#i could do an entire ramble on that being one of ( the many reasons ) that spider-man is one of my favorite super heroes of all time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

devilfic · 7 months

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❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #andrew garfield #spider-man #marvel #mjwrites #tasm

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satuguro · 1 year

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⠀⠀ ⠀ཾ ༚ 20/20 VISION

lalala! ethan landry x okokok! reader

#SYNOPSIS— based off of see you again by tyler the creater & kali uchis; you have no gag reflex, ethan tells a sex joke, and ethan takes a leap of faith.

#CONTAINS— best friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealousy, emetophobia, fluff

#AUTHORSNOTE— i've been wanting to write fluff lately so.. here you go xx

your unofficial designated spot in the carpenter sisters' apartment was their armchair in their living room.

you had a list of reasons why; one, it meant more space. you could stretch your legs, not worry about feeling someone's feet near your legs, and you could have your own blanket. all somewhat selfish reasons, but you loved your space. two, it had the perfect angle towards the t.v. that gave you the best spot in the living room to watch it without worrying about discomfort.

which was why you would've been mildly perturbed that someone was standing between you and the t.v. the only difference was that it wasn't just someone; it was someone who rambled too often, who had no sense of personal space while also being hyper aware of it, and who was a flurry of random facts (which wouldn't help him at all, unless someone held a gun to his head and told him to name and point at every country’s capital in the world).

"i've done it," ethan announced to you, his signature toothy smile seemingly more victorious as he looked down at where you were snuggled up on the couch. his well manicured nails (he asked you to do them once, and who were you to deny your best friend?) held his laptop, the screen facing his chest.

"aren't you supposed to be studying?" you asked him with a small tilt of your head, glancing at where the rest of the group was. finals week was beating everyone up, and you could briefly see mindy and chad chugging a redbull at the same time while tara timed them, before you turned back to your best friend.

"i gave up."

"you need to study."

"you gave up, too!" ethan looked down at the huge blanket that you hogged for yourself, not even thinking twice before he was climbing in next to you.

"ow— ethan!" you groaned, feeling him step on your leg.

"'scuse me!" ethan forced himself under the blanket you were snuggled under, making you share your beloved armchair with him before he sighed contentedly. "this is comfortable! maybe i should share this seat with you more often!" he said with a bright grin, making you sigh reluctantly. "i mean if you don't want to then it's fine too!" ethan added hurriedly with wide eyes.

"i was just saying that i wouldn't mind sharing with you because usually you sit alone— which i know you prefer, you've told me so many times and i get it! i really do! but i wouldn't mind sitting with you to keep you company because i really like being with you— around you. your presence. yeah, that." ethan rambled, finishing his string of words with a sheepish smile, cheeks flaring a bit red. "i'm sorry for rambling." he added quietly.

your usually tired eyes softened at that. he had always been insecure of how much he talked, you knew that better than anyone. "i've told you before, e, i don't mind. i like listening to you," you hummed, a downturned smile on your lips. "i like your presence too. and i guess i don't mind sharing my seat with you."

ethan's cheeks flared red at your casual words. you had a way of speaking so calmly, as though all your words were chosen well. in a way, he was a bit jealous.

"you had something to tell me, yeah?" you asked him softly, bringing him back on track.

"oh, right!" ethan showed you his laptop, setting it up on your legs. it was a notion list, color coordinated and everything, with an entire list of shows and movies you remember only briefly mentioning to him. "i made this list—"

"just now? instead of studying?"

"yes! so basically, it has a section where we can rate it after we watch it, and it's all organized by what we want to watch the most and what we need to finish!" ethan scrolled down the list, practically buzzing with excitement (and the cold brew he drank earlier).

"see? i know that i have a whole essay to do but i can do it later—" ethan said, waving it off with his hand. "because i know you said you would do it but i got impatient and did it instead! and look—" he showed you the wide variety of colors for every row. "they're color coordinated! and here's how i think the rating system should go—"

you had watched ethan talk the entire time he rambled, your usually tired and indifferent eyes softening when you listened to him speak. he talked fast— too fast for some people, but you liked that about him—but the way he rambled showed how passionate he was about different topics, because ethan only rambled when he cared.

it showed how much he appreciated what he was talking about. and ever time his cadence picked up and his words became jumbled and he began interrupting himself, you could see how ethan's brown eyes would shine with excitement. you could see how he began incorporating his hands to his words, how his lips tilted up when he talked.

you were so engrossed in ethan's explanation of the movie and t.v. show list that you failed to notice your friends staring at you from the dining table.

