#he just. aggressively hovers enough to get lift

[jishyucks]

Flight of Fate — sjy

‣ pairing: jake sim x reader

‣ genre: fluff, meet-cute, implied strangers to something more

‣ wc: 4.5k

‣ summary: After months of being apart from your family, you finally get to fly back home for the holidays. On the flight there, you’re placed next to a cute stranger who has taken it upon himself to talk to you. What happens when the roads from the airport are closed overnight and you’re stuck with said stranger? You’re just hoping he doesn’t have any plans of kidnapping you.

‣ warnings: reader’s from Korea, but an ethnicity is not not explicitly stated (travels from Sydney to Korea, and family is from Korea), reader’s shorter than Jake, one quick scene where it’s really crowded

‣ an: uhh,,, idk how this reached 4.5k (I just kept writing) but this was cute ngl,,, im sorry if it seems so rushed in some parts, I rly wanted to write everything more detailed but I need to keep these short :( and im behind on this series’ sched too rip, but I still enjoyed writing this, soooo pls enjoy reading! *hand heart*

Series Masterlist

The second you settle into your airplane seat, you knock out. 

No, you didn’t care about seat belt instructions and how to tug the oxygen bag on, nor did you care about where the exits were on the plane because, frankly, you’ve flown enough times to recite it yourself. 

So the moment you sit down in your chair, even double-checking to see if you are in the correct seat, you buckle yourself up, slip your headphones on and shut your eyes. 

In your half-slumbered state, you feel the shuffling of other flyers nearby, you can hear the aggressive shutting of the overhead compartments above your seat, and you can hear the engine begin with a loud hum. 

You try to lull yourself to sleep with thoughts of finally coming home after months of studying abroad, feeling the corners of your lips lift to tighten your lips into a smile. You missed being home and seeing your parents, your siblings, your dog. You missed your bedroom and your house, and that familiar bump in the road that the car falls victim to on the way home.

And despite having to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to leave for the airport, it was all worth it when you remember that you’ll see and feel all of this soon. 

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Gentle tapping on your shoulder rouses you from sleep, and you're uncertain how far into your flight you are. 

“Hm?” You realize you’re lying on a stranger’s shoulder when you raise your head. Your neck almost breaks when you turn to look at him, “Shit.”

“Would you like any drinks?” The flight attendant questions from your right and she and the other passenger, a woman, next to you are staring back at you, “We have pop, juice, tea, water, and coffee.” Her fingers hover over the selection of drinks, waiting for your response. 

“Um,” you say, voice hoarse from just waking up, “Just water would be fine, thank you.” The woman nods and pours you water into a cup, handing it over to you before moving on to the next set of people behind you. 

It’s suddenly getting really hot underneath your sweater and you’re growing a hundred times more aware of the man to your left. You’re afraid to even look at him, embarrassed that you were using his shoulder as a pillow. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s got his hood up, a mask covering the lower half of his face. His head is angled down to his lap, probably using his phone, so he doesn’t notice the way you’re tensing up all because of him.

You clear your throat and turn to the woman next to you, “How long into the flight are we?” She gives you a side-eye, not even bothering to give you an answer before she sticks her nose back into her book. 

Before irritation kicks into your system, the man next to you speaks up. His voice comes out as soft, which you honestly didn’t expect. 

“We’re about two hours in.” 

You whip your head in his direction, eyes wide when you realize he’s looking back at you, “T-thanks.” 

“It’s no problem,” he replies. The way his eyes curve, you can tell he’s smiling behind his mask, “Looks like you were having a good sleep there, huh? Sorry I had to wake you up.” You can’t tell if he was making fun of you or not. But the tone in his voice seemed playful. 

You feel your cheeks heat up and you turn away from him, embarrassed that you were almost drooling on his shoulder, “Uh yeah, I did… sorry about… you know…” 

When your eyes flicker to his arm, he immediately understands what you’re trying to say and he lets out a laugh that wouldn’t disturb anyone else on the plane, “It’s nothing. I really didn’t mind, to be honest. I hope that doesn’t sound creepy.” 

You feel the tension in your body begin to dissipate, shoulders falling back against your seat as you continue the conversation, “Well, if you don’t mean it in a creepy way, then it’s not creepy.” You reach for your water sitting on the pull-down table in front of you and take a sip from it. 

Your actions somehow remind the man that he had just gotten a drink, too, so he mirrors your actions, extending his arm to grab the cup of coke sitting on his own table. He hums to acknowledge your reply before tugging down his mask to take a sip and, oh boy, were you not ready to see his face. 

Sure the man had pretty eyes and a voice that could perfectly suit a podcast or two, but you didn’t expect him to look… 

Okay, he was cute. Like really cute. He resembled a puppy, in a cute way and you were trying your best not to physically react to the man’s face reveal. You let out a huff of air and then take another sip of water before you scoot back into your chair. 

He gulps down the beverage, mask hanging off one ear. He looks over at you and offers a grin, which you find yourself swooning over, “So, are you going home or are you on a trip?” 

Your heart warms at his efforts to make conversation and you’re driven to angle your body closer toward his direction instead of directly in front of you, “I’m going home, how about you?”

He nods, “On a trip, but I have a lot of family in Korea, so it’s a mix?” The boy’s eyes look off to the side as he’s honestly unsure how he should describe his trip. 

“You’re going alone?” You ask. 

“My family went ahead of me because I had exams,” he continues, “They wanna get their money’s worth with the tickets so they wanted to head there earlier.” 

You nod, “That’s fair.” 

And he lets out a low hum, “Yeah, gotta squeeze every bit out of those tickets.” 

You nod again and look down at your lap. There’s a beat of a brief silence before you see a hand stick out under your nose, palm facing you, “I’m… Jake, by the way.” 

It hadn’t occurred to you that neither of you asked for names. The conversation just rolled out naturally. Since Jake offered his left hand to shake yours, you do the same, gently taking his hand, “Y/N.”

Surely, you thought that conversation would end there, maybe with a bit more small talk over the next several hours of the flight, but boy, you were wrong. 

The (one-sided) awkwardness between you and Jake seemed to dissipate entirely as time elapsed and you found yourself genuinely enjoying your conversation with Jake. The conversation jumped from topic to topic, starting off with the basics like where you studied and majors before it branched out into more specific subjects like why you chose to study biomedical sciences and why he aspired to be an engineer. Then, it was a matter of time before you dove down into what your go-to movie was when it came to flying, especially when the flying time between Australia and South Korea was long.  

“Do you like Australia or Korea more?” Jake looked over at you with a cheeky smile, knowing that the question was something that would throw you off. 

You take a moment to think because, yes, Korea was your home. It was where you were born and raised. But you’ve also grown to love Australia over the past almost 4 years of undergrad. It was different from your hometown, but you’d say that’s also a place you could call home, too. It was genuinely hard to choose, especially when Jake, someone who was born and raised in Australia, was waiting on an answer—you didn’t want to offend him or betray your own town.

“Well…” You say, “Both?” “Oh, c’mon~” Jake whines playfully, “If you had to choose one, and only one, which one would you choose?” 

“Well, I’d choose South Korea,” you retort, “The same way and reason you’d probably choose Australia.” You peek at the boy through your lashes before a small grin appears on your face, “Am I right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jake mirrors your expression, “But I still love Korea.”

“That’s me with Australia,” you point out, “They’re both really different, so it’s hard to choose a favourite. But I like familiarity, which is why I chose Korea.” The weather and climate, geography, people… the list goes on. Both places were beautiful in their own way. 

If it wasn’t for the flight attendant returning for the 2nd meal of the flight, you would not have realized that there was far less than half of the flight left for you to go. The hours had passed by seamlessly, and you're surprised by how fast the time has flown. Jake was easy to talk to and the conversations with him had made the flight feel like a brief interlude rather than a long-haul journey. 

As you enjoy the meal, Jake glances at the small screen in front of him, checking the flight progress. "We're almost there," he remarks, a hint of regret in his voice.

The realization that your journey is coming to an end settles in. You can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, knowing that you'll soon part ways. The prospect of returning to your routine is now accompanied by a newfound friendship, one you didn't anticipate when you boarded the plane.

"I guess we'll be landing soon," you say, trying to mask the reluctance in your voice.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are now beginning our descent into Seoul, South Korea. The local time is 5:38 in the evening. Please remain seated with your seatbelts securely fastened as we make our approach. The weather in Seoul is a chilly negative nineteen and heavy snowfall, but do not worry, we expect a smooth landing. Thank you for flying with Korean Air."

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Jake trails behind you as you both make your way out of the terminal, rolling your carry-on down the long airport corridor. Your legs feel like jelly from the sitting, almost feeling like a newborn calf learning how to walk for the first time. 

You pass by people waiting to board their planes, and others arriving alongside your flight. Although the air in the airport was refreshing in comparison to the plane, you were craving to get a whiff of actual fresh air from outside. 

When you finally reach the exit, you couldn’t help but glance back to see if Jake was still there, which he, in fact, was. His eyes melt into crescents when he notices you looking back—you’re guessing he’s smiling—and you quickly turn back to look where you’re going. 

You wonder if it was too far-fetched to ask him for his number. 

Besides, he wasn’t a total stranger. You spoke to the man for practically the entire flight, excluding the times you both wanted some shut-eye or needed to get up to pee. 

So he really wasn’t a stranger. 

You were just afraid that it would be weird to actually ask for his number or his socials. 

You don’t expect to see a huge crowd of people the minute you step out of the terminal and into the baggage claim area. It was almost as if someone had amplified the sound of bees buzzing, the muttering and babble of people filling the room. 

“What in the…” you hear Jake next to you, almost confused as you were, “What’s going on?”

You turn and look up at him, shrugging as you bring yourself up to your tippy toes to try and gather some kind of feasible understanding of the situation. Left and right, individuals were yelling (rather angrily), and others appeared to be just as confused as you were.

People were trickling in from behind, slowly pushing you and Jake closer to the people in front of you. And when Jake notices the way your eyes widen at the accumulating group of people, he situates himself behind you to act as a buffer between you and the growing crowd. 

“For those of you just joining us, we want to explain what is going on.” A man closer to the front of the crowd was standing on a counter, megaphone in hand. The room grows quiet, though not completely. “As you all know, it is currently snowing rather heavily in Seoul. The city has decided to close the roads to ensure everyone’s safety.”

Loud murmuring erupts among the people and you hear Jake join in, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“This means…” The man waits for room to grow quiet so that he doesn’t need to repeat himself again, “This means that you all, unfortunately, have to stay put within the airport as we wait for the city to reopen the roads. From our understanding, we do not know how long this will take, as it is still snowing. We apologize for the inconvenience. We are providing some resources and services for free or at a discounted price for the time being. Thank you for your understanding." 

He hops off the counter and the crowd begins to disperse. Although angry, disappointed, or confused, everyone knew that they really couldn’t do anything about the situation. 

You’re not sure how to feel. Because you were so close to getting home and now the damn snow has decided to stop you from doing so. The man did say that it wasn’t going to be long before the roads reopened, but you felt like you were a puppy being held back by a leash. 

“This is fucking stupid.” You say this to no one in particular, feeling tension in your forehead when you furrow your brows. 

“Look at the bright side,” Jake says, “You’ll get home safely. I’m sure they’re probably clearing and salting the roads right now.” 

You huff, “You’re right.” The taut muscles in your shoulders loosen at the thought and you mentally thank Jake for pointing that out. You’d very much rather get home in one piece. And you’re pretty sure your family would like that too. 

“Hey, since we’re sorta snowed in,” Jake starts, “Wanna go grab our luggage and then find someplace to sit together?” Then he realizes how weird this could sound depending on the person, “We can talk and stuff?” 

Though that was a given that you were going to be sticking around Jake until you left, especially since you did not want to spend this time alone, you appreciate the way he still asked you. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

With a huff and a shared understanding, you and Jake make your way to the baggage claim carousel. People were already awaiting their bags, standing behind the yellow line marked for safety around it. The atmosphere in the airport feels different now. The excitement you had initially felt was replaced with a mix of frustration and resigned acceptance, and you were sure that the other travellers were feeling the same way. 

As your luggage appears on the conveyor belt, you and Jake quickly grab your belongings and maneuver through the dispersing crowd in search of a place to settle. 

“Do you care where we go?” Jake asks. He’s taken it upon himself to look for a spot for you both, being able to crane his neck higher over the crowd, “Or do you prefer a corner?”

“Somewhere with enough space,” you retort, “Otherwise, I don’t mind anywhere.” 

You watch Jake as he gets up on his tippy toes, teetering from one foot to the other. He knows it shouldn’t be too hard, especially since other travellers were moved to the 2nd floor. 

“There!” Jake mindlessly grabs your hand and starts speed walking, dodging people walking aimlessly. His long legs send you flying, trying to keep up with his pace. Sure it wasn’t super fast, but with his long strides, you find yourself running to match Jake’s steps.

He guides you to a place closer to the wall of the airport, seats empty for you guys to wait it out. You’re surprised that no one has actually taken the space yet, but you figured that since it was a harder-to-reach area, people didn’t want to bother making their way to the spot and instead decided to settle on whatever free area they could find. 

When Jake realizes that he is still holding your hand, he quickly lets go, "Guess I got a bit carried away there. Sorry about that." He stuffs his hand into his hoodie pocket and his mask covers the bashful smile.

“It’s fine,” you say reassuringly. It’s not like Jake had any ill intentions when he grabbed your hand. 

To change the topic, you suggest making the small area comfy for the two of you, ensuring that it truly was a place that would be great to relax while you waited the situation out. 

You and Jake drape your coats over the chairs you’ve claimed, setting your suitcases and bags down to create a mini barrier between your space from your neighbours. The airport's ambiance echoes with a mixture of impatience and resignation. As you and Jake settle into your makeshift waiting area, the tension in the air slowly begins to dissipate. The soft hum of conversations and the occasional announcement overhead become the backdrop to your current predicament.

"Alright," Jake says, looking around your little haven, "Now we just wait, I guess."

You nod, pulling out your phone to check for any updates. The snow outside seems to be relentless, creating a serene yet inconvenient winter wonderland. You sigh, realizing that this situation might take longer than expected. You send your mom a quick update, explaining the situation before you go to reach for your laptop.

“Wanna watch a show with me?” you suggest, “Kill some time?” 

Jake doesn’t hesitate to accept your invitation, stating that he didn’t mind any show. You balance your computer up on your suitcase and press play on an older episode of Abbott Elementary. 

The show, you figured, was a feel-good show, one that you hoped would distract the both of you from the current situation. Surely enough, you and Jake find yourselves immersed in the show, occasionally laughing and commenting. 

It was funny when you think about the current situation. You were trapped at the airport with a boy you met not even twelve hours ago and you were enjoying your time. Which was odd. Because you knew that if you were going through this entire situation alone, you wouldn’t know how you’d be doing. 

That points back to the question of whether you should ask Jake for his number or his number (or just anything you can use to contact him). Would it still be weird at this point? I mean… he held your hand… even if it was instinctively. It shouldn’t be weird, right?

After a few episodes, the long day started taking a toll on you and your eyes began to grow heavy. If you weren’t in the same room as a hundred and something other people, you would have just been knocked out right then and there. But there was a good chunk of you that was afraid to go to sleep, both for your safety and your belongings sitting out in the open like this. 

“If you’re tired, you can take a nap,” Jake reads you like a book. You didn’t even realize that he noticed, “I’ll watch over you and our stuff. But only if you let me keep watching.” 

Your stomach flutters at his offer. If you were being honest, Jake was scaring you just a little bit. Because how can a guy be so cute and so kind and seem so perfect? 

You hum and give him a side-eye, “And how do I know I can trust you?”

Jake’s eyes widened, alarmed, “I haven’t done anything creepy, have I? I-I said I was sorry all those times!” 

You almost laugh out loud, “But what if that was all just to gain my trust?” You were mostly joking, but you were still suspicious simply because Jake didn’t seem real. 

Jake’s face contorted, visibly thinking the situation through, “Okay, I pinky promise you I’m a good person! A pinky promise is one of the strongest promises of all promises.” He sticks his pinky out like a child, blinking rapidly at you with his puppy dog eyes. 

“Fine,” you huff, locking your pinky with his, “Wake me up in an hour? Then I’ll let you nap.” Jake nods and watches as you slump in your seat, angling your body across the chair and using your arm as a pillow. 

When you wake up, it almost feels surreal that you’re waking up in a packed airport, the fluorescent lights still beating down on those trying to rest. You lift your head to look at Jake, feeling the blood rush oddly in your head at the sudden change of position. 

You smile when you see that Jake is still there, sitting and watching a show on your laptop like how you left him. The only difference was that he was holding a hot beverage cup in his hand and that another was sitting on top of his own suitcase. When he spots you stirring, a warm smile spreads across his face.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he says, his voice a gentle wake-up call.

You greet him back and reach for your phone, checking to see if you have any notifications. When your eyes flicker to the time, you gasp and go to hit Jake on the shoulder, “Jake, I told you to wake me up after an hour! It’s been three!”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he replies. He leans forward and picks the other cup up, “Here I got you hot chocolate and a cookie not long ago. I didn’t know what you liked. I asked the lady over there if she could watch you and our stuff if I got her a drink, too.” 

You thank him, taking the drink and cookie before taking a long sip from the cup, “Thanks… Now I feel bad because you haven’t been able to go to sleep.”

Jake smiles nervously, “If I’m being honest I fell asleep for a bit… Please don’t be mad at me! One second I was awake and the next I was waking up!”

You can’t help but laugh, “I’m not mad at you, don’t worry. Thanks for watching our stuff by the way.” 

“It was nothing, really,” Jake says, “I didn’t mind it at all.” 

Your eyes twinkle realizing that Jake's sincerity is both endearing and genuine. As you sip the hot chocolate, the warmth seeping through your body, you feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected company in this airport limbo.

Then you look around. The atmosphere around you has shifted. Despite everyone’s initial rush to get home for the holidays, you notice that everyone has given up on stressing themselves out, settling on their temporary homes within the airport, sharing stories, snacks, and even the occasional game. It was cute. 

“Wanna go for a short stroll?” Jake speaks up, “I’ll make a deal with auntie again.”

“Let’s go.” You nod ecstatically, needing to stretch your legs, “And I want real food too.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have some important news. The snowstorm has finally abated, and we are pleased to inform you that the city has reopened the roads. Flights will now resume their regular schedules. Please check the updated departure boards for your new gate assignments. Thank you for your cooperation, and we apologize for any inconvenience caused."

The announcement echoes through the airport, bringing a wave of renewed energy and a realization that the long wait is finally over.

You exchange a wide-eyed glance with Jake, the reality of the situation hitting you. The roads are open, and your journey home is back on track. For some odd reason, you even feel like crying, because you’ve been stuck at the airport for almost eight hours (the longest eight hours of your life), and now you finally get to leave. Your wide eyes were quickly replaced with that of relief and excitement. 

“Fucking finally,” Jake breathes out. The two of you join the collective movement as passengers around you celebrate the news. Luggage is grabbed, bags are slung over shoulders, and the airport buzzes back to life. You can already predict that traffic is going to be nasty on the way home despite it being almost one in the morning. 

It hadn’t dawned down on you that you and Jake were going to be separating ways soon and you still weren’t sure if it was okay to ask him for any contact information. It was either grow a pair and just go for it, or never speak to him again. 

You start bundling up, sending a quick text to your mom to ask if she is on her way when you feel Jake staring at you through between his hood and scarf. 

“I had fun today,” Jake says, “Genuinely.” 

“I did too,” you reply, “I don’t know how I would’ve survived if I was alone.” 

