#fantasies about them that will never happen and it's just exhausting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neil-gaiman · 9 days

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Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

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littlefreya · 25 days

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Pictures of You

Summary: While Sy is deployed, his new girlfriend sends him nudes, and now he must take care of 'business' himself while fantasizing about the things he would do to her.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x himself x OFC

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), pure smut, graphic depiction of sex (male x female), male masturbation, bodily fluids, accidental creampie, dirty language, punishment, Freya using "peach". Being caught in the act. A bit of fluff. Not beta'd.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, translating, copying it, or parts of it and claiming it as your own*

A/N: It's been a while since I posted. I am working on a series (plural), but I got inspired by a lovely anon today. I'm not sure if I'm tagging anyone since my tag list is probably outdated and I'm not sure who still wants on. So, if you enjoyed, reblog, or comment, let me know. I'd appreciate it. 🖤

Pictures of You

At last, night unfurled, and the camp became quiet.

The glorified Captain retired to his quarters, exhausted from a day of training recruits and tedious paperwork. This deployment would be long, and though he loved being The Captain - Logan Syverson was beginning to miss home.

It was all because of her. Sy shouldn't have caught feelings, long-distance relationships were never his thing, but damn, she was something else; a woman way above his league, pretty, hot as hell and way too smart to be with a military grunt like him.

Needless to say, fucking her made him feel like a god.

Stripping down to his boxer, Sy slumped into his bed with a huff and reached for the private cell phone stuffed in his drawer.

Twenty unanswered messages appeared on the screen—three of them from her.

Joy painted his face at the sight of her name. Ignoring everything else, he went directly to read her messages.

“Missing my big Sy”, the first message read.

The other - “something to make you think of me.”

The last message was simply an attachment. Curious, Sy tapped it open.

‘Fucking hell.’

The unmistakable pang of desire instantly surged through his groin.

There she was, his sweet woman, naked and spread open like a present unwrapped, especially for him. She was sitting on her bed, one breast gripped by her palm with her nipple peeking through dark-painted nails while her other hand toyed with the sweet peach between her thighs.

“Fuck,” Sy muttered. Already rock-hard. Absentmindedly, his hand massaged the hefty bulge through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a deep groan from under his breath.

‘What are you doing to me, babygirl?”

It wasn’t just her naked body and the way her finger teased her own slit, but the look she gave him, the familiar neediness in her gaze, the way she bit her lip.

Damn, if she was here right now… He’d fucking punish her for teasing him so bad! He’d pin her to the wall with his hand around her throat and show her what happens to naughty girls who like playing such wicked games.

Now he had three fucking months to go, and all he could think of was how bad he wanted to be inside her tight little cunt.

‘Well, guess I’ll have to take care of this myself…’

Springing his cock free from his boxers, he ran his rough fingers up and down the length of his imposing shaft - slow at first, as Sy enjoyed taking his time, just as he would with her. His thumb rolled across the crown of his cock, gently grazing the tip while he imagined flipping her against the pitted wall in this room. Make her take it from behind so he could look at that perfect rounded ass of hers and watch his cock slipping in and out of her body.

Still holding the photo open, he focused on her succulent cunt before spitting onto his open palm and griping himself once again. Tighter this time, he squeezed onto his girth and began to fuck his own hand.

Pants and groans sputtered from his mouth, his chest heaving as he gradually picked up the pace. In his fantasy, he parted her ass cheeks and teased her dripping little hole until she begged him to fuck him. Then he forced himself all the way in, making her cry out.

The sounds of her moans echoed in his memory, so helpless and desperate at the same time - he was nearly too much for her; that narrow cavern of hers could barely take his leviathan cock, but still, she took every pounding, becoming wetter around his shaft as her body not only yielded to accommodate him but lured him deeper inside.

“I want inside you, babygirl…” Sy mumbled out loud, his hand now moving in ecstatic fervour. Sweat dripped down the contracting muscles of his abs. Soon, he felt himself swell even larger, and his sack strained with the desperate need for release.

He tightened his grip, now choking his shaft and thinking of how it felt when she came around him. How she contracted all around his cock and shattered like glass smashing on the floor.

“Don’t come inside….” She’d warned him. She wasn’t on the pill. But this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from filling her full of his cum, and maybe… he wouldn’t want to…

It was his fantasy, after all.

“FUCK!!!”

With the image spilling inside her, he allowed himself to be swept by the fierce waves of pleasure, his entire body buzzing with bliss as hot, thick ribbons of ecstasy spilt over his fingers. He might have shouted too loudly, but it’s not like he ever gave a fuck.

It took Sy a few good minutes to climb down to earth, and then he chuckled hoarsely as he noticed the mess he had left on his hand. Shaking his head, he reached for a towel and wiped himself clean before returning to gaze at her photo.

“What am I gonna do with you, doll?”

Well, there was an idea. He could repay the favour by sending her a photo of himself. Usually, he was against this type of stuff, but what she did was particularly risky for a woman, and if she was bold enough to treat him, he could do the same. Besides, they had three months until they could meet again. He better make sure she remembered who she belonged to.

He stroked himself lightly. Still semi-hard, he wondered whether he could work himself to another erection this soon when a knock sounded at the door.

“Mother of f…. One moment !!!”

Sy yelled. Irritated, he briefly tucked his shaft back in his boxers and jumped out of bed. The room smelled rancid, but Sy couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even bring himself to put on a shirt as he rushed to the door.

“What?” He grunted before getting to see who was on the other side.

‘Well, fuck me sideways.’

It was a woman because why the hell not? Private Hicks, to be precise. The young thing’s eyes flared with surprise and then snapped to the floor to avoid staring at her sweaty, half-naked superior, but not before catching a glance of his hairy, tattooed chest and the semi-erected bulge in his groin.

The strong scent of sweat and sex hit her nostrils like a smack in the face. It took everything not to curl her face. There was no need to put two and two together to realise what she had just intruded.

“Sir.” Hicks saluted in badly hidden embarrassment.

Sy let out a deep sigh. Clearly, she knew what he was doing before she arrived. She probably heard him come all over himself right before knocking. Frankly, he wasn’t ashamed.

“Get on with it, Private.”

“Sir,” she repeated, her voice a slight tremble. “ I’m sorry to bother you… but the Major asked me to get you.”

Sy scratched the back of his head and groaned deeply. “Tell him I’ll be there in 10.”

Without any other comment, he shut the door, leaving Hicks to wander back to the Major’s office, all shaken and quaking.

As she walked away, she couldn’t help but bite her lips. All across her body, she felt those little electric streams of excitement, and her breath suddenly became shallow. She shouldn’t have thought of her superior like this, on what he did behind that closed door just a moment before she arrived, but Captain Syverson was too hot to handle and, needless to say, too loud.

Well, she’d have to take care of herself later…

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x ofc #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #sand castle

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 3 months

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

If you consume a certain type of online content about friendship (often in the form of “10 signs of a fake friend” and similar), you may almost get to the conclusion that anyone who is not your best friend is your enemy - or at the very least, that any friend who doesn’t know *everything* about you is entirely worthless to your life and you would be better off cutting them out.

That’s a pretty radical view of human relationships, and it would ultimately cost you a lot of joyful social interactions if you strictly adhered to it.

Unless you barricade yourself in your room and never leave it (which would be pretty awful for your mental health), you will end up in situations where you have regular interactions with people who are not your best friend ever. The ability to be friendly to those people, to enjoy those connections, isn’t “fake” or “toxic”. It’s an important source of positive social interactions and a valuable tool to fight loneliness.

If you have a constant social circle, these may be the friends (or partners, family members etc) of your friends, those “I’m not directly friends with Rose but I’m friends with Lisa and Lisa is friends with Rose” situations. But even if you do not have a circle like that (because you don’t make friends easily, you have social anxiety etc.), there will most likely be some “casually friendly” people in your life, as these are often simply the people who happen to be at the same place at the same time as you: colleagues, classmates, neighbors, people at places you frequent (employees in stores, patients in group therapy etc.), or even just the guy who waits for the same bus as you do every Monday morning.

These people wouldn’t be the first one you’d call if you need help with a potentially life changing decision. They don’t know all your deepest secrets, fears and desires, they may not even be able to name your favorite color (or hey, maybe not even your name), and they certainly won’t be able to list all your identity labels, political beliefs, medical diagnoses, traumatic experiences and sexual fantasies - but they don’t need to.

It’s wonderful if you have a best friend (or another close relationship) who fulfills that role of being someone you’d trust blindly, someone who knows you inside and out. But not everyone you are friendly with needs to be that for you. There’s enough other roles. Acquaintances, work friends, casual friends, small-talk friends… those roles aren’t worthless. They won’t be the one you call at 3 am after a breakup, but they can inject a bit of joy in your everyday life. They can offer friendly interactions that come with no pressure to go beyond the surface (something that’s valuable in itself! It would be very exhausting if everyone already knew everything about you and every conversation had to be deep and philosophical).

Plus, only knowing each other in one context has its advantages: your best friend may not know anything about the printer issue in your office but your office friend sure does! And if you met someone in a crime novel forum and all you ever talk about is crime novels, is that really negative? Isn’t it beautiful to know someone who shares your passion for that genre and is always happy to talk about it?

Of course an office friend or a crime novel friend can also become a best friend over the years. There are plenty of people who meet in a specific context, bond in that context and gradually develop a relationship out of that context as well. But one-context friends still enrich your life.

Even if that context is purely “we say hi when we see each other at the bus stop”, it’s a positive social interaction - and those will bring color and joy into both of your lives.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 months

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the floor between you and xavier is thin. you are beautiful. and xavier is tortured.

cw: afab reader, masturbation, nonconsensual auditory voyeurism 😭, xavier being a pervert

i have a midterm in two hours and i spent the last two hours writing all of this. dammit. inspired by this brilliant post (original poster is @skynapple) thank you for giving me permission to write this lolz

once a habit forms, it is incredibly difficult to break. he knows that. he has known that. xavier has had years and years and years to make habits and to subsequently break them.

those twenty-something years he was a nail biter. the tugging of his hair whenever he was tired for around thirty-two decades. six hundred years strong and he still can’t keep a straight face whenever he smells something his nose doesn’t agree with.

some habits he’s fine with not breaking.

but this one.

oh, he needs to break this one as soon as possible.

and yet, every friday evening he tells himself that this time will be the last time. when friday morning arrives, he wakes up refreshed and confident that it will not happen again. by the time the clock hits 3 pm, he can already feel his palms become clammy; if he was a cartoon he’d think an ironic bead of sweat would form on his temple. and by the time the sun is going down and the rain has soaked his hair completely, xavier is shoving his too practical key into the too practical lock of his apartment door, and the dread in his chest has already settled with the weight of what he knows he’s going to do.

he could leave. he could go.

he doesn’t.

xavier takes his time changing out of his uniform and showering. the water burns even when he sets it at a lower temperature. his entire space feels too hot. sweat is actually building on his forehead now.

it’s been a long week, he thinks, as he rolls onto his bed, opting to wear nothing but boxers (and even that’s useless). he tries to remember all the missions he’s been on since monday, and more importantly all the missions you’ve been on. you’re a bit of a braggart, so he hears all about them, and he never minds, because he could listen to you brag about yourself for centuries on end and the whole time he’d only nod along and agree.

the more missions there’s been, though, the more exhausted you are at the end of the week. and the more exhausted you are, the more orgasms you try to pull from your fingers every friday night.

when tara’s over, your music is never loud. your laughs rarely carry over. and your volume has never been disruptive (not that he would consider hearing you to be disruptive at all). it’s as if you know that the walls are thin and you’re trying to be as polite as possible.

then why is it that when you touch yourself, you’re so loud?

are you trying to make sure he can hear you?

or, and this is what already has him hardening at the thought, are you just so sensitive that you can’t help it?

your first whimper blesses his ears, and xavier shuts his eyes, lying flat with his head against his pillow. closing his eyes helps. it makes him feel less like a stalker who’s crossed through time and space for you, and more like he’s just someone you care for, because this way he can imagine you’re in front of him, on top of him, letting out those first few sweet sounds at his touch.

“mmh,” your voice carries over, and goosebumps litter his arms as he swallows, teasing the line of his boxers with the tips of his fingers. there isn’t a rush. usually, he has just enough restraint to make sure he comes with you.

the next thing he hears is a sharp gasp, and xavier groans lowly, trying to be quiet, or at least more quiet than you. already he’s building tonight’s fantasy up, spurred on by the sound of the rain beating against the window. the last time you and he had spent the night in the rain…

“just stay until tomorrow morning,” you’d urged him, lashes fluttering innocently, not knowing the key that he’d supposedly forgotten was heavy in his pocket. even though he was the one who’d lied, he’d still argued against it, because now that the invitation was out in the open you were too close for his rapidly beating heart, your eyes too inviting and your hands too soft.

xavier imagines he didn’t argue that night. he imagines he’d agreed instead, and had accepted the change of clothes from your closet. the acid in his chest that hisses knowing you even have another man’s clothes in your closet is quickly silenced when you don’t wait for him to leave the room, and instead lift your own shirt right above your head.

he’s never seen you like that. but his imagination is more than ready to supply him with what you’d look like, evidence gathered from how your uniform would cling to you while you fought, or even from how your robes would slip up a little when you were sparring him some hundred years ago—

his hand wraps around his cock without him even realizing it, and he lets out a small, choked moan.

your hands are softer than this. they’d feel better. in the corner of his mind he sees you, topless, pushing him back onto the bed and crawling above him, caressing his face with those soft hands before running them down his chest. your touch does so love to wander. and his body is yours to explore. he’s never belonged to someone else.

he whispers your name and almost as if in response, you let out a cute little squeal, and xavier curses under his breath as he pictures you making that sound while he fingers you. he’d start off with one, just because you seem sensitive. but then he’d add another. and another, and then he’d watch you ride them.

slowly, he rubs his hand up and down his length, remembering the last time you’d held this hand to resonate with his evol. last week, for a particularly tough wanderer. your palm had been smooth against it, and now the next time you do it he’ll remember that he touched himself to the thought of you with that same hand.

“mmh, don’t tease me…”

oh, you’re speaking today. pleading with an invisible voice, or maybe you really do know that he’s just below you, hanging on to your every word. and he’s disinclined to acquiesce to your request—he’d do nothing but tease you. once he’d make you come once with his fingers, he’d toss your legs over his shoulders and drag his tongue along your folds, bring you to the brink before pulling away. he’d watch the way your lips pout and the way your eyes flare up whenever you’re emotional, and he wouldn’t give you time to complain before diving in again.

“sorry, sweetheart, you know i can’t help it.”

xavier’s eyes fly open with a gasp at the sudden other voice—there’s someone with you. there’s someone in your room, on your bed, with their hands on you.

there’s a pause, and then he hears you again, letting out a small, “y-you’re so…haah, mean…”

one of his hands curl into the sheets below, clutching them so tightly in his fist that he wouldn’t be surprised if they came off.

someone is touching you. someone is making you—incredible, wonderful, beautiful you—whine like that, close enough to hear you, far closer than xavier has ever been.

“i’m not mean,” the man who is invading your bedroom right now says, “you can’t look like that and expect me not to edge you. you’re the most beautiful when you’re begging, you know?”

“i could say the same about you,” is your not-so-hushed response, and during the next pause he can barely hear anything but he knows you must be kissing him. him, whoever he is. a date, your boyfriend, the devil—you’re kissing him, those soft, gorgeous lips of yours are against someone else’s when all xavier has done in his time with you is try to tear his eyes off those lips, wondering what they would like against him.

“c’mon,” your voice pleads again, “i need you. i’ve needed you all day.”

the man groans, and xavier hears the kiss this time, one fierce and stolen in the heat of the moment.