"they are disgustingly cute," tara said with a sigh.

"and disgustingly oblivious," mindy grumbled, clicking her pen over and over. "with how smart the both of them are, i'm surprised they haven't picked up on the clues." she turned to chad, who was sulking after losing the redbull chugging competition against her. "have you asked ethan about it yet? you're our in on this, chad!"

chad groaned as mindy nudged him with her shoulder. "i did. he didn't even respond. it's crazy how he can avoid conversations, you know."

you didn't like parties. not as much as your friends did— you were usually the designated driver or the friend that was always sober enough to take care of their friends, which you didn't mind. it was the socializing part that you minded.

you socialized okay, but you often just ended up listening to other people rather than talking. listening was more your style, but you were only a little awkward when it came to talking to complete (and possibly intoxicated) strangers at parties. you stuck with your group of friends and very rarely strayed away.

but ethan was the designated sober friend this time around, so maybe that would change.

three loud knocks to your dorm room made you go and open it, coming eye to eye with ethan. "you're walking me there?" you asked with a knowing smile, making the boy nod eagerly.

"yup! chad's walking with tara and mindy's going with anika, so that leaves you and me." ethan grinned at you teasingly. "why, you're getting tired of me already?"

"no," you hummed, closing your dorm room behind you as the both of you began to walk down the hall. "you're really not drinking tonight, huh?"

"nope!" ethan replied, popping the 'p'. "after i threw up all over sam that one time we drank at the apartment, and then i threw up on you right after, i told myself that i'd hold back on it."

you wrinkled your nose at the memory. "how responsible of you."

"i know, right?" ethan said with a proud smile. "but because i threw up on you that time, i give you full permission to throw up on me this time."

"i'm not gonna be that drunk."

that was a lie.

to say that your friends were shocked to see you become a more extraverted person after drinking would be an understatement. they were used to you observing the group and contributing to conversations with sarcastic comments, dry humor, and dark jokes that are often made much too soon. so to see you take a shot with tara and squeal happily with her (true friend solidarity; she was as drunk as you were) was completely out of the ordinary.

"i'm gonna go find chad!" tara yelled over the music, making you nod happily and watch her leave. adrenaline and excitement began to thrum through your body stronger, and your first thought was to share it with your favorite person. you began to walk around, searching for ethan, before you bumped into a chest.

"oh, shit! i'm so sorry," the guy laughed, making you send him an apologetic smile.

"it's okay!" you said, taking in his black hair and his brown eyes (that only reminded you of ethan). "i'm y/n!"

the guy smiled at you, offering his hand out. "jaden!" he seemed to be as intoxicated as you were, his steps wobbling slightly as you shook his hand. "do you, uh, wanna dance?"

"hey, where's y/n?" ethan asked tara as she passed him, making her look back towards the drinks table.

"she should just be around where the drinks are.." tara's voice trailed off when her eyes landed on you not too far away. your arms were around a guy's neck— was that jaden from her philosophy lecture? —as you swayed with him to the music. you seemed to be having a good time, the alcohol making you lighthearted as you sang with whatever song was playing through the speakers. "there she is!"

when ethan saw you, his heart fell. you looked so beautiful under the multicolored lights, your hair perfectly styled and your clothes fitting you perfectly as you danced with someone who wasn't him. your smile— your genuine one, ethan noted with his chest aching, the one that made your eyes crinkle and your smile lopsided —was pointed towards someone who wasn't him.

jealousy brewed in his chest along with the heartache, ethan's jaw clenching as he stared at you and the random guy. but he didn't step in. he didn't pull you away and declare his feelings for you, because at the end of the night, you were happy. content as you danced with someone who wasn't ethan at all.

chad came up next to tara, his arm over her shoulders as he steadied her. "hey man, where's y/n?" he asked, still fairly sober than everyone as he had only taken one shot.

"she's doing fine," ethan said, his voice monotone as he continued staring at you. it was unfair how beautiful you looked while you unknowingly broke his heart with every laugh and every flirtatious smile you sent towards your dance partner.