You continue rummaging with your things, making sure you have everything that you brought with you. 

“I’d like to—” Jake clears his throat, “I’d like to hang out again.” 

Your hands pause their movements as Jake's words hang in the air. His admission catches you by surprise, and you turn to look at him, meeting his gaze through the layers of winter clothing.

"Yeah?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. A sense of relief washes over you, thankful that you weren’t the only one who was enjoying your time with the other. 

"Yeah," Jake confirms with a nod. "I mean, if you're up for it. No pressure, of course.” The sincerity in his eyes reassures you, and you find yourself reciprocating the sentiment. 

"I'd like that. A proper hangout, not stuck in an airport this time." 

Jake grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Deal." Jake shyly sticks his phone out to you, the screen showing a new contact page. You gladly take it, happy that Jake took it upon himself to ask for your number. 

"I guess we should get going," Jake suggests, noticing the large groups of people gathering by every exit of the building. 

"Yeah, my mom's near, actually," you say, shouldering your bag. "I’ll text you when I can, and we'll plan something."

"Looking forward to it," Jake replies.

The two of you follow the wave of people leaving the airport in silence, focusing on actually getting out of the building. Surprisingly, the constant pace that the other people were taking had allowed you both to finally step foot out of the airport, and you two were able to get a much-needed whiff of fresh air. 

Before you actually part ways with Jake, you turn to him, "Happy holidays, Jake. Take care, okay?"

“You too.” He nods, “Let me know when you get home safely."

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi @mrchweeee @ariadores @reignessance

#Enhypen #sim jaeyun #jake sim #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #sim jaeyun imagines #sim jaeyun scenarios #jake sim imagines #jake sim scenarios #Kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #sim jaeyun x reader #jake sim x reader #enhypen x reader

[sporadicthingcollection]

A Day in the Life (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: The days are never dull with a baby on board. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~3.2k Warnings: Infants in very mild peril, cunnilingus, PiV sex A/N: daddy buggy my beloved

---

4:41

Keeda’s fussing before the sun’s even up. And then you start fussing as soon as Keeda starts fussing.

“Your kid’s awake,” you grumble into his back.

Buggy has no choice but to fuss back. “Before dawn, he’s your kid.” You nudge him with your foot. He huffs. “I’m comfy, bitch. Get 'im yourself.”

You do not appreciate how comfortable he is. You knee his ass with each word -- not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. “You. Are. A. Chop Chop man.”

...Yeah, alright, that's fair. Detaching his head and arms, he floats himself over to the crib.

Any other child would be concerned if their father’s disembodied head hovered above them, but Keeda’s never known any different. His grumbles turn to happy babbles, his chubby little face lighting up like the moon.

“Mornin’, ya li’l rugrat,” he says with a smile. “Starting on your bullshit early today, huh?”

He slips his hands under the boy’s arms and lifts him up and over to the bed. He's getting heavier, maybe about as much as a decent-sized cannonball. Makes sense, given his parents’ heights. 

His parts rejoin the rest of him and he lays back down, placing the baby on his chest. He's still not too big for that, at least.

You roll over — more of an aggressive flop, really — and tuck yourself up under his arm. “Hey, bug.”

"Hi, dear," Buggy replies.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you lay your hand on your son's back, rubbing in small circles. Keeda lets out a happy coo, his little fingers curling as he reaches out to you.

You take his hand and stroke it with your thumb. "Back to sleep, sweet baby," you mumble, already halfway there. "Back to sleep..."

Buggy waits for your breathing to even out and for Keeda to go still before he lays his head against yours.

———

9:03

"Son of a bitch!"

Buggy watches as you pitch the jar of baby food and spoon over the deck railing. "First you wake me up, then you pee on me, and now you won't eat!” You jam your finger into Keeda's face. “Why are you being such a little fucker today?!"

The boy giggles, kicking his legs and smearing his breakfast around. He's got your laugh, but that little hater attitude couldn't have come from anybody but his father.

Buggy's just glad it's not his turn to feed him. "Food's supposed to go in his mouth, ya know."

You flip him off without even looking at him. Keeda waggles his fingers like he's trying to mimic you, but he doesn't quite have the motor control down yet.

“I'm gonna go get a new jar,” you grumble. “Make sure he doesn't spontaneously combust or some shit.”

You slink off without waiting for confirmation. Buggy's not worried. You'll cool off in no time. And he gets to watch your ass as you walk away.

He turns his full attention to Keeda. He picks the boy up into his arms. “You really wanna piss your mom off?” he asks. The boy babbles in what he decides is a yes. “Give her hair a yank. She spent all morning on it and it'll drive her nuts.”

He knows Keeda shouldn't be able to understand him, but there's a sparkle of recognition in those big dark eyes as he reaches a little hand out to touch the hair peeking out from under Buggy’s bandana.

He knows grabby fingers when he sees them. He angles his head away. This does not deter Keeda, but merely changes his target.

And now for the most confusing emotion he's ever had. There's the usual agitation that comes from someone noticing... it... but it's Keeda. He's never mocked it or thought it odd or asked questions. He just thinks his daddy's neat.

He can't help the slight smile as he lets Keeda touch his face.

———

9:50

Richie’s liked Keeda from day one. He’s always smelling him and headbutting him and gently pawing him. Mohji thinks it's because he's trying to scent-mark the kid.

“Should I do something?” Buggy asks quietly.

Mohji shrugs. “He's laughing, isn't he? Richie wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Keeda giggles as Richie presses his nose against his head, gently sniffing. Richie lets out a pleased chuffle as he rubs his whiskers along Keeda’s face.

Mohji crosses his arms. “He doesn't do that to me,” he mutters.

“I’ll dunk you in tuna oil, if you want,” Buggy says. “He'll be all over you.”

“I think I'll pass--” Disgust turns to horror as Mohji blanches. “Oh shit!” 

Buggy whirls around. Richie has Keeda in his mouth. Completely in his mouth. Richie is a big lion and Keeda is a small baby.

Panic grips him. He's never actually had to fight a lion before, but it looks like that's what he's gonna have to do. You're gonna kill him anyways, so might as well go out in style--

Richie deposits Keeda at Buggy’s feet. The boy looks no worse for wear, if not a little confused and covered in kitty drool. The overgrown house cat looks very pleased with himself for taking a few years off of Buggy’s life.

Buggy glowers at Mohji. Mohji avoids eye contact and tries to shrink into his hoodie.

———

10:15

Well, after that, baby needs a bath. Fortunately, the giant soup pot in the galley is the perfect size for a little guy like Keeda.

Buggy hums an aimless tune as he rubs the shampoo into Keeda's hair. It's dark and thick like yours -- not to mention long. Kid’s hair grows faster than the rest of him.

He scoops up a fingerful of bubbles, then gently boops Keeda's little nose. The boy’s face scrunches up, and he goes cross-eyed as he grumbles.

An intrusive thought takes root. He chuckles to himself as he smooths Keeda's hair upwards. “Look, babe. Mohawk.”

“Keep the suds out of his eyes,” you warn from the doorway. 

He rolls his eyes. “I'm not gonna let him drown, ya know. You don't have to hover.”

You smile that narrow little smile of yours. “I like watching my boys.”

Buggy's chest tightens. How can one expression, one quirk of your lips, one flash of teeth make his stomach backflip? His breath catch? His cheeks burn?

A splash of sudsy water rushes up to hit him in the face. Seems the kid’s discovered volume displacement. He regrets going with a full beat this morning. Between the splashed water and the heat in his cheeks, this makeup is gonna melt right off.

———

12:24

Dropping an ear in Keeda's crib while he napped was a brilliant idea. Amazing, even. Buggy can be off doing Hot Dad Shit but still come running at the first sign of trouble.

And then the baby found it and it became less of a good idea.

"C'mon, give it back." He reaches for the ear, but Keeda shifts just out of reach, clutching it to his chest. Given the boy's grip strength, he can't just yank it out of his hands without ripping cartilage.

Buggy hears Keeda's heartbeat thumping as he slumps against the edge of the crib. "What the hell could you possibly want with an ear?"

Keeda looks him dead in the eyes. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he brings the ear to his mouth.

Buggy has never moved faster in his life. He shoots his hand off and claps it over Keeda's mouth. You were right, he is being a little fucker today.

Keeda's muffled whines catch your attention, and you stick your head into the cabin. "Having trouble, Captain?" you ask with a smirk.

"Your son's being a dick."

The smirk grows into a smile. "He gets it from his father."

———

14:21

As Captain, sometimes one must spring into action and help secure a loose cannon threatening to smash the hull. For that reason, Buggy appreciates his crew’s tolerance of having a baby shoved into their arms at barely a moment’s notice. Alvida, especially. He’s never known her to like kids, let alone infants, but she seems to make an exception for little Keeda. Sometimes he thinks she makes up reasons just to hold him for a bit.

She's smiling a big, cheesy smile at him as he returns from his heroics. The kid gazes up at her with his enormous eyes, returning the grin. Alvida then sticks out her tongue. Keeda does the same. She blows a raspberry, and Keeda giggles.

“Having fun with Auntie ‘Vida?” he asks.

“Time of his life.” She makes an angry face. Keeda's mouth screws up into a grumpy frown. “It's crazy how much he looks like you. Especially considering he doesn't have your--”

Her mouth shuts so hard and so suddenly that her teeth click.

Buggy keeps his voice low and even. “Doesn't have my what?”

Alvida blinks. “Hair. I was gonna say hair.”

...you know what? Acceptable.

“Eh, I'm just glad he's got ten fingers and ten toes.” He ignores the relief on her face as he takes his boy back. “His mom’s prettier anyways.”

———

15:46

You don't need a detached ear to know when your son is crying. Somehow, you know. You can be down in the bilge and you'll hear his whining from the top deck.

"What's going on?" you ask as you come up on deck.

Buggy watches as Keeda flops over onto his belly, thrashing his limbs and wailing. "He's mad because I won't load him into the cannon."

Keeda pauses in his fit as sees you, then lets out a bwuuuuuuuh and continues. He looks very much like a fresh fish as he flails around.

You watch him for a moment, then look at Buggy. A silly little glint sparkles in your eyes, the one that you have when you get a bad idea. The same one he saw during that first kiss you shared together.

“He would fit in a Buggy Ball shell,” he says.

You stare at him a moment longer, then shake your head. “We shouldn't.” Keeda lets out a wail that makes you flinch. “But we could.”

After a few moments, the boy runs out of steam, lying there like a dead bird on a beach and whimpering pathetically.

Buggy scoops him into his arms and brushes the tears away. "Can't load ya up, li'l man, but wanna see it go..." He pops his hands off and splays his fingers in front of Keeda's face, popping them apart at the knuckles. "...ka-boom?"

Keeda's agitation melts away like an ice cube in Hell, replaced with wide-eyed wonder. You take him and sit on a crate, covering his ears. You give Buggy a nod.

He grins. He points at a pair of idling crewmen -- the artillery boys, fortunately. "Ready piece!" he barks. “And make it snappy! My kid’s in the audience!”

Buggy appreciates how they trip over themselves rushing to the cannon. He really is lucky that his crew likes his kid half as much as he does.  Even if they “kidnap” him sometimes and hide him in the crew quarters to dote on him and to stress his parents out.

In moments, the Buggy Ball is loaded, the powder set, and the artillerymen stand at attention, waiting to light the fuse.

He holds his fist up. "Aim!"

The cannon is already in place, but he pauses for dramatic effect. A quick glance at Keeda's wide eyes and your little smile confirms it's working. 

He gives you both a little wink  "Fire!"

With a bang and a whistle, the shell flies up into the air. A safe distance away, it explodes into a shower of smoky crimson streaks.

They reflect nicely in your smiling eyes as Keeda squeals in delight.

———

19:02

Buggy sticks his tongue out. "Blah."

Keeda sticks his tongue out. "Blelck."

He puffs his cheeks out. Keeda puffs his cheeks out. He puckers his lips. Keeda puckers his lips.

He opens his mouth. "Ah."

Keeda opens his mouth as wide as he can, showing off his little pink gums. "Ah!"

Buggy jams the spoon in there before Keeda can even react. Blinking in surprise, he swallows, even licking some stray banana mush from his lips.

You watch, slumped across the table with your chin in your hand. "How are you so good at that?"

"Clown to clown communication. Sounds like this." He puts the spoon down and, squishing Keeda's cheeks, affects a croaky voice. "’Feed me. Feed meeee.’"

Your laugh your lovely seagull laugh and his heart flutters like a hummingbird.

———

20:50

“Don’t wake him up,” you warn as you open the door to the main cabin.

"I know, I know." He separates himself at the waist. “Floating, see? Shock absorber.”

Keeda snuffles and twitches. You both freeze, praying that he doesn’t wake up. He does not, and you relax.

You side eye him as he crosses the room, not letting up until he lays the boy down into the crib. You slip Mr Toucan in next to Keeda and pull the blanket up around him.

"Sweet dreams, li’l bug," you say.

"I'm not going to bed yet." You glower at him and he grins. That's never going to get old.

You tiptoe out with him close behind. He leaves his ear on the table, just in case.

The door clicks shut, and you both let out your held breaths. You hold your fist out and he knocks his knuckles against yours.

“Good job this time, Dad,” you say.

“I can be subtle when I want to be.” He drapes his arm around your shoulders. "Y’know, I was thinking..."

The breeze tousles your glossy hair so artfully. "Was wondering where the smoke was coming from."

He pulls you in closer, his hand wandering to the top of your thigh. You've been bitching about baby weight, but to him? You've never looked better. "Was thinking... Wanna make another?"

You give him a smirk that makes his cock twitch. You cross your muscular arms and it turns into a pulse. "Weird way to ask to go bareback."

"No, I mean it,” he says. "He looks like you and I want one that looks like me. Balance it out."

You breathe in sharply. The mischief in your eyes fades, replaced with thoughtfulness. You duck out from under his arm to saunter away. “Sell me on it.”

He follows. “What's cuter than one Keeda? Two Keedas,” he says. “Especially if it's a girl. Built-in double act. And I've got the perfect name for a girl.”

“Yeah?”

He gives you a big stupid grin. “Buggetta.”

You stare at him a moment, then crack a smile and make that glorious, glorious snnnrk noise. “Absolutely not.”

“To the name or to another kid? Because I'm fine with Buggy Junior if it's a boy--”

“Over my dead body we name a kid that.”

"Alright. Fine." He grabs your hips and pushes you against the deck railing. "Guess I'll just fuck you 'til you're knocked up again anyways and we can improvise."

You suck in a breath. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips. He goes in for a kiss, but you duck beneath his arms.

“Catch me and you can do whatever you want with me,” you say before taking off.

He sprints after you.

———

21:24

He wanted to be romantic. He wanted to be cool and suave and sweet for you. You, light of his life and his hard-won prize. You, his partner in crime and mother of his child. You deserve nothing less than the sultriest, slowest, languidest of lovemaking, full of sweet nothings whispered breathlessly into your thighs.

Unfortunately, just looking at you makes his cock leak and if he doesn't strip you down and fill you up as soon as possible, he's gonna make a mess of his last clean pair of underwear.

So that's how you ended up pinned between him and a crate in the cargo hold, moaning like a bitch in heat as he ruts into you. He's lucky you like it like that.

“Harder!” you spit.

He grunts into your shoulder as he snaps his hips. His tongue is busy taste-testing that sweet sweet clit of yours.

You let out a long, guttural groan. “Less talking, more -- ah, ff--!”

He must have hit something nice, because your back arches and your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing it tight and making him damn near black out.

He hates this stupid condom. Hates it, hates it, hates it. Hates how he can't feel your warmth, your slick, your soft, satin walls as they clench. Hates how he can't fill you up with his cum, painting those lovely walls a pearly, sticky white. Hates how he can't fuck another baby into you.

...unless. Unless he's lucky and it breaks. Or if it's just a piece of cheap shit not worth the paper box it came out of.

Oh yes. Oh, then he'd be lucky. Then he'd get what he wants. He'd get you pregnant. Again. You’d be all soft around the edges and glowing like a full, terracotta moon with hair as glossy as a fresh tube of lipstick.

His hips stutter. Yes yes yes yes yes--!

He grips your hips tight as he thrusts into you, not stopping until his balls are drained and his cock is limp. He flops against you, burying his face in your minty, citrusy, cinnamon-y hair.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

He can hear the smile in your voice. “Love you too, Bugs.”

———

00:57

Sad little whimpers in his ear distract him from his carousing with the crew. You're significantly more fucked up than he is and on round eight of a three-round game of cards, so he slips away without disturbing you.

Keeda is sleeping when he enters his cabin, but the little twitches and whimpers suggest it’s not a restful one.

He tickles the bottom of his foot -- his teeny tiny little foot -- and the boy wakes with a start. He starts to cry, only to falter as he sees his father, his lip quivering and his eyes watering. 

Buggy scoops the boy into his arms. “Shh,” he says. “Daddy's here. Don't worry.”

He strokes his fingers through the boy’s hair. Keeda coos like a dove, trying to burrow his face into his chest. Failing in that endeavor, he peers up at Buggy with those enormous eyes.

Somewhere, deep in his heart, Buggy knows that all the treasure in the world couldn't match the feeling of holding his son in his arms. And that all the praise and all the applause would be nothing compared to the way you smile at him like you have a secret to keep.

But why settle for just two people when he could have the adoration of them all?

He sits down on the bed, propped up against the headboard, cradling the boy close. “You're gonna be a prince someday,” he whispers. “A little pirate prince. Daddy’s gonna be king and they’re gonna love you as much as him.”

Keeda exhales heavily, letting out a soft peep as he goes limp. His eyes drift closed.

Buggy is suddenly very aware of how tired he is. He lays back into the pillows. “Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep...”

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #smash or pass #the curious courtship of buggy the clown #dad buggy

[jovialnachofire]

Pairings : SUNGCHAN NCT x male reader

Genre : Smut

Warnings : Gym sex, public sex, rough sungchan, height kink, strong sungchan, kissing, bunch of sex, rimming.

A/N : was requested! Sorry if it isn't what you wanted!

Not to say that Sungchan was a bit.. too tall for your liking but, yet it turned you on so much just the thought of him hovering over you, legs spread wide open for him to smell your scent, sweet vanilla mixed with a bit of chocolate roaming around you.

It turned Sungchan on too. He would regularly get on his knees in front of you and place his head on your thighs just to smell your scent.

Anyways, his height was a sexual problem.. if you would try to be a power bottom, his height would make everything turn around. He would pound your hole over and over again non-stop while you cry out for him to stop yet he wouldn't.

Currently, you were suffering trying to pull up some dumbbell that was crushing your upper half. But that didn't stop you from working yourself to finally lift it up.

After a few moments of working out, your eye caught something on Sungchan's body that was quite hard.. isn't he such a dickhead? Getting hard while working out? Ugh! Can't anything be not sexual between you and him for once? Yet, you enjoyed how easily horny he could get.

You didn't want to make such a fuss out of it so you just continued working your body.. till that boy came behind you in an attempt to 'help' you but was really just needing to release some of his horniness into you.

You knew how this would probably turn out so.. you lifted your upper half up and turned around just to see a desperate sungchan looking dead at you with such a needy expression painted on his face. "Need you now, y/n.." he said in a hushed tone. You didn't know how but Sungchan quickly pinned you against the hard wall that was painted white.

Why was he so aggressive now? And why the hell did you enjoy it? Someone could walk it and see this, yet the thought of getting caught roared into your ear drums, sending you over the edge. Not only the thought but Sungchan's actions as well. He kissed your neck and jaw as aggressively as he could, not caring if he was hurting you or not (which he wasn't). His touch was so addictive that you pushed yourself against him to feel more of his presence against yours. The two of you continued to stay like this till finally you've had enough and groaned as a sign for Sungchan to do something else but, boy was too busy planting hickeys on your neck and jaw so everyone could know who you belonged to.