“if you insist. you know i can’t resist you, sweetheart.”

there’s some shuffling and xavier thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest. he feels…he feels everything, sick and jealous and almost angry, and he can feel himself trembling with every inch of him screaming to get up and confront whoever thinks they can touch your skin and draw those noises from your throat—

but when you let out a high-pitched, muffled cry, xavier’s hand goes back down, and he starts stroking himself with more urgency.

you’ve never been this loud before. and xavier used to enjoy that, thinking of it as a challenge, that if he ever got to have you, he’d make sure you were louder with him than you were with anyone else. he’s brought himself to orgasm at just the idea. but now it’s torture, hearing your voice go up several octaves for someone who isn’t him, for whoever’s hips are roughly colliding against your own, filling his ears with a muted plap, plap, plap…

“fu-u-ck, baby, how are you this tight?” the interloper groans, “gonna make me come, m’gonna come inside you…”

xavier’s skin crawls at the needy moan you let out in response.

the fantasy in his head is ruined. there is no more vision of a seductive version of you having your wicked way with him, but instead he is imagining exactly what is happening, a dirty picture of him in a corner watching someone else enjoy you to the fullest extent. wrecking your beautiful body the way you deserve.

your moans are building, higher and higher, and his back is arching off the bed as he fucks his fist, still trying to pretend like he’s yours and you’re his, that he’s the one burying himself inside your wet heat, that your nails are digging into his back, leaving lines on his skin, drawing blood if that’s what you wanted—

“raf!” you wail, and your voice breaks, and xavier’s eyes roll back, and he spills into his hand.

there’s still a ringing in his ears as he pants, breathing heavily while the sound of skin slapping becomes more desperate, as the intruder—raf— speeds up to try and reach his own end too.

his hand moves on its own. with barely an intention formed in his mind, he presses it to his heart, and he feels a surge of energy run through his chest, no time left to regret anything.

the sounds stop completely.

after a minute, his phone lights up with a notification.

starlight: hey did your lights go out too???

starlight: my room just blacked out

starlight: i had a friend over i’m so embarrassed lol

with his chest heaving as he lays back against the pillows, and his right hand sticky, xavier texts you back with his left, a soft, tired sigh escaping him.

xav: no mine’s still on

xav: i’ve got tea and takeout come over

xav: i’d love to meet your friend

#love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #l&ds smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #xavier fic #xavier x reader #xavier smut #lads x reader #lads xavier #l&ds x reader #xavier #l&ds fic #xavier x you #xavier x mc #xavier x y/n #love and deepspace xavier #valkyrie stories

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crystalflygeo · 1 year

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Sinful voice pt.2 ft “Morax”/Prof!Zhongli + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, oral and fingering implied but like it's just fantasizing?? petnames (sweetheart, babygirl, dear) Reader is DOWN BAD LMAO and suffers second hand embarrasment.

notes: EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU @localplaguenurse!!They gave me a F A N T A S T I C idea that just inspired me to continue this wip and ended up not even being featured here yet but HEY... future p3!! //winkwink. That said I did NOT expect how much this would blow up and how ppl loved it and wanted more, y'all gonna make me giddy and/or cry pls (consider checking some of my other stuff too mayhaps? <3) Anyway I REALLY hope this delivers bc boi am I afraid of not meeting expectations vcgvhjbnjnmklal

Weeks had passed since your ‘big discovery’ and you still weren’t quite sure what to do with this information.

At first you chalked it up to just your imagination because… there was no way, right? Your new professor could just have a… similar voice… yeah… that was it.

Except the more you listened to his long-winded explanations the more you picked up certain words and intonations here and there and you knew you were just fooling yourself.

A lot had happened in these last few weeks, from organizing your new living space, to meeting your roommates, to grocery shopping, classes, and you had even considered the idea of maybe getting a part time job somewhere close by. There were plenty of small shops and places around the college campus neighborhood that not only offered valuable services to poor college students but also the opportunity to make a bit of money to help them out.

It had all been rather exhausting and stressing, exams, essays and projects were already starting too…

Lying back in bed you sigh and roll over, feeling the familiar faint throb of desire pooling between your legs, one you’d never really managed to sate with a person so much as with fantasies. But tonight, as you lay awake in bed aching for your usual touch, you feel conflicted.

Ever since that very first day you just couldn’t bring yourself to open up Morax’s website again. Hell, a new month had rolled over and you’d dutifully paid the subscription along with your other usual bills.

Part of you was itching for it, curious, frustrated.

And very very horny.

Thing is, your fantasies had often featured a faceless man, strong, imposing and dominating, taking you like a blushing maiden and making you beg for the pleasure he’d give, allowing him to do anything he wanted with your heated body. Now that man had a face… your history professor Mr. Zhongli.

You used to get off to imaginings of Morax tying you up and having his way with you, teasing you, fucking you into the mattress and making you cum over and over. Now it was Mr. Zhongli. Polite and courteous Mr. Zhongli with his refined gestures and well-mannered demeanor.

You wanted to cum, to reach that high and come undone and let out all the pent-up stress and frustration until you melted into a puddle and didn’t have to think about classes or money or life anymore, but the second your fingers began to rub at your clit, Mr. Zhongli’s voice would hit you with that even tone he used when scolding someone for gossiping during his lecture.

“Disgraceful behavior…”

A hot flash of shame burned at your face but for whatever reason it just turned you on more. You wanted to get fucked so bad you felt like you were going insane. You wanted that man to pin you up against a wall and thrust inside you until you turned into an incoherent moaning mess. You wanted to get bent over at his desk and filled up with cum until you were left gaping and oozing and told what a good girl you are. You wanted to get fucked on your hands and knees squirming and crying from overstimulation.

Lying in bed, you squeezed a pillow against your face and screamed.

You wanted to fuck your handsome history professor Mr. Zhongli.

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

It’s barely first period and you couldn’t concentrate.

You were sleepy, hungry and overall, in a bad mood. Standing in line at the cafeteria for a much-needed morning coffee and some snack you yawn and browse around your phone. Math. Gods you hated math.

At least you didn’t have history today. That was a whole other can of worms.

You figured you’d eventually have to get over it but it was just… so bizarre. Mr. Zhongli was quite the popular teacher, you’d learned. Extremely knowledgeable in various topics, a strict but kind and just teacher and good looking on top of all.

No wonder the upperclassmen flocked around him, probably half the campus lowkey had a crush on him, male and female students alike. It was genuinely a miracle he was not married or even had a significant other apparently.

And he was also Morax. Sensual dominating Morax who would just not leave your head-

“Good morning, how may I help you?” The cashier called out cheerfully and you pulled out of your thoughts.

“Morn-”

“Good morning.”

You gasp so sharply you almost launch into a coughing fit; your eyes widen and whole body tenses and oh shit-

Somehow you manage to trip and fall in the clumsiest, stupidest way possible.

“Woah-!”

“Miss?!”

Except you don’t actually fall, but someone manages to hold you, a hand grabbing your arm and the other pressed against your back steadying you as your poor brain goes into overdrive.

That voice!

It’s him!

Too close!

What is he doing here?!

Way too close!!

The seconds it takes for you to react feel like ages as you stare up at Mr. Zhongli like a deer caught in the headlights.

His hands are warm…

His cologne smells soooo good.

His eyes are gorgeous!

He’s so hot!!

“Are you alright Miss l/n?”

“I’M FINE! I-I’m fine!” You yelp, way louder than intended (or normal) and quickly scoot back to put some distance between yourself and the handsome professor. He picks up his dropped bag and dusts it a little, as well as his clothes, still pristine as ever. “I… think I got a little dizzy s-sorry I haven’t eaten yet and… yeah…” You chuckle nervously.

You see him frown slightly. “Going without food for long periods of time can be quite dangerous.” He states, obviously concerned. “Maybe you should head to the infirmary see Dr Baizhu, you look quite pale and the dizziness could be a symptom of low blood pressure. Do you have anything sugary to eat or drink?”

“I w-was about to buy something…”

“It might be best for you to sit down for the moment.” He nods, resolute. “Allow me.”

…And that’s how you end up sitting at one of the nearby small tables with a little glazed donut and a bottle of water, courtesy of your dear history professor.

You stare at the little treat in your hands, half eaten already as he insisted, at least your hands stopped shaking and some color returned to your face. Mr. Zhongli seemed content enough, sitting across from you.

“T-Thank you.” You mumble, refusing to meet his gaze. “How much was it? I’ll pay you back I have som-”

He sees you rummaging through you bag and raises a hand. “None of that, you needed it. I’m glad to see you’re looking a little better, please take care of yourself, health is very important.”

“Um, ok.”

Then he smiles, and it’s gentle, soft. “You’re Miss l/n, right? One of the new students from my history class?”

Huh?

“You didn’t do very well on the essay assignment…”

Ack. You sigh and take another bite of the small donut. “History is just… not my strong suit. Too many dates and names to remember.”

He chuckles and oh God who gave him the right to make that sound? Your skin tingles.

“Fair enough. I know my classes can be a little daunting, I’m very particular about certain topics and tend to ramble sometimes. But I can tell you really put effort into classes and pay attention to my lectures.” He looks pensive for a moment. “Let me propose something. I usually impart some private tutoring sessions to students on more advanced levels, but I could make an exception for you. If you have time available it could help lift your grades.”

You stare up at him in surprise, grateful to not have a mouthful of donut or you would have probably choked again like an idiot. Did you hear that right? A private tutoring session after hours at his office?!

Now that sounded like a title for one of Morax’s audios: Hot professor bangs his stu-NOPE.

“I-I’ll think about it! Sure.”

He nods and gets up, sparing a glance at his watch. “I have to leave now, please do consider it. And do try to eat at more regular intervals and take better care of yourself, you look quite tired.”

A polite way of saying you had marked eyebags, yep.

“I’ll try.” You mumble. Suddenly a little sad to see him go. “Professor… thank you.”

There’s that smile again, you could melt. “You’re welcome, my dear.”

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

And yet that night, you’re once again rolling in bed unable to sleep.

My dear.

You couldn’t stop thinking on the whole incident, you’d certainly made a fool of yourself but the memory of his strong arms holding you, touch firm but gentle. The scent of his cologne that you wish had clung more on your clothes.

You really were down bad, this is ridiculous…

You bite your lip.

You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.

Oh but you will, just one wouldn’t hurt.

Quite the opposite actually…

Unable to contain yourself (or your horniness) you take no time to pop in your earbuds and start scrolling. Hmm… there had been a couple new additions in these last weeks.

You can’t help but wonder why he does these. When. How. You never really considered or thought on it before, Morax has quite a lot of patrons (not a surprise) and thought you know nothing about sound and video recording or editing technically he’s making money just by using that honeyed velvet voice of his. That had to bring in some cash, right?

But then again, if you knew anything about these types of subscriptions it was that they required constancy and that meant hard work and dedication. Did he enjoy these? He really puts in the effort given the amazing quality…

You can’t help but picture your handsome professor unwinding a little after a long day, casual clothes, a cup of that tea he loves and setting up to record those dirty words and sinful moans.

Did he sometimes get worked up about these too? Did he also touch himself during or after recording a particular scenario? Sitting back slightly sprawled on the chair, brow slightly furrowed, stroking his co-

Aaahhhh you needed to stop thinking on him.

…

Yeah right.

“Daddy eats you out and prepares you for his big cock.”

Well, this looks promising.

The audio starts like many others, with some dialogue from him and setting the scene and oh… you had kind of missed the playful teasing tilt of Morax’s voice. You can’t help but chuckle lightly, this scene is so domestic. He calls you “sweetheart”, “babygirl” and there are the kissy noises.

You wish you could kiss him…

“Hmmm… daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready. Spread your legs for me.” Oh, you certainly do. “Daddy’s gonna get down here between them.”

You rub at your tights slowly, sensual, remembering his larger hands.

“Oh your little pussy is already so wet and swollen.” Morax coos, voice soft and airy. “You think it’s already ready I know.” He chuckles. “But you know daddy’s cock is big, yeah, your little pussy’s gonna need to stretch a little bit hm?” A kiss.

You whine.

“Shhh daddy’s gonna make you feel so good sweetheart.”

Lewd wet noises invade your ears and you waste no time starting to stroke yourself, slow and tender. He groans and sighs and you whimper, hips jolting from the bed.

Gods how was he so…

“Yeah… nice and gentle hmm, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

His words were a complete 180 from the long lectures about politics and wars, and yet, his voice…

“D-Daddy…” You sigh. “Please!”

“Oh I love how sensitive your little clit is… you like that babygirl?”

You rub and stroke at the little bundle of nerves and see stars already.

You were so pent up, so needy. Your orgasm was already building too quickly, mewling and whining at his words, his noises, trying to match the pace and follow his instructions.

“That’s a good girl.”

“F-Fuck-”

Your eyebrows furrow, your body trembles and you bit your lip to contain your noises. Morax warns you when he adds a finger, and after a few seconds another, chuckling low at how you clench, praising you, coaxing out your pleasure.

You can only picture him at the end of the bed, licking and sucking obscenely at your juices, pumping those slender fingers in and out, in and out…

That tantalizing voice teasing you, your fingers knotting that dark brown hair tipped amber, golden eyes staring up at you half-lidded but feral and fascinated. Focusing on you. Only you.

“A-Ah! Mhmm…”

“Now I want you to cum babygirl come on, in five… four…”

You stroke and pump faster, frantic, lost in that rapidly approaching high.

“Three… two…”

You cry out, a spark cursing through your veins.

“One… hmmm that’s it my dear.”

“Z-Zhongli…!”

He ushers you out of your release with soft words before saying something else, but your mind is floating and hazy. Your take off the earbuds and place them away catching your breath for a moment, arm draped over your face, the audio still has a long way to go but you’re drowsy and sleepy so you decide to call it a night.

It is only a little later, once you’re done with a quick cleaning and putting everything away, curled up under the covers and dozing off that you realize…

Shit.

You’d called not for Morax but Zhongli.

#genshin smut #zhongli smut #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #crys writes #fem reader #professor zhongli #man I really hope this doesn't feel rushed or forced vghbjnk pls I tried my best OTL I know the scene jumps are jarring but #fun fact 1 when I was in uni there was this one beautiful amazing french teacher that half the campus had a crush on #literally everyone loved her she was amazing she was not my bi awakening but boi she CEMENTED it #and it's funny bc literally like ??? girls and boys crushing HARD on her and she was bi and SINGLE and so kind and cool and around our age #anyway that's zhongli 1000%#fun fact 2 I once almost fainted at uni bc I had. in fact. not eaten breakfast or dinner the night before #and my blood pressure just dropped also bc the heat didn't help so rip I got better with a coca cola tho

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suzannahnatters · 1 year

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PSA: Sieges Are Awesome

so I just watched ANOTHER TV show where the characters could have simply barricaded themselves inside a VERY cosy and defensible fortress instead of heading outside to get killed/maimed/captured by the baddies

I call this Television Abhors a Siege and it is EVERYWHERE and I hate it

I HATE IT

yes, I know the writers look at each other and say, well, if our characters retreat to their stronghold then how will we fulfill our Swords Go Clang quotient for this episode?

this is only because the writers lack both imagination and education

you see, I've been reading medieval military history in exhaustive detail now for 8 years and SIEGES ARE AWESOME, both tactically and dramatically!

tactically, sieges make sense, because there is no way to thwart an enemy and buy time like HIDING SAFELY BEHIND A STONE WALL. the only time you would not do this is when a) you have a realistic chance of pulling off a surprise attack (the TV characters are never smart enough to do this) AND b) there is no realistic hope of circumstances altering to favour you in the near future (the TV characters never consider this either).

also historically speaking, whenever people looked at each other and said "this siege has no realistic hope of success" they did not march out to throw themselves on the enemy's swords: they negotiated and usually with great success (the TV characters never consider this either). but let's say you're in one of the VAST MAJORITY of situations where a siege DOES make sense and only the most unhinged mental gymnastics would justify leaving your fortifications to fight (see: the majority of TV shows and movies that deal with this scenario)? does this mean that your characters must sit inside their walls twiddling their thumbs?

pfft don't be silly

sieges are totally dramatic!

it's not about LEAVING your fortifications to fight, it's about USING your fortifications to fight.

your baddies could try everything to get in and there might be fighting over a gate, a breach, or a tunnel/mine?

your characters might sally out under cover of night to destroy the enemy or their weapons?

one of your characters might escape the fortress in a desperate journey to find help?

your characters might turn out to have a traitor or saboteur in the group?

there might be injured people who need urgent attention, or supply shortages?

a FRICKING METEOR might fall out of the sky onto the heads of your enemies, sending them running and allowing you the opportunity to regain the initiative? (and if you think this couldn't possibly have happened, something very close to this literally happened at Antioch in 1098 during the First Crusade)

anyway this is just to say that I am begging you all to reconsider the dramatic potential of the noble siege. for one thing, it makes the characters look like total imbeciles if you ignore it. and for another, sieges are AWESOME. eta: I learned all this doing the study for WATCHERS OF OUTREMER, my historical fantasy epic of the medieval crusader states! Book 4, A CONSPIRACY OF PROPHETS, puts my own magical spin on the 1098 siege of Antioch ;)

#writing #writing tip #writers of tumblr #writing fight scenes #military tactics #writing battles #medieval #medieval history #middle ages #historical fiction #history

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deandoesthingstome · 6 months

Text

Back to Reality - A Final Fantasy

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter x Reader

Summary: Go get your wolf, girl!