"what?" chad looked in the direction ethan was staring, his face falling when he saw you and jaden. easily connecting the dots, he looked at ethan empathetically. "fuck. dude, i'm sorry."

"it's okay, really," ethan said with a tight lipped smile. but he couldn't keep his eyes off of you and him, the fact that you looked so happy pulling at his chest because he wanted you to be happy with him. he wanted you to look at him the way you looked at that random stranger.

and finally, as you did a twirl into jaden’s arms, you made eye contact with ethan. oblivious to the way his jaw clenched and his eyes lost the spark they usually had, you gently pulled yourself out of jaden's arms. your steps were wobbly, and you nearly crashed into ethan's chest when you finally walked up to him. ethan's arms went to steady you easily.

"ethan, i feel like throwing up," you murmured, and ethan nodded in understanding, worry taking over his jealousy.

"okay, let's get you to the bathroom, okay?" ethan said softly, pulling you close to him as he guided you to the bathroom. he knocked on the door, thankful no one responded, before he opened it for you. he locked the door behind the both of you as you made a beeline for the toilet, grabbing the side of it as you readied yourself to throw up.

but nothing came out.

“go on!” ethan encouraged you, motioning to the toilet. but instead, you looked up at him warily.

“do i have to?”

“yes?” ethan gaped at you, motioning to the toilet again. “just go ahead! nothing to fear!”

“i don’t want to.”

“c’mon, y/n, why not?” ethan whined, making you groan as you stopped yourself from throwing up yet again.

“i have emetophobia, asshole,” you muttered, gently pushing his arm. “fear of throwing up? and,” you messily pushed some of your hair away from your face. “i have no gag reflex.”

“what the hell?” ethan crinkled his nose, blushing furiously as he looked at you in shock. you were honest, sure but never this honest. “i could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that.”

“are you sure?��

“what?” ethan said quickly, eyes wider than ever as he stared at you as you snorted in amusement. “you’re kidding.”

“maybe.”

“maybe?” he swallowed thickly, shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge. “oh god, you definitely have to throw up now.”

“watch this.” you took two of your fingers and stuffed them all the way to the back of your throat, smiling triumphantly as you showed ethan your lack of a gag reflex.

ethan could only watch in horror and exasperation. “y/n, i didn’t need proof. i already believed you.” he took some squares of toilet paper before offering it to you.

“i told you so,” you hummed, pulling your saliva covered finger out of your mouth and wiping them on the toilet paper. there was a beat of silence before ethan coughed, his cheeks and ears still burning red.

“can i make a joke?”

“of course you can.”

“it’s a, uh,” ethan cleared his throat, avoiding your intent gaze, “sex joke.”

“even better.” you situated yourself next to the toilet, still very much feeling like you were gonna hurl at any given moment.

ethan sat next to you, clearing his throat again. “i know one way we can test your gag reflex,” he stated, almost ashamed at his own joke.

you chuckled at that, the horrible joke making a you sway a bit with laughter before the sudden motion sickness got to you. without another word, you threw up into the toilet. all thanks to ethan’s horrible sex joke.

he immediately reached over to move some of your hair. you continued retching into the toilet, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "i hate drinking," you grumbled as you laid your forehead on your arm, eyes watery from throwing up. immediately as you got the words out, you threw up again.

"i know, i know.. but i know you're gonna end up drinking again," ethan teased softly, making your back heave as you managed a laugh, only for it to be interrupted by you throwing up again. "it's okay, let it all out." he couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips. “i can’t believe a sex joke made you throw up.”

and you almost laughed again if you didn’t throw up even more.

the sound of the party died into the background as ethan sat next to you on the ground. your head was laying on your arm, which was on the toilet seat. you were still intoxicated, and the world was still spinning, but you could see the obvious turmoil on ethan's face. you poked his arm. "what's wrong?"

"what?" ethan said, snapping out of his daze to send you a tight lipped smile. "nothing's wrong."

"liar."

"i'm not!"

"i know you better than that, e," you murmured, half lidded eyes staring at him. you had thrown up most of your alcohol, and while you were still inebriated, you felt a lot more clear headed than earlier. “what's wrong?"

ethan looked at you, eyes flashing with hurt as he pictured you again dancing with someone else. "do you really want to know?" he asked you, and you nodded. even while drunk, you opted to listen.

