in any of that crap anyway,” Chrissy starts. “And I’m just- I’m so… tired of being ‘Chris the Priss’. I- I need you, Eddie.”

And who is Eddie to deny a woman what she needs? He opens the door wider and motions for her to come inside. She obliges, and stands facing Eddie in the living room of his trailer.

“Can I ask why you chose me, Cunningham? Why you want to sleep with me of all people? I mean, what about Carver? I know you guys broke up but, it’d probably be easy to get him back in bed” Eddie laughs a little, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

“Jason is the last person I want to sleep with, honestly,” Chrissy counters. “He- he’s never once made me cum, everything’s all about him,” she rolls her eyes. “I know you have a reputation, Eddie. The girls are always talking about you,” she’s looking up at him shyly through her lashes as she speaks.

Eddie ponders this, tilting his head at her. The hookups Eddie’s had are really just something to keep him occupied. He’s not a shitty guy, really, only ever getting in bed with girls who are fully on board with a ‘one night only’ kind of thing. But if Eddie’s truthful, a lot of the stories about him are rumors. Some are true, of course, he’s not gonna sugarcoat it. But some things get exaggerated as words go down the telephone line, like, he doesn’t have a ten-inch cock, and his body count is definitely under twenty. All he knows right now is that he’s gonna give Chrissy everything she wants and then some, because it’s her. No one else matters as much as her.

“A reputation, huh?” he questions, braving a step closer to Chrissy. Chrissy feels like she’s floating. He’s close enough to feel his breath on her skin.

“You’re sure you want this?” He asks.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Please, Eddie. Tired of always being the good girl. Need to be bad for you,” Chrissy pleads, reaching out to twirl a lock of his hair around her fingers.

“Shit, sweetheart, you don’t have to say it twice,” and with that, Eddie is dragging the girl to his bedroom.

Chrissy barely lets him shut the door behind them before she’s on him, kissing him hard, desperate. Eddie’s hands make their way up to her hair, tugging it out of the yellow velvet scrunchie and running his hands through it. His tongue prods into her mouth, twirling around hers, kissing her like he’s starving. Chrissy groans softly into his mouth, she needs more. She’s tugging at the collar of his shirt, moving them both backwards before she falls back onto his bed. Her doe eyes are staring up at him, begging him to join her there.

“Christ, Chrissy, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Eddie breathes, pulling his shirt over his head before joining her on the mattress.

He helps her out of her dress, discarding it onto the floor hastily. Beneath it, she’s wearing a lacy light pink bra that cups her breasts in just the right way, and matching light pink underwear with a little white bow at the top. Eddie’s practically creaming his jeans at the sight, taking in all of her slender frame and trying to pin it to memory. It doesn’t take long before her mouth is on his again, kissing each other like it’s their last moment on earth. She’s palming Eddie through his pajama pants, reveling in the growing bulge she feels beneath her fingertips.

“Need- need these… to come off…” Chrissy pants through heated kisses, grabbing at the waistband of the soft flannel pants.

Eddie wastes no time in taking them off, and his boxers follow suit. Chrissy audibly gulps, he’s so much bigger than she expected. She’s heard the rumors about his size, yeah, but you never know how much of that is true. And while it might not be quite as massive as people say, it’s still a sight to behold. Her mind is racing, fleeting thoughts of every way she wants to have him spin in her head, making her dizzy.

“Eddie… please- wanna suck your cock,” she moans as he trails kisses down her neck.

Eddie’s heart is racing, he still doesn’t fully believe that he actually, really, has Chrissy Cunningham in his bed right now. Like, seriously. When do the camera crews come out and tell him this is all a big prank? A couple years of pining uselessly after this girl, writing songs about her (and feverishly denying that they’re about her to anyone that asks — fuck you, Gareth), reading into their flirty interactions a little too much. And now she’s here, practically naked, begging for his cock. Whatever good deed he did to deserve this, he’s thanking his past self for it.