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, oral sex (m and f receiving), p in v (missionary), fingering, monster fucking (right?).

A/N: A little angst never hurt anyone, right? It'll all be okay. I swear. I wanted to get this out the day after Geralt, but life. At any rate, I think this is it for now. A real nice end to spoopy season with Walter.

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

“Hi.”

He wasn’t right there when you turned from the counter after picking up your coffee, but he was standing close enough that there was no mistaking who he was greeting. Had he been any closer, you probably would have sloshed your latte all over his chunky, dark blue sweater and you were glad you stopped short when you saw him. You didn’t think he’d want to smell like pumpkin spice the rest of the day.

“Hi yourself,” you smiled, a little shyly.

When you asked at the front desk if they really meant anything, and then again if they could get a message to Walter, you had no idea he’d show up at your regular coffee shop the very same day. As in the day after the night you'd just been with another man. It wasn’t as awkward as you’d thought it might be, but it wasn’t exactly relaxed either.

You'd been dreaming of this moment, but now embarrassment began to creep in and you wondered if you'd made a mistake. Several of them. Four to be exact.

"Would you like to sit and talk with me?"

The urge to sink right to the floor in front of him was hard to resist but you were still at a coffee shop and people were lined up to grab their to-go orders so you found an empty table in a secluded corner and sat yourself down across from him.

His eyes were melancholy and you imagined they matched the lonely howl from your night with August. There was no mistaking it and you wanted to wipe the sorrow from his face but how could you? You were likely the cause and he was probably just here to tell you to forget it as a courtesy since you'd stupidly put your business on blast at the front desk. Fuck.

"You alright over there? You look a million miles away. You sure you're okay to talk with me?"

You took a deep breath and let it rush out.

"It's really nice of you to do this in person. A lot of guys would just not call."

"Not call? What are you...? What do you think is happening here?"

"I mean, you came to tell me to back off, right? Like, you're flattered and all, but you wouldn't, couldn't be with me after everyone I've been with. I mean, you worked with those guys."

"So you know I don't work there anymore. That was the first thing I wanted to say, so good. That's out of the way."

Why would he want you to know that? Maybe so you knew you could keep going back to the hotel and not have to worry about running into him? He continued.

"But why on earth do you think I'm here to tell you to back off?" he raised a quizzical eyebrow at you.

It was as if all the air was suddenly knocked out of you and it was all you could do to gather your wits to answer him.

"Well, I just thought...I mean, you can't possibly want someone who..."

"What? Someone who isn't afraid to go after what she wants?" Now both eyebrows raised.

"Walter. You can't mean that. You...I'm sorry but you don't look like someone who's super excited about the prospect."

He paused.

"I know I look tired. I am tired. I've been up nights trying to figure this out. But, look, my exhaustion is also not all about this. I left the hotel for a few reasons. One was you, but maybe not why you think."

"Well, why did you?"

"It's not ‘cause I fell hard, though I did. And you might think that made it difficult to keep hosting, and you'd be right. But honestly I got torn. Torn between knowing you were having the time of your life, which you absolutely deserve to do, and dealing with the taunting."

"Taunting?"

"Some of the guys figured out how I felt, and one of them started giving me shit about it. Betting me he could steal you from me if you ever made it to his room, not that you were even mine to begin with. And, yeah, feeling the way I do made it harder and harder to host properly so I made a decision."

"You left."

"I left."

You thought back to your night with August and now you knew for certain he was referring to Walter. And after what Geralt had said, you wondered why August gave you an option to shut him out. It sounded like August wanted Walt to see, to know you were being satisfied by another man. You could understand how that must have felt. You had jealous thoughts, too, when you found all Walt’s time slots had been booked. Imagining him with other women, well, it wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world either. And yet, Walter indicated there were other reasons he left.

"But that's not all?"

"I was also studying part time and between all the bookings, I was falling farther and farther behind. I had to stay up late to finish assignments and I had an important test coming, so I quit to focus on that because I never wanted to host forever, but once you came along, I never wanted to do it again."

You were speechless. Awestruck. If anyone had told you that Walter felt the same way about you from the get go, as you found yourself feeling about him after weeks of experiences, you would have said they were crazy. And yet, here he was, spilling his guts. He gave it all up without even knowing if he had a shot with you.

"And you don't care I went back? To other rooms?"

Walter looked around the coffee shop, then turned and spoke cautiously to you.

“Can we…? Look, I know we don’t really know each other, and if you want to do this in a public place, I get it. But could we at least take a walk? I feel like everyone’s looking at us and I can’t think straight.”

This man was flustered and you were, too. Confused by all the feelings and emotions and confessions. Plus, what did you really know about Walter anyway?

“I’m going to text some friends and let them know where I am and who I’m with. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. We’ll just head across the way to the park, okay?”

“I’ll be right out.”

sendmeanangel: you’ll never guess who showed up to get coffee this morning sendmeanangel: we’re having coffee and talking in the park across from a place called The Runcible Spoon. sendmeanangel: I’ll text again in an hour so don’t expect any replies until then

Then you shut off your phone and headed out to meet Walter.

MNstrluvr: Ohmygodddd! darkgothnightengale: it’s all happening!!! Where are you now? darkgothnightengale: hello??? I know it’s only been 20 minutes but how can you not have just admitted your feelings and jumped his bones by now? Give us all the details!

You found him on a park bench and sat, one leg drawn up with a foot tucked under your other knee so you could turn to face him while you talked. You wanted him to reach out and touch you as well, run his hand over your arm while you talked, but maybe you weren’t there yet. Maybe that would be awkward.

He took a deep breath and began.

"As to your question from before: I can't lie and say I don't care or wish I'd told you that very night how I thought I was feeling, but I thought it was way too soon to trust those feelings. And since you didn't know, and we weren't together, how could I expect you to just not do what you wanted? That's something else that's kept me up at night. Thinking about how to reconcile my feelings about you with both our pasts.”

Walt went on to tell you how much your night together had affected him. How he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He apologized for the locker room talk. He knew Sy had mentioned it and he felt miserable about it. It was just something they did, share notes in case a guest came back around so they could make sure to work any of their favorite things into the stay. They weren’t usually so personal with the comments, but he’d gotten carried away.

August had been particularly prickish about it, especially when it became clear how uncomfortable talking about the guests was making Walter, even going so far as to taunt Walter with the exact date and time of your reservation in his room. He’d given notice the next day.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“You quit your job over me. Well, sorta. What are you going to do now?”

“I was already working towards my private investigator license. Ironic, huh? A PI and I couldn’t find the one person I really wanted. I asked the hotel, but they were not interested in breaking protocol or the privacy agreement. And until I got the call this morning, I thought I wasn’t on the best of terms with them anyway. I think I left them kinda high and dry. But the desk agent is a friend.”

“Yeah, Geralt mentioned something…” you trailed off, embarrassed to be bringing up your latest conquest.

“Who’s Geralt?” Of course he didn’t know.

“He’s a new host at the hotel,” you answered sheepishly.

“Oh. Right.” Walter looked away for a moment. “Of course.”

“Walter, I’m sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings.”

“By going back there?” he turned to you again. “How could you know I had feelings to hurt?”

“Well, I knew I had feelings that hurt.”

He stared at you in disbelief as you continued.

“I thought about you almost every day after our night together. I kept going back to different rooms, because I’d had such a good time and I wanted to see what else was out there. And look, I did have good times. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“I hosted other guests after you. I can’t really say anything about it, can I?”

“Right. Okay, well. The more time that went by, the more hosts I met and experiences I had, the more I knew I only wanted you. And then I couldn’t find you.”

“Find me?”

“I tried to re-book your room for weeks. You were always full.”

“You tried… What?”

“I know it’s probably super odd for me to keep going back there the way I have been, and then admit that I also wanted to come back to your room. But it’s true. That’s what’s been happening.”

“I guess the only thing I can say to that is I’m flattered. And then to let you know that if you still feel that way, I’d love to take you out tonight. I’d love to stop talking about all this time we’ve lost and maybe see if we can move forward. Because it took me a while but I realize it doesn't matter either way. Whether you went back or not. You are your own person. You're allowed to experience life the way you want to. I'm just here hoping you want to experience it with me again."

sendmeanangel: okay, i’m back and still alive, but i need a shower. Gimme another hour. I’ll fill you in I swear! MNstrluvr: meana, where are you????? Did you already fuck him???

sendmeanangel: oh my god you guys are insane. It’s only been 45 minutes MNstrluvr: you can’t just drop that and run. You had to have to known we’d need more sooner sendmeanangel: i think i’m allowed to gather all the intel before i share it with you lol darkgothnightengale: you got your intel and then bailed for a shower! Boo! MNstrluvr: so what’s happening? Why are you stalling like this??? sendmeanangel: he’s taking me out on a real, honest-to-goodness date tonight MNstrluvr: YES!!! Where are you going? sendmeanangel: dinner and then a moonlight walk darkgothnightengale: isn’t it a full moon tonight? sendmeanangel: yep ;) MNstrluvr: you are so getting fucked outdoors!! sendmeanangel: Wait someone's at the door. I think it’s my lunch. Hold on. MNstrluvr: send them away and come back to finish this talk!!!

"Walt? What're you...?" you spoke with surprise, thinking he wouldn't be here to pick you up for dinner for another five hours at least. It had only been one since you gave him your address and left him at the park, floating home on cloud nine. Now he stood in front of you, a bag of food in his hand.

"I couldn't wait any longer. I had to just...can I...?" Walter dropped the bag and made a motion, hands out in something like a plea, knee beginning to bend with something like reverence. Nothing you understood until you nodded your head.

He stepped forward then, into your space, your tiny studio apartment that until now was always just fine for your needs but suddenly seemed three sizes too small for the man who was bending to kiss you and wrap his arms around your thighs, urging you to encircle his waist with your legs as he moved to kick the door closed behind him.

Your fingers tangled in his gorgeous locks as you relished the feel of his lips on yours once more. You'd only experienced that two times with Walter at the hotel, and the urgency of only one of those came even close to the feel of this one, and you suddenly wondered if he'd held something back when he kissed you goodbye back then. The euphoria blinded you to any other movement until you felt your body peeled from his and deposited on your sofa. And not that you minded couch sex, as previously confirmed with Mike, nor were you assured in the moment that couch sex was the end goal, but you wondered briefly when you'd have a moment to help him unfold the futon, since your studio only had enough room for a convertible bed.

For now, Walter simply slipped down to the floor and settled between your thighs, braced his arms tightly against your hips, caressed the bare skin between your shirt and pants with his rough hands, and nuzzled his face into your stomach. You held him close, hands still shifting through his curls and you could swear you heard a whimper, but whether from you or him it didn't seem to matter.

For a few beats, it was just this sweet. A man on his knees before you, somehow awed by your presence and content to be pressed against you, to feel you hold him close. And then it was more. Then it was his mouth, covering a clothed breast with warmth, teeth nipping at the flesh through your shirt, his tongue leaving saliva on the fabric so that it clung to your erect nipple protruding proudly regardless of your bra and top in the way.

When he noticed you staring down, as if surprised by your body’s own response, he simply smirked and moved his attention to the other side. When he tired of the barrier, he slipped his hands up your back under your shirt to unhook your bra, then lifted both articles of clothing up your body and pulled them off your arms, before returning his attention back to your chest and his hands to your hips.

Heat was building, and along with it, an urge to roll up into him. When he felt the movements of your hips, he drew a hand over one thigh to cup it against your clothed sex as he peeled his head back to gaze up at you.

"Just as eager as I am," he grinned. "I like that."

"Please, Walter," you begged, though for what exactly you weren't sure.

"I got you," he emphasized with a firm press of the heel of his palm, dragging it up and over your increasingly sensitive nub to hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. At your approval, he removed them and settled back between your legs, though he nuzzled a little lower than before.

He dragged you down, pulling your ass off the edge of the futon so he had a clear path to his objective. You expected him to dive right in, hoping he remembered what he already learned from before, and then he spoke and your mind exploded.

"Such a delightful sight," he said, tracing down the crease of one thigh and up the other with a finger you desperately wanted him to dip inside you. And he could tell. "She's so eager, positively dripping, isn't she?" He squeezed an inside thigh, then nipped and licked the other before speaking again.

"Yes, Walter. Please," you gasped, already anticipating the sensations he was going to create for you. You shuddered and bucked involuntarily at his low chuckle, putting your pussy directly against his lips and he didn't try to resist any longer.

His hunger was apparent, and it matched the desire building in you. He lapped eagerly, licked and sucked with need, tongued expertly at all the spots he already knew were favorites and then he found a few more, too. You tried to hold onto a fleeting thought about his technique before it drifted into the air above you as you found your fingers back in his hair, clutching and pulling him close to your core. Walter feasted like there was no tomorrow and you closed your eyes with the knowledge you were going to have as many tomorrows with this man as you wanted.

When you came it was with the cry of his name on your lips. He crawled up off the floor to settle on the futon beside you, scooping you onto his lap and hugging you close to help steady you.

He placed kisses on your forehead and spoke words into the consciousness you struggled to maintain as your chest heaved. "Shh, I got you. You're good. So good. So beautiful."

"Walter, that was..., jesus..., fuck...," you stammered, barely able to control your thoughts and you wished you could have sunk into the ground below you when you heard the next words out of your mouth. "Did Sy give you pointers?"

Walter's immediate laugh was hearty and heartwarming, dispelling the thoughts you had that you deserved to be tossed across the room for even daring to bring it up.

"I've always known clients prefer him for that over any of the rest of us. I took him out for beers one night and I may have begged for a trick or five. Sy's a good guy and he thought you deserved it, though I'm sure he never would have agreed if he thought I was coming back to the hotel." Walt bent to capture your lips and when he was done kissing you hard and deep, he spoke again. "I do, too. Think you deserve it."

"What about you?" you asked, aware now of a hardness pressing against your flesh through his pants. "Don't you deserve more, too?"

You wiggled off his lap and stood, hand out to urge him up. You swallowed hard as he towered over you, eyes full of desire and lust.

"I deserve whatever you're willing to give me."

"I'll give you everything, Walt," you admitted, fingers already working the buckle of his belt and buttons of his pants.

His lips crashed to yours as soon as he tossed his sweater to the floor and he held you entranced with his tongue even after you dropped his jeans down his legs along with his boxers. It was just a low growl but the sound from the back of his throat was enough to send a wave of slick down your thigh as you clenched around the space where you most desired him to be.

"Fuck, Walter," you gasped into his mouth and begged. "Fuck me, please."

It was a mad dash to remove his boots so he could discard his pants, though not before he grabbed the made-just-for-him condoms from the pocket, and then unfold the futon for a larger surface area on which he could move you around and manipulate your passion. It was no plush cabin bed, but it would have to do.

"Fuck, I wanted this outside tonight," he admitted, staring at you as he rutted into your core with abandon.

"It's a full moon tonight," you noted, as if he wouldn’t already know that.

"I still wanna fuck you under it," he growled, staring deep into your eyes.

You were losing control, falling up through space and time as you felt every inch of him against every inch of you and it still wasn't enough. You couldn't stop your eyes from closing as you begged him for more.