"you looked beautiful when you were dancing," ethan began, managing a soft smile, "i don't think i've ever seen you like that. it's not a bad thing or a good thing, but it's a new thing, y'know?" he sighed. "you dance really well, i'm surprised you haven't told me," a genuine smile appeared on his face when he heard you laugh quietly. "and your laugh.. i swear i would listen to it over whatever horrible music is playing right now."

ethan looked at you, taking in your obviously roughed up and intoxicated form. but somehow, even with slightly messy hair and most of your make-up rubbed off and with your breath smelling only a little bit like puke, you still looked beautiful. it was enough to make someone who talked as much as him to go quiet in awe.

"but when you laughed, and when you smiled,” ethan said slowly, taking in heavy breaths with every word. fear thrummed through his body, mingling with the nervousness as he twiddled with his fingers anxiously. to continue on would be to admit everything. to admit how he felt, the thoughts he had been having about you, everything. and to admit it to you would be to risk losing a friendship and one of the most important people in his life.

“.. you weren’t smiling or laughing at me. and i hated that.”

confusion spread over your face before realization hit your eyes. “oh.” and oh, it suddenly all made sense. why ethan was so bothered, why you were so willing to listen to one person speak for forever as long as it was them, why even as you danced with another, something was off because he wasn’t ethan. he wasn’t your best friend.

“you don’t have to say anything,” ethan mumbled, completely misinterpreting your realization for rejection. his eyes watered slightly as he avoided your gaze. “it’s been going on for a while now, and i get it if you don’t feel the same! i really do, it’s just,” he sighed shakily, “i don’t want to lose you—”

“ethan—”

“i was completely willing to just shut up about how i felt as long as that meant i could still have you in my life, y/n,” ethan said, looking into your eyes earnestly. “and i thought i could keep it under wraps but i have to tell you at least once because—”

“i love you.”

“what?” ethan blinked, making you smile, your head still resting on your arm.

“i love you, ethan.”

a toothy smile spread over his face at that, his shoulders relaxing as he searched your face for any doubt. “are you— are you sure?”

“i wouldn’t say it if i wasn’t,” you murmured softly as you raised your head, making ethan laugh in relief.

“holy shit— i love you too.” ethan said, leaning forward, only for you to stop him.

“e, i might throw up on you if you kiss me.”

“do you think i care?”

#scream 6 imagines #scream 6 smut #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #scream fanfic #scream 6 fanfic #ethan landry fanfiction #scream 6 imagine #scream vi imagine #scream vi smut #scream vi imagines

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tragedybunny · 8 months

Note

Fun Astarion idea:

Tav finds a wish spell (does the Deck of Many Things behind Astarion's back and gets insanely lucky), and offers to use it to cure his Vampirism.

He would probably be annoyed at them for risking that, at least.

This one ended up short and sweet anon, but I didn't want to belabor it because I think it would be gilding the lily.

As requested, Tav draws from the Deck Many Things, Astarion is less than thrilled.

Gambles and Wishes - F!Reader x Astarion

“Astarion,” you pound on the door to your home’s library until you thought it would break.

“I’m still not talking to you,” he shouts back, not even getting close to the door.

It was locked from the inside and you consider an unlocking spell for a moment but stop. The lock was a boundary, and you hated to cross his boundaries, he didn’t get to have any for so long. Instead you opt to groan in frustration. “Please, this isn’t the healthiest way to solve our problems.”

“Neither is lying, but that didn’t stop you,” he shoots back and you cringe because he’s technically right.

“It wasn’t lying so much as not telling. And see, you’re talking to me so why don’t we stop shouting through the door.” To be honest, it was starting to make you nervous, he’d never been angry at you for this long before. Maybe your good intentions had taken things too far. “Please Love, Starry Sky,” your voice shakes.

The noise of the lock opening causes your heart to leap, but you're not sure if it’s dread or elation, so you just stand there, arms crossed around yourself until the door opens. Astarion stares at you with watery red eyes, “is that really how you want this relationship to work?”

“No, you’re right, but the possible reward was too great to deny.” Why can’t he understand, you’d do anything for him?

“So was the risk, you pulled a card from the Deck of Many things. You know magic, you know what could’ve happened.” He’s not shouting anymore, it’s so much worse. He’s barely whispering the words, and the tears are finally starting to spill over. “And you didn’t even consult me, we’re supposed to be equals in this.”