He sprawls himself out on the bed for her, legs spread, cock resting lazily against his tummy. All Chrissy does is look at him and let out a pleased hum, and Eddie’s cock is twitching desperately as if on command. Like she’s some seductive snake charmer, controlling his body with her mind or some shit. Chrissy eases herself onto her knees on the carpeted floor, eyeing Eddie’s cock in front of her like it’s a meal and she hasn’t eaten in months. Eddie positions himself on the edge of the mattress, now mere inches away from her face. Chrissy’s grabbing for him, needy and eager, looking up at him with those big, ocean blue eyes of hers.

Her dainty hands grasp his cock, and a moan escapes him without warning. Before he can catch up with what’s happening, she’s wrapping her pretty pink lips around his swollen, leaking head. She teases him at first, only sucking on the tip, really making a show of it all. The shiny gloss on her lips starts to smudge off, coating his dick in a glittery shimmer, and it only makes him harder. She releases his head with a ‘pop’, gazing innocently up at him, and Eddie thinks she might be a real life angel.

“Mmmh, Eddie, you taste so good…” she’s giggling, one hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing lightly, batting her eyelashes as if she doesn’t realize the effect she has on him.

“Fuck, baby. Please keep going, need to feel more of that pretty mouth around me,” Eddie��s gently fisting her hair, urging her back onto his cock.

She obliges immediately, this time taking more of him into her mouth. Eddie gasps, the warm wetness of her tongue sending zaps of electricity to every nerve ending on his body. And, fuck, she sucks his cock so well. Bobbing her head back and forth expertly, fitting as much of him into her mouth as possible (which isn’t all that much, but what she can’t fit in her mouth she makes up for with her hand). Honestly, Eddie finds it ten times hotter that he’s so big she can’t fit all of him. The slick feeling of her mouth around his cock is driving Eddie crazy, and he watches her as saliva starts to drip past her lips, leaking down the rest of his shaft and onto her hands.

“So pretty when you get all messy for me, sweet girl. D’you like having your mouth full?” Eddie coos, cupping her cheek with one hand and rubbing his thumb across the soft skin.

Chrissy melts into his touch and nods eagerly, humming an agreement around him. She loves the feeling of him in her mouth, and every moan and noise of appraisal he gives her gets her wetter and wetter for him. Her tongue licks a stripe up the underside of his length and it sends him reeling, one hand gripping the sheets beneath him. She focuses her mouth’s attention on his balls, sucking them into her mouth while she pumps his cock with her hand. And, fuck, Eddie’s so glad he’s sitting down right now because his knees would’ve given out if he were standing.

“Ffffuck, Chrissy, feels so good,” Eddie moans, and he can feel himself reaching his release.

But he can’t cum yet, not before he gives her what she really wants. He taps her on the shoulder and coaxes her up onto the bed with him.

“C’mere, baby,” Eddie’s voice is smooth as honey, “-as much as I’d love to cum all over that pretty face, I need to fuck you dumb right now.”

Chrissy feels her heart rate increase as she wipes the spit from her mouth, nodding incessantly. She straddles his lap, grinding herself down onto him, riling him up further. Eddie groans softly, grabbing her hips and slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of her panties.

“Take these off for me, sweetheart, need to fill you up,” he murmurs, and his eyes are trained intently on her as she slips the pink cotton fabric off.

She positions herself perfectly above his cock once more, and Eddie guides her slowly down onto him. She gasps at the intrusion, the stretch to fit him. She’s never had anything close to this size inside of her, her fingers pale in comparison, and her insides burn in all the right ways.

“Mmmph- fuck, Eddie. S-so big, fuck,” she whines, screwing her eyes shut as he slowly pushes further and further in to her velvety walls.

“I know, baby, I know. But you can take all of me, can’t you? Gonna let me stuff you full of my cock?” he’s watching her every movement in awe as he speaks to her, going slowslowslow so as not to hurt her too much.

“Yes, need to take all of you. G’na take all of you,” Chrissy replies breathlessly, “Fill me up, Eddie, all the way. Need it so bad, please,” she begs, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Eddie complies to her request, bottoming out in her tight, dripping cunt. He throws his head back against the pillow with a low groan, and he feels her clenching around him as she adjusts.

“You feel so good around my dick baby, so fucking tight,” Eddie’s praise has her whimpering on top of him, and she starts to rock her hips slowly.