"Hey," he called, lifting your leg around his waist and when you opened your eyes you saw him smile as you wrapped your other leg the same way without prodding from him. You were mesmerized by the motion of his hips and barely caught the glint, a hint of change to amber, but you did.

“No!” He stilled immediately but you held on as he tried to withdraw from you. “No, stay with me, here just like this. We can do that again, later, whenever. Just,” you drew a hand to cup his face, “please. Like this. Like you. Just you.” You kissed him deep and rolled your hips to spur him on again.

You were prepared to feel less full, less fucked, though not by much, with Walter in human form. You were not prepared for the way he fucked you to feel just as animalistic as the monster. His assault was merciless, even as he grunted in your ear all the ways he was going to make you his. How he planned to take you softly in the moonlight so you’d know it didn’t matter what form he was in, you could have him any way you wanted.

When you finally came apart for him, he let loose with a loud growl and you were sure your neighbors were gonna call the landlord any minute. He hurried back to your side after disposing of the spent condom, curling around you and melting you in his warmth.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be?” he asked. “I still wanna take you to dinner, but I’d love to just stay here with you for awhile. If that’s okay?”

You were about to answer him, but your returning senses also meant you could hear the buzzing vibrations of notifications on your phone. Shit!

“Uh, no. I don’t have to be anywhere. Maybe you could grab that bag you left outside and we can see what else I can scrounge up for us to eat right now?”

You grabbed your phone as he peeled open the door, careful to tuck himself behind it as he grabbed for the food, lest a neighbor get a view they didn’t pay for.

sendmeanangel: okay look. He’s here. Right now. Can’t talk. All good. MMNstrluvr: MEANA!!! darkgothnightengale: GIRL YOU BETTER SPILL SOON!

You found some chips and salsa and split your sandwich with Walt, not that it looked like nearly enough food to tide him over till dinner. But he didn’t seem to mind. The next few hours flew by as you both sought to learn as much about each other as you could as soon as possible.

He explained that the special skill he had only worked within the confines of a vortex, over which the hotel had been built. It’s why he couldn’t bend time to allow him to study and work and wonder about you without losing sleep somewhere along the way.

After a shower, and some shower head, and then another shower, Walter asked if he could take you somewhere special for dinner. Somewhere not in town. He let you send GPS coordinates to your online friends with the promise they wouldn’t send you any details of the location. He wanted it to be a surprise for you. They were only to use it if you didn’t check in after dinner and again in the morning and once more when you were back at your apartment.

The sun was just sinking low with a burst of evening color when Walt pulled up to the lakeside cabin. He helped you out of his truck, then grabbed your overnight bags and the groceries from the backseat. You couldn’t wait to see the place in the full daylight, but you could already tell it was magical.

An a-frame cabin with large windows faced the lake. An oversized wooden deck made up a large seating area and all around landing pad in front of the entrance. A set of side steps allowed access from the driveway, but along the full length of the deck three stairs led to a narrower mulched path that in turn led to a wooden dock out onto the lake. A seating area was visible there as well, though there were no chairs.

Walt let you in first, then followed and set the bags down before closing the door.

He must have noticed you still admiring the sunset out the windows.

"I can make it last."

You blinked and turned, curious about what he'd just offered.

"Are we in a vortex then?"

"Yes, I got lucky finding this spot. Don't own the place, yet, so I can't come out whenever I want, but I made sure tonight was free."

"And, I mean, no. It's beautiful but I'm really looking forward to the moon. Can you make that last?"

He bit his lip and nodded, letting a smile and glance drift to the floor, shaking his head as if he still couldn't believe his luck.

"Yeah, I definitely can," he grinned at you before sweeping you into his arms. He kissed you hard and deep and you could feel the way he held back.

"Don't," you said, pulling away from the kiss so you could look him in the eye.

"Don't make it last?" he asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

"Don't hold back."

He did not. Every ounce of your clothing was on the floor next to his in what felt like a heartbeat. He was pawing at every inch of your body and you were enjoying it, the way he caressed you, held you, molded you to his form.

"Outside?"

"Won't matter," he huffed between kisses. "She's not up yet. Later. After dinner."

"Will you do it anyway?" you asked, and nodded earnestly when he asked if you were sure.

He again didn't waste a moment. One second he was Walter, the next he was the wolf and he was at your throat. Then down your body, then between your legs.

He made you come on his tongue at least three times before he presented his enormously hard member to you and helped you work your mouth around the tip.

You wanted so much more. You gave it your best shot. But he was huge. Larger than you recalled. When it was clear you'd need your hand to cover him completely, he licked your palms and wrapped your fingers around his length.

He pulled you off just as you finally found the right rhythm, the right pressure, the right speed.

"You're gonna make me come," he growled.

"Kinda the point, Walt," you grinned up at him. "C'mon, lemme..."

"You asked me not to hold back. Sorta assumed you meant the fucking."

"I meant don't..." you licked your lips. "Hold..." then your hand. "Back..." And with that, you took him back into your mouth and kept working him to climax.

You swallowed him down and glanced up, marveling at the way he shifted. The hair receded, though clearly not completely. The nose shortened, teeth shrunk, though a fang still peeked from his mouth as he panted for air. His stature gave back the extra inches balancing on the balls of his feet gained him. And with claws retracted back into his normally large hands, he reached to bring you to his feet before him.

After the kiss, you admitted, "I just figured the faster we finish dinner, the faster we can get to her."

His laugh never failed to make you feel safe and at home.

"That isn't how the moon rise works, but I appreciate the initiative."

She was just at the horizon of the mountain crest behind the cabin when Walt cleared the plates from the table. You started a quick, warm shower just to freshen up and welcomed him into your arms when he joined you.

Then he dried you off, handed you a flannel of his to wear, escorted you outside where he shifted on the way down the steps and led you to the end of the dock. You sat between his legs, back against his chest, and let the heat radiating from him keep you warm. You smelled the chill in the air you knew would lead to frost soon, but not tonight, not tomorrow.

She peered over the tree tops and cast her gaze upon you. You felt her power and you felt his power and you arched against him as he moved his hand between your legs. He nuzzled down your neck, nipped at your shoulder, and carefully, with precision, made you come on his hand.

As you recovered, you unbuttoned the shirt, slipped it off your body, and laid it down behind you. You made your way to your back, letting the flannel shield your bare skin from the hard wood planks. And you pulled him to you, urged him inside you, and held him close. Your bodies moved in tandem as she shone brightly across the gentle rippling of the water, her reflection casting you in her glow.

Walt didn't lie about taking you gently. It was like nothing you ever imagined being with a wolf would be like. As sensual as any touch any man or monster had ever given you, and given your recent adventures, that was saying a lot.

But you could tell he was still holding back.

"I get it Walt," you whispered in his ear. "This doesn't have to be the way you say it though." You smoothed the fur along his face as he pulled back to watch your face. "Don't hold back."

With a snarl, he did as you bid, taking you apart as he had back at your place just mere hours ago. Though once the moon reached her peak, you could tell he'd halted time and it was gonna have to be you to beg him for mercy, plead with him to stop treating you to the most intense, overpowering yet intimate orgasms you'd ever felt. You had to urge him to finally come and let the moon fall how she wanted.

"I love you, too," you whispered to him as he collapsed beside you.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS header created for me by my wonderful friend in fic, @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble @brattymum96

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

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if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfic #werewolf!walter #werewolf!walter marshall #werewolf!walter x reader #werewolf!walter marshall x reader #spoopy season #back to reality #fantasy hotel #mine #deandoesthingstome

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dreamtuna · 5 months

Text

Laid Bare By Moonlight

It's finally done, I've slain the beast. And I'm pretty happy with it. This is a piece I've been working on for a while now and I just kept editing it over and over. But I'm finally letting it out. I'm a bit nervous about this one lmao but I enjoyed writing this a lot and I hope you guys enjoy it too! And yeah I'll probably write a sequel because I want to know what happens next. Attack on Titan - Levi x fem!Reader, Levi x Unknown Woman smut, afab!Reader, listening through wall (without their knowledge), masturbation, jealousy, slight obsession tbh, walked in on/caught in the act, but okay with it! pretty enthusiastic about it honestly, shame, praise, begging, oral (fem receiving), Reader is a bit of a subby mess and she loves it, very brief mentions of threesome and cum eating fantasies Word Count: 4.9k On a sleepless moonlit night you don't expect to be kept awake by your Captain, but this is what happens when you forget to lock your door.

The darkness wrapped around you but sleep refused to come. No matter how hard you tossed and turned, there was no comfort and there was no rest, that much was clear. The frustration pooled in your body. You were exhausted, body weary from pushing extra hard in training lately. It was tough these days to think of much else except for your chronic underperformance. And now the stress of it all was eating away at your sleep. It seemed to have become a self feeding monster.

You threw your legs out of bed and walked across the room to the window. The moonlight had been bleeding through the thin curtains anyway, so you felt you might as well enjoy it fully if sleep wasn’t going to come and take you away. You pulled them back to bathe the room in it.

You returned to your bed, eyes drifting across the room at the empty one directly opposite. Most people envied you, having a room to yourself. You had the freedom to make a mess, the freedom to stay up late if needed, the freedom to have night time visits. But your room was spotless, you were usually in bed at a decent time and you hadn’t had a single partner since you joined the regiment. You’d just been too busy, too preoccupied with putting everything into this and proving you could do it.

Now look where that had landed you: alone in the middle of the night, insomnia gripping you by the throat and refusing to let go.

You heard a door open as the occupant of the next room returned for the night. It was rare to hear considering he would usually choose to sleep at his desk instead of in his bed. But sleep was never the purpose.

A light, floaty giggle travelled through the walls. Yeah, there it was. The stress relief. Captain Levi was not alone.

Now you were alone with your thoughts and the hushed excitement of some girl next door, muffled sounds drifting through the wall. Was that his boots being removed? Was that her body on the bed? Was that his on top of her? You couldn’t help it, your mind began to wander. Sitting with your back against the wall, you closed your eyes and listened.

Maybe you should’ve picked the other bed when you took this room.

You knew this was wrong. Only a wall separated you. You couldn’t hear much, but you could hear enough. You could hear the bed strain under their joint weight as they moved into positions you could only imagine. You could hear her moan loud and sudden as he, most likely, inserted himself into her, wasting no time. You could hear Levi hush her harshly, cutting off the objections which followed in what you could only imagine must be a rough kiss. And you could feel your hands drifting down your body as your lips opened in a silent gasp, your back arching slightly off the wall, imagining him slick with her excitement as he thrust in and out of her, as your fingertips danced over your light sleepwear.

You knew this was wrong. He was your Captain. But you had been attracted to him for as long as you knew of his existence, overflowing with excitement when you were picked to train under him. And as you heard the bed groan rhythmically under his thrusts you couldn’t help but crave being under him right now, a toxin beginning to flow through your veins. Jealousy clouded your judgement and your fingers worked their way under the waistband of your shorts.

You gingerly reached for your warmth, almost scared of what you might find, as if you weren’t already aware of how turned on you were. Your clothing did nothing to muffle the obscene noises your fingers made as you ran them up and down your slit, playing with your wetness before swirling them over your clit. Your back arched further as you touched the bundle of nerves, your desire and jealousy intertwining dangerously as you heard this faceless girl taking what you wanted. Biting down to suppress the building dark pleasure that wanted to rise out of your throat, you listened intently as the object of your desires gave her everything that should have been yours.

You almost scoffed. You were just another cadet to him. A promising one, sure, that’s why you had been picked to work under him, but just a cadet in his eyes nonetheless. He didn’t seem the type to mix business and pleasure, instead opting for these infrequent meetings with nameless women he likely never thought about again.

You wanted to be one of them so badly.

The cool night air caressed you, a much welcome feeling as your body began to heat up. Your free hand snaked up your stomach, pushing your t-shirt up to expose your breasts. You squeezed, pinching your nipple as you heard her cry out next door. She was getting close. Even to you it was obvious. The Captain had given up on hushing her but she seemed muffled. You thought about his firm hand clamped over her mouth, scowling down at her as he drove her closer and closer to climax.

It was too much. You needed more.

In a sudden movement you pulled your shorts off completely. Desperation overtook you, throwing yourself down on the bed, imagining his hands pushing you down, holding you in place. He would grab your legs, pushing your knees into your chest and exposing you completely… all for him. Much like she probably was right now. You pinched your nipple harshly, your pussy tingling as the dark wave of envy consumed you. Finally, you pressed first one finger, then a second, into your eager hole.

You had barely inserted the second when you realised the loud groan of pleasure you were hearing was actually coming from you.

You froze. Surely you hadn’t been that loud. It just seemed loud because you were the one who did it, right? The bed continued slamming into the wall separating you and you let out the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. Deciding you were safe, you began to move your fingers in and out. Slowly, you savoured the feeling, the pleasant intrusion taking but a moment to get used to. You tried to match the rhythm of the bed next door, but it felt entirely insufficient. All you could think about was Levi’s cock driving in and out of her, coated in her wetness. A desperate part of you wanted so badly to be on your knees, watching them up close. You would wait patiently, mouth open like he expected of you, tongue ready to clean them both up. You wouldn’t resist when he’d pull out and push your face into her, commanding you to lick every last drop of his cum from inside of her. You wanted to do anything to please him.

The moonlight covered your body, your most intimate places only just shadowed by your knees pressed to your chest. It felt good, like you were in some kind of spotlight just for him. You writhed and you could no longer control your moans as they rose above your audible wetness. Sure, you had heard the Captain fuck once or twice before. It was a rare occurrence and you couldn’t begrudge a man under that much stress for indulging in his desires. You would usually just roll over and try to ignore the noises and the growing damp spot in your underwear. You’d spend the whole night dreaming of him and all the things he could do to you. But you never gave into your feelings like this.

Maybe the moon is affecting me, you thought, mind wandering hazily to the idea the full moon could affect your mental state. Through clouded eyes you stared out the window into the night sky, fingers never slowing. The only thing on your mind was how your Captain would look above you in that pale light, hair stuck gently to his brow with sweat, eyes an almost ghostly silver. In that moment you were convinced there could not be anything more magnificent.

Suddenly you snapped back to reality. The room next door was quiet now. Had you missed the end of the show? Whatever the case was, you still had your own needs to attend to. Unlike her, you didn’t have anyone to deliver you an orgasm on a silver platter. The more you thought about how you’d missed out on him slamming deep inside her, releasing with a grunt as her insides pulsed and milked him, the closer you got to falling off the edge of that cliff.

A moan tore from your throat, masking a faint sound you couldn’t quite place in the back of your mind. That was until you heard your door close a moment later. You gasped, freezing in place, vulnerable and exposed on your back with your legs in the air, fingers curled inside your entrance, hand barely covering your chest.

“You should really lock the door.”

Your body went ice cold. That voice. No, it couldn’t be. You were too anxious to move or cover yourself. You were too anxious to even look towards the door and confirm your fears. You didn’t understand what was going on. Blushing a furious shade of red - thankfully not very visible in the moonlight - you reluctantly tore your eyes away from the window, slowly turning to gaze across the room.

After a moment, the voice spoke again. “Do you want me to leave?” No, your mind pleaded, don’t leave. But you couldn’t respond. “I can leave and we pretend this never happened.”

Finally your eyes fell directly on him. Levi stood there, face unreadable in the shadows. But he was clearly staring straight at you. Embarrassment flooded your entire being at the thought of being seen like this, especially by him. You could no longer even form words in your panicked mind.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked again. His voice was gentle, wrapping around you seductively.

Your voice shook, but you managed to get out a quiet “no”. You cleared your throat and repeated yourself as strongly as you could. “Stay,” you pleaded, voice thick with desire, knowing it was your lust speaking but it didn’t change the fact that this was something you craved so deeply.

He seemed satisfied with this and walked slowly across the room until he stood above you. He placed one hand softly on your knee, stroking back and forth across your bare skin as he stared down at you. You couldn’t see his expression like this, but he could see almost all of you. Ironically, only your lewd position saved you from exposing everything to him.

“Don’t stop,” he told you.

You blinked up at him. “W-what?”

Levi leaned forwards, placing his hands on the bed either side of your face. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I said don’t stop.”