So much for those boundaries you didn’t want to cross, the realization started to eat you up inside. Protecting him wasn’t a good excuse anymore. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I would risk anything for you and I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

Even amidst all the pain, the two of you find yourselves holding onto each other. “Sunlight, that’s because you always take risks for me. You need to worry more about yourself sometimes.” He sniffles into your shoulder, and you hope his tears are drying as you stroke his hair.

“I know, last one I promise. But I got what I wanted, one Wish spell, we can have the life we thought was impossible.” The life you wanted so badly to give him, the life he deserved.

Stepping back from you, he appraises you seriously. “Are you sure this is what you would use it on? You could have an Empire, become a Goddess. Not that you aren’t already, especially when it comes too- ” he smiles lasciviously.

“Astarion,” playfully you smack his shoulder, “behave yourself. And yes this is the only thing I could think of using it on. I couldn’t wish for anything more than you.”

“You’re still a silly girl who’s too nice to me.” New tears appear in his eyes you notice, but for an entirely different reason. “Well then I accept, on one condition of course.”

“And what is that?”

“You promise you’re stuck with me as long as we both live. I’m not used to being alive of course, I’m going to need someone to keep an eye on me for a long time. And let’s be honest, you’re the most qualified. I don’t think any of our friends would really be able to handle it.”

He’s rambling but you know it’s because he’s nervous, so you lean over and kiss him softly. “Deal. Now let’s make you an un-undead Love.”

#asks #anon asks #requests #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #x reader #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #my fanfic #my writing

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strangerstilinski · 9 months

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; stiles lets it slip that he hasn't had his first kiss yet and, as his friend, you're more than happy to remedy that.

warnings; no use of y/n, fluff, established friendship, some pretty intense kissing, one instance of reader being referred to as a girl

word count; +3.5k

a/n; no smut here, but i am currently planning a couple nsfw pieces to work on between bouts of writing my ongoing (long suffering) stiles fic.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! it would actually mean the world to me

“-And it was just.. So wet. Way, way too much spit, y’know? And there was entirely too much tongue on his part considering the fact that his hands, like, never even left his pockets-”

You’re not entirely sure how, nor at what point, the conversation devolved into a mostly one-sided and incredibly detailed analysis of Mark Hagan’s kissing technique, or lack thereof, but by the time your eyes fall to the boy sitting in the driver’s seat, you realize that you’ve been rambling for at least a full minute in the patchy darkness of the parked car.

“-And I’m not saying I wanted to be groped or anything but, I mean, it’s a little awkward when a guy just-”

You falter suddenly, when you notice the awkward slump in Stiles’ posture, and your words taper out without warning. He has one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped tightly on the back of the seat where he’d turned to face you when he first asked how your date had gone the night before. And- God. That had been minutes ago, now.

“Sorry,” You apologize immediately with a grimace, “Was that, like, way too much information? Sorry.”

“No, I, uh,” He releases the steering wheel and shakes out his hand as if only just realizing how tight his grip had truly been. Your eyes are embarrassingly distracted by the long line of his fingers as he continues, “I guess I just didn’t realize how many things you could do wrong, y’know? I assumed it’d be more straight forward than that. You lean in, press your lips together, kiss, done. Right?”

You laugh softly at his rushed response, “I mean, I guess. I’d like to think there’s a little more skill that goes into it than that.”

“And, uh, Mark..” Stiles has been seemingly overwhelmed with reasons to dislike the other boy since you’d announced your upcoming date the week before, and he nearly spits the name with disdain when he says it now. “No skill, huh? Not quite, uh.. Not up to your standards?” He’s fiddling with the straw from his long-finished milkshake as he speaks, eyes downcast and determinedly focussed on his fingers, “Considering the overabundance of tongue, the lack of groping, and the, uh.. All-around wetness-?”

Another small huff of laugher escapes you as you drop your own empty cup into the greasy paper bag the diner had stuffed your to-go order into a half hour before, your socked feet returning to the Jeep’s dashboard only a moment later.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You fight back a cringe at the mere memory of the drool that coated Mark’s chin when you’d finally decided you’d had enough and pulled away.

“What about you?”

His question catches you off guard and your brows furrow as you meet his gaze, “What about me?”

He twists and folds the straw of his drink with more vigor, nose crinkling before he elaborates, “What would you say your, uh.. Your skill level.. is?”