“N-need more, Eddie, more,” she whines, trying desperately to get him to move.

“Yeah? Y’want me to fuck you silly, Chris?” Eddie taunts her, and her cheeks flush red.

“Yes, ohmygod, need you to fuck me so hard.”

And Eddie doesn’t need more convincing. He thrusts up into her, his pace relentless from the get-go. Chrissy’s whimpering and moaning and squealing on top of him, bouncing slightly to meet his thrusts, and Eddie loves the way his balls slap against her skin as their bodies meet. Filthy sounds leave Chrissy’s pouting lips as she rides him, the tip of his cock hitting just the right spot inside of her, heat pooling in her belly.

“What would your parents think if they could see you right now, hm? Split open on my cock, being such a slut f’me, when you should be in church,” Eddie tsks, his thrusts picking up speed “You’ll be repenting for your sins after this, sweetheart,” he’s all but growling at her, his voice low and thick, and it sends electricity right to her dripping core.

None of this should be as hot as it is, but Chrissy grows more and more turned on with every reminder of what she should be doing right now… and what she’s actually doing instead. And fuck, she’ll repent for her sins forever if it means she can keep having Eddie like this. If the Chrissy from a couple years ago could see her now, she’d be covering her ears, shielding her innocent eyes. But current Chrissy wants nothing more than to let go around Eddie’s fat cock, wants him to fill her up with all of his cum as she milks him dry.

“You gonna cum around my dick, baby? Gonna let me feel you cum?” Eddie’s encouraging her, and she feels the coil in her belly grow tighter and tighter as she chases her release.

“Yeah, Eddie, wanna cum for you. F-feel so good,” she keeps bouncing on him, moving herself as quickly as she can to get where she so desperately needs to be.

Eddie rubs his thumb over her clit, moving in quick circles, making her yelp at the sudden friction.

“Oh! Fuck, Eddie! Eddieeddieeddie,” his name spills from her mouth over and over like a prayer, like he’s her salvation, like she’s never needed anything quite as much as she needs him.

“I’m right here, sweet girl, c’mon. Let go for me,” Eddie’s words are enough to push her over the edge entirely, finally letting herself free fall into bliss.

Her walls flutter around him, clenching and releasing over and over and over as her body slumps down into him, her face buried in his neck. Chrissy’s never felt anything like this before, never got anywhere close with Jason, never hit quite the right spot when she’s played with herself. She feels sexy, she feels free, she feels raunchy and nasty and dirty as she soaks Eddie’s throbbing cock. She feels like a new version of herself.

Eddie continues to buck up into her, chasing his own high, grunting in concentration beneath her heaving body. She kisses his neck, licks and nips at his ear, whispering praises to him.

“Come on, handsome, need you to fill me up. Need to feel you cum in my pussy, Eddie, want it so bad,” she urges, snaking slender fingers up and down the sides of his body.

“Fuuuuuuck, y’sure you want it inside?” Eddie pants, so so close to release.

“Yes, god, yes. Make me yours Eddie, please,” and she doesn’t quite know why she said it like that, where it came from, make her his. But it’s all Eddie needed to finally snap.

Thick, gooey ropes of cum coat Chrissy’s insides, and she groans as she feels his cock twitching slightly against her sensitive walls. She rocks her hips gently back and forth a few times, getting every last drop out of him before giving up. When he’s finally spent, he pulls her body down onto his, pressing their chests together. He kisses the top of her head, big hands splayed across her back as her breathing finally starts to slow.

“How was that, sweetheart? Everything you needed?” Eddie smirks at her, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Better than singing hymns at church with a bunch of old farts?”

Chrissy snorts at this. “Yeah, Eddie. Everything and more. Definitely better than church,” she hums, satisfied, big blue eyes searching his brown ones. “Thank you. For that, you didn’t hav-”

“Cunningham, don’t you dare say I didn’t have to do that,” Eddie presses a finger to her lips, shushing her. “How on earth could I say no to a perfect girl like you?”

Chrissy’s cheeks flush at this, and she buries her face in his neck, suddenly embarrassed despite the fact that he just fucked her into oblivion.