Finally after what seemed a decade, Sungchan flipped you over on your stomach against the wall. He removed your clothes and replaced them with kisses against your skin, making you whimper as he continued kissing.

Now that he was finally met with your ass, he spread your cheeks, immediately abusing your hole with kisses and licks around your rim. Your eyes rolled back from the pleasure of his tongue against your skin. You let out loud noises such as whimpers and moans at his actions and that just made his ego grow more and more.

Such a great boyfriend

#nct x male reader smut #kpop imagines #kpop boys #kpop smut #sungchan #sungchan x male reader #kpop #nct smut

[netherfeildren]

I am a lantern

A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Birdie realizes she’s pregnant. This takes place some time within the events of chapter 2 and 3 of Fear of God. 

Content Warnings: Established relationship; Fluff; Unprotected sex; Domestic kink; Oral sex; Discussions of menstruation; Mention of rough sex; Pregnancy; Internal angst

A/N: Surprise, surprise!! In honor of FoG reaching 15k hits on AO3 here’s the first of my planned extras for the FoG universe :) Thank you so much for all of your love and support 💗

Art is Psyche Weeping by Kink Y. Craft (2009)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.3K

Read on AO3

“Here ya go, sweetheart.” He hands you the bowl of dinner he’d whipped up for the two of you. 

You’d taken to avoiding the mess hall recently, too attached to the cocoon you’d wrapped yourselves in together – always wanting to be alone, basking in each other’s presence, preparing meals for one another, and then going to bed together to feel each other’s skin and fuck until either of you was too exhausted to move. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, turning your face up to him for a kiss with your eyes still on the notes you’re reading. There was too much to do lately. The clinic was so busy and Connie had veritably checked out, only popping in once in a while, leaving the heavy lifting to you with Nancy’s assistance. You’re exhausted, a little overwhelmed, entirely terrified with a perpetual black cloud of self doubt and anxiety hovering over your head at all hours of the day. You aren’t prepared for this… you aren’t even a real doctor, for fuck’s sake. Not really — not in any terms that would’ve counted before. Just whatever semblance of one the apocalypse had chewed up and spit out – an entire community was way too much responsibility for you alone. You feel the backs of your eyes pinch. Your back aches and your head throbs and your stomach has been simmering on a low grade of nausea all day long, but you still have so much to go over.

-

When he walks out again, his own bowl in hand, you’re buried face down in your notes, aggressively loud sobs wracking your body. He stares at you for a second, brow pulled down low, and all you can do is look up at him and practically wail. 

Jesus, Birdie. He sighs, long and drawn out, he’s been waiting for this – had felt the storm brewing all evening. Something’s been bugging you or setting you off the past few days, and try as he might, he can’t figure out what the real problem is. He doesn’t want to ask outright just yet – he knows you’re stressed. Connie’s been pushing harder and harder to get you to agree to let him call it quits, and Joel knows you’re scared and stressed and feeling unnecessarily unsure of yourself. If you’d asked him, he thinks you’re ready for the responsibility – more than ready. No one would be able to take care of the community better than your kind and gentle hands and magnificent mind would. 

He sets his bowl down, you’ve not even touched yours, and if it weren’t for the tears, the two of you’d be having words right now about your irresponsible eating habits. He hates when you get so distracted you forget meals, fills him with an inordinate amount of stress. He just needs to know that you’re well fed and taken care of at all times, it’s as simple as that. “Alright, sweetheart. That’s enough.” He pulls your mess of papers and journals and books and your ugly, orange throw from your lap and sets it all gently on the table beside you – ignores your protests as he wraps one arm behind your back and another one under your knees. “You’re done for the night.” He pulls the book you’re trying to reach for out of your hands and scoops you up into his arms with a grunt. Damn knees. “You’re goin’ to bed. No more working tonight.” You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder to continue your sobbing. 

“I– I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you hitch and hiccup. “I’m not finished,” you protest, “I have more to go over,” but your arms tighten around him, and he feels you mouth at the skin of his neck. Emotional and needy, recently. Hungry for his cock and his hands and his tongue at all hours of the day. Not that he was complaining, at all. But he did wonder what’d gotten into you. 

“You are for tonight,” he says softly, “You’re exhausted. Don’t tell me you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you grouch, stubborn and too adorable for your own good. His heart pinches a little. Your weight is so slight in his arms, carrying you up the stairs, just a little bird. He wonders, more often than not, how something so small can be so powerful, can terrify him so much, hold so much sway over his life, his very existence. It scares him enough to keep him away from you, as much as he can force himself, at least, even if he sees it for the lie within himself that it truly is. The two of you are practically living together at this point. As much as he feels like he needs to force himself to lie or pretend that this is still just sex, still just something to ease your individual loneliness, if he gives himself a moment to be really, really honest with himself, he knows what this truly is. 

But for now, for a little while longer at least, as long as he can stretch it out, he’ll swallow the truth of the two of you, swallow it down and pretend it’s less than what it is. That it isn’t absolutely everything.

He sets you down gently on his bed, the sheets still rumpled from when he’d fucked you this morning before he’d sent you off to work, shaky legs, leaking cunt and all. His favorite way to start the day. He helps you settle in, pulls off your leggings and his own thick socks he’d pulled over your cold feet earlier and tucks the covers in around you. He eyes the stack of books on the bedside table, a mix of his own historical fiction and westerns and the cracked and well loved spines of some of your medical texts and scientific journals  – wherever he turned his eye in his house, there were signs of you, signs of the way you’d settled into his life, become an intrinsic part of his existence. He wonders for a moment if he should go as far as taking them downstairs with him, but when he looks down at your sleepy, tear swollen eyes gazing up at him, he decides you’re probably too tired to disobey. 

“Sleep,” he says down at you with false severity. He’s sure he’s entirely transparent, and as you turn your face into his pillow he catches the quick quirk of your smile… yeah, definitely transparent. He hears your muffled yes, sir, as he turns to go back downstairs and tidy up the kitchen before he comes back to join you in bed.

When he makes it back upstairs, his abandoned dinner, scarfed down quickly, and the kitchen cleaned, of course, of course, the bedside lamp is on and your face is buried in one of your textbooks. You’re holding it so close to your face, the tip of your nose almost brushes it, and he scoffs, typical, at the sight of you, but when he looks down he takes in the entire lithe length of you stretched out across his bed. The t-shirt of his you’re wearing has ridden up over your ass so that your little, pink, polka dot panties are peeking up at him. The soft cotton has ridden up into the cleft of your ass so that the elastic digs into the lush swell of your bottom, and he feels his cock stir at the sight. 

Yeah… too adorable, too damn beautiful for your own good. Definitely… He’s going to lick and kiss and bite all of that gorgeous skin in a second.

“What’d I tell you, Birdie?”

“Just one second–” you mumble into the page, not even turning to look at him. He goes into the restroom to brush his teeth, listens to the sound of you turning the pages, one second his ass. If he didn’t forcibly take the book out of your hand and fuck you to sleep you’d never put the damn thing down. Joel supposes he can make the sacrifice.

He comes back out into the bedroom, pulling his shirt over the back of his head and shucking his jeans and boxers down his legs before kneeling behind you on the bed. He reaches for your panties, fuck– he really likes the polka dots, and you’ve still not put the damn book away as he pulls them down the smooth slopes of your legs, and buries his face in your cunt from behind. And finally, finally, he hears the thump of the book against the wooden boards of the floor and then your moan as he licks into your pussy, pulling you apart by the softness of your ass. You groan for him, throaty and drawn out as you arch your back to give him better access. 

“Yeah… that’s what I fuckin’ thought,” he says into your skin, licking a long, wet stripe from your clit all the way to the tight furl of your asshole. He’d taken you hard this morning, fucking your pussy almost brutally until he’d pulled out and pushed his way into your back hole to come in your ass. The two of you had been filthy lately. You’d been particularly insatiable, but you incited something in him that turned him into a fucking animal sometimes. You had the uncanny ability to crawl under his skin and make his blood boil and rage until the only thing that seemed to settle him was your come and your spit and your sweat in his mouth, covering every inch of his skin.

If he really thought about it, he knew he was obsessed with you. Obsession verging on something much more serious – verging on… No, not yet… He wouldn’t think of that yet. 

He pulls back to survey the blushing, flutter of your little hole. Fucking needy thing, he rumbles, but as he goes to push a single finger into your opening, he feels you wince and pull back slightly. Shit, he knew he’d been too rough this morning. He licks another wet swipe along the cleft of your ass. “You sore, baby?” All he gets is your muffled moan and a slight nod of your head, your face buried in the pillows as you hitch your hips higher, trying to tempt him, swaying your ass gently from side to side… like he’d said, needy. He anchors himself up on one arm, the other keeping you spread open while he lets a long string of spit trickle slowly from his pursed mouth, the thick glob covering your tight hole so that he can smear it into your skin. Joel, Joel – he hears you begging into the sheets. “Yeah… I got you, little bird. Don’t worry–” He bends his head again to bite at the crease where your asscheek meets the back of your thigh and then grips your hips to slowly roll you over.

Your eyes are hazy, glazed and wet when he takes in your flushed face. He crawls up the length of your body to lay beside you, slotting one arm under your head and the other wrapping around your thigh to bring it up over his hip. “N– no, Joel– I– I still want you to fuck me… I still wanna come,” you mewl, scratching at his shoulders and arms. Tiny little fingers digging into his skin to try and pull him into obedience. 

“Uh huh, I gotcha, baby… don’t worry. But I’m not gonna fuck you if you’re sore.” He slots his cock between your thighs, pressed up against your wet cleft and starts to slide through your sensitive folds. You shake and jitter in his arms, little hiccuping moans and whimpers every time the wide head bumps and catches against the swollen nub of your clit. 

Please, please, I can take it.

“My poor Birdie,” he coos, “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” The hand on your thigh sneaks back and around your bottom to slot between your thighs, pressing up on his sliding cock to apply greater pressure to your cunt. “How’s this, huh? Feel good?”

“Ungh, ah, ah ah…” So good, so good, you whisper, hot breath fanning over the underside of his chin. He feels the wet swipe of your tongue, your little teeth sinking into the edge of his jaw. “I don’t– I don’t know what’s wrong with me–” His tip catches at your tender opening and you jerk slightly in his arms, he fists the hand not between your legs in your hair to anchor you in place and presses his mouth to yours, a long, wet swipe behind the edge of your teeth. He can hear how wet you are as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, your moans and whimpers getting louder, more desperate. The sound of you is obscene, his own personal wet fucking dream.

 His dream girl… come to life. 

“That’s right, baby. Just like that – gonna come on my cock just like this. Didn’t I say I’d take care of you? Don’t I always take care of you just how you need?” You start to tremble even harder, your leg wrapped around him tightening at his waist so that your heel is pressed sharply into the base of his spine and he feels you jerk as he grinds the thick base of himself into your clit and you start to come. Mewling and keening his name, his good, beautiful girl. He slides his hand up your bottom and back, long, slow passes of his palm along your sweat damp spine to settle you. “That better?” he whispers into your hair. You shiver, and he feels the nod of your head as you mouth as his throat and chest. 

“Yes… thank you.” He pulls back to wrap his hand around your jaw, your bones feel so fragile beneath his strength – something delicate he’s been afforded the privilege of being able to touch with these violence soaked hands of his. He can’t think about how frightened you make him, not now, not when he has you beneath him like this, soft and sated and pliant – the sweetest fucking thing he’s ever laid eyes on in his life. He smushes your cheeks together and plants a soft kiss to your puckered mouth. “Beautiful girl.” All you do is burrow further into the covers, a soft sigh as you nuzzle your cheek into his palm. And so fine, he can admit it, right here and now. He fucking loves you, and it’ll probably be the thing to kill him in the end, this recalcitrance he’s forcing himself into. 

-

You stir awake in the middle of the night. He’s draped over you in his sleep, his face tucked into the warm crook of your neck, big hand palming the weight of your breast. He’s so big and muscular and heavy and you love the feel of his weight pressing you into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, drag your fingers through his thick curls, and listen to the sound of his soft snores. 

Your entire body feels like one unending, tender bruise. Every sensation heightened, too sensitive, like a raw, exposed nerve. You don’t know what’s wrong with you lately, what’s gotten into you. You’re on the verge of overwhelmed tears, just from the feel of him, the sound of his soft breathing, overwhelmed by how much you love him, how much you want him. You’ve been on the verge of tears for days, the slightest thing setting you off. 

You lay there for a while holding him, sleep gone out the window in the night, abandoning you to wakefulness, but you realize that the reason you’d stirred awake is that you’re cramping low in your belly, a dull and chronic sort of pulse, deep in your womb. Shit, you need to get up and check if you’re bleeding. 

You shift out from under him slowly, slipping from beneath his heavy paw to slip into the restroom. He turns over in his sleep, arm thrown out over the space you’ve just vacated, as if he’s searching for you, even unconscious. As you move towards the restroom there’s another throbbing pulse low in your belly, like you’re carrying around a bruise in the shape of him inside of you. Everything feels extra tender – coiled tight. He’s been insatiable lately — more than his usual. He’d had you four times yesterday alone. Twice today, plus your fooling around before you’d gone to sleep. Your cunt is sore and puffy and soaking wet, even after he’d cleaned you up with a warm wash cloth before falling asleep. Sometimes it seems like you’re fucking a teenager instead of an old man with the stamina he’s got in him. You laugh quietly. 

But when you pull your underwear down to sit on the cold toilet basin, there’s nothing. Huh… you’d for sure thought the cramping meant you’d started your period. A slow simmering churning starts up in your gut, slowly, slowly starting a low boil. Maybe you’re starting soon, that’s why you’re cramping – it’s fine. You wipe and stand to wash your hands. Maybe dinner isn’t sitting right – but no… you’d barely eaten. So something you’d had before then. That’s probably why you’re so sensitive and on edge lately – you’re probably getting sick. You’d been nauseous the past few days, and there was that bout of vomiting the other day. You pull open one of his lavatory drawers, looking for the antacid tablets you know he hoards, when you’re met with the sight of your menstrual cup, sitting in the little plastic bin you keep it in. 

Shit.

Why is this over here? Since when has it been over here? Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. No, no, no.

You can’t remember the last time you’d used it. You try and count back the weeks – fuck, the months. Real panic starts to flutter and fizz in your belly.  When was the last time you’d had a period? Surely more than four weeks ago but … but if it’s been that long, if you’re remembering correctly… then… then, it’s been closer to two months by now. So that would mean… that means… you turn towards the door where Joel sleeps, unaware, on the other side as if you can see him through the thick wood. 

You feel your heart drop into your stomach, the rhythm of its beat ricocheting up to a concerning speed. Oh, God. Oh, God. How could you have been so careless – so distracted? How is this the first time you’re even thinking about this – even realizing it? But no… if you’re being honest, objective – you know you’ve only been waiting for something like this to happen – for months now. How could you not? When the two of you had never even pretended at being careful or responsible for preventing something like this. Oh, God – how are you going to tell him? What is he going to say? He’s going to be so angry. 

But a voice at the back of your mind whispers that you’re only telling yourself that – that you know it isn’t true – that you know he’d be not only happy, but overjoyed at the thought of a baby. But how could you really know for sure? When he’s always been firm in keeping that last sliver of distance between the two of you? Still after all these months – unable to admit the truth of what lived here, between the two of you. That this isn’t just sex – that the two of you are in love with each other. 

You lean against the sink for support, your shaky legs on the verge of collapse, and stare at yourself in the mirror. This puts your behavior of the last few days into better perspective. All the tears, the shaky stomach, feeling so sensitive – like a raw nerve all he needed to do was look at, breathe on, to provoke. If you really think about it, you’d been the instigator at the start of each of your encounters in the last few days. Seeking him out ravenously – hungry and desperate for his cock and his skin and his smell at every hour of the day. Weepy, swollen cunt – even when he wasn’t around to tempt you, and he’d left you satisfied, and yet, still wanting more, every single time. 

You step back out into the dark space of his bedroom. He’s on his back, one bulging arm thrown over his head. His mess of curls strewn across the surface of his pillow. You watch the rise and fall of his belly, his thick, strong waist, with the cadence of his breaths. Your womb twists with lust. 

Fuck, you’re probably pregnant with this man’s baby. How are you going to tell him?

You can make out the thick heft of his cock through the thin material of the sheets covering his waist, he’d not bothered to put anything else on again after he’d made you come, and it makes your mouth water and the place between your legs so achy. Your recent behavior is completely transparent now, you’d been so needy, insatiable, the only thing to settle you the heavy weight of his cock stretching you open and pounding deep into you. Fucking typical. He’d done this to you, and now he got to reap the rewards of you climbing onto his dick at all hours of the day. 

You roll your eyes at him in the dark as you slide back into bed beside him, running your palm over the flat of his belly. He clasps your hand with his in his sleep as he rolls over, pulling you along with him, wrapping your arm around himself and tucking it up by his neck so that you’re spooning him. He drapes his arm back over your hip and clutches your leg, tucking his fingers right at the place where your ass cheek meets your inner thigh and pulling your front further into his back – trying to get you as close as possible to him. You listen to his deep, sleepy rumble, and you bury your face between his warm back and the bed, the sheets smell like the both of you, sweet and musky – like your sex, your love making. You’ve made a baby together. Joel’s baby. The thought makes tears pool in your eyes and start a slow, silent stream down your face. Your insides clenching wantonly at the same time that your stomach flutters and heaves with nerves and panic. There are too many sensations spilling through your body all at the same time, and you think your frame starts to tremble, an uncontainable gasp slipping out because suddenly you feel his muscles snap awake, his rough voice saying your name sharp and worried. You wrap your arm tighter around him, digging your nails into the skin of his neck to stop him from turning over. You don’t want him to see you like this, you don’t want him to know, you don’t want him to be angry or worried or regretful.

 He’d never be any of those things, your heart whispers at your anxious mind. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why’re you crying?” he says into the dark room. You feel his muscles tense as he tries to escape your tight hold without being too rough.

“I don’t know–” you splutter into his back, your voice coming out muffled against his warm skin. “I’m– I’m emotional. I think I’m getting my period soon,” you lie. Lie, lie, fucking liar. You don’t think you’ll be getting that for a good, long while. 

He sighs, gripping your wrist firmly to pull your arm away for him so he can turn over to cradle you gently in his arms. The best place in the entire world. You cry harder. 

“C’mere, sweet girl,” he whispers against your hairline, pressing his soft mouth to your forehead, your temple. “It’s alright… no tears.” He pets at the nape of your neck. His voice is so deep, you feel the vibrations of it pass through his chest and rumble into your own, and it makes the tips of your breasts tighten into aching little knots. You wrap your arms around his neck to meld your chest tighter to his. You wish you could live inside of him the way he now lives inside of you. He’s left a piece of himself with you, eventually it’ll grow and the whole world will know how definitively you belong to him. You’ll be round and swollen and only his, only his. The thought makes your pussy clench. 

“Joel–” you tug as his curls, his beard, trying to pull his mouth down to yours. He rumbles deep in his chest, gives you his tongue. He’s being too slow, too gentle, you need him to fuck you hard, desperate – as desperate as you feel for him in this moment, to ground you and tame this panic surging up inside of you with his strong hands. 

“Kiss me – hug me,” you beg. 

“M’right here, Birdie.” He cards his hand through your hair, pulls your head back slightly, “Look at me – I’m right here with you.”

“More, more, please.” You lick at his mouth, drag your teeth down his chin.