With a start you realised what he meant. Inhaling sharply, you began working your fingers inside you again. You felt your cheeks heat up instantly at the sound of your fingers plunging into you. You wanted to look away from him, but he was watching you so intently it felt wrong not to hold his gaze. He’d caught you at your most vulnerable, and your desperation was clawing at you to get out. You wanted to please him. Your mouth opened slightly as your breathing picked up and the slightest smirk appeared on his features.

“You think I didn’t hear you moan before?” he said quietly. His voice held something in it that you couldn’t quite identify now, but it wasn’t malicious or menacing. It was stern, the type of voice that demanded respect, but yet it had that same warm edge to it as you’d heard when he first came in. “Can’t believe you’ve been lying here getting off listening to me fuck.”

You gasped at hearing it said out loud, the way he practically spat the word at you, your face flushing even deeper. You had to look away from him now. You couldn’t handle the shame as it washed over you as you felt yourself getting wetter with every word. You were even beginning to whimper now, the feelings intensifying with his warmth just above you.

He grabbed your chin, turning you to face him once again. Your eyes locked. There was a power in that gaze that you couldn’t resist, one that had you tumbling down and down into him, ready to give him everything as you had dreamed of for so long. And you knew, when you were consumed by those eyes, that he would gladly take everything you had to offer.

“What do you want?” he asked you, but you had no way of answering that. Your mind was going blank again as the pleasure rose. You knew if you opened your mouth now it would be an incoherent pleading. You had just enough dignity left to want to avoid that. Barely.

He pulled back, his hand returning to your knee to stroke it softly. You moaned at the sudden contact, fingers jerking inside you. You couldn’t believe you were behaving this way at even the lightest of touches. It was pathetic. Your insides squeezed tightly around your fingers. Your skin was on fire, desperate to feel him against you.

“Tell me what you want.”

It was no longer a question. It was not a request.

With great difficulty, you swallowed hard. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Everything felt crazy, like this was just some super vivid dream. It had to be. But his touch felt so real. His skin was rough against yours, neatly trimmed nails barely grazing against you from time to time.

Eventually, you managed to answer him in the smallest voice. “Please touch me.”

He didn’t need telling twice. Instantly he shifted, moving to sit on the bed between your legs, angling himself so he could appreciate your body in the light. Instincts kicked in and you began to squeeze your legs shut, shame threatening to overcome you, but his hands gripped your knees, firmly. Levi spread your legs and gazed down at your half naked body, eyes roaming you hungrily from your breasts right down to where your fingers still toyed with your juices.

In the moonlight you could see now his hair was mussed, the tips lightly dampened from the sweat of his previous exertions. The sheen of sweat was mostly gone, but you felt that bitter jealousy rising throughout you at the way his skin glistened, making him look ethereal. He’d pulled a shirt on, the top few buttons undone, his collarbones enticing you. You didn’t even notice as your tongue darted out to wet your lips at the sight of them, your hunger to cover them with a bouquet of nips and kisses growing.

You realised he must have literally finished with her, dressed and come straight through to you. The thought made your stomach flutter, an odd mixture between indignation and a deep dark pride at being next on his list tonight. Vaguely, your mind wandered to thinking about whether this was something he regularly did.

Levi ran his hands over your legs, jolting you out of your thoughts, holding them open so he could enjoy the show you were putting on for him. There was something intoxicating about the way he watched your fingers work. He stared intently at the glistening digits as they withdrew from within you, the light barely catching them now your knees were being held out of the way. He sat quietly like this for a moment. The only sound between you was your light panting and your own juices, almost deafening in the silence.

He leaned forward between your legs, sliding his hands up your thighs and onto your stomach before cupping your breasts. He squeezed gently, a warm strength wrapping around you, toying with your nipple ever so lightly. He worked his way down, planting the lightest kiss on your stomach. His body intermittently touched against your hand. You wondered if that was deliberate, your fingers pushing deeper inside you whenever he did.

You couldn’t hold back your thoughts any longer. “What happened with her?” you asked in a hoarse voice.

Levi paused, face hovering above your stomach. He looked up at you, sharp eyes connecting with yours. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I told her to leave.”

He said it like it was so simple, so obvious. Is that why you hadn’t heard anything? He’d just stopped? Or did he mean he had finished and immediately dismissed her? He watched you, eyes narrowing as he realised you were still digesting his words.

He sighed. “After I heard you she just didn’t feel the same to me anymore.” After a long pause he asked, “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. You felt weird, but you weren’t exactly uncomfortable with it. Had you somehow stolen him away from her? All you were doing was masturbating to the sound of your Captain slamming his hips into a mystery woman without his knowledge when you may have let out a loud moan - what was so wrong with that? Well, it sounded kinda messed up when you put it that way. The whole thing was messed up, what with him appearing in your door. Your head was still reeling from it. A part of you said you should’ve shooed him away instantly, but the way his hands played with your tits was melting away any lingering doubt you may have had. You had wanted him so much, and now here he was. Were you really going to squander this chance? His lips pressing against your stomach again had you forgetting all about what was okay and what wasn’t. You pushed your stomach up towards him, craving more, moaning lightly for him.

“Ah, yeah, that’s the sound,” he whispered into your skin.

His voice sounded strained. He gave your nipple a sharp pinch, eliciting a gasp from you, and then did it again for good measure. Your nipples were starting to get so sensitive from both his pinching and the attention you had given them earlier. His weight shifted on the bed and suddenly he was leaning right over you. He pushed his body gently down onto you, staring into your eyes as he did so. You could feel his bulge through his pants as he pressed into your hand slightly.

Levi kissed you. Delicate at first, your lips touching for only a second, but it didn’t take long before you had both devolved to desperately pushing against each other. His tongue worked its way into your willing mouth, claiming you as his own. You moaned into his mouth and you swear you could feel him twitch against the back of your hand.

A thought crossed your mind. Carefully you pulled your fingers out of yourself, shifting your arm enough to grab your Captain’s cock through his pants. You stroked him gently. He nipped at your bottom lip. He was straining against his pants, his hips thrusting erratically into your hand almost as if it were a subconscious reaction to your touch. You could feel the change in his breathing as he kissed you.

Your fingers fumbled to undo his pants but with only one hand it was difficult. You started to reach down but he grasped your wrist. He promptly found your other wrist and brought them together above your head, pinning you to the bed. You whimpered. This was starting to feel a lot like your fantasies.

He pulled back from your lips for a moment. In the moonlight you could just see the glint of his steely eyes as he looked at you. Without a word he lifted himself off you, but before you could whine about losing contact you found his lips descending on your sensitive buds. Working first one nipple, then the other, lathering them with sloppy attention until his teeth lightly nipped. Levi kissed and licked your breasts, smothering them with soft, sweet sensations before adding in more sharp little bites. You moaned for him, arching your back to push your breast into his mouth. But he pushed you back down. With a loud wet kiss to each breast, he began to work his way further down your body.

You were in heaven. No one had ever made you feel this way before. No one had ever shown your body so much consideration. You’d been with others before, and some of them had attempted foreplay, but the keyword there was “attempted”. After a while it all just devolved into grunting into one another and hoping their motions would be enough to satisfy you. They never were. But this was different. Levi hadn’t even taken his clothes off yet and you felt close to the edge of something huge that had you gripping the covers in anticipation as you moaned for him. You knew the second his lips made their way lower there was a good chance you would just shatter into pieces underneath him.

His lips trailed soft kisses along your hips. You were still in disbelief at what was happening, but oh God did you believe it when you threw your head back and moaned his name as his lips descended on your clit. He immediately felt the way you were quivering and pulled back.

“Not yet,” he told you, firmly squeezing your thighs where his hands had come to rest, holding you open for him.

You whimpered, but that stern warmth of his voice had you willing to do your best for him, wrapping around and pulling you into submission.

You glanced up from your pillow. You could see his eyes looking up at you, awaiting confirmation of your obedience. You nodded in understanding and he kissed your mound.

“Good girl,” he whispered, sending jolts of electricity up through your body until they pierced your soul.

Knowing how sensitive you were, Levi was very careful with his touch. He pressed his forearm under your thighs, pressing your knees into your chest. You’d had your legs in the air so long they were beginning to ache, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were about to complain. Especially not as his other hand made its way to take over for your earlier incomplete job. His fingers ran up and down your slit, admiring the way they would glide over you with how wet you were for him. Not messing around, he inserted two fingers straight into you and was instantly rewarded with you tightening around them, a whimper escaping you.

His lips came back down on your clit, sucking and licking at the bundle of nerves as his fingers began to pump in and out of you. He wasn’t gentle, but there was a certain care in his actions that made you feel safe. Maybe it was just your desire to orgasm tricking you into feeling that way. It really didn’t matter all that much to you what it was, it just felt good.

Levi enjoyed the way you whimpered for him. He wanted more of it until he was drowning in the sweet sounds you were making for him. But he could feel you reaching your limit. You were trying so hard to hold on for him. He could feel it in the way you tensed. He could hear it in how obnoxiously loud your pussy was. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, savouring the way they glistened with your juices in the moonlight. He licked them clean, eyes closing as your flavour engulfed him.

When he was done his lips were wet with the taste of you.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he praised you, fingers working their way back inside. This time he got to feel that jolt of electricity those two words sent through you as you clenched around him. “Yeah, you want more of that?”

You whimpered louder now. The desperation was clear. You didn’t need to nod for him to know, but seeing the way you frantically bobbed your head up and down had a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The control he had over your pleasure was intoxicating.

“I can’t hear you. Do you want to cum or not?”

He lightly swatted at your ass. You groaned loudly, feeling your dignity slipping away with each second. You felt yourself almost lose it and immediately, despite the fog of arousal, it was clear in your head what you wanted.

You mumbled something.

“Hmm?”

“Please… Want to cum…”

“Tch, that’s no way to ask for what you want.” His fingers arched up inside you briefly, hitting that sensitive spot for the first time. It felt like your whole body jerked upwards as you cried out.

“Please, Captain…” You sobbed slightly now, your dignity all but gone now. If you could only actually get the words out.

He seemed pleased with your efforts, stroking that sweet spot again as a reward. It was too much. You were going to cum either way, you might as well please him at the same time.

“Please, Captain, oh fuck. Please let me cum.” You choked back a sob. “Please, I can’t hold it. Please.”

A low groan rolled out of him. For a second the rhythm of his fingers faltered in you. He wasn’t expecting your begging to be that sweet, but oh how he adored it. He placed a sloppy kiss on your clit, enjoying the sharp gasp it drew from you.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, words ghosting over the bundle of nerves. “Cum for your Captain.”

His tongue danced around you, fingers now pressing relentlessly into that sweet spot no one else had ever found. He sucked noisily on you, alternating between suction and sweet kisses and lapping tongue. It was driving you insane and within seconds of this assault you were falling apart beneath him, your moans so loud, so beautiful, that there was no way half the barracks hadn’t heard you this time. You pulsated around his fingers as they found their home deep inside you, playing with the nerves inside that made your body tremble beneath him.

When you had finally reduced to a whimpering mess he withdrew from you. He sat back and looked at his hand, covered in your love.

“Oi, look at me and open your mouth,” he ordered and through your hazy brain you obeyed without question.

Levi shoved his hand at your face. You got the message and eagerly took his fingers into your mouth, sucking and licking him clean almost hungrily in a way that made his cock throb in his pants. You were so far gone at this point, your inner desires carrying you now. You would do so much for this man if he only asked it of you. He made you weak, and after that you knew he could make you feel better than anything else in this world.

You so desperately wanted to hear him call you a good girl again.

He pulled his hand back and, much to your surprise, he lay down next to you. He pulled you into his arms, resting your head against his chest. You were stunned, letting him manipulate your body however he wanted.

“You did so well,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your hair gently. “Rest.”

“But you haven’t cum,” you blurted out, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt not really knowing what to think or feel right now.

His sweet chuckle only made you more confused. A noise you never thought you’d hear from him of all people. But there it was, followed by yet another brief kiss to your hair.

“Rest,” he repeated. “You can look after me when you get your breath back.”

After a moment the tensions in your body eased and you let yourself get comfortable in his arms. You couldn’t get it out of your mind how uncomfortable he must be having had no relief, but his thumb was making soothing sweeps across your bare back, your top still pulled up above your breasts so that your nipples grazed against the fabric of his shirt. Your hips were gently touching. His warmth was engulfing you.

The more he held you and gently pet you the more you found yourself sinking into that sleep you so desperately desired before all this started. You were a complete mess, heart only just coming under control, head swirling with endless thoughts about what had just happened. You decided to take up his offer of rest for just a while longer, trying desperately to remove all those doubts that were creeping back up from your mind.

Because in that moment, none of that mattered. The only things that mattered were his warmth and his gentle breathing beside you. The way his thumbs continued rubbing your bare back, soothing you endlessly. The way his bulge rubbed gently against you. It wouldn’t take long before he’d have you on your knees taking care of him, you were sure of it, but for now you could just melt into his body. His lips grazed against your hair again and you gripped onto his shirt a little tighter, sighing happily, stress and anxiety easing in your heart, even if just for a little while.

#ah FUCK i'm so happy to post this #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan smut #n.sfw #dream writes #dream writes: oneshot

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jo-harrington · 10 months

Text

Peak Sales Hours (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his first Black Friday, Eddie is exhausted and takes comfort in his new relationship with you.

Previous Part: Promotion

Warnings/Themes: Established friendship/new relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort(?), idk it's a lot of comfort, working in retail hell, Eddie works at Tape World and Reader is the Store Manager at Claire's in Starcourt Mall, angry customers, weariness

Note: So...hi guys. Welcome back to the Store Manager Verse. This little installment is sort of skipping a step. I had a whole thing planned and half-written of Eddie and our favorite SM actually confessing their feelings and being fluffy...and it's still gonna happen I'm just...on day whatever of work and have a big deadline and have had sleep for lunch the past I-don't-know how many days.

And it just took me back to the countless Black Friday and Peak Holiday shifts where all I wanted was to get back home. So here we are.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

Never, in his entire life, had Eddie Munson felt more akin to the heroes from his favorite fantasy stories.

Long journeys and harrowing battles.

Deep wounds and comrades lost to the beyond.

Hoards of villains and the promise of a better future if only there was hope.

Taran. Aragorn. Luke Skywalker. They had seen it all.

"What's taking so long? I just need a gift receipt!"

But none of them had ever worked Black Friday.

He had experienced Black Friday before, as a shopper.

Thanksgiving hadn't ever been anything magnificent in the Munson household, especially after his mom died. Wayne and Rick had always tried to make it still feel special for Eddie, with hearty midwest comfort foods.

There would always be a full belly and an even fuller heart with his uncle and his almost-step-dad around. Eddie could never complain.

Then after a late afternoon dinner, Wayne would pack up a plate of leftovers to make his shift at the plant that paid time-and-a-half, plus a little something extra from the plant manager, cash in hand. By the time Eddie woke up the next morning, Wayne would pull up with a box of fresh donuts, honk three times, and they would be on their way to the Kmart on Rt 9 and get some steeply discounted goods with Wayne's holiday pay.

It was always a madhouse, but Eddie could swiftly dodge screaming kids, empathize with over-caffeinated employees, and wait in long lines if he and Wayne didn't need to fret about things like work boots and gloves, t-shirts and underwear, and usually one nice little Christmas gift for each of them.

This year, of course, had been a little different. Wayne had been a little disappointed--he would never admit it, but Eddie could tell--that their tradition would be forsaken for Eddie's shift at the mall. But your addition into the Thanksgiving festivities had been a welcome one.

Eddie had extended the invitation weeks ago, when you mentioned you wouldn't be able to make it home to spend the holiday with your family thanks to work.

You, of course, promised to pull your weight--

"It's always really casual," he tried to ease your worries as you began to fret over what kind of dessert Wayne and Rick might like. "You don't even need to dress up. Come in your pajamas. Rick makes a really good pumpkin pie, and I have my mom's old scalloped potato recipe that will literally put you in a food coma."

"What about turkey?" you asked.

"We don't really do turkey." He shrugged. "There's only three of us. So we do different things every year. Rick usually catches some kind of fish if it's warm enough. Wayne has a good recipe for fried chicken. We were thinking of doing meatloaf..."