“Chris?” Eddie asks, petting her hair gently.

“Hm?”

There’s a pause. Eddie swallows. Chrissy’s heart beats faster. Why is her heart beating faster?

“When you told me to make you mine… uh, what exactly did you mean by that?” he chews on his lip nervously, voice suddenly pitched higher.

Chrissy feels her mouth go dry. Shit, he caught that. “It- it just kind of slipped out, I’m sorry, I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable,” she admits.

“No, no. God, Chrissy, no way. I just, uh, if you were serious…” the rest of the sentence catches in his throat, he’s unable to say what he wants when she’s looking at him the way she is. “I’d…. I would make you mine, if you wanted that,” he finally forces it out, eyes averting her gaze.

Chrissy beams, crooked teeth making her all the more endearing as she reaches up to squish his cheeks, turning his head so he’s looking at her.

“You mean you’d give up your Sex God lifestyle all for me?” she teases, making him blush.

“I’m willing to reel in my charm and be a ‘Sex God’ for you and you only,” he jokes back, and she rolls her eyes. “But you’re gonna have to start coming to Sunday school, right here in my bed, so I can teach you some lessons,” he says, tone extremely serious but his smirk gives him away.

Chrissy laughs, throwing her head back a little.

“I’d like that Eddie. I’d really like to be yours,” her voice is soft as powdered sugar, honey blonde hair falling in his face as she presses her lips to his.

“Consider it a sealed deal then, sweetheart. Chrissy Cunningham, cheer queen, good girl gone bad, Sex Goddess, is my girl,” Eddie boasts.

Chrissy swears there’s hearts in her eyes as she looks at him. She’s positive she can’t live without him, wondering how she ever did before today, clinging to him like a savior. Like he was the missing piece to her puzzle, and now she can finally be who she wants to be.

Chrissy doesn’t go to church anymore after that. Instead, she spends her Sundays wrapped in sensual bliss with none other than Eddie Munson.

#eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer #hellcheer smut #eddie x chrissy smut #hellcheer oneshot #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham

[didishawn]

Im begging you for a Ferran smuuuut, you are so fucking talented with your writing!!!!

Off limits (Ferran x Lewandowski! Reader) smut

Warnings: smut, size kink, Lewy as an overprotective brother, he is not dating Sira on this

Masterlist

There is an unwritten rule in football.

Sisters are off limits.

Doesn't matter how attracted you are to a teammate's sister, how much chemistry you have, how much she is begging you with her eyes to fuck her, you mustn't, you can't, or there will be trouble.

Ferran had never truly thought much about the rule, he liked it really, never been able to imagine his sister dating one of his teammates, so he always guessed it was an ok rule.

That is until you entered his life.

Robert Lewandowski was exactly what Barça was waiting for, a joy after Messi's departure that broke everyone's hearts.

The man was awesome too, both as a footballer and as a person, even if still a bit confused with Spanish, he always gave his best to get along with teammates.

Soon after his arrival, he decided to organise a house party, a pool one taking chance of the summer heat, searching to strengthen relationships with his new team.

That's when Ferran met you, dressed in a skimpy bikini and a cheerful smile, trying your best to communicate with the team.

He felt a sense of pride towards himself and his time on Manchester when Pedri lamented not knowing English next to him, Gavi was too young, same with Balde, he cursed Eric and Ansu because how they didn't waste a second to surround you.

There was joy in his heart though, when he noticed he was the one you had set your pretty eyes on.

There were bright smiles on your faces as you chatted, he fell in love with your giggling, how you twirled your hair, how you were not afraid at all to show him exactly how attracted you were to him. How you played with his chain and complimented him on it, compliments algo being thrown at his physique, you were flirting when you asked him to sometime help you to work out.

You were a minx, a temptation that he unfortunately realised he couldn succumb when he felt Robert Lewandowski's hard gaze on his back. So he was set on forgetting about you and your sultry smile that he knew he could never have.

You didn't let him though, showing up to matches, training, yet ignorant to his presence you were not about to drag yourself after him -that was something he had to do if he truly wanted you.

And God, does he want you.

Ferran feels as if flying, a goal and an assistance after so long, he felt it as a way to answer to all those internet trolls that have nothing better to do than tearing him down.