He rolls you over to settle his hips between your spread legs. You can feel the searing hot brand of his hard cock against the inside of your thigh. He’s always hard for you. He’s always hard for you, and you’re always soft and wet and ready for him, and the two of you are perfect for each other. You were made for each other, and now you’ve made a baby together. “You need my cock again, little bird?”

You spread your legs wider, “Yes, yes – I always need you,” you whine. He wraps his hand around your throat and pauses to stare down at you for a second, his brow pulled down low. He bends his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he presses his mouth to your own. You keep your eyes wide open also, looking between his dark eyes. His lashes are so long, the thick fringe of them fanning out so wide they cast a shadow across his cheekbones. The two of you are so close you can make out each individual lash, the little lines around his eyes – stress, before … but you hope, now, only from laughing too much, from being too happy. You always want him to be so, so happy he doesn’t know what to do with it all. You want him to be overwhelmed and submerged in so much ridiculous happiness. The two of you hold there for a moment, breathing into each other’s mouths. You love him so much it is a physical ache within you. 

He sits back slightly then, and lifts your thigh to press a soft kiss to the inside of your leg, then another to your belly, right over your womb, your heart swoops at that and you whimper, then another right to the top of your mound. The tip of his tongue peeking out to lap at your clit, just a little. 

Then he stretches over you again, giving you all his weight and reaches his hand down to pet the back of his knuckles along your slit, “Shit, fuckin’ wet and swollen, Birdie.”

“I want you so much,” you breath, eyes fluttering closed as he parts your puffy lips and pets at your clit. He starts up a gentle rhythm around your sensitive bundle of nerves that has you kicking your legs out impatiently around him for more. Why is he being so gentle and mean and soft? You need it hard, you need more. 

“Please, Joel, please, please, fuck me, please.” You can feel hot tears burning down the slopes of your cheeks. He’s going to think you’ve lost the fucking plot, crying and begging for his cock like this. He continues to be mean and horrible and pet softly at your clit, like a whisper over your raging, burning skin. 

“Settle down. Gonna give it to you how I see fit.”

“You’re so mean,” you kick out one leg, pathetically, at his side. The broad expanse of him has you spread so wide there’s no purchase to be found, all you can do is lie here and take it. He’s so horrible — look at him, he’s gone and knocked you up and now he won’t even fuck you how you need him to. You pout up at him, cry and mewl pathetically. “Please, harder, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh, said you were sore. Gotta be gentle with my soft, little cunt.”

“But you’re going to fuck me right?” you cry.

“Yeah, baby. Don’t worry,” he says softly, starts to circle his thumb at your tender entrance, pressing gentle pressure on it. You do your best to stifle your wince, shit, it’s not necessarily sore, just so, so sensitive. This is all his fault. You want to sink your teeth into his neck and bite him as hard as you can. Make him hurt and writhe the way he’s making you. He starts to slowly press a single finger inside. You’re so wet, dripping, the passage is smooth and slick. 

“Harder,” you beg.

“Quit.” You let out a frustrated moan. He starts to fuck you slowly just like that, a single finger, his thumb circling your clit in slow, measured circles. His finger is thick, but not enough, and you clench your inner muscles, trying to bear down on it. “Stop that,” he snaps. “Take it how I give it to you. Need you to relax, Birdie. What’s got you all twisted up in knots?”

“I don’t know,” liar, liar, liar, you whine, trying as hard as you can not to roll your hips, to stay still and settled like he wants you to, but there’s a goddamn forest fire raging inside of you, and having him so close, such a small part of him inside you, is only making it worse. He pulls his single finger out, circles his thumb around your entrance, back up to your clit, swipes up and down like a feather, then pressure to your entrance again, and he’s pushing two of his thick fingers inside of you now. Oh, thank God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. He starts to slide them in and out, a small crook of his fingers to pet at the soft, spongy spot inside of you. All the while he continues to circle your clit, and he bends his head to kiss at your mouth, your jaw, a soft bite to your clavicle that has you keening wantonly, then a swipe of his tongue to your jugular – you wish he’d bite you there, sink his teeth into your skin and drink. God, your thoughts are unhinged. You cannot, cannot deal with nine months of this, what the fuck. His mouth slides down to your breast, hot and wet, and he sucks hard on the aching tip, flicking his tongue back and forth slowly. His fingers haven’t paused their slow onslaught and at one particularly hard pull at your breast you suddenly feel everything in your pelvis go blindingly, white hot and tight and then loose and wet and you start to come on his fingers. Your hips rolling gently upwards to take more of him. He never goes harder, never faster, he just continues his gentle ministrations of you – playing you like his own personal little doll. You moan long and ragged, yeah, that’s it, just like that, he whispers into your hair. His words sliding through the strands like water. He guides you through the cresting waves of your orgasm, his touch becoming slower and softer as you throb on and on. Once the contractions of your muscles have slowed he pulls his fingers from your cunt, the wet suck, as loud and obscene as the thoughts in your head are, and then the burning hot head of his cock is there, slowly pushing into your still quivering flesh, so thick. 

“Gonna take my cock now, little bird.”

Yes, yes, please. Thank you. All you can do is sigh, hitch your knees higher up his sides, you hook one hand under the bend of one leg, opening yourself up for him as much as you physically can with all of his weight pressing down into you. 

He slides to the very end of you, letting you feel every throbbing inch and ridge as he goes as slow as everything else he’s done to you tonight. 

“Hard, Joel. Harder, please,” you beg again. His only response is a rumble of disapproval as he starts to thrust into you slow, but so fucking deep. You feel split wide open, he’s split you open and peered inside of you and decided to leave a piece of himself within, and he doesn’t even know it. And you decide in that instant that you’re not going to tell him – with the feel of him as deep inside of you as he can physically get, the knowledge that he’s even deeper than even he knows, you decide you’re not going to tell him until you’re absolutely forced to. It’s wrong, perhaps, or definitely, after all, he has a right to know also, it’s his baby too. But you just can’t. You can’t face the reality of this, his potential reaction, whether it be good or bad, right now, not for a while. You need time, time to gather your courage, your thoughts, your very skin around yourself, stitch yourself together and muster your strength and prepare for whatever outcome telling him might incite. 

“Not gonna give it to you harder, Birdie. Quit beggin’.”

“I don’t care– I don’t care, Joel, please.” You claw and scratch at him, but nothing you do prompts him to go harder. There’s a desperation, a wave of anxious fear surging up inside of you – the fear of him leaving you one day, of not wanting you anymore – when you know you’ll love him for the rest of your life. You are terrified of ending up alone, out in that dark forest again. 

“Quit.” He gathers both of your wrists in one of his strong hands, brings them above your head to lie limply above the pillows. Divested of all your strength and fight, you’re left only to lie beneath him and take all he chooses to give you. “Told you,” he grits as he rolls his hips in long, deep thrusts into yours, the bone of his pelvis grinding into your clit. “You’re gonna take it how I decide to give it to you. Only me – you’re mine, you’re mine, I decide.”

And fuck – if that doesn’t do something to you, if hearing those words don’t settle that coiling snake within you. You go soft and pliant and submissive at his words, spreading your legs as wide as you can and tilting your pelvis up so that he can drill into you as deep as possible, right to the place where your little secret is growing now. 

And he’s so gentle with you, so careful – even when he’s fucking you hard and savage the way you both like sometimes, he’s still careful to never hurt you more than you need him to. It makes you wonder at the violence it took him to become this gentle – to become so well acquainted with his own strength, his ability to maim, that he can now be so in control of it, handle you with such care. 

The weight of his thrusts changes suddenly. He slides a palm under your bottom to lift you up into his impaling cock, presses his knees further up under you to anchor you more firmly in his lap and pounds into you, the wide tip of his cock concentrated against the head of your cervix in blinding thrusts, and you’re so sensitive on the inside from what he’s done to you, from the change he’s wrought upon your body, that you start to come again. Toe curling waves of pleasure start at your womb and spiral out of your limbs in searing bolts of heat, your back arched tight as a bow string. Your inner muscles throb and clench around his still battering cock and you hear the guttural moan of your name spit from his mouth, and then the kick of his cock inside of you as he starts to come too. “Fucking Christ, take it all, Birdie – every last drop of my come. Need this pussy stuffed full of me – s’only way you behave, little girl.” 

All you can do is nod dumbly and take it, just like he said. 

He kisses and licks every inch of your body afterwards, eating up your slick and sweat and his own come with broad swipes of his tongue. You’d never imagined this sort of intimacy – it’s something that you hadn’t even thought possible. A sort of physical connectedness that belied the truth of your current situation – the things still hidden between the two of you. 

He lies beside you once he’s done eating his come out of your pussy, one last orgasm pulled gently from you with his mouth. His slick cock, soft now, pressed against your still flat belly as the two of you lay facing each other, hands tucked beneath your cheeks, legs tangled together, just taking each other in. 

You think you’re probably about two months along, give or take. It’ll still be a while before you start showing. You have time yet. 

You’re going to let yourself think about this now, only tonight, and then you’re going to push it from your mind until you can’t ignore the situation any longer. The reality of it is too terrifying to consider at length with everything else going on in your lives at the moment. 

What will he say? What will you do if you tell him your truth and he goes away from you? How will you survive something like that? But even as you ask yourself this, you know it’s unnecessary, for despite his capacity for violence, or his own fear or recalcitrance or hesitancy, despite the lies he tells himself and you about what this is, he is also good and honorable and loyal. Joel Miller is a good man. And he’d never abandon you or a child of his, but still, you’re afraid. 

So, no, you can’t focus on this now – you’ll push it from your mind until it becomes more pressing, unavoidable. There are other more important things to deal with now, other things to consider before you can think of yourself. 

You run a single finger over the thick line of his brow, against the fluttering of his lashes, down the strong slope of his nose. A baby. Joel’s baby. You hope they have his dark curls. 

You love him and you’re going to have his baby.

And you don’t have it in you to tell him either of these truths. 

“Go to sleep, little bird.” 

-

You sneak out the next morning. In the cold light of the new dawn, the truth you’re withholding is all the more terrifying. Fucking life changing. You slip out of his warm bed, the protective embrace of his strong arms, and shuffle around his room as quiet as you can for your clothes. Your shit is everywhere, strewn around his room and restroom. You need to go home, you need distance – space to think. You dig in a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner for your bra and tiptoe as quietly as you can to his bedside table to slip your books you need for today from between his own stack of novels. Once you’ve retrieved the texts you pause to look down at him, still sleeping. The fact that he can now rest so deeply like this, that he isn’t jerking awake at a hair triggers notice with the slightest sound or movement around him speaks so deeply to that part of you that wants nothing more than for him to be as happy as he can possibly be, safe and serene and never worried for anything ever again. 

Your greatest fear is that this news you now carry will disturb that peace, that serenity or happiness you so desperately want for him. So you sneak out of his home without waking him, head towards your own lonely house to change and wash up, you smell like his come, get the rest of your things for the day and then head to the clinic. You’ll shut this truth in a drawer for as long as you can, and once you can no longer hide it, once it becomes unavoidable, you’ll do your best to make sure he knows you never, never want him to feel obligated to you. Yes… you think, you’ll give him an out, it can be his decision. And even though the thought of that sends a searing, twisting pain to the space in your heart where you carry him, you think it’s the right thing anyways. He deserves to have a choice – when so much of his life has been forced upon him you always want to be the one place he can find choice in. 

He comes into the clinic a few hours later. You’ve just gotten done delivering a baby – real great day for that – when he walks through the front door. You’re finishing up your procedure note and you turn to see him stepping through your office door, a baggie from the mess hall clutched in his hand. 

“Hey… what’re you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d check in… brought you a scone.” He lifts up the offering of baked goods, gives you a crooked smile. God, your gut and your heart twist and flip at the same time. You turn back to face your mess of papers and notebooks, trying to take deep breaths to keep your tears at bay. This crying shit is really going to start being a problem soon. 

You feel him come up behind you, he sets down the baggie in front of you and braces one hand on the edge of your desk, the other passing over the crown of your head and down your ponytail to tug your head back gently. You look up at him from your angled position, and he frowns down at you. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Don’t like it when you sneak off in the mornings without telling me,” he grumbles down at you. 

“Sorry–” you breathe. He huffs at you, leans down to press his mouth to yours. 

“Still feeling funny?” 

You shake your head, still in his hold, but say “Yes,” at the same time. You’re all over the place. He sighs, letting go of your hair and coming down to a crouch beside you. You turn to face him in your seat, knees tucked between his spread thighs. 

He drags a gentle thumb over the soft skin beneath your eye, then up the slope of your cheekbone – that perpetual frown still present. He knows something’s wrong. He knows you. Keeping this from him is going to be so, so difficult. He’s going to tell something is wrong, different, off. Your only recourse is to pretend like you don’t know either. To entirely push this thing that you have no discernible idea how to deal with from your mind. As of this moment, it’s a non-reality. 

“What can I do?” he asks, so gentle, so concerned. 

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head. You can’t look at that look in his eyes right now, it’ll make you fall to pieces. You fold forward to press your face into his shoulder, turning your head to sniffle into his neck. “Nothing,” you mumble. “Just kiss me.” He slides his hand into your hair against your scalp and angles your head to press his mouth to yours, giving you exactly what you need. 

You may be unsure about so much, but the one thing you do know, without a doubt, is that this man will make a wonderful father. 

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#FoG fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[doodle-pops]

Whisper In My Ear

Lords of Gondolin x reader

Request: Hello! My goodness, when I saw your requests were open I actually squealed at my university library! So... can I make a request please... can I get a 136 or 137 and 76 (bonus points if you add 74) of prompts 4? With either the Feanorians or Lords of Gondolin? With an already established relationship? Thanks! - anon

A/N: Each Lord was assigned a different prompt and a scenario attached.

Warnings: smut, fembod, praising

Prompts: “I haven’t even touched you and you’re already wet", “don’t cover your face, I want to see you”, “you’re so beautiful all spread out like this… just for me”

Galdor

Galdor had you on your back with your legs firmly wrapped around his waist as his skilful, yet gentle thrusts made your body quiver in ecstasy. The hands that were gripping the sheets for dear life had lifted themselves to cover your face as Galdor’s lips were hovering by your ear, whispering all the sweet nothings about his undying love for you. The blush that rose to your cheeks enhanced the flush that had already covered your entire face from the passionate lovemaking. His hands were busy with holding your body as closely as possible to him, wanting to feel every heartbeat, intake of breath, every shiver, every response from his thrusts. Lowering his lips to your neck and sucking lavender flowers onto his canvas, his head knocked against your hand that covered your face. The sweetest smile had spread across his face as he observed your shy state.

“My sweetest flower, why so shy now, don’t cover your face, I want to see you,” his hands would lift to remove yours off your face to reveal glossy eyes filled with undeniable pleasure and innocence.

“You look so beautiful under me lossanya.”

Ecthelion

The heavy panting followed by the aggressive removal of clothes echoes throughout the room as Ecthelion sat in his chair near the fireplace and barks out his commands. Wine glass in hand, he wanted you to present yourself to him by pleasuring yourself. Directing you to lay on the bed and spread your legs wide for him, he couldn’t help but bite his lips at the sudden urge to rush from his seat and bury himself in your heat. The reason: your folds were already coated in your arousal, gleaming under the light of the fireplace. His cock was twitching in his leggings, and he was beginning to regret his decision. Slamming his wine glass on the table, he shot out of his seat to tower over your provocative figure, ghosting his fingers over your legs and over your heat. He practically watched as a fresh flow of juices ran from your hole.

“I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already wet,” were his final words before two fingers dipped past your entrance, sinking deeper and deeper until your squeals were loud enough for the workers to hear what their Lord and Lady were up to.

Glorfindel

Your quiet moans were muffled by the tongue slipping into your mouth as Glorfindel did his best to shut you up because your stoic brother’s room was next door to yours. The famous golden-hair Lord had slipped his way into your chambers after your brother had retired for the night and tangled himself with you in between the sheets. It was dangerous and thrilling at the same time because one wrong move would create chaos as if this wasn’t already chaos. He had your legs in the crook of his elbows and was given free rein to manipulate them however it pleased him. Pushing them all the way to your head, your legs were now pressed into your chest as Glorfindel lifted himself off you to look at the view below. His cock had already gained a ring of cream from the previous sessions earlier.

“Look at you, you’re so beautiful all spread out like this…just for me. What would your brother say if he found you like this?” at that moment, he felt your walls clenching around him at the mention of being caught and he laughed. You weren’t as innocent as your brother believed you to be.

Egalmoth

The filth that was spewing past his lips made you retake your words about him being the least performing in bed. Everything that was happening at the moment we're far from underperforming, if anything, he was overperforming and it was just perfect. His hands had a firm grip on your waist as he drove his cock into your heat listening to the obscene squelching and then making some remark about it. He was in a headspace to prove you wrong about your hurtful comments thus, you were being fucked into next year. Every roll of his hip made his cock drag lusciously against your soft spot and you convulsed. “Look at you, enjoying my cock more than you should. I thought that I wasn’t good in bed,”  his voice mocked you for your teary eyes and whimpering. Feeling overwhelmed by the heat of the pleasure, your hands couldn’t help but raise to cover up.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t cover up your face, I want to see you. I want to see you cry over my cock because it’s just that good – moan and make all the noise, let everyone hear.” His right hand had travelled upwards to grip both hands above your head and look you deep in your eyes as he spoke. You were struggling to focus because of the incessant pounding and that’s exactly what he wanted.

Rog

“I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already wet,” Rog’s voice resonated above while he watched your heat glistening under the light of the fire. After a quick visit to his forges late at night after feeling frustrated, you had found yourself standing at the doorway watching his ripped-back muscles flex and tense under each swing of his hammer.

He had you resting on his table, wide open to his liking, after pushing most of his tools onto the floor, knowing that no one would hear the clatter and clang. He towered above you, apron discarded on the floor and laces of his trousers undone. With cock in hand, the other rested on your thigh, crawling further and further until his palm ghosted your folds. Thick calloused fingers, rough against your skin – the perfect texture – cupped your entire heat and felt the pulsation and heat you gave off. Rog couldn’t help but groan and bit the bottom of his lip before ushering him to move closer. His tip rested at the base of your entrance when he paused to lean down and capture your lips. Whining into his mouth as the rest of him breached your walls, the echoes of Rog groaning reverberated throughout his forge, “You’re so perfect every time I have you mirё.”

Maeglin

Maeglin sat in his chair, slouched with his trousers dropped to his ankles, robes discarded, and shirt unbuttoned. His hands furiously gripped your waist as your back leaned into his chest so he would hold your legs wider for his cock to be driven deeper. The almost silent grunts that escaped his lips were picked up by your ears as your head rested against his shoulder. Fingers digging into your thighs and opening you up, you felt his cock sinking deeper past your walls and his speed increased.

“Fuck, you feel divine. I must thank you for visiting me, today princess,” your walls clamped down on his cock at his sweet praises, “so beautiful, so perfect, what would I do without you pleasuring me.”

Your responses were broken pants of his names as more words flew past his lips, “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this…just for me.”