"I can do the meatloaf!" You perked up immediately.

--only to show up laden with a roasting pan for the meatloaf, a plastic-wrapped gravy boat full of some kind of mushroom gravy, a salad, and a casserole dish overflowing with green beans, cream-of-something soup, and heaps of french fried onions.

Eddie, of course, scolded you as you shuffled through to the kitchen, much like he had the first time you showed up for dinner at his place. But he also placed a soft peck on your lips, which earned him a bashful smile as you shoo'd him away.

That was a new development to your...friendship, if you could even call it that anymore. There really hadn't been time to discuss the logistics between the frenzied makeout session in his van outside of the Hideout this past Tuesday night and Thanksgiving dinner.

Now that he had been trapped at the cash wrap, ringing out ungrateful customers for the past 8 hours, he was almost loathing his past self for wanting to be a little discreet in front of Wayne and Rick. For not...making himself have the "what are we" conversation with you, because your lips had soothed every frazzled nerve he had the other night.

Knowing that at the end of the day that he wasn't going through it alone, that his girlfriend was also in the mall suffering through the mass chaos and that he could go upstairs and steal a kiss whenever he wanted...well it certainly would have done him a world of good to mentally prepare him for this.

For the entirety of his time working at Tape World, he thought he had been doing a pretty good job. Sure there were some hard days, some rude customers. But at the end of the day, an 8-hour shift was an 8-hour shift, and he was only selling tapes. Not...ending world hunger.

"Ah you say that now," Kyle told him on Wednesday as they were putting together cardboard "dump bins" for the discount tapes that would be placed every 10 feet in the store. "But Black Friday is a beast, and Christmas Eve is worse. You're honestly lucky you only work here and not at, like, Radio Shack or something. My buddy Todd has seen some shit.

"Actually, I'm almost regretting scheduling you as a mid but I needed a second key." Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. "Peak Hours. Mid's a rough shift for Black Friday weekend."

"I'll be fine," Eddie scoffed. "I've done mid shifts before. I'm almost excited. How bad could it get?"

Famous. Last. Words.

He had barely been able to squeeze into the store when it was time for his shift, the line for the cash wrap blocked the way to the stockroom door. As soon as people saw his name tag, they started shouting at him to open the other register, how they needed help; he could barely get a word out to explain that he wasn't clocked in yet. They didn't care.

He was no longer Eddie Munson, Tape World Keyholder and your boyfriend, probably, maybe...

He was a body who could unlock the electronics case and ring them out.

He was a husk who said "welcome in" and "thanks have a great day" and smiled until his face started hurting.

And for the first time since he had gotten this job back at the beginning of summer...it really fucked with him.

His legs were cramped from standing at the Cash Wrap for so long, he wasn't sure which of the associates had his keys, his hair was damp with sweat even if he threw it into a some haphazard bun hours ago.

He'd been yelled at by more people than he could count, counted so much change the edges of his fingers were pretty much stained from all the muck and grime on everyone's money, and had made so many returns from people with buyer's remorse that he was sure they had given more money back than they had made in sales today.

Eddie hadn't even gotten a chance to take his lunch out in the mall and pay you a visit like he typically would. He had just collapsed in the little metal folding chair in the break area of the tiny stock room. Kyle had clapped him on the shoulder with a quick "good job kid" as he left for the day and Eddie hadn't even moved.

"Alright Ed," Paulie shuffled over as Eddie wrapped up the last in a long line of transactions and was about to wave the next customer over. "Quitting time."

Eddie sighed and backed against the counter as Paulie counted him down. The adrenaline of the day finally started to wear off as he came to realize that it was all over, and a weariness unlike the one he had been feeling his entire shift settled deep into his bones.

He went through the motions as he went back to the stockroom to grab his jacket and punch out. He wove his way through the still-crowded store and out into the mall, sighing in relief as the cooler mall air hit him.

It was gonna be a mercy once he got out to his van. He'd drive home with the windows down.

His ears rang as he headed towards the employee entrance and he wondered if it would be worth waiting in line at the Orange Julius before he left or if he should just stop through the McDonald's drive thru or something on his way home.

"Eddie."

But then, he didn't really need to stop for anything. There were leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner at home. He could smoke a little bit, make some kind of meatloaf sandwich, and then sink into his bed.

"Eddie."

And sleep until...

Fuck.

He was gonna have to do it all again tomorrow. And the day after that.

He thought back to his favorite fantasy heroes and wondered how they did it. How they put themselves through endless journeys, practically sacrificed themselves time and again.

And he could barely make it through a shift at the Starcourt Mall of all places.

"Eddie!"

He crashed right into your hands as you planted them on his shoulders and prevented him from absolutely barreling into you.

"Jesus are you ok?" you exclaimed and pulled him off to the side of the walkway to get out of the way of foot traffic.

Was he? Probably not.

"Yeah," he shook his head and answered. He finally looked at you, finally actually saw you. Dressed in your Teen Vogue best, as you called it, although a little worse for wear, if the eyeshadow smeared where it definitely shouldn't be and your jewelry all askew was any indicator. "Yeah I'm fine.

"You sure? You looked like you were in a trance," you explained. "I've been calling your name for a little while."

"Oh shit," he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, no...it's...It was just a long day."

You didn't hesitate. Your arms immediately wrapped around him and you pulled him in. Pulled him back from whatever precipice he was about to launch himself off of, and straight into the comfort of you.

---

Before long, Eddie found himself in your apartment, fully upside down with his legs propped against the wall as he enjoyed the Blizzard he'd picked up on the way.

"You know just cuz you can hold it upside down, doesn't mean you're supposed to eat it upside down," you laughed as you filled a pot with water and put it on the stove.

"And what are you, the Blizzard expert," Eddie scoffed. "If you'll recall I was the one who took you to Dairy Queen for the first time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes and turned to grab some cans from the cupboard.

You had offered to make dinner--again--while he vented about his shift. Nothing as spectacular as what you made for Thanksgiving dinner, but it left the leftover meatloaf for Wayne to take for his lunches.

"You're lucky I like your spaghetti sauce," Eddie grumbled, a little sad that he couldn't have his meatloaf sandwich.

So he talked as you ran to your bedroom to rid yourself of the remnants of who you became when you were at Starcourt, and as you emerged the person that, he liked to believe, was reserved especially for him.

He told you about the back to back returns he had dealt with when he came back from lunch as you dropped dried pasta into the boiling water and grated garlic into sizzling oil.

He complained about the man who demanded help from a manager only even though all he wanted was a special edition cassette deck that had all the bells and whistles and anyone with keys could help him. His voice got louder and meaner as he quoted the jackass verbatim, but the sharp strike of your wooden spoon against the side of the pot brought him back down to earth.

And as he finished up his story about having to count Sam's register three times because he forgot that there were large bills under the cash tray, you joined him on the couch with a bowl of steaming hot pasta for each of you.

He righted himself and discarded the empty blizzard cup on your coffee table.

"First Black Friday in the books," you announced and you passed the bowl to him. "I'm proud of you."

"Proud?" Eddie groaned. "Seriously? It was a disaster."

"They always are," you explained sagely.

"You survived," he pointed out.

"So did you."

"Barely."

"So?" you asked and twirled noodles on your fork expertly. "Doesn't that count? This is, like...my 5th Black Friday? My 6th? I count each one as a victory. And so should you."

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, then clinked plates with his in a salute, and then the two of you fell into contented silence as you ate.

As Eddie worked ravenously through the layers of starchy, cheesy, garlicky goodness, he realized that the weariness that had settled within him after his shift had started to alleviate. How he felt more like himself now that he was sitting next to you, basking in the warm glow of your company.

He briefly considered this ritual the two of you had been engaging in for months. The way you shared stories and foods and got closer to one another. He had always been a little worried that things would change if he ever got his wish, if this friendship with you ever became more.

But it was like nothing had changed at all.

He wanted to ask, was tempted to ask, what this was? If this was a date, like all the dates that weren't dates hadn't been before? If you were his girlfriend now?

But then...he recalled the time that you had a bad day and you immediately found relief in him, how he thought that he didn't need to be your knight as long as he could be your home.

And Eddie realized that whatever the two of you decided it would be, whether you were still just his friend, or if you were his girlfriend, or maybe...maybe something else...

You, too, would always be his home at the end of a long battle.

---

Next Part: Disaster Preparedness

Tag List for Store Manager Verse is still temporarily suspended. Thank you for understanding.

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fic #Eddie munson #Eddie munson fluff

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pix3lplays · 6 months

Note

OMG ITS OPEN AGAIN

I was wondering do you take Genshin requests??

By the way, can I request a HSR men reacting to their S/O being a figment of their imagination?

Like what I mean is that the HSR men thought that they had fallen in love when in reality they were just imagining things for a long time? (I know it's a weird headcanon but I think I'm too sleep deprived to not ask lol)

-🤡anon

Alright wow that’s so sad, let’s do it

And yes to Genshin requests!! But a big disclaimer is I’m not very far into Genshin so I might be pretty inaccurate in certain regards lol, so sorry about that if it happens!

(Also we’re at that point where there are too many HSR characters for me to do ALL of them so have a few I could see this happening to haha)

(also also. Get some REST 🤡anon!)

Tw! Delusional, violence for Nanook’s part

-Honkai star rail characters in: Just a figment of my imagination-

Luocha: Luocha’s disappointed, but the more he thinks about it, he’s not surprised. You were just so…perfect. And he…he was a monster that crawled out of the depths of the Abundance. He wasn’t made for love. Maybe that’s why he imagined you in the first place…loneliness? Well. It didn’t matter. You were definitely gone now. But he’d remember you, after all, how could he forget someone who treated him so well?

Jing Yuan: he’d just been so…overworked and exhausted that he never even thought to consider he was just Imagining you were at home waiting for him. He needed you, so he created you, and he didn’t even realize you were made up for some time. That is, until he started noticing ‘gaps’ in his memory. For example he couldn’t remember how you met, or the day of your wedding, and then one day you just…weren’t there anymore. He’s very torn. He knows you were bad for him…it wasn’t right of him to just…live in a fantasy world where he can have someone as amazing as you, but he also misses you. So much. More than he can say.

Nanook: Being an Aeon of Destruction was a lonely path. Nanook KNEW you were just a phantom of their imagination the moment you appeared, and yet, they couldn’t help but indulge the delusion. There was just something about you. You were perfect. Bloodthirsty, yet elegant…Understandable, considering you were an invention of the Aeon of Destruction. The Aeon never really does face the facts and accept that you’re not real though. Nanook lives in their delusion, knowing your fake but believing you’re really there…waging wars in your honor, dedicating bloody victories to your name… Tragic when you think about it.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Luocha #Luocha x reader #Hsr Luocha x reader #honkai star rail Luocha x reader #Jing yuan #Jing Yuan x reader #hsr Jing Yuan x reader #honkai star rail Jing Yuan x reader #Nanook #Nanook the destruction #Nanook x reader #Nanook the destruction x reader #Hsr Nanook x reader #honkai star rail Nanook the destruction x reader #Honkai star rail Nanook x reader

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cambion-companion · 6 months

Note

My current tnoughts are imagins you're having a sex dream about Raphael, and Raphael is just sitting in a chair watching uou whilst it's happening.

This turned into an interesting exercise in narrating Raphael's POV. Definitely would like to try again in the future! Thank you for the prompt, enjoy the drabble :)

Dreams of desire came creeping to Tav’s resting mind, twisting their face as their fingers slid through warm bedsheets.

Raphael looked up from his contemplation of the ashen hearth, a flicker of firelight dancing between finger and thumb. He heard the sound of his mattress creaking and turned his attention slowly to the lover he’d left spent and exhausted upon his silken pillows.

Their prone body squirming weakly in slumber, half exposed to the hot breeze grating through the open window. A low sound of pleasure escaped Tav’s parted lips and Raphael saw their brow furrow slightly, a bead of perspiration marking the soft flesh of their cheek.

Raphael considered the mortal before him, erotic and vivid as though struck directly from a painter’s brush. A scene not unfamiliar to the cambion. The titillating musk of pain and pleasure still hanging in the thick air.

His tail swished back and forth languidly, scraping gently against the marble floor. He had felt desire, yes. Carnal and quick. Many lovers had warmed his bed, some had never garnered the good fortune of leaving alive.

This one mortal had stolen space within his thoughts much longer than even he had anticipated.

Raphael stretched his neck and wings, relishing the feeling of innate fiendish power. This would be fleeting, as all mortal dealings. He would gain the crown, his ultimate prize, and forget Tav and their many misadventures.

Tav rolled over and moaned softly once more. Raphael’s glowing eyes watched their chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, gaze sharpening when he heard his name tumble from lips made clumsy from sleep.

He crossed the room to the bedside, looking down upon them with an arch and bemused expression. This was not the first time Tav had been invited to his Boudoir, after he had exacted punishment for their initial trespass.

Instinct told him to push Tav away, to stop indulging their weak and pliant desires. They were a means to an end, as were all the fleeting mortal souls ever passing through Raphael’s hands.

He should spurn Tav’s obvious, though misguided, affections. He indulged them for the sake of gaining his ultimate prize, and yet…

And yet.

It was that hesitance, that chink in his carefully crafted armor which Raphael fervently yearned to burn out like an irksome weed.

Tav’s sweet dreams began to warp and fade around the edges of their vision as consciousness slunk into the lurid fantasy. Raphael’s hands skimmed along the side of their body, over their chest and rested against their throat.

Sleepy eyes slowly opened and looked up at the hellfire orbs set in a sharply angled crimson face. Any sane mortal would shrink in dread at the sight, but all Tav felt were butterflies.

They smiled and stretched, not minding Raphael’s clawed hand scraping against their flushed skin. “Good morning, my devil.”

Raphael’s hand flexed, torn between caressing and tearing asunder. He returned the smile, his tail moving with increased agitation. “Time to leave, little mouse.”

#raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #raphael baldur's gate 3 #bg3 drabble #smut #adjacent at least #cambions gonna cambion #fanfic #18+ content

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criticalrolo · 2 years

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shows like game of thrones and house of dragons are fucking exhausting. like Yeah I am genuinely okay with the concept of sexism and sexual violence in fantasy, it’s a real thing that happens in the world and people should be free to explore it as a concept, but these shows never have ANYTHING actually interesting to say about it. They start the conversation with “men oppress women and see them as sex objects and not full people” and then don’t GO anywhere with it. It just stays there unexamined. Like “yep it’s like that because it’s always been like that!” And you’ll maybe get a few main female characters who are allowed to have more fleshed out personalities, but it’s extremely telling when EVERY background woman is naked and getting fucked or assaulted and there’s no inclusion of women just…. Existing like regular people

#like. I’m so fucking tired I can’t deal with how much men hate women

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ruukina · 8 months

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WOLFISH

FANDOM: final fantasy xvi PAIRING: clive rosfield x reader ( gender neutral, afab ) RATING: explicit / 18+. minors dni. SUMMARY: After an exhausting week of running around Valisthea, you return home with your heart full and missing a certain outlaw. What you find upon your return is different... but not unwelcomed. WARNINGS: slightly rough sex, dirty talking, breeding kink, implied heat cycle. WORD COUNT: 7.7k

A/N: yeah i'm fairly down bad for this man. i normally don't write reader fics but i'm trying to expand my horizons so. here we are. gotta feed myself in this economy right?? expect more ffxvi stuff, whether its reader insert or other shit because the brainworms are very bad.

read on ao3!

It’s a silent ride back to Hideaway, as it always is on these solo missions of yours.

It’s not a common thing, but every so often you find yourself having to run around all of Valisthea with the job of making payments and collecting orders from the many kind souls that have been helping the cause that even keeps your personal home afloat. In fact, you could even say as Cid’s personal advisor, this was your main job; Otto was busy running the Hideaway and keeping it in check, so the job fell to you when you weren’t tailing after the man you worked under.

You also didn’t mind it, because it meant you had some time to yourself. You had the wind at your back, the smell of sea water to keep you company, and you could be in your thoughts alone.

Usually you didn’t mind it, at the very least.