Lewandowski, ever the great man, offers to take them all out to dinner.

And of course you are here how could you not? All pretty with your brother's number on your back, laughing at whatever Ansu and Eric - the other winner of the night, afe telling you. His jaw is clenched, and he feels like fighting his friends.

There is a moment where your eyes meet, yours dating him, teasing him to get him to talk to you after so long, still, he doesn't dare to, not with your brother watching them all, making sure none of them get too close to his dear little sister.

The table starts to empty, players wanting to rest with their families back home, Lewandowski leaves with a warning eye, daring everyone to even try anything with you, asking you to not come home late.

Pedri and Gavi -ever the duo, leave. Only Ansu, Eric, him and you are left.

"Do you want us to take you home? It's on our way" Ansu asks you, he too about to leave along Eric.

You shake your head with a kind smile "No, it's alright, I am not going directly home tonight"

They all rise an eyebrow, curious, yet no one dares to ask. It's only you and him left, and not even like that you talk to him, picking up your stuff and walking out from the restaurant, he follows close behind.

"Soo, what are you doing now?" you give him a side eye.

"So we are on talking terms again?"

"We always have!"

"So what was that about ignoring me?"

"You ignored me too"

"I ignored you because you started, I wasn't about to follow you around like a lost puppy"

Ferran is regretful "Well, I just felt kind of scared I guess. Your brother's glare is enough to kill a man"

You huff "Don't you tell me, always scaring off my boyfriends and reminding me about some unwritten rule about-"

"-sisters being off limits"

"Yeah, exactly"

The two of you are quiet, eyes on each other.

"You have no idea how I wish the rule didn't exist, you have no idea how much I want you since seeing you walking around in that tiny bikini of yours"

"I may or may have not already seen you around and decided to put it on to make an impression"

"God, you are killing me over here"

"You know..." you take a step closer, looking up to him, you hand playing with jewelery on his neck "... what my brother doesn't know won't hurt him"

Ferran doesn't answer for a second, his gaze doesn't falter from yours.

".... Get in my car"

That's how you end up like this, your legs over Ferran's shoulders, his hips pistoning into yours, completely filling you up, his pace doesn't falter as his lips are on yours.

"God, you feel so fucking tight around me, darling. So small, I can fucking see me inside of you" he is rambling, isn't even sure of what he is saying.

His hands push against the bulge on your stomach, making you whine out, both of your moans are uncontrollable.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this, my love. From the first time I set eyes on you, I wanted you. Hated how everyone surrounded you when you should have been mine from the first moment"

"Fuck you and your morals for making me wait so long, god, Ferran, you are so big, can feel you so fucking deep"

His figure completely envelopes you, if someone were to enter the room they wouldn't be able to see you. He is so big everywhere in comparison to you, he is everywhere you look, everything you want, you want him to fill you up to the brim.

Youe hand reaches towards the jewelery adorning his neck, pulling him to meet your lips again, he separates, grinning down at you "I am starting to think you have a kink with my chain"

"I do, I am not ashamed of it"

He lazily grins, his hips are nothing alike, the bed is shaking, you hope a dent won't from on the wall, but it seems likely.

"God, I am coming soon, darling. Cum with me pretty"

His words bring you to extasis, finally finding the release you have waited so much to come from this man, your walls tighten around him, he whines, groans, moans all the sounds that get you hornier.

You are on cloud 9 as he continues to fuck you, his cock slamming into you, his hips start to tremble before you finally feel him fill you up, he falls into your chest, breathing heavily but not coming out.

He notices your faraway look, kissing your cheek, massaging your sides.

"Come on, darling, we are not done yet, we have months to make up for"

Needless to say, as you arrive home the next Morning, Robert is furious, more so when you refuse to say to whom the marks on your neck belong to.

And when it doesn't take long for him to figure out who the giver is, Ferran is sure the man has a future on private investigation after retiring as he runs away from the Polish.

#barca #fc barca #pedri #spanish nt #barcelona #spain national team #spain nt #ferran torres imagine #ferran torres x reader #ferran torres smut #ferran torres #ferran #Gavi #Ansu fati #eric garcía

[m4nd0l0r]

Hungered Sin.