On cue, his hands dropped lower to slide over your heat, brushing his cock and finding purchase on your clit. “You’re going to cum for me, on my cock and let the world see how pretty you look spread open for me, yeah.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @someoneinthestars @aconstructofamind @mysticmoomin @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @noldorinpainter @starborne0661

#silm smut #silmarillion x reader #galdor x reader #ecthelion x reader #glorfindel x reader #egalmoth x reader #rog x reader #maeglin x reader #house of the fountain #house of the heavenly arch #house of the trees #house of the mole #house of the golden flower #house of the hammer of wrath #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion headcanon #middle earth x reader #middle earth headcanons #middle earth imagine #x reader smut #x reader fics #x reader insert #lords of gondolin #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[recreationalpasta]

(Protective) Jane the Killer x (hopeless) Gyno! Reader - Requited Attraction

Rating: 18+ contains slight violence and nsfw:

Y/n hissed as Jane pulled you by the ear, dropping you onto the bathroom floor, she winced only slightly as she pulled locked the door and pressed her back against it. She looked at you pointedly as she crossed her arms and legs, yet her hand still hovered over her knife.

"Y/n, I have him handled. I told you not to get in the middle of it." Distantly you could hear clattering, undoubtedly where Masky had found the fucks to give worth restraining Jeff.

"So now your protecting him?" You ask taking a step forward gesturing wildly within the small space.

Immediately she leaned forward," Don't you ever-" she took a shaky breath and leaned back. Clutching her forehead in her palm. "Look, Y/n, I understand we have mutual hated. But if you handle it out in the open like that, then fucking eldritch string cheese will rip you to pieces right with him."

She looked up brushing a single hair our of her eye with a elegant black coffin nail. Two of the fingers on each hand shorter than the rest, a fact Jeff made relentlessly mockery of. Along with being something, as well as watching the other feminine pastas look at with very mixed feelings.

You knew your feelings on it very well. But if she noticed your rising blush she didn't call attention to it at the moment.

You tried to step past her, only for her to press you to the sink, each hand pressed to the porcelain behind you. Your thumbs on one side overlapping, a fact you noticed almost as quickly as she leaned against you. She was surprisingly warm, the temperature radiating past the leather and much thinner material.

"I can't," she huffed gritting her teeth, almost baring them to you. "I won't allow Jeff to cause the death of another good person. A rapist? Sure? Pedo? Absolutely, without a doubt." She leaned more and your back was pressed against the cold mirror, you could feel it through your own shirt.

"but not you." She growled in her deep savory tone. Despite the aggression within, it filled your senses with the image of a dark red wine. Coursing so much like the blood that followed both of your actions.

Again you noticed that spray of blood across her face. It slowly gather in the corner of her pressed soft lips, it dripped down onto your shirt, you could feel it through the fabric against your warm breast.

"But if you feed into him, he will get away with it. So please..."She relented shifting her weight back, still her black skinny jeans were pressed against your own clothes. That same warmth radiating, it reminded you of the mornings she smiled at you, that being every single one.

"let me be the one to end him. You go on living, I've already lost too much. Let him take too much from me, from us-"

"I cant," you look away, that red creeping up your neck as your face became flush. "Y-you don't understand."

Her pale strong hand gripped your chin as she pulled you to look her dead in her deep, black eyes. They were a underground pool, swimming with thoughts and powerful emotions, begging you to reach out to experience them yourself. Her mouth slightly parted to speak, but instead letting out a long, slow, warm breath.

She looked at you carefully, examining your face, as she leaned slightly forward.

"do you...about me?" She asked quietly as her harsh look melted in, shifting elegantly into the slightest smile.

You managed a nod and that was enough to earn a sharp intake from her. Her head flicked to the ground, her soft hair brushing against you as she did, for a long tenuous moment she just stood.

She slowly pulled you by your chin, her grip much softer now. Her plump black lips now merely a inch or two from your own, "Can I?" Her deep black pools beckoned you to dive in.

And dive you did.

It started slow, a slow lean from you both, her hands gently lifting you as she kissed up into you. Her hands roaming your back to your stomach and hips. Her fingers only slightly grazing over the fabric, but you could have sworn a inferno followed under her nails command.

The kiss deepened, a heat within both your cores radiating up through you, igniting your lips and tounge into action. In response they danced.

To say they fought would be a stain on this moment, on whatever this was between this moment.

Soft gasps and whines, turned into pants of hot breath, turned into soft lips pressing into skin. Teeth grazing and sometimes outright digging in as you both suckled. Her fingertips slid across you, spurring that warmth forward, until the slid along your own hands. Gently pulling them towards her but letting them rest in the air, placing it into your hands. She was letting you decide what happened.

Your hands traced her corset as the reached behind, rubbing along her sides as you reached back to untie the knot. Her breasts pushed forward as you pulled her into you, standing between your legs as you sat on top the sink counter. Ignoring the amount of bottles and cans you knocked over.

You kissed the top of her soft flesh and in turn she softly pulled your head into their embrace. As you pulled away the corset and she shifted her dress, her elegant hand pulling away the veil obscuring the beauty of the soft flesh. Your lips soon found their way to it eliciting a soft gasp as her nails softly dug into your scalp.

"Y-you could have...fuck told me sooner, you idiot." She muttered breathlessly as she leaned her neck up, looking up to the sky.

At some point during being so focused with your hands and mouth yoy brought your knee between her strong muscled legs, it didn't take long for her to hike up the skirt and follow your hand onto it. Warm, wet through the slight remainder of fabric, between you both.

Her nailed hands slid along your neck, softly rubbing as she muttered soft praises about your mouth, the simple warmth it added onto her inferno.

"Are you sure? Your alright?" She whispered, a low hum in your ear, a small twinge of anxiety present in her normal confident and strong voice. She knew how strong she was, she would never want to accidentally use it to hurt someone, especially not you.

"absolutely," you whispered breathlessly as you smiled into her chin, just for her fingers to gently hook under your jaw and crane you up just slightly as she pressed her lips to yours again.

She resumed the movement of her hips along your thigh, you hadn't realized she had stopped as she asked. But you looked into each other's eyes and you knew the same flame was consuming each other.

Your hands unbuttoned your pants as she helps to slide them down, gratefully taking your bare knee rather than the rough fabric. Though at the moment she didn't seem like she would like to complain.

Still her own needs unfulfilled she pulled your close holding your tight as she slipped down against your body, your blush creeping further and warmth centering between your legs once you saw her plump black lips hover there. She softly pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, the lipstick leaving a simple stain. You realize they must already decorate your throat and lips.

You nod, that's all she needed. Her tounge dipping deep inside as it proves for where you were most sensitive. Her thumb rubbing along your clit as she did so, ever soft whimper you made only made her elicit more and more reactions.

Her lips and fingers worked you, that warmth building into a hot core from her efforts her other palm pressed against your stomach, rubbing it almost soothingly as you panted quietly.

"W-what if they-?"

"They won't." She answered only pausing to look at your affirmation, again at receiving it she continued as your legs shook gently. Earning a small chuckle from her, as that core grew hotter and hotter.

With a whimper and holding one of her hands tightly, you bit your lips as warmth and pleasant waves of pleasure rushed over you. She pressed a soft finger to your lips as your legs vibrated around her soft skull.

Once your breath steadied, and your eyes centered you found she had already pulled on your pants and was helping you button them. When she finished, hot pants came from her slightly-parted shiny black lips. A soft hand cradling your cheek as she looked at you, a small hunger growing in her dark eyes.

"I-I...I'm going to take five minutes. Pretend I chewed you out, if your up in my room when I get back..."her gaze bore into me as she slightly shivered with a growing smile. "I might just enjoy it if you stay the night."

-----------

Thank you for reading <3

Requests are open 💕

#lesbian #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x reader #jane the killer #jane the killer x reader #they both hate jeff #right before this you definitely socked homeslice in the jaw #afterwards 👀 #fem creepypasta x fem y/n #lesbian creepypasta #i love women

[ghost-proofbaby]

“He wouldn’t leave your side,” Shadowheart’s voice drops to a whisper, looking right into Aruna’s eyes, as though she needed to make sure the girl was processing every single word spoken, “He wouldn’t let any near you without first knowing their business. And even then, he hovered. I don’t think he tranced once during the days you were down, showed no interest in eating either. I believe the only reason he allowed us to take you into my tent was due to the lack of his own.”

summary: the gang gets a dog, and aruna finds out that shadowheart is an excellent person to gossip with. just not when it's about aruna's own personal life.

wc: 5.8k+

warnings: some more leftover description of the blood-drinking ordeal, mentions of dead bodies, astarion is being avoidant again.

a/n: we've finally made it to scratch!!! and karlach!!! wahoo. also, i'm trying something new with the chapter dividers, so bear with me. <3

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“What-” Astarion is the first to speak up between them, pupils so large that they swallow his eyes in pitch black. A drop of her blood has long trailed past his chin, marking down the side of his neck now as he takes a shaky breath, “-was that?” 

Aruna feels as though she can’t move as she brings ginger and nervous fingers up to her neck, pressing into the wound left behind. A damaged neck, a damaged mind – she was certainly acquiring quite the seen and unseen wounds, wasn’t she? 

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, slowly pulling up her knees, trying to dispel all her dizziness, “I- Gods, I don’t know.” 

One moment, she was getting lost in it all – in Astarion’s fangs inside her, in his hands holding her so closely, in the weight of his chest pressing to hers desperately and matching each of her ragged breaths – and the next, it had simply been pain. 

Were they memories? Were they wishful hopes? 

They felt so real. Each image had burned into her as though she’d already experienced them. Like she knew every inch of Astarion’s skin already, like a well-loved and memorized road map to all that she could be. As though she might have spent endless nights watching him with careful consideration as he would trance, not just under the stars but within a tent with her at his side. Even now, the ghost of how he had felt curled up against her haunts her vividly, somehow warming her despite the chill she knew he would leave behind. 

“What in the Hells was that?” he repeats himself a bit more aggressively this time, quickly lifting a hand to swipe away at her blood trailing down his throat. He leaves behind the scarlet trail of her across his lips and chin – a painful reminder of what she had just given him. 

Of what boundaries they had just crossed, only to be burned. 

“Like I said two seconds ago, I don’t know,” she snaps this time, palm still cupping where his mouth had been. The blood flow had finally slowed, clots that would turn to scabs beginning to form. 

“Was it your magic?”

“No-”

“Was this all an elaborate ploy just to get me close enough to use your magic against me? Conjure images just to-” his eyes flare with mistrust as he stands quickly. Against her better judgment, she follows, “Just to trick me?”

“It wasn’t my magic,” she grits out. She wishes it was – she wishes she didn’t believe any of those images to be real. She wishes she hadn’t just been handed over something to miss, “I don’t know what it was, but I had just as much control in it as you did.”

Dark holes in her mind, slowly growing over with all those memories. Gaps being filled, questions being only half-answered. It was as though a piece of herself had just been returned to her; as though she’s one step closer to being whole again.  Fragmented puzzle pieces that were finding their place in her psyche whether she wanted them to or not. 

He’s quiet for a few moments, still fiery with misplaced fury.  “If it wasn’t your doing, what was it?” 

Memories. Glimpses into a past, glimpses into another thread of time similar to this one, just a tad bit different. Frayed in different segments and taut where this one twists. 

She knows that’s what they were, even if her churning gut and tired mind want to deny it to all Hells. 

“I don’t know,” she lies with slumping shoulders, accepting the weight alone, “I wish I did.” 

Gods, why is it so hard to lie to him? Why is her tongue suddenly so heavy as she forces each word out? 

She could tell him what she feels is certain, ask him to indulge her in the possibility that what they just saw were real moments that had slipped from their grasp. Maybe she should ask him if he felt it too; if he felt a large, gaping hole in his chest as residual damage. She could ask him if it aches for him the way it aches for her. 

But she isn’t going to.

She lets the weight of what they saw wash over her just as suddenly as the creases in his face smooth over. He’s compartmentalizing; she’s drowning. 

They’re going to pretend it never happened. For real, this time. 

He won’t admit to being a vampire, he’ll never tell the others that he’s tasted her blood, and he won’t be entertaining any theoretical discussion of all those moments they’d just seen. 

There was too much vulnerability there to be witness to. The way that version of him had preened beneath her touch so comfortable, the way his body had melted against hers as if it had always belonged at her side. She feels like a stranger in her body as she recalls that softness that lingered between her and the man before her in those snippets that had just flashed between them. None of it existed in the here and now. She’s sure if she tried to lean her weight against him as she had in that memory (or whatever the scene had been) now, he’d scoff and toss her aside without second thoughts. 

Where the Astarion that had been shown was all molten softness, there only lay sharp edges before her. Jagged bits and serrated defenses. 

“Very well,” his mask returns in the blink of an eye. His chest puffs out again, his posture straightening and his chin lifting as he takes a few steps around her, adamantly keeping his distance, “In that case, I should retire back to my tent for the night,” she doesn’t turn to watch him, only listening to the soft crunch of his footsteps over twigs, “Before anyone notices our absences.” 

Keen. Precise. Stabbing. Not an ounce of whatever gentle notions she’d seen from the version of him who had been tugging a blanket around her to ward off the cold. No softness to spare. 

She can’t blame him. Even more haunting than the contrast of that version of him compared to this one is the difference between Aruna.

Someone kind, confident, and determined. A version of her with purpose. 

For every sharpened point he bares, she wields a blade just as dangerous in comparison to who she might have been. The version of her in those visions was something soft, something to hold, something that had only ever bared its teeth to smile. 

It doesn’t really matter that this Astarion wouldn’t wrap her in a blanket; this Aruna wouldn’t let him if he tried. 

She’s almost sure she’s been left to her smothering thoughts, mouth still agape as she takes deep breaths to stay upright, when his voice cuts through the night one final time.

“This is a gift, you know. Strange visions aside.”

One final bout of deja vu swallows them whole as she turns slowly, just in time to see the way he turns his head. He’s not fully looking at her, but the gesture lets her know he’s speaking to her and not the moon, at the very least.

“I won’t forget it.” 

It’s in his cadence, in the bit of his brow she can just barely see as it furrows. He means it, sincerely. 

The hand that was still cradling the side of her neck drops so slowly that it hasn’t returned back to her side until he’s long gone, returning to his tent just as he had said he would. 

—

In an interesting turn of events, Astarion is the one avoiding Aruna in the following days. 

Every morning, she looks to his tent. And every morning, she finds it empty. 

They don’t find another one of his meals during their adventures, thankfully. Aruna finds herself filling the empty space left behind from the absence of her shadow with Gale instead, to the point in which she doesn’t even have to ask the wizard to join her most days. He’s already ready for her, waiting as she finishes fastening her own armor and gear. No one knows outright about that night, about what Astarion is and about what Aruna gave, but Gale must have noticed something having changed. He must have sensed the gap for him to fill was there to have stepped up so easily. 

Aruna doesn’t particularly care if they find out at this point, in all fairness.

Astarion’s vampirism is the least of her worries from that night. She could wake up to him trying to take another taste of her blood, and she wouldn’t even attempt to stop him. No, her companion’s strange affliction wasn’t the problem. The problem was what she truly gave. 

It wasn’t just blood. 

She spends most of her time lost in thought as she rolls those flashes of herself and Astarion around in her mind. The tadpole connection had yet to return to them, or perhaps neither of them had really tried to mend it yet, and she’s grateful for it. She can’t decipher if her gut feeling, if her assumption that what they saw were some strange and twisted version of memories was actually correct, or if it were something else at hand.

Had it been her magic? Had it been a side effect of a vampire drinking a thinking creature’s blood? 

Maybe it was a projection of what she truly wanted deep down. A manifestation of her deepest wants and desires, entirely exposed to the two of them. 

That must be it, because the more Aruna considers it, the more she realizes she wouldn’t mind being in the situations she’d witnessed. It would be nice to lay with a lover at the end of the day and feel the way they sunk into her touch. It would be reassuring to have someone there, ready to share body heat beneath whatever sorry excuse for a blanket they could get their hands on. It would simply be nice to feel like someone was on her side, given their current situation. 

Although she could argue Gale was at her side, both metaphorically and physically. 

When she stops at the entrance to a short bridge, not far from where they’d found the boar that had disappeared after Aruna’s night with Astarion, he’s right beside her. Not right behind her as Shadowheart and Wyll were, but beside her. 

“Is that… a town?” she questions, squinting into the distance. 

Across the bridge, she could see a crumbling wall with the roofs of buildings peaking just over it. And even further, an arched entrance that had a clear view of a few of those said buildings. 

“It’s a bad idea, is what it is,” Gale murmurs, and she follows his trail of sight to see what had him consumed with hesitation – bodies.

Just between the cobblestone of the bridge and the entrance to this apparent village, several bodies lay across a blood-soaked ground. The bodies aren’t fresh by any means, but that doesn’t mean that whatever had killed those travelers wasn’t still nearby. 

Aruna’s suddenly very glad she had half the mind to be mentally present for today of all days rather than still lost in her thoughts regarding Astarion. 

“Well,” Aruna sighs, counting the bodies. Four, that she could see, “That’s not ominous at all.” 

If Astarion had been with her, he probably would have laughed. Whether it was because he genuinely found her funny or not, he still would have been entertained by her sarcastic comment. A predictable pang rings out in her chest.

Gale could try to fill that space at her side all he wanted; he still could never fit the shoes of the vampire who was probably lounging back at camp at this very moment. 

“Whatever killed them may very well still be nearby,” Wyll comments as he takes a few steps forward, peering at the scene, “Do you think it could have been the goblins that attacked the Grove?” 

“Maybe,” Aruna shrugs. 

Probably. Unlike with the boar, she doesn’t think Astarion would leave behind such a scene. Especially since she now knows. 

“Gale and I could always go ahead, try to see if the culprit is still around,” Wyll offers, turning to look at the two mages, “Shadowheart and yourself could fall back and stay hidden. If it’s a trap, at least it gives us an upperhand.”

Shadowheart huffs from behind Aruna, “If it’s a trap, then they already have us right where they want us.” 

It was moments like these where Aruna hated the burden of leadership. She didn’t want to make these choices. She squirms uncomfortably beneath the expectant stares of everyone, mind reeling as they force her hand. It was hard enough dealing with whatever her memory loss truly was, coping with the situation she’d gotten herself into with Astarion, nevermind trying to make tactical decisions like the one before her now. 

“There’s nowhere for Shadowheart and I to even hide-” she starts, before Gale cuts her off.

“There,” he points to a broken food cart not far off, not quite halfway across the bridge, “You two could always hide there.” 

Fair point. The decision, it seems, has been made for her. 

“Fine,” Aruna surrenders, a hand flying to one of her daggers as she ignores the wary stare of Shadowheart, “Fine, you two go ahead. Just… just don’t enter the village. If we want to enter the village, we do it as a group. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Wyll nods, grinning ever so slightly. 

He takes a couple of steps forward, Gale joining his side instead, but they don’t take off to fully cross the bridge. Not yet. 

They’re waiting. Waiting for Aruna’s command, her signal to go forth. 

She hates it. 

Regardless, she motions subtlety for Shadowheart to follow behind her as she quickly moves to stand behind that cart Gale had pointed out. And just as she slips past Gale, narrowly missing his shoulder, she nods at the two men to continue on. 

The cart is an excellent hiding spot. She has a clear view of the braver half of their party as they approach the bodies, and she’s certain that if anyone lays in wait on the other side of the bridge, they wouldn’t be able to spot herself and Shadowheart. 

“You know, now would be an excellent time to have a rogue with us,” Shadowheart whispers as she crouches beside Aruna.

Aruna knows exactly who the cleric is referring to. And it makes her already sour face twist up even further.

“It’s not my fault that Astarion was nowhere to be found this morning,” Aruna hushes back, careful to keep her voice low enough as to not travel with the wind. 

One of her palms is wrapped around the hilt of her dagger, almost mimicking the common position of the man they were currently discussing. 

Shadowheart hums softly, “Yes, how odd. First, it was you blatantly ignoring the pale one, and now it’s him avoiding you.” 