It’s not a long task to do or even a hard one, in fact you’d argue that most of your time spent there is arguing with the likes of Martha and Isabelle and even L’ubor to accept the gil that Cid himself has offered to give them, but this month’s mission of yours was different. It seemed like a certain boss of yours had racked up a few requests and the people he graciously helped either wanted to give him a reward or send a letter to ask for more help. And since you were unfortunately playing messenger, it meant that you were basically running around and doing his job… in the sense of gathering the requests and gifts, of course.

So, you were being a little delayed in returning. You made sure to send a Stolas, to let everyone know you weren’t dead - just incredibly busy.

But now you finally found yourself on the ferry back home and you were impatient to get back. Excited to get back to everyone, excited to finally be returning after about a week of having to travel by Chocobo to get to everywhere.

Excited to return back to him.

“Hey, Obolus, are we almost there yet?” You peer over to the ferryman, the wind wilding through your hair.

Obolus didn’t even look back at you, as he ‘tsks’ in response. “We’ll get there when we get there. Asking every five seconds won’t make the boat go any faster.”

You scrunch your nose at him, but he did unfortunately have a point. The trip usually never feels so long, but after being away for what seems like months, you were just anxious to get back and rest your feet. The silence of the ride passes, with only the sound of waves pressing against the exterior of the boat.

You lean against the side and take the chance to reflect on all that’s happened. All that you’ve experienced.

All that you’ve done.

You don’t really remember when you became Cid’s advisor. It’s had to have been years at this point, you remember only barely being what one would call an adult. You were a bearer without a brand, hiding your magic behind crystals. It’s what your father had taught you, to protect you from the cruel world you were born in. You were cursed, your mother refused to even acknowledge your existence - even more so after the death of your father. You only lived the way that you did because your mother loved your father more than she loved you, and made your father take care of you.

Your father never gave up on you. An idealist in a world of realists, he really thought you could be the one to change the world.

He set himself up for failure, you bitterly had thought when news of his death arrived at your doorstep. He died for a cause he believed in, sure, but now he expected you to carry on that torch for him. And maybe there was a part of you that wanted to fight for a better world than the one you were handed, for those like you. You weren’t really sure what your true feelings were at that time.

There was one thing you did know, however; you knew you weren’t safe in your mother’s care, so you ran the day after your father’s passing and never looked back. You’re not even sure if your mother is even still alive or if she even misses you. Did she start anew, start all over with someone else and have a child she could be proud of?

As the years went on, you found that you didn’t even care. You can’t remember her face anymore.

You were crafty, a trickster, because that’s what kept you alive. Somehow, your paths with Cidolfus Telamon crossed. Not just once or twice, but five times. Four times, you rejected his appraisal and invitation to join him.

On the fifth path crossed, and the day he saved you from death, you finally joined him. You didn’t really expect to stay long in Hideaway, only thinking you would spend a few weeks or even a month before you jumped ship. You never stayed in one place for long, because it was always too dangerous for you to attach yourself to people. But everyone was so kind, so nice to you, and welcomed you with open arms.

Especially Cidolfus.

You clung to him a lot, maybe because despite only meeting him five times he was the only person you really knew, and somehow you managed to become his advisor with your skills and your ability to pull him back to the ground. Otto was against it at first, not because he didn’t like you, but you were barely an adult. Yet, Cid had smiled and patted you on the shoulder, telling Otto that there was more to you than meets the eye.

It’s much more than what your mother gave you. Worthless, unneeded, dirty, sinful - that’s all that she had called you. Your own father would try and raise your spirits, but her words were sharp as a knife and they cut wounds in your wrists. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and you stayed. You stayed with the people who would become your family.

One day, Cid left with Goetz and the wolf he ( or rather, charon ) cared for, because of rumors of Shiva’s Dominant finally rising in a place where he can finally catch her, to give her the freedom she needed. He came back with Goetz carrying a girl on his back, and a branded man with the wolf practically attached to his hip.

Clive Rosfield.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but the man before you would change your life completely.

Cid introduced you to him, asking you to watch over him and help him adjust to the Hideaway. It’s almost funny to think about, because despite Clive’s grumblings about ‘not staying long’ ( words that echoed in your head as familiar, because you had said the same thing ), when you finally got track of him again, he was out helping the people of Hideaway.

You made a joke about that and he quickly looked away, some colour on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was a cute sight, unsightly for a rugged man like him. Despite his appearances, he was kind and soft, albeit a bit cynical from the hardships he faced in his life. Then you ended up helping him help people, because there wasn’t much to do at that time and you needed to stretch your legs, and that’s how Cid decided on his great idea to make Clive your personal assistant.

Clive then realized when Cid told him you ran him ragged, he meant it, because once Cid assigned Clive to you, it didn’t take you long to get him working because as long as someone could move, they could work. But of course, you joined Clive on his journey to help him out. Some days you had to stay at Hideaway but for the most part, you were at his side alongside Cid.

You and Clive bonded together. Quick whips with one another, long nights together trying to figure out your next course of action with the Mothercrystals and how to save Valisthea, and slowly he became someone you… well, liked, essentially. You don’t exactly make friends with people, because you’ve never really had the chance to do so, but somehow Clive stabbed his way into your life and heart.

He became softer with you, and you did too. You found it was easy to smile with him, to laugh with him, to love him. It scared you, because Clive was a Dominant - the second, mysterious Eikon of Fire, and yet something so much more than that. It was basically a target on your back, even more so than the relationship you had with Cid.

But you found that you couldn’t stop loving him, that you would endure the burning world for him. Maybe that scared you more.

He held you when you sobbed and broke down over Cid - the first time your mask of being strong ever cracked. You hated it, you hated being weak, because Cid didn’t need weak people helping him. Cid needed someone who could put themselves back together, but this time you couldn’t. The pieces of you were scattered all over the floor like glass and every time you picked one up, you cut your hand and let the blood drip from your wound.

Yet, Clive held you. He held you close, he didn’t judge you, because he was crying alongside you. Cid meant so much to everyone, including him. You sat in his arms, and he didn’t leave until he knew he could leave you alone without worrying over you. His gentleness contrasted his roughened up look, he looked at you so softly and filled with fondness towards you. He was not afraid to help pick up the pieces, even if it meant cutting his hands in the process.

He put you back together, and he didn’t complain about it. Not even once.

Your relationship with him bloomed. Your friendship with him became something new, something else. It was a dangerous love, because of who Clive Rosfield is - what he is. Yet, you never swayed. You never faltered.

No matter what, he’s Clive to you.

But in public, he is Cid and you are Cid’s advisor - like you always were. You two were professional on the outside, only sneaking away to shed those titles when you had enough time to. You didn’t get those chances a lot, but when you did he made sure to treat you like you were a deity. You’ve had lovers in the past, but they never made you feel like Clive made you feel. He made you feel loved, appreciated, cared for. You took care of him, but he always took care of you in return. He never simply just took, he always gave back.

No wonder you were anxious to get back to him; you’ve missed him dearly.

“We’re approaching the Hideaway!”

The ferryman’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You open your eyes, quickly looking towards the horizons. Even in the blackest of nights, with the moon being your only light, you could see the shape of the broken down airship that you and everyone else called home. You could feel the smile creeping on your face.

“I’m home,” you whisper.

To who exactly? Not yourself, but to the man who was waiting for you.

You thank Obolus for the ride home as you step off of the boat, quickly rushing up the stairs. Most people had turned in for the night so there were only a few souls still haunting the Hideaway, and they offered their greetings to you and a cheery ‘welcome back, advisor!’, to which you returned with a smile.

You feel a little silly rushing through the halls, like an eager child, but you were happy to be home.

You were happy about seeing him again.

You skid to a stop when you reached your destination. The Tub and Crown was a bit of a ghost town around this time, but you knew there were still a few people aside from Maeve haunting the area.

And you weren’t wrong. There sat Gav and Jill, with Torgal laying at Jill’s side. The hound lifts his head up at the sound of your footsteps, and once he lays his eyes on you he quickly stands up and rushes over towards you with a happy sounding bark. Since becoming Clive’s partner, Torgal never really left your side either. If he wasn’t with his owner or Jill, he was shuffling at your hip and following you around.

“Torgal!” You greet happily, kneeling on the ground to pet him and spoil him with some treats you carried on hand once you got close enough to where the two sat.

The two break from their conversation to see what Torgal was barking at, both of them greeting you with a smile on their faces.

“Well, if it ain’t our favorite advisor!” Gav slams his drink down. He looks you over, peering at the basket of gifts and requests at your side - all for a certain someone. “Talk about bein’ fashionably late. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said almost everyone in Valisthea was keepin’ you away.”

Jill nods her head in agreement, cupping her own chin to look over the heavy basket. “It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure yourself.”

“Oh, it was the same ol’ stuff I deal with everyday. Just this time everyone in Valisthea caught wind that Cid’s advisor was in town and decided to make it their problem.” You rub Torgal’s belly, to which the hound accepts with happy pants.

Speaking of the aforementioned man… You look to the side of Gav. No handsome brooding man there.

You look to the side of Jill. No handsome brooding man there, either.

“Where is Clive?” You stop petting Torgal for a moment. “I figured he would be hanging out with you.”

Gav rolls his eyes a little, both good naturedly but also in some slight annoyance. “Went right to his chambers to work on things when we got back. He’s been in a bloody mood all week.” The scout holds up a finger. “Scowlin’ more than usual, more antsy than usual, tappin’ his foot while he waits at the door.” Every reason is met with a finger going up. “Not like everyone is afraid of him here, but it felt like we had to walk on eggshells around him. Even Charon was tryin’ not to rib him so hard.”

You blink a little, a brow raised. “Has the missions been going poorly or something?”

“Fuck no,” Gav shakes his head in response. “Everything’s been going smoothly. He’s just been actin’ like a shite.”

“He hasn’t been that bad,” counters Jill. Though, there’s a slight pause of hesitation from her. “But Gav isn’t wrong, he has been in a bit of a mood. More than likely, he was just worried about you.”

Worried about you? It’s not like you can’t handle yourself, and you’ve definitely been on missions longer than a week without him. You can’t help but scrunch your nose in thought - as always, when you’re thinking hard. Something was up with him, clearly.

Jill reads you like a book, with a smile on her face. “He’s still up, last time I checked. He’s burying his nose in reports as to distract himself. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the visit from you.” She stands up from her seat, as Torgal also rolls over and trots back to her side. “I’ve got some work to do with Tarja, but it was nice seeing you tonight.”

You nod your head, standing up and dusting yourself off. “Tarja, huh? Try not to stay up too late with her, alright?” You laugh a little when Shiva’s dominant huffs softly at your teasing, giving you just a gentle nudge in return. The two of you have gotten quite close over the years, and she was supportive of you and Clive. You felt like you could sigh in relief at that, that you didn’t have to worry about Clive’s childhood friend coming after you.

Gav finishes his drink, standing up as well. “I’m turnin’ in for the night.” He pats your shoulder with a grin on his face. “Make sure you give our leader a nice, warm welcome!”

He only grins harder seeing your cheeks turn red like a tomato at the implication of his words, and Jill’s soft laughter only makes you turn ever redder. Ah, there was your punishment for teasing Jill. The three of them make their way out of the alehouse, your eyes following them as you think about your conversation.

He’s in a mood.

What could he be in a mood about? You’ll have to do some digging, which isn’t hard - if there’s one thing Clive is with you that not even a sour mood could change, it’s that he was honest with you. It’s one of his best traits, really, that he’s open with his feelings and doesn’t usually shy away from speaking his mind about certain things. It’s not always easy, because there are some things he keeps to his chest, but for the most part communication is always important between you two. You pick up the basket of gifts and quickly make it to the end of the hall, where Clive’s chambers were.

And well, they were technically your chambers too, you think with the heat growing at your cheeks once more.

Shifting the basket a little, you use your free hand to knock on his chamber doors - once, twice and thrice.

“The door’s unlocked.” Clive’s low voice fills your ears. He already has you sighing and letting out a quivering breath. Founder, you’ve missed him.

You open the door with a smile on your face. You take in the sights before you - his room is as you left it, with the man himself seated at the desk. He seems to be burying himself in his usual reports and paperwork, just as Jill said. He didn’t even lift his head upon you entering.

“Guess who.” You smile, as you close the door behind you.

The sound of your voice has Clive immediately lift his head from his work. Cerulean eyes widened, the quill he was using drops from between his fingers and clattering on the desk.

“You’re back.” He sounds almost breathless. His chest raises a little as he breathes in and out, those cerulean eyes of him looking a lot more puppy-dog than usual.

This was different, indeed.

You walk towards him, placing the basket on the edge of the desk not covered in scattered papers. “Just got back. Gifts for you by the way, I was hunted down by weary souls who wanted to give their thanks to the so-called Cid the Outlaw.” You peer at him with a gentle, loving smile on your face.

He laughs a little in response, a rare smile forming on his own features. “No wonder you’re late. Sorry about that. I’ll be sure to pen my thanks to them soon.”

You shake your head at him. “Oh, don’t even start with the apologies. It’s my job to aid you, it’s kind of in the title.” A pause, shifting your feet a little as you hold your hands behind your back, shyly. “And… you know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

The words you whisper made him smile a little more. “You have perfect timing. I’m actually finishing up and I could use your advice.” He nudges his chair back a little, gently patting his thigh.

For a moment, you stare with a tilted head, until you realize the implications. Your cheeks turn red.

Oh, he’s inviting you to sit there.

Oh, this was different, indeed.

But you don’t hesitate or falter at all. You take a seat on his thigh, leaning against him. One of his strong arms wraps themselves around your waist, pulling your body flushed against his. The position is a little embarrassing, you have to admit to yourself, but it feels warm, comforting - loving. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into place, flipping through the letters and offering your advice and help to him.

It also doesn’t take long for Clive to stop paying attention. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His hot breath tickles your skin, a shiver running down your spine, as his fingers draw circles in your hip. His lips ghosts around your skin, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your neck as though he was whispering forbidden words in your skin. The quill from his fingers once again falls onto the desk, the reports forgotten about as his attention shifts to you. It’s hard to focus when he’s like this, so you decide to also forget about the many papers that littered his desktop.

“Jill and Gav told me you were in a mood.” You finally shift the conversation to what was really on your mind.

Clive only offers a grunt at first. “I’m not really in a mood.”

“Are you? You’re acting a little differently tonight.” Your fingers run through his hair, out of his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Clive? You know you can tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitates, but he knows he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. You know he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. He pulls you close to him, finally lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“I was fine when you left, but after a day, it felt like there was a pit in my stomach.” Clive runs his fingers up and down your hip. “Hunger, I suppose, is the best way to describe it.”

“Hunger?”

“I felt like I couldn’t focus with you gone. It was worse when I was here alone. Your scent was so much stronger than it usually was…” Clive recounts, averting his gaze for a moment from slight embarrassment, but he quickly focuses back on you. “The more days you were away, the more the hunger grew.”

“And the grouchier you got?” You tease him, though your tease was cut short and replaced with a slight yelp when he pinches your thigh with a huff.

“I wasn’t grouchy.” He counters, but his tone of voice sounds like he’s not exactly fighting the accusation.

You think about what he’s said, though. A hunger he felt for you. It started happening when you first left. He found that your scent was stronger than normal, even when you weren’t there. The symptoms sounded fairly familiar to you, and you hummed a little in thought as you ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned in delight at that, leaning into your touch and burying his face in the crook of your neck once more.

“Maybe you’re going through a rut?”

Clive lifts his head up. “A rut? I’m not a dog, love.”

“I mean, you travel with a dog, you constantly have a permanent puppy-dog eyes look on you and you turn into a dog-lizard thing. You’re kind of dog-adjacent.” You shrug cheekily, with an equally cheeky smile on your face. “But I’m serious about the last thing. We don’t know a whole lot about Ifrit. Maybe it’s going through some kind of rut or something and it’s affecting you. It is springtime, you know. Maybe nature is just setting course for Ifrit, too.”

It’s a pretty plausible theory. Clive stops to think about it for a brief moment, his breath tickling your neck once more as you sigh. Still, he says nothing at first and pauses his movements, until he looks right back up at you, his gaze meeting yours.