Description: Desire is a humanly feeling, it bubbles and foams— and it’s either one acts upon it, or let it simmer pathetically down the drain.

Ship: Five Hargreeves x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.2k (this was supposed to be short uhhh)

Author’s Note: (short note 4 tonight :”)) guess who wrote this at 2am….. i did— this is just pure horny (smut (not piv LMFAO) specifically) (about temptation and what not) born from their parent named academic stress (cough i struggled writing this a little so if its clunky..i’m sorry 😭)… if this has any typos- welp…i’ll going to fix any of those… in the morning (or someday we’ll never know)!— anyway- i hope you giys like this one! (i loved writing this even tho i fought tooth and nail w my docs w this-) (likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!! they motivate sm fr)

(Five’s body is aged up, and his consciousness ranges from 25 to 50 in my works for him from now on— However you decided which age you want for your experience/comfort!!)

Five Taglist: @ells-graveyard @noahspector @aelinismyqueen@fivelegance @ne0boss @twauna00 @placidpluto@eichenhouseproperty @heartsforsuyin @ghostlywavelengths@ghostlycherryblossomwonderland @seconds-not-decades@coolcatlover4 @emotionally-unstabel @peachy-wolfhard @its-lokilocked @raven-fandomtrash @theilliterateskankula@magicstrange @venusrambles @whereintheworldisspencerreid@honeycombdumbass @kazuive @oscarisaacsleftballsack@zenithinthebin @peachteeaaa @rchaoz @wickedmystery@wordsandnerds @umbrellatte @666abby6666@iameddiemunsonshair @starlightinhumanform @vennythearsonist@trashmouthsahra @crinklypink @halfumbrella@wifeofcamillamacaulay (if you want to be removed/added, pls tell me via pm!!)

“Can I hug you?” 

You asked him in a soft breath, dressed in a dark pinkish mauve turtleneck. It was somewhat tight, wrapping its cloth unto your body as if it were some sort of clay. It wasn’t your usual color, always somewhat preferring something else— and yet Five still stares, focusing, and as entranced as he can be. 

His eyes always find their way trailing to wherever he pleases. A ‘curious’ look coats his pupils as he unabashedly stares. And you plainly see it, every damn time— he doesn’t even try to hide it. 

He always, always- made himself obvious, as if he was letting you watch himself unfold right in front of you. 

And as you look him in the eye, daring to lick your bottom lip right in front of him. You don’t ask him why he stares, because you’re doing this on purpose. The glint in your pupils was too mischievous, even from you. 

Five has a good eye, that’s something you were- if not, need to be- sure of. 

He notices everything— he just does. It would be stupid to assume he wasn’t keen- observant even. 

Every time his fingers fasten his blazer- his wrists, swivelling as he adjusts his cuffs— or even when he holds something- even just a bottle, it always intrigues you— makes you cast your eyes right to his fingertips, a devilish gleam coats you. 

Honestly, he questions whenever you gawk unto his hands- supposedly, there was nothing much to marvel at. Blunt clean fingernails to keep jobs easier— filled with callouses from working with digging off scraps, adjusting weapons to fit his precision- his knuckles whitening from the amount of times skin has been scraped off and bloodied. 

And yet, you were so enthralled with such a simple thing- to the point that it drives him mad- Insane even, it surprises him on how you could be so interested in something so plain. 

But he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t amused. 

A tingly, warm feeling courses through Five’s veins as if he were some sort of addict, injecting himself with what the world can offer, and in this case, it was need. 

“Of course, angel.” His voice low, it rolls smoothly as if it were silk. 

A realization settled on his part- it was also want. The impulse to feel, to fully caress, he wants to embrace you even closer, to further bind you to his skin— your blood simultaneously pumps through your heart as his syncs with yours. 

The burning itch, as if flames would eat him alive if he dares not to think of it— to not think of pressing his lips up to the back of your neck, or on the crook by your pulse. 

The sheer pure want that settles into his lungs, the urge to breathe you in— He stops himself, letting himself feel you suddenly leave open kisses onto his face, a wind’s touch to clouds; light yet so rousing. 