“I wasn’t avoiding him-”

“When our journey first began, it wasn’t even a question. Every day, Astarion was at your side. You can’t tell me that this isn’t an avoidant situation after the two of you being so attached to one another.” 

Aruna scowls as she bites her tongue. They hadn’t even been traveling together that long; all of Shadowheart’s accusations felt ridiculous. Even if she was on the nose regarding their current predicament, it’s not as though she had spent months with Astarion as her shadow. It had been a week, at most. 

But had she been that obvious with her need to keep him close? She tries to recall if she ever even asked Astarion to join her previously, or if it had simply been a known choice. Each day they would be heading out on their search, and each day, Astarion was by her side before anyone else. 

Just as Wyll and Gale approach the first body, Shadowheart speaks again, “I don’t mean to offend you or pry. It’s just… a curious observation.” 

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Aruna bluntly replies, eyes locked on the two men as they investigate. 

“True,” Shadowheart moves a bit closer, trying to get a clearer view at Aruna’s side, “But our group seems to have enough brushes with danger for that point to be moot.” 

Aruna nearly rolls her eyes, finally tearing her gaze from Wyll as he crouches beside the second body to glance at Shadowheart, “We do not get into that much trouble. Besides, we’re all alive, are we not?” 

“We are. Alive enough for two members of our party to be in a lover’s quarrel, it seems.” 

Aruna’s entire body freezes, “Astarion and I are not-” 

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Shadowheart fights a smile, eyes deliberately locked ahead rather than looking at Aruna, “Your questionable taste in who warms your tent is none of my business.” 

“I don’t even have a tent,” Aruna isn’t sure why she’s so hellbent on denying anything going on between herself and Astarion, but she is. Terribly so. 

Shadowheart finally looks at her, “Perhaps you should fix that, then.” 

“Of course,” Aruna says, brows creasing, “Let me just add it to my already massive to-do list,” she glances back up to the boys. So far, so good. No sign of an impending ambush, “You know, I never took you to be so keen on camp gossip.” 

“And I never took you to be so sensitive regarding our camp rogue-” Shadowheart surely has more to say, but she’s cut off when Wyll stands abruptly and looks in their direction. 

He waves, a bit too obviously for Aruna’s liking if an ambush is still a threat, and Aruna sighs as she pushes herself out of her crouch. “Stop worrying about where my fondness lies, Shadowheart. If you ever want to gossip about Lae’zel’s curiously large weapon collection, however, I’m all ears.” 

When Aruna glances to the half-elf, she’s taken back to see the slightest of smiles on her lips. The woman had been head-strong and focused their entire journey, so lost by her need to solve the issue of their uninvited visitor in their heads, Aruna had hardly gotten any friendly vibes from her. Up until now, she’d only felt like a means to an end for her. But somewhere in that not-quite-a-smile, a warmth buries deep. Kindlings of a fire that could become friendship, if provoked enough. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Shadowheart hums as she stands to her full height beside Aruna. 

Aruna sort of hopes the cleric does find a new reason to join her in camp and ‘gossip’ with her. There’s much worse company to share a bottle of wine with, Aruna imagines. 

Their party reunites carefully as the two women cross the bridge to join the men. Gale is still crouched beside one of the bodies, having dug a flyer of some sort out of the pockets of the departed soul’s pockets. 

“Find anything good?” Aruna asks as she approaches, squinting, trying to decipher what was on the page that Gale held so closely to his face.  

Gale’s entire face creases as he glances up to her, “Nothing particularly invigorating, unless you consider a wild goose chase for some sort of Nightsong worthwhile.” 

Shadowheart stiffens, earning her a curious glance from Aruna. 

“Sounds interesting,” Aruna says slowly, eyes taking their time to look back to Gale, “But not very useful. Just grab any supplies left behind. I know we haven’t been ambushed yet, but I’m not overly eager to use that easy entrance to the village. We should probably find another way in.” 

Gale ends up pocketing the flyer regardless. Aruna doesn’t press it, leaning down to grab a discarded weapon instead. She’s actually glad he had kept the page – it had elicited a reaction out of Shadowheart, whatever the Nightsong might be, and that was enough to spark Aruna’s endless curiosity. 

They collect what they can from the bloody scene – a few extra packs, some even filled with food that hadn’t gone bad quite yet, and used weapons that could surely be put to use at some point – and it’s back to a despicable game of follow-the-leader. Aruna, guiding the group down a path along the side of the village, and everyone following blindly. 

If she leads them to their death, they can’t even be mad. 

Shadowheart follows a bit closer this time. Gale is forced to fall into step at Wyll’s side as the cleric claims residency over the clueless sorcerer’s side. It’s not until Wyll notices even more supplies discarded beneath a net in some of the foliage along the path that Aruna realizes why Shadowheart is sticking so closely to her side. 

“I hope I didn’t offend you,” she says just as Aruna has taken to inspecting a bush to occupy herself. She was perfectly content for Gale and Wyll to be the ones to gather up the supplies they were finding – Aruna would much rather be left with her comfortably light pack for now, “Earlier. When I pointed out whatever… bond you’ve formed with Astarion.” 

Aruna pauses with a lead pinched between her fingers, keeping her breathing even as she remembers the heavy letter that takes up residency in that light pack of hers, “Hard to offend someone without memories. Besides, you weren’t entirely wrong. Astarion has just proven himself… useful.” 

Useful is an understatement. They may have only been traveling together for a brief time, but he’s already saved Aruna’s ass more times than she can count. The scales are horribly unbalanced, even including the gift of her blood that she had offered. 

“You’re referring to Nettie, aren’t you?” 

Aruna finally gives up pretending to be endlessly interested in the branch of the bush as she looks up to Shadowheart, “Amongst other things, yes. I still don’t know how he got the two of us out of there.” 

If it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of memories, Aruna probably would have given that more thought. She can’t imagine what sort of scene might have been caused or left behind after it was all said and done. They’d returned to the Grove since, and no one had made a fuss, which should be a good sign. But it only makes Aruna more curious as she gives it more thought now. 

How had he got her out of there undetected? And had he hid Nettie’s body? Did the Grove even know what she had done?

“He didn’t exactly give the details,” Shadowheart looks just as curious, almost a little concerned, “It was quite an event, in all fairness. Nobody asked too many important questions about the how when he showed up with you, poisoned and covered in blood, in his arms.” 

In his arms? 

“He carried me back to camp?” Aruna chokes out, “Gods. I- I guess that makes sense, I just hadn’t considered the… logistics.” 

“He more than just carried you, Aruna. I thought I might end up the next victim of his dagger if I didn’t comply with his demands to save you.” 

Save Astarion. No matter the cost. 

“I know he’s not always the kindest but, surely, he didn’t threaten y-”

“He did,” Shadowheart interrupts, raising a brow as she crosses her arms, “It’s the only time I haven’t seen the elf be an absolute sarcastic ass. He was deathly serious. With the way he panicked, I could only assume… I thought…” Shadowheart drifts off for just a second, leaving a beat of silence that speaks volumes, “Well, you don’t necessarily react that way towards a stranger.”

“You assumed I was his lover, based solely on his reaction to my near-death?” Aruna murmurs, eyes darting towards Wyll and Gale to ensure they weren’t eavesdropping. 

“How would you react, right now, if I were to prick my finger on a poisonous bush?” 

Aruna opens her mouth, the answer seeming obvious, before she stops herself. 

How would she react? 

She’d be worried, of course. She’d try to help, without a doubt. But how far would she go with all her worry and helpfulness? Would she go as far as to carry Shadowheart all the way back to their camp? Would she threaten her fellow companions if they didn’t do something to help? 

“He wouldn’t leave your side,” Shadowheart’s voice drops to a whisper, looking right into Aruna’s eyes, as though she needed to make sure the girl was processing every single word spoken, “He wouldn’t let any near you without first knowing their business. And even then, he hovered. I don’t think he tranced once during the days you were down, showed no interest in eating either. I believe the only reason he allowed us to take you into my tent was due to the lack of his own,” she pauses and lets the words sink in as Aruna’s mind reels to keep up, “I would expect that behavior from Gale. Or even Wyll. But from the man who has seemed Hell-bent on maintaining an arm’s length distance from us all? The man who has pretended to be entirely unaffected by our entire situation and all the violence we’ve encountered? Truthfully, the fact that you two aren’t involved makes it all the more confusing.” 

It was odd. It was entirely peculiar, extremely out of character for the man they had all gotten to know. 

Or at least, the man that everyone else had gotten to know. 

They weren’t exchanging light-hearted jokes with Astarion. There were no late night conversations under the stars with him for them to ponder on, no glimpse beneath the mask to ruminate on. No memories of a version of him that was softer than what he offered now. They saw him to be as sharp as his daggers, his words capable of digging beneath their skin far easier than his fangs even could. 

Aruna had an unfair advantage, but so much of that had come after Astarion had been her knight in shining armor. She hadn’t given him a reason to care so deeply; even now, she hadn’t, in her honest opinion. 

“I’d do the same for any of you,” Aruna finally says, but it’s a blatant lie. Her tongue isn’t quite as heavy as she speaks false words to Shadowheart, though. The vowels didn’t stick in her throat the same way they had when she’d denied Astarion of her full truths, “And I’m sure Astarion would, too, if it came down to it. We need each other to survive. That’s all.” 

 She would do the same, to some extent. She doesn’t think she’d be pointing daggers, but she would be worried. It’s not a full lie. 

“All I heard is that we need each other to survive,” Wyll inserts himself with impeccable timing, the pack on his back now looking a bit bulkier. Aruna nearly snorts as she realizes Gale is seemingly taking the same approach as her with traveling lightly, “And I couldn’t agree more. Speaking of which…” 

Three sets of eyes land on Aruna, and this time, she ignores the discomfort bubbling up. 

They need each other to survive. This is far beyond just her and some silly mission to save Astarion now – these people, these friends, look to her for guidance. Reluctantly or not, eagerly or not, she should be mindful of the weight that carries.

She should be mindful of the trust involved. 

—

“I’m an animal-lover just as much as the next-”

“It’s not up for discussion, Gale.”

“-And I also hated the idea of leaving the poor thing behind-”

“What’s done is done.” 

“-I just think we should have considered how exactly we might be feeding this extra companion at camp! That’s all!” Gale finally finishes spitting out his argument to Aruna as they trek down a dusty road, a river rushing along their side, “We’re in no position to be collecting pets, Aruna.” 

Aruna can certainly hand it to Gale – she wasn’t thinking about these particular repercussions when she’d encountered the poor dog who’s collar-tag read Scratch when she’d offered her scent for him to follow.  But she’d made her decision, not even glancing back at her companions to include them in her choice, and there was no taking it back now. She almost wanted the dog to show up at their camp now, purely out of spite for the lecturing Gale had taken to giving her as they’d continued to follow the path. 

The path which Aruna had a sinking suspicion would not be leading to a new entrance to that village. But her gut had been tugged in this direction, something whispered for her to follow the river, and she’s done enough critical thinking for the day. The worst that could come of it is that her internal compass leads them to absolutely nothing, and they have to make the far trek back to camp entirely empty-handed. 

Or they could finally stumble into that ambush they’d all worried about at the main entrance to the village. That’s also a possibility, Aruna supposes. 

“He wouldn’t be a pet, Gale,” she grumbles, slowing her steps as she looks around. There hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary so far. 

“What would you call him, then?” Gale argues, fiddling with the straps of his own pack. 

How ironic it was that he had taken to complaining so ardently about the possible furry companion when he’d happily looted the corpse of the previous owner, slipping numerous envelopes into his bag to read later. He certainly hadn’t protested then, when it served some sort of odd purpose for him. 

“A…” Aruna trails off, facing Gale, back to the river. She racks her brain for a term that might justify her choice, even if only slightly, “A familiar. Yes - a familiar! You know, those trustworthy companions that those wonderful books of yours have detailed extensively? Are you truly so against me having one?” 

Gale’s eyes narrow at her, “He is not your familiar.” 

“He could be,” she chimes, standing strong in her decision, “He certainly won’t be yours with all your griping.” 

“You two are…” Wyll glances between the two of them, sighing heavily, “Something.”

“Better she bickers with Gale than Astarion,” Shadowheart pipes up, quickly looking remorseful when Aruna shoots her a look, “Sorry, just- Gale doesn’t argue just for the sake of arguing with you. He’s actually making a point.” 

Aruna opens her mouth, instinctively ready to defend Astarion despite the fact that that is exactly what he did when he’d join them in adventuring, but Gale beats her to a response, “Precisely! I only aim to ruffle the peace if it’s necessary. And a dog at camp? Well… not particularly necessary, if you ask me.” 

“The dog will keep me warm at night when I’m left defenseless without a tent,” Aruna snaps, focusing back on the wizard, “There. Is that convincing enough for you?” 

She certainly notices the chuckle that Wyll tries to cover up, and the slyest of quirks on Shadowheart’s lips. 

“I’m…” Gale is speechless. It’s a blatantly obvious way in which he can’t fill her shadow’s shoes – Astarion would have been absolutely bursting at the seams with a snarky comeback for such a childish response from her. “I apologize. As you said, the decision’s already been made. I’m… I’m sorry for refusing to consider your side of it all.” 

A nice way of saying I’m sorry I forgot you have far less than the rest of us. 

They continue to walk with the current after that in silence, leaving Aruna to her own mindless thoughts. Worries for Scratch certainly linger, but she finds herself pondering her tent situation and her Astarion situation far more. 

She really, truly needs to obtain supplies for her own tent. The weather may be gentle now, but if this situation drags out any longer (which she senses it will), she’ll need something to protect her from the chill of winter. Or even any rain, should it come to that. She could always bother one of her companions to allow her to bunk in that scenario, but she isn’t exactly eager with the idea. 

Gale would keep her up with endless chatter. Shadowheart is still just a little too guarded to offer up her space, unless Aruna is on the edge of death, of course. Aruna has no good excuse when it comes to Wyll, but she certainly would have to sleep with one eye open should she try to bunk with Lae’zel. 

There was always Astarion. If he ever decided to stop avoiding her, that is.  

Aruna nearly cackles out loud as she glances up to the sky to see a few clouds gathering. Not quite threatening of a storm, but it certainly felt like a slap on her wrist from the Universe. A quiet reminder that all her theoreticals she was pondering over were very possible options. 

“What’s that?” Shadowheart suddenly stops dead in her tracks, surprisingly, as Aruna continues to carry on, “Up there?” 

It takes her a second, but Aruna quickly spots what Shadowheart is pointing out. 

The next few events all happen too suddenly to properly react. 

 Aruna’s eyes widen at the ball of flames, huddled just across the river they had been following, a tree serving as a bridge between them and the fiery being. A terrible, nauseating deja vu disorients her nearly immediately as she begins to make out a figure at the center of those flames.  The same sharp pains that haunted every new interaction with her fellow companions, a dizziness she’d only felt with Astarion spinning her world on its axis. 

Her vision nearly goes black as that cleaved half of her soul becomes apparent, awakening at the sight. An overly eager whisper of, we’ve been here before. We know this. We know her. 

The stench of sulfur is the only thing Aruna can make out as all her other senses fall victim to the deja vu. 

As if below water, she can just barely make out Wyll: “Advocatus diaboli.” 

She knows what’s about to happen. She can hear the venom in his voice, and she knows she has to act fast. 

But Aruna’s actions are not her own. She doesn’t tell her feet to fly forward, attempting to catch up with Wyll as he barrels across the trunk-made-bridge. She doesn’t instruct her hand to shoot out, fingers narrowly missing the fabric of Wyll’s shirt and grasping at air as she gasps out, “Wyll, no!” 

And she certainly doesn’t mean to lose her footing on that trunk, soles of her boots slipping, arms flailing for balance now rather than to stop Wyll from approaching the mass of fire. 

Not even Gale and Shadowheart’s hands reaching for her biceps could save her from the rushing water waiting below.

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#ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the moon will sing #we start the chapter with her drowning metaphorically and end it with her drowning literally #how fitting

[lolahauri]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Does He Fuck You Better Than Me?

Ship: Bree Van De Kamp/Reader

Type: Smut, Semi-Implied F/F, Gender Neutral Reader, One-Shot.

Contains: Cheating, Vaginal Fingering, Oral, Nipple Play, Dirty Talk, Squirting, Implied Toxic Relationship, Some Plot, Bottom!Bree.

Words: 1,022

Requested?: Not Really.

"You cheated on rex?"

"Of course not! What do you take me for? ... I cheated on Orson."

~

You never got tired of seeing Bree sprawled across your bed, body fully on display, looking good enough to eat. The way her silky copper hair lied across your pillows alone was a sight to behold, and right now, she was looking exceptionally divine.

She was wearing your favorite lingerie tonight, a lacy blush set, with matching lipstick to really make it pop. You almost wished you didn't have to rip it off of her right now.

~

Bree pulled away from your heated kiss, a gasp slipping past her lips as you rushed to remove her bra, being more clumsy and rough than usual. You weren't trying to be so aggressive today, but you couldn't help it right now, you were just so stressed out.

"My, what's gotten into you today?" you could tell from her tone she was equally aroused and confused.

Ignoring her question for now, you managed to pull the clothing from her and toss it to the floor, leaving her breasts fully out on display. You briefly scanned her face, looking for any hint of resistance. And when you didn't see it, you ducked your head down and got to work.

She let out a loud and sudden moan, arching her back from the sensation. Your tongue was sucking and licking circles around one nipple, pinching and rubbing the other between your fingers. It didn't take much to get her going tonight, looks like you aren't the only one who's a little pent up and needy right now.

"Y/N... You didn't answer my question." her words were being broken up with small gasps "Is... something the matter?"

You lifted your gaze to lock eyes with her, "I think you know what's wrong."

Before she could speak again, you brought her into a rough kiss, moving your hands down her sides and fiddling with the straps of her underwear. She lifted her hips up a bit, allowing you to pull them down in one swift motion.

Bree slowly pulled back from the kiss, speaking up as you trailed your lips down her body. "I'm being serious you know, tell me what's going on tonight."

You stopped your movements, face hovering just above her navel as you sighed and looked back up. "Well, it's not exactly easy seeing that man have his hands all over you, you know?" wanting to stop this conversation from turning into another argument, you kept making your way down south, exploring her lower body with your hands.

"Oh, this again?" you rolled your eyes as she spoke "Y/N, we've talked about this-" she cut herself off with a small moan when you kissed the top of her pussy "He's- he's my husband... you knew that and you agreed to this anyways. There's really no reason to be upset."

You simply hummed in response, licking and biting her inner thighs, watching the way she jumps a little bit each time. The thought of Orson doing this to her made your stomach turn, why is she even with him? She has you now, she should just realize what she really needs is right in front of her and leave his sorry-ass behind.

"Right..." you finally spoke up before licking a strip up her pussy, flicking your tongue over her clit. You wrapped your legs under her thighs, reaching up and gripping her hips tightly to hold her in place.

Her breathing was heavy as you swiped over her bud a few more times, but she could tell you were still annoyed. "Don't be like this. You know a relationship like ours could never work long-term, right? Let's just... have our fun and forget about all this relationship nonsense, okay?"

Ouch, that stung a little.

You brought your hand down and ran a digit over her folds when she finished her little monologue, slowly pushing your middle finger inside, dragging it in and out. Her back arched a bit off the bed, she was so wet already.

"Does he fuck you better than me?" you smirked to yourself as you added your ring finger into her hole, picking up the pace with your thrusting and sucking her clit harshly.

"Huh?" she lifted her head off the pillows a bit, shocked by your question. But her words were failing her as you continued to suck her pussy. Any attempt at speaking turned to moans and incoherent babbles.

You detached your lips from her and curved your fingers upwards, hitting her sweet spot with every insert. "Come on, tell me. Is that what it is? Is that why you stay with him?"