“You do realize the implications of your theory, right?” His pupils are blown out, more than usual. His strong, calloused hands grip your hips, shifting you a little so your lower half is flushed right against his.

Oh, there’s something pressing against you. Your body warms up, a heat and ache pooling right in your core.

You didn’t realize how much you miss his body pressing against yours in such a sinful manner, until he rolls his hips against yours in want and need.

“I meant what I said,” you begin to say, your hands gripping to his shoulders as you slowly grind against the bulge in his pants, meeting his hips’ movements. You couldn’t help but grin a little when he moaned lowly, a sound just for you. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

That’s all you’re able to get out at that point, because once you give him permission to do what he needs to do, Clive’s lips press against yours. It was only a sweet, soft kiss for a for seconds at best, because it quickly turned into something fierce, hungry. His tongue prods against your lips, wanting access into your warm mouth, and you gladly part your lips for him, because you need him as much as he needs you. Your tongue presses and swirls against his - it’s a small battle for dominance you never win, but you know he likes a small challenge. His own tongue presses and pins yours, until you ease away to let him completely take the reins.

The kiss is hot, wet, truly sinful. His hands grope everywhere he could, mostly squeezing at your thighs and hips with his fingers digging into your soft, plump flesh until they found their way to your rear. Squeezing and grabbing, groping in such a way that would make you flustered had you not been needy with your own arousal, he lifts you up as though you’re made of nothing but feathers, and truly you’re a little limp in his grasp. Clive’s strength always managed to make you feel dizzy, in a good way, and that doesn’t change here. He pushes his chair back, leaving the desk and the many reports he still has to do in the dust and makes his way towards his bed - your shared bed.

He only breaks the kiss to place you down on the mattress, gentle pants leaving both of your lips as a string of saliva connects the two of you. It breaks as he pulls away a little more, only to dive back in and press fluttering, wet kisses to your neck. Just like the kiss from before, it turns into something a little more hot and brutal; his lips suck at your skin to give it a bruising mark, teeth sinking into your flesh to draw just a little bit of blood from you. You groan hotly, your fingers gripping at his dark locks as your hips jolt upwards. Clive licks and kisses at the bruise and bite mark he left, panting gently against your flesh.

“You still taste so, so good.” Clive whispers into your skin, as his hands tug right at your shirt. He tries his best not to rip it, but unbuttoning your shirt during these kinds of acts was never exactly a cleanful tact, because you can already see a few buttons pop off just from him ripping it open. You chuckle a little; some things really don’t change.

Your chest is bared to him, and Clive wastes no time in pressing gentle kisses on naked skin. Trailing down, he kisses, licks and sucks on any skin he could latch himself onto and sinks teeth into your sink that leaves behind a delicious sting of pain, until finally reaching your left breast. Your breath hitches a little as his tongue swirls around the nub of your nipple, the hitched breath morphing into a needy moan once his lips latch around it to give it a gentle suck. His fingers tease and play with the unattended one, his attacks on you relentless and cruel - cruel in the sense he never slowed down.

“Clive.” you whine with a high-pitched voice, trying your best to roll your hips against his. But he doesn’t let you, pinning you down with just his pelvis. He lifts his head up, a smirk on his face.

“Just lay there and let me make you feel good,” whispers Clive. The way his low voice sounded so commanding, you can’t help but obey him. He was always like this, though; he was always chasing for your pleasure and never his own. He loved you, he wanted to make you feel good. It was never really fair! But at the same time, it truly was nice. He was so different from lovers you had in the past, who only cared about their own needs.

He attends to your other breast, giving it the same treatment - a lick here, a suck there, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake. Once he’s satisfied, his lips start to trail downwards. He worships you like this, with his lips and his tongue, making sure there’s a patch of skin with his mark on it. His hands make work of your bottoms, pulling off the offending fabric until you were just left in your undergarments. You expect to feel his fingers on your skin so he can pull them down, but instead when you look down, you see Clive is using his teeth to pull them down.

Oh, this is different. Normally he takes his time with you; press himself against you, kiss you all over. Even as someone who prefers to please his partners more than please himself, it seems like tonight he’s impatient.

“Seems like someone’s been wanting this,” chuckles Clive as he spreads your lower lips a little to inspect you. “You’re already so soaked. All I did was tease you a little. Founder, you’re as depraved as I am.” His hot breath hits your wetness as he speaks, never once pressing his lips against you. You jolt a little at the feeling, a soft huff escaping your lips.

“You started this mess,” You tell him, your fingers already gripping in his hair. “You finish it.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips. Clive is impatient, though, and he wastes no time in pressing his lips right against your dripping entrance. His tongue is relentless here just as it was on your skin; it wastes no time in slipping inside of you, as he starts to drink your essence and fuck you with his tongue alone. It’s almost unbearable to you, in a good way - he drinks like a man starved.

Clive is so good to you, but he knows how to be so cruel, because he knows you enjoy it. He knows how easily you melt on his tongue, and he enjoys every single moment of it.

His fingers slip in as well, two of them pumping in and out as he moves upwards a little, finding your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks at it and you feel the smirk against your entrance as soon as you squeak and moan from his actions. He licks, sucks, his movements becoming faster with each second that passes. You’re trying so hard to swallow back your moans, but the moment his lips wrap around your clit and give it a hard suck, you can’t control your volume anymore. It echoes off of the walls, embarrassingly so, but your mind is so fogged that you don’t seem to care like you usually would.

The knot in your lower stomach painfully tightens, you can feel yourself reaching your peak as Clive continues to tease your clit and thrust his fingers in and out of you. Just as you’re about to find your release, though, he abruptly stops. He pulls himself off of you, his fingers are coated with your essence.

“Clive–” You begin to whine, almost in pain. You stop yourself short when you watch him lick his fingers clean - slowly, like he’s putting on a show for you. Once they’re clean, he looks at you as though he’s a predator who has caught prey in his trap. The slight darkness of the room makes his cerulean eyes have a glow to them. The knot in your stomach returns.

He intends to devour you, his way. He’s going to drag this out, until you’re begging and crying for release.

Clive crawls back onto the bed, his hands moving to undo all of the leathers and fabric of his clothing, until he’s as bare as you are. His cloak and shirt go first, dropping onto the ground until his chest is revealed to you. Greagor, you could probably write several missives about Clive’s chest and muscles, but despite what your lover may say, you’re not that depraved. You keep all of those thoughts to yourself, like a good advisor should. Your eyes drift down with his hands, watching as they fumble a little with his belt, stifling a laugh from how needy and excited he is.

You stop laughing once he finally does undo his belt and pull his pants down, revealing his hard cock to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s been inside of you multiple times now, but you still hitch your breath when you see it. The gods certainly graced Clive with something to brag about, for certain.

If you ever do meet Ultima maybe you should thank him for giving his vessel something that would make you cross your eyes and forget your own name, but something tells you a narcissistic god obsessed with the purity of his vessel may not appreciate the sonnets a mere mortal would write about said vessel’s cock.

Pre-cum dribbles at the tip, his fingers coated in a mix of his saliva and your juices as he uses it to his advantage to stroke himself a little, to really give you a show now. You hear yourself panting, your chest heaving up and down as you watch the sinful sight before you.

“Enjoying yourself?” Clive smirks, smugness in his voice.

You huff a little in response. “I’ll only enjoy myself when you actually fuck me instead of showing off, Rosfield.”

He laughs a little, leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “As my faithful advisor commands.”

You have no time to respond, as he quickly flips you so you’re on your stomach, face slightly pressed against the pillow beneath you. He presses his front against your back, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds teasingly. Your needy whine and rear thrusting back to try and get him inside of you earns a laugh from him, but thankfully he’s not intensely cruel tonight. He presses inside of you, though it’s not as slow as he normally is. Normally he takes his time with you, but in just seconds he’s got his entire length inside of you. You feel the way his body shudders against your back, your soaked walls clenching around him. A sigh passes your lips, morphing into a moan.

You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him.

His thrusts are slow at first, but it doesn’t take him long for him to pick up his speed. His hips meet your backside, a wonderful symphony of skin slapping against each other fills the room, loud enough to make your ears burn with embarrassment. You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your moans. A hand wraps itself around the back of your neck, though, to pull you up towards its owner. Clive’s heavy breath is in your ear now, worsening your arousal.

“Don’t hide your voice from me,” pants Clive, sharp teeth nibbling at your earlobe. “I want to hear you.”

And you find that you can’t deny him. Your moans are loud, needy, your knuckles turning white from how roughly you’re gripping the sheets to the point where they might tear. His other hand snakes down your stomach, reaching your lower half, and his fingers make work on your clit. It’s a slow rub, his thrusts contrasting the gentleness of his fingers. You can feel yourself reaching your peak, you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening until–

Until he pulls right out of you.

You whine, loudly, at the loss. Your walls clench at nothing, and you try to thrust yourself back towards him, but Clive doesn’t let you do that. Instead, he flips you both again - him on his back and you sitting on his lap. He looks up at you with a smile, his hand running up and down your stomach once more.

“I know exactly what you like.” The outlaw says, pulling you forward so his cock rests right against your stomach. You feel how hot it is, how hard it is, and how it throbs and pulsates against your skin. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Oh, he’s definitely dragging this out as long as he can. You can’t exactly blame him, you don’t want this to end either.

But you also really need to reach your peak, otherwise you may burn the whole Hideaway down.

Your wobbly legs manage to hold yourself up, slowly moving down on him. Your whole body shudders as his cock fills you up again, the tip pressing against the deepest parts of your inside. You move up and down on his length, moans and pants spilling from your lips as you decide to not hide your voice any longer - because he wants to hear you. And you can’t deny him, because you don’t want to deny him.

“Founder, your voice alone drives me mad.” Clive growls, his hand squeezing your thigh as he thrusts upwards to meet your own movements. “Tried to focus on my work, tried to put you out of my head for days, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you blissed out on my cock–”

He’s rambling, his voice low and rough, and you love every second of it. Clive’s not much of a talker, but when he is, he makes you feel so depraved for him. Your legs were starting to shake and feel weak already, but you push yourself - you push yourself because you want this. Because you need this from him, just as much as he needed this from you.

“Clive,” you chant his name like a prayer, over and over again. You must sound delirious.

But Clive clearly doesn’t seem to mind, the way his back arches a little just from the sound of your sweet voice. It’s a powerful feeling, you realize, having such a powerful man like him weak at you - a mere mortal, a bearer but not a Dominant. Yet, it’s a good reminder that beneath everything, Clive is a mortal man as well.

“Can you feel me, sweetheart?” He places his hand on your lower stomach, feeling the way it bulges a little from the sheer size of him. You look down, shuddering at the sight as he continues to thrust upwards, your eyes following how the bulge disappears then reappears. “You take me so fucking well. It’s like you were made for me, the way you shake your hips like a woman at the Veil.”

You can’t respond, any time you try to all that fumbles from your lips are moans and whines of pure pleasure.

“I can get so deep into you like this,” groans Clive, his other hand grasping at your hip. “All the way into you. Fuck, I could breed you right here. I could make you swell with my child.”

Oh, that’s different.

And it’s clearly a good different, the way your body responds. Your walls clench around him, as if your body had a mind of its own, as if your body was begging for the man to breed you. He notices too, and he licks his lips and smirks once he realizes you may enjoy the idea as he did.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Another thrust upwards. His thrusts are getting sloppier and rougher, but Greagor does it feel so good. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, seeing you like that. I’d fuck you every single day–”

You moan, so lecherously. “Clive, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

Both hands grab at your hips, fingers digging and sinking into your skin so hard you know there’s going to be some bruising there in the morning. But you don’t care. All you care about is the man underneath you, and chasing after your own release. Clive makes you move faster onto him, a growl rumbling from his throat.

“Go on, let yourself go.”

You were already so overstimulated from the foreplay from before, and the way his cock brushes against your sweet spots and bashes against the entrance to your womb, you can’t help it. Your walls tighten around him, and you let yourself go.

Another growl rumbles from his throat, this time he pulls you right down onto him, hard. It doesn’t take him long to follow you into a blissful climax, his hot seed pouring into you and flooding your insides. It’s a lot, more than usual, to the point where it floods out from your entrance and onto him.

You collapse onto him, and he instantly takes you in his arms. Slowly, he flips your positions again, just so he can press himself deeper into you. Thank the Founder, because your legs were about to give out.

A moment passes, until he finally pulls himself out from you. His blown out pupils watch as his seed overflows from you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. He shudders at the sight, and you can’t help but shudder as well.

You’re fading in and out of existence, but when you mostly come to, Clive has wiped you and him down, cleaning you up and gently pressing kisses against any marks he’s left on you. The sheets will unfortunately have to wait until tomorrow. Frankly, you could give less of a shit about that.

The outlaw slumps himself against you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there in a comfortable silence, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you.” His voice trembles, a little embarrassed - that’s the Clive you know. “I’ll, uh, make sure Tarja prepares a herbal tea for you tomorrow, so that you don’t…” He trails off, hiding his face against your neck even more now.

You chuckle, feeling the hotness of his cheeks against your skin. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” answers the male as he lifts his head up with a smile. “Much better. You always seem to know how to cure my worries and needs.”

“What can I say? I know my boss pretty well.”

He laughs, and your heart feels so warm, so in love with the man before you. Clive leans in, pressing his lips against yours to share a sweet, innocent kiss that contrasts the sinful act you both just partook in. And you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him. You only stop when you feel something hard rub against your thigh, pulling back to see he was still pretty aroused. He’s a little sheepish at that, but he looks at you in want, in need - and love, as always.

“I don’t think one time is going to be enough for you, big guy.”

A sheepish laugh falls from his lips. “I don’t think so either. I might need a few more rounds. That is, if my faithful advisor is up to it.”

He’s challenging you, clearly. The smirk on his face tells you all you need to know. You smirk back, bucking your hips against his to accept.

“Only if you do most of the work.” You tell him, a leg going in to wrap itself around his waist. “You made me weak in my knees, Lord Rosfield. A gentleman should take some responsibility for his actions.”

His low chuckle reaches your ears, as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. It’s a tender action, one that definitely makes you feel weak in the knees - if you hadn’t already. It doesn’t take him long to reenter you, and you can’t hide the shudder of your slightly overstimulated body.

But you want everything he has to offer, the good and the bad of Clive Rosfield, and he’ll give it to you.

Because he wants everything you have to offer, the good and the bad of his faithful advisor, in return.

“As you wish, my love.”

He claims your lips. The night goes on.

“Somethin’ seems to be on your mind.”

Jill looks towards the source of the voice. Gav stands next to her, arms crossed as he meets her gaze with a raised brow. The Dominant says nothing to him, only slowly returning her gaze to where she once was looking. Gav’s line of sight follows hers, landing right on the scene that was unfolding before them.

“Clive, I’m trying to do work!”

Hideaway’s poor advisor was currently trying to shake an overgrown Cid the Outlaw off of them, who has currently draped himself over you. It had been a single day since you had returned from your trip and needless to say, Clive was acting as though you had been gone for years. Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against yours.

“Nothing is stopping you from doing your work,” is all Clive remarks with, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Except for a fucking overgrown dog!”

Gav whistles at the sight before him. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”

“Indeed,” nods Jill, her gaze never leaving the both of you. Right now you were trying to walk away, which resulted in you basically having to drag the second Eikon of fire around because he refused to let himself off of you. “But, I can’t help but wonder if this is worse than the mood he was in before.”

The scout shrugs his shoulders. “Our advisor has dealt with worse from him. And we don’t have to deal with him slobberin’ all over us, so I’d say a good mood is better than nothin’.”

The woman says nothing. She knows it’s going to be a few days before Clive will return to his normal self, if your theory about why he’s been moody all week rings true. Such things don’t end with a simple, pleasurable night. You’ll be fine, she knows that, so she’s not too worried that you won’t be able to handle Clive Rosfield.

It’s in your job description, after all.

( she’ll still pray to metia for you, at the very least, and hope you come out unscathed. )

#final fantasy xvi #ffxvi #clive rosfield x reader #clive x reader #clive rosfield #🌙.txt #🌙 seren's writings

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