“That wasn’t part of your deal.” Five teases, you only sigh unto his cheek, chuckling. 

“C’mon- can’t I kiss you out of all people?” Your voice drawls, a raised brow is drawn from your face. It only serves to make him laugh. 

“You don’t even need to ask.” He clarifies, shaking his own head. Your mouth shapes itself like clay, and he only sees your toothy smile— it was genuine; an artisan’s craft, and he merely admires it.  

Your lips press down almost roughly but still so soft as you hold his face by your palms. Your breath tickling his skin as if you were the sun to the sea. And one kiss after another, he was sure you would leave kiss marks, and as much as he hated messes, damn it- he likes it. 

He felt perverted, for liking it this much— your simple kisses bubbled something in his chest, and it was drowning him. 

It was as if something set off in him; a fire fed with fuel, as he felt your fingertips slide further by his ears, right at the crook of his nape.  You lightly caress his head as you leave another kiss right beside his mouth- and he only leans in further. 

His hands slip- wrapping his fingers unto yours as he guides them down from his own face to his upper arms. Your face quivers in confusion, but it fades, his palms hike down to your sides, to your waist— He pulls you close to him, pushing his lips to yours. 

You merely open your mouth, his tongue muffling a sound that escapes your throat— You grip onto his shoulders almost tightly, and his only reaction was a smile that you felt form on your own lips. He lets his hands slither underneath your sweater, caressing so softly to your supple skin. 

And he was sure— that he fell into this trap, letting himself become strung unto the threads of temptation. That this hunger for you has grown as each day passes, and his need to feast merely grows precariously; an invasive weed to a perfect field. 

He presses himself closer to you, throwing you off- and his hands only further skid through the creases of your back— the pads of his fingertips cold compared to the warmth of your skin. He can’t help it— the pure festered desire just can’t quell itself, and all he finds himself wanting is more. 

Adjusting his head, he tilts himself, your teeth bump into each other but he doesn’t mind— he wants this, he needs to be closer- and god— Your hips pressed to his, roughly shifting yourself to match his movements. His pelvis teasingly slides down, hiking back up and burying himself unto your own, your body tenses.

He slips out a shaky groan— He could have sworn he felt his own eyes flutter out of shock. His fingers almost painfully dig down to your skin, and you hum in response. “Fuck.“ His eyes roll, a guttural grunt slipping again from his throat. Before you could even come back to the depths of his lips— His hands- still underneath your sweater- trail to your bare sides, making you shudder. 

He almost stopped- a small impulse sprouts itself to go back up and to press his lips against yours— But he doesn’t— feeling you push yourself to his palms, urging- silently pleading him to continue— and his laugh vibrates, a searing sensation against you. 

“You really want this?” He whispers to your ear, warm to your flushed skin. You merely form a small serpentine grin, not even hesitating to murmur a silken yes so low he almost didn’t even hear it- yet, it dares to shudder a ripple unto his own spine.

He drags his lips again unto you— and you only huff breathily, echoing a hum of pleasure as Five trails up. His hands grasp unto you, and he forces himself to watch, to see the glint of deconcentration that shone in your eyes because of him. How your mouth shaped into an “O” just as you felt him touch— The way you tried to hide your now aflamed face, only receiving another chuckle as his fingers slipped even lower, briefly touching your waist. 

Damn it- This— you were a pure act of desecration; the destroying of his own control. It was irreverent-  sinful, to even think that he needs, desires you this much. 

It was as if he were a man desperate to get even a drop from an oasis’s springs in a desert full of sand and grime threatening to choke him with each breath he takes; he was simply feeling something quell in his throat, it was as if it were thirst— or even worse, it was hunger. 

He knows— Fascination wraps unto him; an anchor into the depths of desire.

And all his sight lets him conjure is you, the one who plagues his dreams with temptation— merely watching him sink down with it. 

#tua five #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #five x you #number five x you #number five x reader #five hargreeves #number five #tua x reader #tua x you #tua 1 #tua 2 #tua 3 #the umbrella academy #thank you for reading my madness #five x y/n #five hargreeves x y/n #number five x y/n