You laughed under your breathe at her failed attempt to respond, flicking your tongue over her clit a few more times. "Does he make you feel this good?"

Her moans increased the more you went on, you could tell she was getting close. Her body was squirming under your touch, silently begging for more. "Use your words, Bree."

She huffed in response, she both loved and hated that condescending tone you used in moments like this. You didn't let up though, your movements slowed drastically as you waited for her to say something, grinning the entire time.

Bree sighed, "No..." she barely got out, still fidgeting and moaning like crazy.

"No... what?" you teased again, sliding your tongue ever-so-slowly between her folds as you kept dragging your fingers out at an agonizing pace.

"No, he... doesn't touch me better than you do."

Chuckling at her weak voice, you decided that was good enough. "That's right."

Without any warning, your movements ramped up, fucking her hard with two fingers and swirling your tongue around her clit. She was gasping for breath under you and closing her thighs around your head.

After a few moments longer, she let a few particularly loud moans out before coating your face and hands in her orgasm. You let her come down from her high, removing your fingers and sucking the clear liquid clean off.

Her chest was still heaving as you sat up, reaching for a towel and wiping down your face.

Maybe you should have jealous, angry sex more often?

#bree van de kamp #x reader #smut #desperate housewives #bree van de kamp x reader

[rukkiya]

only in your arms

(itto x reader)

trigger warning: sexual assault/ harassment

_________________

Days off for the gang were pretty rare but Itto had decided it was best to grant the whole gang a day off as he claimed it was “well deserved” for how much good work they’ve been doing. That and he just wanted to spend some more time with you is all, so he took it upon himself to plan a nice peaceful lunch date with you and the rest of the day to be spent doing whatever the heck you two wanted to do.

But of course, things can never go as planned, considering who he is and your affiliation with him, a peaceful day was something that was very rare for both of you. The infamous oni Arattaki Itto was your boyfriend being with him brought you so much joy. He was more than you could’ve asked for and you were more than happy to have him in your life. But, the people of inazuma were not too fond of him, they were always out for his neck for absolutely no reason, always attacking his members or Itto himself but he always brushed it off not really caring of what others think of him at all different from you in that aspect and you admire that about him. He always held his head up high and you felt proud that he was your leader despite what others say. You know how truly kind and caring he really is.

You had arrived at Uyuu restaurant a bit earlier than Itto himself as he had a few things to take care of before he arrived. You sat on your usual spot in the corner of the restaurant happily awaiting for his arrival to finally spend some time with him. Your eyes were skimming the menu to kill time though you knew exactly you were going to order when you felt someone bump into your side. You furrow your brows and look up at the random guy who stumbled as he leaned his arm on the bar beside him. The restaurant was pretty empty at this time of day so you were confused as to why he was at the secluded corner you chose, there were more than enough seats elsewhere as the restaurant was pretty dead at the moment.

You only gave an awkward smile and turned your attention back to the menu in front of you, not really wanting to get involved with him as he reeked of booze. “Ah so it is you.” The smell of alcohol hits your nose as he leans down a bit to whisper in your ear making your face slightly scrunch up as you slightly move back.

“Ah, sorry sir but I think you have the wrong person.” You only laugh it off, though the way he kept leaning in was making you uncomfortable. You didn’t want to cause a fuss with him knowing how alcohol can make people a bit more aggressive. You turn your attention back to the menu once again hoping he’d just walk away and get on with his day.

“The wrong person?” He laughed, you sigh as you turn to face him again only to see him eye you up and down making you uncomfortably shift in your seat. “No sweetheart, I think I have the right person. Now don’t try to act all shy.” He only inched closer. You had to swallow the bile that rose in your throat, the man smell of booze making you nauseous alone. You only chuckled and scooted even further away, trying your absolute best to be as polite as possible.

“Haha, ok buddy I think you’ve had just a tad bit too much to drink already. I don’t know you sorry.” You laugh it off, body slowly shrinking into itself to get away from his body that was slowly leaning in closer.

“Ah, how about I buy you a drink to sober you right up! The tea here should do the trick!” You think of an excuse to get away from him for a bit, just to buy some time until Itto arrives.

The man only grabbed your arm as you turned away, holding it down on the table next to you as he placed his other hand on your thigh right were the patch of your exposed skin was showing, pushing your leg down making sure you couldn’t lift your leg off.

“Hey-“

“Nonono come on,” He shushed you, shaking his head as he hovered over you, you leaned your face as far back as possible, he was way too close for comfort now. “Don’t play so hard to get now, I know exactly who you are too. Your from that dumb gang, you know I’m more better than that dumb boss of yours. Is he really your boyfriend? That dumbass out of everyone? I’m better! Way better and I can show you. Now come with me already. I'm getting tired of this game.” He hiccups, giving your thigh a squeeze. You felt your skin crawl, it felt disgusting, gross. Physical contact was something you weren’t too fond of and having a random stranger feel you up was definitely making it harder to see any enjoyment in this.

“I- I’m not interested. Now please I don’t want to make a scene but I need you to stop touching me.” You move your hand to pry his hand on your thigh off but he only tightens his grip more making you wince. Your patience was running thin.

“Also please refrain any bad mouthing of my leader, and no thanks to your offer, I’m good. Besides itto is sure as hell more of a man than you’ll ever be, now for the last time let me go.” You state firmly, glaring at him now as this was making you more nervous and uncomfortable as time went on.

You glanced around, no workers were near you at the moment and you felt relived that no one was seeing this but you felt dread at the same time, you needed to get away from this man as soon as possible.

“You have a bad mouth on you, someone needs to teach you a lesson.” He smirked, his now free hand resting on your waist as you threw his other hand away from you, he only pulled you in closer. Your arms thrashed as you tried to pull your arm away and push him by his chest, he was scaring you now, making it a bit hard to breathe. He was squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise and your eyes started to burn. You felt hopeless against him.

“Stop being such a tease now would you? You think it’s cute but I can see you throwing yourself at me.” He chuckled, his thumbs rubbing small circles on your waist as you squirmed in his hold, you squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t look at him, you felt disgusting and ashamed. “Awe are you closing your eyes now? Finally giving in? I had no idea Itto’s partner would give up this easily,” He chuckled, breath hitting your neck making you jolt. “Well I’ve always heard rumors about you and how easy you are so this is no surprise.” He whispered, taking in a deep breath as he laid his head on your shoulder. Your arms started shaking, tears were now freely running down your face as he leaned all his body weight on your frame.

You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, too scared to do so as you felt his hands wander to your back, the place where you hated being touched the most. “Please stop this, I don’t want to use force.” You tried to knee him but his hand only held your thigh down, giving it another squeeze as you let out a painful groan as your thrashes became more aggressive.“Let me go, LET ME-“

Before you could finish your pleas you felt his hands get ripped off your body. For a second you thought your mind was playing games on you, making you think it’s all over when it wasn’t, you hesitantly pried your eyes open and saw he wasn’t anywhere near you.

He was no longer standing next to your seat. No, now he was being held in the air, his hands were no longer on your body as they were now wrapped around a pair of arms that held him up. The one holding him up was none other than your boyfriend, Itto. Not your usual cheery happy go lucky boyfriend no, in front of you stood someone who was terrifying if anyone dared mess with his close loved ones, you being at the top.

Itto was so happy to have lunch with you today, to finally have you all to himself, thinking nothing could waver his mood, not even that evil Kujou Sara. He always has a cool temper, never letting himself get too angry by what others may say or think about him as he brushes any bad rumor of him off. But the second his eyes landed on the scumbag who dared to lay his hands on someone who wasn’t his, Ittos vision went red. He wasn’t one to get angry often, let alone lose his temper, but the way you had your eyes screwed shut and your shoulders were trembling as the sick freak ran his hands on your waist even after hearing your pleads to stop, Itto wanted nothing more than to break the guys arms. Those disgusting hands that dared to touch you, dared to make you uncomfortable, dared to make you cry.

Itto’s jaw was cleaned as he held the pathetic human up by the collar of his shirt, only tightening it more as the guy begged for forgiveness.

“Hey, bud please,” The man begged, his hands now wrapped around Itto’s wrist trying to get them off of him. “PLEASE LISTEN! I- I DIDN'T KNOW!” The guy trashed in Itto’s hold, getting more scared as seconds went by. You didn't blame the man for his panicked state though, Itto hadn’t even uttered a word which was the scariest part.

You could see the veins on his arms and neck bulging out, you can tell just how pissed he was just by the way his breathing was slightly ragged as he stared at the guy with the scariest look on his face.

“Itto,” Your voice came out so small he almost didn’t hear it. “Hey, I-it’s ok. I’m ok please put him down. We can go somewhere else for lunch.” You try to smile at him, hand coming up to his bicep to bring him back from his blind rage.

Ittos jaw unclenched upon feeling your fingers on his skin, you brought him back before things got ugly but he wanted to rip the guy who dared put you through this into pieces.

Itto dropped the guy from his hold, letting the scared pathetic man hit the floor as he dramatically gasped for air. Itto only kneeled down in front of the sick bastard and threateningly grasped his shoulder. “Don’t touch what’s mine. I don’t ever want to see your sick ass face around me again, got it bud? If my men see you around pulling shit like this on anyone else again oho oh buddy I promise you, you’ll regret it.” He shoved the man back harshly, standing back up to his full height, making the man in front of him bow while spewing out apologies.

Only did his features soften when he looked back down at you. You only looked down at the man that Itto scared shitless, you felt horrible. You managed to cause a scene which was the one thing you wanted. Now all eyes were on Itto as whispers about what went down were heard around you. Your head only hung low in shame. Of course now everyone will blame Itto for absolutely no reason, no one knows the full story and Itto’s going to have even more horrible rumors spread about him.

“Y/n.” Itto called out, voice coming out a bit harsher than he intended making your head snap up to look at him.

You looked so scared, your eyes were blown wide, just one look at you and he knew you were blaming yourself. The thought alone made Itto more pissed, not at you but at the sick piece of shit who darded to put you in such a state.

You felt bad for making Itto show a side of him that wasn’t really shown and in a public place at that. Many people didn’t trust him as it was and now this might make his rep worse, knowing how people spread rumors you don’t even want to hear what crazy things they will say about this incident.

Itto slowly walked up to you, hand coming up to your face but immediately stopping. Unsure if it was fine to touch you as of now because of the sick fuck who made you uncomfortable only a few moments ago. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, no that’s the last thing itto wants to do.

His eyes search yours and as he sees the tears that threaten to spill as you give him a small nod of approval he lets out a small sigh of relief. His hand gently wrapped around yours as he led you out of the restaurant. Not wanting anyone to be around you at the moment he knew you were uncomfortable and he needed to make sure you were ok, away from prying eyes and unwanted people trying to get in your business.

His touch was featherlight, almost nonexistent though his whole hand engulfed your smaller one. He only walked in front of you blocking anyones eyes that dared to look at you with his tall frame.

Only did you notice he stopped walking when you bumped into his back, realizing you were now pretty far from anyone as he took you back to the gang's hideout. He gently let your hand go, turning his body around to face you as you stared at his chest. Your breathing became slightly more ragged as it hit you, everything that just went down replaying in your head making your arms wrap around your body. You felt gross, you felt exposed and you felt dirty. You couldn’t hold back the small sob that escaped your lips as you still felt hands on you, you hated it.

Itto only looked down at you with sad eyes, his own burning with unshed tears as his fists were clenched at his sides. He was scared of making you uncomfortable, he wanted to hold you but he knows that’s probably the last thing you want at the moment. He feels so much anger, at himself for not getting there sooner, and at that sick freak who did this to you, at that guy who made you feel like this.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered out, his voice cracking a bit making your head shoot up to look at him, more tears coming out as you shook your head.

“N-no Itto, please don’t be. Y-you saved me, don't apologize please.” You hiccup as you wipe your tears. You felt horrible, you felt bad for making Itto make a scene at the restaurant.

Itto’s fists were shaking, he wanted to go back to teach the guy a lesson because he made you scared like this. He felt helpless; he felt like he didn’t do enough. “I’m so sorry,” Ittos head hung low as tears rescaled the corners of his eyes as he screwed them shut, the feeling of your hands cup both sides of his cheeks made him open his eyes, as he looked down at your gaze you looked so concerned as your eyebrows were drawn together.

He felt the slight tremble of your hands and more tears escaped. “No Itto it’s not your fault, please don’t blame yourself I was just there at the wrong time is all. But you did save me, no one would’ve stopped him if you didn’t show up the time you did, so thank you for coming before things escalated.” You assure him, nodding your head as his lips begin to wobble, more tears coming out as he puts his hands on yours.

“Please tell me if you don’t want me to touch you, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Itto whispers out, his hands hesitantly moving away from your hold on his face. He was afraid of making you feel worse, he knows you're not one for physical touch and he didn’t want to push it right now, not after what you’ve just been through.

You only shake your head, a small whimper escaping your lips as more tears spill out. He was so caring and gentle and understanding. Hearing how concerned he was made your heart feel full and you couldn’t be more thankful than to have him.

“Are you ok? He didn’t do anything t- he didn’t try anything else did he? Did he hurt you?” Itto questions, feeling bad for asking too much, he didn’t want to be too forward but he needed to make sure that nothing else happened besides what he saw which was already bad enough.

“I-I’m good now Itto, you're here, so I’m good now.” You take in a deep breath as you gently let go of his face. “You got there just in t-time, before things went too far. And thank you for asking before but your touch doesn’t make me scared or uncomfortable Itto. Please don’t be afraid to do so, but thank you for asking before.” You assure him, as you wipe the stray tears from your face.

“Can I please hold you?” He asks, though you told him it was ok to do so he still hesitated, just to make sure you were really fine with it before.

“Please.” You smile up at him as he immediately engulfs you in his arms, both arms wrapping protectively around your frame as he rests his chin on top of your head. “Tell me if it’s too much ok?” He asks, you only nod your head yes as your arms wrap around his torso, your body physically relaxing in his hold as his scent flooded your senses. You felt so much comfort and love in his embrace alone. “Your touch never makes me uncomfortable Itto I want you to know that, thank you for being gentle and understanding but your touch is everything I need, you make me feel so safe and I couldn’t ask for anything more. Thank you for saving me today.” You whisper into his chest, arms slightly tightening around his torso.

“Also, i'm sorry as well. You had to show a side of you that you don’t like showing, I know people are going to spread rumors but I’ll try my best to explain what really-“

“Who cares what anyone else says, you don’t need to explain anything to anyone either, I’m sure the people that witnessed what went down truly know who the one to blame here is, don’t worry about such things, besides I couldn’t care less about what anyone says all I need to know is how your feeling and doing, I just need to know your ok and you feel safe is all. So don’t blame yourself for something you didn’t do ok.” Itto assures you, arms wrapping around you a tad bit tighter. You only nod once again, head resting on his chest as he held you, calming you down with ease as his touch made you feel safe. Though physical touch was something you weren’t very fond of, Itto always made sure to ask your permission before anything even before the incident he's always been cautious as to not make you uncomfortable, his touch is something that you’ve grown to love, therefore he is the only one that you found comfort in when it comes to this kind of thing.

________________

authors note: hello hellooo!! hehehe im back again with an itto fic!! my first time writing for this sweet himbo lol I do hope I did him justice hehe I hope you are all doing well and staying safe and I do hope you all enjoy! <33

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact itto #arataki itto #genshin impact comfort #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact imagines

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

we need more vivi hurt/comfort in this fandom. #25 prompt (“I’m going to ask you how you are and I would like you to answer me honestly.”) from Artie to Vi if you're up for it? 💛🩵

(hurt/comfort dialogue prompts)

(oof god i'm rusty with these characters. let's get into it)

"I'm fine," she says, for what feels like the millionth time.

"Bullshit," is Arthur's response. "I'm down an arm, Vi, not my fucking eyes. And ho- honestly, I wouldn't- wouldn't even need th-those to tell right now." A hand lands on her shoulder, pushing her down further into the chair for emphasis. "One more try. I'm gonna ask you how you are, and it'd be nice if you c-could answer me honestly."

She shoves him off and stands up, already stalking away, ignoring the shooting pain all up through her side when she does. "God, fuck you. Fuck off. This is so stupid. I don't need,"

And then her vision whites out.

---

She blinks herself fuzzily awake into a world much softer than the one she was just in. She's in bed, she registers, or at least a pile of blankets. The pain is gone, but it also feels like everything else isn't quite online, either. There's a vague clicking noise from somewhere to her right.

"...you hovering all the time," she finishes her thought, although it comes out too mumbly to really deliver.

"j'you say sa- s-something?" The clicking noise stops, and an Arthur appears in her field of view. He looks worried. So, like normal.

"Yeah, uh, what? Why am I in bed?"

Now he just looks exasperated, throwing his hand up in annoyance, which is an improvement at least. "You passed out, stupid! And th-th-then when I freak out, out about it you're all like oh no never mind it's whatever fr- from the fucking floor. 'Why am I in bed.' Dumbass."

She only vaguely remembers that, not that she's going to admit it. Well, okay, question answered. She tries to get up, and Arthur immediately shoves her back into the pillow.

"Hey," she protests.

He makes his usual staccato ch-ch-ch disapproval noise, which she usually thinks is cute when it isn't directed at her. "Nope. I j-just got done bandaging you up, you are not getting up. You, you are st-staying right here."

She tries to wrestle him off, but he's annoyingly persistent and her angle's all off. "Okay, I'm patched up! So it's fine! Let me out!"

Whup, and her hand is flat against the bed, and Arthur's hanging out of his chair to get his arm over her chest and pin her down. "No."

Probably she could flip him. Maybe. He'd hit the wall behind her but not, like, hard. She thinks about it. It's really hard to lift even the non-pinned arm. Maybe she couldn't.

"Stop being stupid," she tells him instead, sounding normal and not at all desperate. "This is nothing."

"It is- v-very much- not nothing."

"This can't be enough to stop me. It isn't! I'm better than this!"

"Get up, th-then!" he challenges.

"I'm not a fucking tranq'd animal!"

He yells wordlessly at her, she shouts back, until they're both panting.

She shoves him again, no real force behind it this time. This is such a waste of fucking time, when he damn well knows they never have enough of it. "I need to get up. You need me out there, you know that."

"Go to hell."

Now tears are welling in her eyes. She's screaming at herself, internally, but for some stupid reason it's not translating into more strength. "We're wasting time, here. I'm ready to go, I can move, I can work. Let me up."

He flops over, into a less aggressive pin, but not actually a less effective one. Their faces are almost touching, which was maybe the idea. "One more try," he says, again.

His damn stubbornness is another thing that she likes more when it isn't being used on her. This is not a fight she is going to win.

"If I fall asleep," she says reluctantly, "and you're not there when I wake up, I'm going to fucking kill you."

That gets a laugh out of him. "M'not going anywhere, Vi."

#the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #answrs #swift writes #ask game #mystery skulls animated #oops. i'm using that tag i guess #uh. is this how i normally characterize these guys? i don't remember. this is how i write them now anyway! #lewis is their balancing force that keeps less than 50% of their dialogue from being variations on ''fuck you'' #which is also very fun coming from pla where everyone is sooo polite and formal all the time. and these two are. Not That. #uh. other commentary on this. i actually don't know where this is set #it could be just a swap scenario where vivi's the one with the memories but idk. i feel like it's somethin else. smthn less canon adjacent #ALSO vivi and arthur are both such like. ''please let me die for you'' level devoted to their friends. tho they express it v differently #and vivi's like. she's gotta be the strongest and bravest and most powerful because if ANYTHING HURTS THEM SHE WILL FULLY SNAP #...and then obviously implicitly here Something Happened to lewis. which exacerbated the problem #meanwhile arthur is like. no fighting. it's not the time for fighting now is the time to sit down and let me fix you. tell me what you need #-and i'll fucking rearrange reality to get it. #and then they scream at each other about it! normal friends who are normal.

[bunting27]

A humble request for more Joseph Woll fluff! I would especially enjoy- "i'm sad and i demand cuddles." because university is kicking my ass at the moment and I just need a hug ❤️

bunting27's 100 follower celly !

a/n: this took so long, i hope university is no longer kicking your ass but here's joe hugs regardless

prompts: "i'm sad and i demand cuddles."

wc: 0.5k

taglist: @nylwnder @kenanlotus0 @whourfeyrac

✏︎

she was typing at her desk, hunched over in a way that would no doubt have her back sore for the next week, while joseph laid in their bed and scrolled away on his phone.

he would look at her every few minutes, staring hard enough in hopes that she would feel it and turn to pay mind to him, but she didn’t, too dialed into whatever project she was working on to notice.

eventually, he started moving around, letting out quiet sighs just to distract her or grab her attention for a second.

she noticed, but didn’t move her head, only asked “why are you breathing so aggressively, joe?” he almost laughed to himself, but figured she would be more easily convinced to leave her schoolwork if he kept it serious.

“just thinking about the game,” she furrowed her eyebrows, turning to look at him for a split second with a look of concern before moving right back to her computer screen and continuing to type away.

“there are five players in front of you for a reason, baby. quit beating yourself up,” he groaned, leaning his head back and dropping his phone on his chest dramatically, earning a small glare from her.

"i'm sad and i demand cuddles." she grinned, fingers paused, hovering above the keys of her laptop as she thought about it.

“this project is due wednesday, i’m almost done, give me like, an hour. okay?” at that, he shot up from the spot on the bed and gave her an offended look, lips parted and forehead creasing adorably

“it’s friday, baby,” she giggled, hearing the sheets ruffle around as he stood, coming over to her at her chair and lifting her out of it by the waist.

“i had good momentum going, shoot me for wanting to get my last class over with” he shook his head, dropping her down onto the bed and laying on top of her, ensuring that she wouldn’t be able to move to go back to her work.

“well now that momentum is gone so i think you should just stay right here and play with my hair. that’s the most logical step, in my opinion,” his voice was muffled from the way he had tucked his face away into her neck. 

she rolled her eyes at him, ruffling his hair and then starting to scratch his scalp softly. he hummed at the feeling, smiling contently now that he was getting the attention he deserved.

“you know i’m going to completely forget about that assignment and put it off until friday at, like, three in the morning, right?” he shrugged against her, wrapping his arms around her waist so he had her in a bear hug.

“we all make sacrifices for the greater good,” she scoffed, covering up her laugh before giving him a soft kiss on the head.

#bunting27's 100 follower celly #joseph woll #john tavares #j woll #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #toronto maple leafs

[eatommo]

Damascus [j.b.b]{kd12}

Knife play/bondage/cock warming

CW: Knife play, pain kink, mentions of blood, marking, cock warming, bondage, riding. pet names, this is a little aggressive on the knife kink so please read at your own risk, he carves letters into her skin, unprotected sex, creampie

You would usually never complain about sitting on Bucky’s lap, or sitting on his dick entirely, but this? It was near painful.  Your shoulders ached, strung up above your head and tied to the beam above you, and you felt the tip of his knife dragging across the delicate skin of your nipples.

You fight against the instincts you’ve trained, even leaning into the blade slightly, feeling the bite of the cold metal as it splits your skin open just enough to sting.  

His hard cock was nestled inside of you, unmoving, almost begging for your weeping pussy to challenge his composure as you tremble and expose your neck for him as he trails his stubbled lips up the column of your throat.  He pauses hovering over your pulse, you swear you can feel his smirk as he shifts your weight in his lap, giving the muscles in your shoulders reprieve but nudging the head of his cock against your cervix. 

You fight a groan by chewing your lip, the noise gets caught by his teeth and pulled from your chest against your will as he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your jaw, sucking a bruise you’ll struggle to cover for weeks. 

“Is there something you want beautiful?”  You pull your lips between your teeth, knowing that if you beg and plead with him his smugness will just make him hold out longer.  But you also feel if you don’t start grinding against him you’ll combust.  

“Let me mark you up more princess.”  He switches the knife to the cool expertly crafted metal hand you’ve come to both fear and respect.  He starts at the center dragging the knife in a sweeping motion, it takes a few seconds of grimacing before you recognize the shape of a “J.” Cool air and pain pull your body taught around him, unwilling to break his talentful concentration as he carves two “Bs.” trailing down your spine.

You feel small droplets of blood line the new intials in your skin, tears forming in your eyes as you continue to practice great discipline and composure.  

When he’s finished the knife clatters to the ground, startling you from your compliant stupor, “So good for me baby, love that you give yourself to me, to just me, like this.” 

You nod and bury your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the rich musky metallic smell of his skin, and kissing the scared flesh connecting his shoulder to his arm.  “I love you,” the words feel like too much and not enough all at the same time, “I wouldn’t want you any other way, Buck.”

To your surprise, he breaks first.  Arms wrapping around you and lifting you up and down on his cock furiously.  You kiss along his jaw, eager for his mouth to meet yours as you both approach your teased climaxes, faster than you thought possible.

“Please, I’m so close.”  Your brows stitch together. 

“Yeah? Cum for me baby.” His human hand brushes against the cuts on your back, delicately tracing over them as he swears under his breath.  

Together, you fall to pieces, losing every ounce of control you’ve both worked so hard to possess.

#bucky barnes #my baby my bucky #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky smut #marvel #the winter soldier #sebastian stan #pow pow pow #kinktober 2022

[whorekneecentral]

So like we all know Kevins dad is also in racing. And you have worked for him for like a few years when Kevin was with Haas the first time around so you did not spend time with one another. But then Kevin was sacked and got to spend more time with his dad doing race weekends... and lets just say Kevin has some aggression he needs to get out of his system, and there you are. Tending to his needs because who are you to say no when he pays you attention...

okay idk if I read this wrong or if I'm just too sleepy to function but reader works with kev’s dad, right? cause how i’m gonna write it lmao -- it’s turned into a mechanic au bro idk go with it 

“You’re still here?” His voice startles you, you turn to find Kevin behind you. “Yeah,” you smile, “had some invoices to finish up.”

“It’s close to midnight, isn’t the mister waiting for you at home?” He laughs, walking into the little office attached to the garage. You shook your head, covering a yawn with your hand. “No mister, just me.” 

Kevin sits in the chair of the other side desk, across you. “Oh,” he smiles. 

He looked tired, worn out but as handsome as he had always been. He been had a rough few months, Haas dropped him and now he's been trying to figure out what he’s going to do next. In the meantime, he’s working with his dad and therefore, you by extension. 

You pick up a stack of papers to take over to the cupboard behind Kevin and as you were passing back, he grabs your hand. The feeling of the grease clings to your skin, a faint black smudge on your wrist. 

“I’m sure dad won’t mind if you go home, in fact I’m almost certain he doesn’t pay you enough to be here this late.” Kevin looks up at you from his spot. 

“Not much to go home too; plus I can come in late if I finish it now.” 

Kevin hums, pulling you to stand in front of his. You're backed up against the desk when he stands, now you're stuck between him and the desk. “You're very pretty,” he says, knuckles brushing under your chin. 

Your eyes find his, a slight smile on your face. “Thank you.” 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, lips hovering over yours. “Please,” you lean into him, closing the gap between the two of you. 

Kevin lifts you onto the desk, standing between your legs. It’s a mess, the two of you can’t move fast enough to get the clothes off of each other, his shirt unbuttoned halfway and your skirt bunched up over your hips as he undoes his pants. 

He pulls you to the edge of the desk, your legs wrapping around his hips when he pushes into you and you fall back flat against the desk. Kevin’s hips dig into you, the pace shook the desk and the piles of papers scattered across the floor. 

Kevin’s hand slides up your body, wrapping around your neck; “you have no idea how long I wanted to do this,” he says, his other hand on your hip, nails digging into you. 

Your own hand wrapping around his wrist. “You have no idea how long I wanted you to do this.” 

#kevin magnussen #kevin magnussen smut

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

Battle of the Bands — Chapter 14

chpt 1 / chpt 2 / chpt 3 / chpt 4 / chpt 5 / chpt 6 / chpt 7 / chpt 8 / chpt 9 / chpt 10 / chpt 11 / chpt 12 / chpt 13 / chpt 14

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Warnings: reader and Eddie had foreplay in the other chapter, naked Eddie, height difference, protected p in v, kinda realistic sex, reader is a virgin, little aggressive Eddie but not much, maybe not the best smut I've written but that's okay, kinda proofread

Word count: 2k

———

"We'll start like this," Eddie tells you, having joined you in full nudity.

He hovers over you, your thighs open so the metalhead can fit between them. He's placed one of his thicker pillows under your hips so you're lifted up a bit higher for him. You're height difference very apparent in this position. You watch as Eddie leans over you, digging around in the drawer of the nightstand next to his bed. He pulls out a blue plastic square. Settling back down, he tears the top of the square off and pulls out a lubricated condom and slides it down his thick shaft. He looks big to you and Eddie sees that on your face.

Eddie leans to fully hover over you, the guitar pick on his necklace grazing the valley between your breasts. He holds his cock in his hand, gently pressing it against your entrance.

"Tell me if anything feels bad or weird," Eddie tells you. "We'll go at your pace. And you tell me when it starts to hurt and I'll stop until you're ready for me to move again, 'k?"

You nod, but that's not enough.

"I need you to tell me that that's okay," He presses gently.

"Okay," You tell him, looking between his eyes.

You feel nervous until Eddie leans down and kisses you. You wrap your arms around his abdomen, under his arms. In your relaxed state, Eddie presses his hips forward, the head of his dick pressing against you before it catches your entrance and pops inside. It hurts, stings even, and you pull away from Eddie with a yelp.

"Shit- I'm sorry," Eddie's pressing frantic kisses against your cheek. "I'm sorry. I'll stay here until it stops hurting."

You nod, eyes closed and eyebrows scrunched. You let out a shaky breath, trying to remember to breathe. Your hands grip onto his side, but slowly you relax.

"Okay," You breathe out, opening your eyes and looking up at Eddie.

Eddie presses forward again, stopping when you tell him to. He's patient, making no movements until you're ready. Sooner than later, he's bottomed out inside you. He's shaky and you're so warm, and you smell so nice. It's gotten very hard to keep still while you get used to his thickness and the metalhead can't help but rut against you, trying his best to keep his composure.

"You can move now," You tell Eddie, catching him off guard and pulling him away from the headspace he's slowly sunk into. "Slow please."

"Anything for you, yeah," Eddie breathes out.

He pulls out about halfway before pushing back in slowly. It's slow and he sets a nice rhythm. He listens to your whines below him, and relishes in the way your short nails fight for leverage along his back and sides. It's obvious this is your first time, everything new and sensitive. Eddie speeds up slowly, settling into a comfortable pace for the both of you, and your whines and moans have picked up in volume.

You feel squished below him, but it's everything you needed to help keep you grounded. Your eyes are barely open and Eddie's face is beside yours, his huffs against your ear adding to your wetness. And when Eddie adjusted his hips, you squeal as he hits a spot inside you. It seems to spur him on and he speeds up and goes just a slight bit harder. And it's also as if something took control of your body because before you realize it, you're biting Eddie's neck, the junction of where his neck and shoulder meet. It's not hard, but hard enough.

"Oh my- fuck," Eddie moans.

He's shaky now, slamming against your hips. He's still gentle, moving a hand to guard your head from the wall as the force from his thrusts move you upwards.

Suddenly Eddie pulls himself from you. And he's looking at you, a fire in his eyes.

"Turn around," Eddie orders, not harshly but it's obvious you've let something inside him loose.

"Yes-yes sir," You respond, no joking tone this time.

You turn and Eddie places his hands on you, lifting you so you we're on your hands and knees on the bed. He nudges your legs apart and fits himself between them. There's a gentle hand on your lower back pushing that part of your back down.

"Like this," He holds you in place before placing himself back inside of you.

The metalhead sets a good and even pace, letting you get used to this new position. And you're gripping on his blankets and outright moaning this time, his cock brushing and pressing against spots inside you that you didn't even know existed. The overstimulation of new sensations overwhelms you to the point that your arms start to shake and you're forced to lay your upper body against the bed. And almost as if on queue, Eddie speeds up, skin on skin sounding around the room. He's letting out breathy moans and grunts.

"Arms," Eddie speaks. "Put-put your arms behind your back."

With shaky limbs, you do as your told and whine out when Eddie takes both your wrists in one of his hands and presses them into the middle of your back, effectively pining you to his bed. His free hand grasps onto your hip, squeezing at the fat there.

"Good girl," Eddie growls out.

You can't see him at your angle and he's glad, looking effectively fucked out right now. His hair is frizzy and airy, bouncing around with his movements. His mouth is agape and letting out breathy moans and, at this point, growls. There's a light sheen of sweat across his body, his cheeks and chest flushed with a pink that's bordering on red. Because of the heat engulfing his body, the veins on his forearms and hands were practically bulging from his skin. Eddie was almost afraid that one might pop from the stress of how hard he's gripping your squishy hip.

Slowly, Eddie's pace builds, as well as the grip that he has on you. A familiar tightness building in his lower abdomen. He's aware that he's going fast and hard, your moans loud enough that a small voice in the back of his head is worried that his neighbors can hear, but he can honestly care less.

"I'm gonna-" Eddie's getting choked up the closer his end gets. "I'm close. I'm gonna -fuck-"

You cut him off with a breathy whine, "Inside. Cum inside me please!"

"Oh sweetheart," Eddie moans. "Care-careful. Ohh, you feel so good."

And with a couple hard thrusts against your hips, Eddie cums. He's full on moaning now, the loudest he's been this whole time, swears mixed in with his noises.

Slowly he comes down from his high, rutting against your hips as aftershocks course through his body. The metalhead takes a few deep breaths before slowly pulling out. You settle against the bed on your stomach, shaky and trying to catch your breath.

Eddie shuffles around and he takes off and ties the condom's open end before throwing them into his trash can in the corner of his room. You watch as he puts on his pair of underwear that he wore that day and then he makes his way towards you, a smile on his face.

"Okay sweetheart," Eddie says. "Let's sit up so you can catch your breath and I'll get you a t-shirt and some water, yeah?"

You nod, letting Eddie help you up so you can sit at the edge of his bed. You let him pick out a large Metallica shirt from his closet and put it on you, as well as your panties that he's snatched up from the floor. And then watch as he leaves the room. You listen as his steps fade away, then the kitchen sink running, then his steps get louder, and he's back in his room again. After closing the bedroom door, the metalhead makes his way toward you and hands you the water.

You drink the water, realizing how parched you were. You jump when you feel a hand against your back, the feeling tearing you away from your drinking water trance.

"Sorry," Eddie apologized. "You okay? Was that okay?"

You swallow the water in your mouth and answer, "Yeah. Yeah, it was good. It was a good first time, thank you."

"You're welcome," Eddie smiles. He pauses and it looks like he wants to say something else. Not knowing what's on his mind, you offer the rest of the water.

Eddie takes it, nodding a thanks and drinking the rest of what remained in the glass. After he finished it, he sets the glass on his nightstand and stands.

"Wanna get comfy? I'm gonna turn the lamp off so we can go to bed," Eddie told you.

"Yeah, sure!" You got comfy under his blankets and situated the blankets so Eddie would have enough when he came to bed.

Eddie turns the light off and makes his way towards you. The yellow streetlights of the trailer park illuminate the bedroom, drawing lines on Eddie's bedroom walls from his blinds. Eddie gets under the covers beside you and lays on his back, the arm closest to you extended out.

"C'mere!" He offers, gesturing towards himself.

You do, and get yourself settled with your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his. Being this close allows you to hear his heartbeat and it slowly lulls you to sleep the longer you stay there.

Eddie's voice breaks you from half-sleepiness, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," You answer, pressing yourself closer to his warm body. "Did you?"

"Absolutely," Eddie answers and you can hear the smile in his voice. "It was great, the best even."

You hum, drifting off again.

"Goodnight y/n."

"Goodnight Eddie."

You don't even realize you feel asleep until the early hours of the morning when Eddie moves, detaching himself from your back. Apparently, you'd moved sometime in the night, maybe even a few times. But that doesn't matter now that your back is getting colder and colder, so you turn over and see Eddie putting on some sweatpants and a shirt.

"Where are you going?" Your voice soft and a little scratchy with sleep.

Eddie turns, caught like a deer in headlights, but he softens at your sleepy state with the blankets caught up around your waist.

"I'm gonna go feed the cats, wanna come?" Eddie offers, slipping on some long white socks.

"Sure," You nod, slowly sitting up as you try to pry the grasps of the blanket from your waist. Your socks from the night before are beside the bed and you put them on.

When you look up Eddie's offering you a pair of black sweats that were laying around in his room somewhere. You go to grab them but he takes them away and gestures for you to stand. You do, and he puts the sweatpants on for you, patting your hip before he turns to leave the room.

In the kitchen, he grabs three cat bowls from beside the sink. He fills one with water from the sink and the two others with cat food from the bag that sits on the kitchen counter. Eddie mutters a small "c'mon" when he heads for the front door.

You both step outside and you watch as a small black cat and four kittens race from across the gravel street. They mill around Eddie's feet as he sets the three bowls down. The cats start eating right away.

You step back when he does, joining him on the trailer's steps.

"I call the black one "Mama" since she's the mom," Eddie gestures to the black cat. "And those are her kittens."

You watch as the cats scrounge down the food before slowly making their way towards the water. The kittens are tiny, maybe barely a month old. The black cat, Mama, sits back when she's done, watching over her kittens.

Eddie tosses a rather round rock towards the kittens and they barrel after it, tripping over themselves and their siblings. They bat the rock around all over the dirt in front of Eddie's yard.

Too caught up in the kitten, you jump when something small and cold touches you. You look over and see a larger orange cat beside you, it's nose outstretched towards your arm.

"That's Murphy," Eddie tells you. "He's a little less feral than Mama, I think that's cause Max can get him inside, when he wants to of course."

You nod, offering your hand for Murphy to inspect. And it seems you pass the inspection as Murphy bonks your hand for a quick rub before making his way over to Mama, where he almost knocks her over with how hard he rubs against her.

You bring your attention back to all six cats, but you feel a pair of eyes watching you. You look over and see Eddie gazing at you, a peculiar look in his eyes.

"What?" You ask, looking between his eyes as your cheeks grow warm.

"Do you," He pauses before continuing. "Do you wanna be my girlfriend? It's just- I really like you a lot and you're very nice and sweet, and very pretty. And I understand if-"

You interrupt him, "Yes, Eddie, I would love to be your girlfriend."

You smile and it seems that whatever was previously burdening Eddie has lifted from his shoulders. He pulls you close by an arm wrapped around your shoulders and kisses the side of your head. He hums warmly when you settle into his side.

"You know, I like you," You tell him, looking up at his face.

"Well I like like you," Eddie argues, happy with having the upper hand. "Do you like like me?"

"Yeah, I like like you," You answer.

Eddie leans down for a kiss and you kiss him back, both of you smiling against each other's lips.

———

This is the last chapter for this series! I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I liked writing it. I don't have another series planned at the moment, but I do have other works of Eddie listed on my masterlist! Thank you guys so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this little series! Have a good day!!

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taglist: @calizmor

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson smut