You pitch forward to grab one of the few remaining curly fries from the container perched by your feet on the dash, falling back into your seat and munching slowly as you genuinely ponder the question.

“I think I’m probably alright,” You shrug after a moment, “I mean, it’s hard to say, right? But I’ve never had any complaints. And considering Lydia is, like, the queen of complaining-”

You’re caught off guard by the entirely inhuman squawk of disbelief and surprise that escapes him. He’s scrambling in his seat with no real purpose before he slowly comes back to a standstill, now sitting just a few inches closer to the passenger side than he was before.

“Lydia? You.. You and Lydia have-?”

You shrug again as you wipe your greasy fingertips on the leg of your jeans, “Yeah, like, twice. Maybe three times?”

“Three-?”

“What about you?” You interrupt.

You tip your head against the backrest to look at him in the dim light of the parking lot as you await his response. The Jeep is barely getting hit with the residual light from the windows of the diner, but the bright neon sign on the roof of the building casts a pretty red hue over Stiles’ face. His mole-dotted skin is flushed with it, the only bits safe from the red-tinted glow are the shadows beneath his brows and the tiny divot in the tip of his nose that extends up from his cupid’s bow. You want to trace the darkness on his skin with the tip of your finger — with your lips.

You find yourself getting lost in just how gorgeous he is, not for the first time.

“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly.

“Skill level,” You elaborate with a grin, lifting one foot from the dash to poke your toes into his knee, “What about you? Are the girls positively swooning? Melting under your touch? ‘Oh, Stiles. You’re the best kisser on this side of the Rockies-’”

Your teasing is silenced when his hand comes out to cover your mouth, long fingers trapping the words beneath your lips. Your knee is squished awkwardly between you, but he’s so warm you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your own, and the scent of his body wash fills your nose now rather than the lingering smell of grease from your shared dinner. You can hardly focus on his words as the smell of teakwood and pine invades your senses.

“No one in their right mind would ever say something like that after being kissed,” He tells you, face pinched in a cringe, “Like, not even something remotely along those lines. Not even in those weird old-timey romance movies you make me w-”

You grab ahold of his fingers to pull his palm from your lips with a small giggle, “Oh, c’mon, the suspense is killing me! Are you a good kisser or not?” Your mind is reeling a bit as you think about it. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Stiles, to feel his lips on your own, his hands on you. “I feel like you probably are. Just the right about of enthusiasm but you’re also a total perfectionist so it’d-”

“I don’t know!”

His exclamation is entirely too loud for the confined space of the car, his voice ricocheting sharply off the metal shell of the vehicle and causing you both to flinch a little. Stiles looks as if he wishes he could stuff the words back into his mouth and try again. You’re simply looking him over with a more critical eye, searching for the reason for his recent outburst as if it might be written plainly on his face, like you might find big emboldened letters of explanation etched across his skin.

“What’d’you mean you don’t know?” You scoff in amusement, “Y’know what? Fine-” You shuffle closer as an idea pops into your head — a brilliant, glorious, heaven-sent idea. His fingertips are still trapped within the palm of your hand and your knee slips over the top of his thigh as you slide closer and move into the center seat, “C’mere. I’ll give you review-”

Your face edges closer and closer to his own until your noses bump and the delicate touch seems to zap Stiles into alertness, sending him jolting back as if he’s been electrocuted.

The sourness that erupts in your belly at his reaction isn’t wholly unexpected, but a small flicker of shame joins it and burns like acid in your chest.

“Well, shit..” You murmur with an awkward chuckle.

It’s difficult to bite back the nagging feeling of embarrassment that swirls through your veins in response to being shot down by your best friend — your best friend that you’ve desperately been wanting to kiss since middle school.

You swallow harshly before continuing with a self-deprecating laugh, “I didn’t realize the thought of kissing me was quite so.. Horrifying. My bad.. I.. I’m sorry. You don’t- I didn’t think and I just- Sorry.” The last bit comes out quieter, the sound of it buried beneath the sudden tightness in your throat.

You find yourself avoiding his eyes, but that only means that your gaze is drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck — and there’s that glow from the diner’s neon sign again. His skin is cast in that red hue, smooth expanses of scarlet broken up by the speckles of dark moles and beauty marks scattered here, there, everywhere. You can almost make out his jumping pulse beneath the hollow of his throat, the dark crimson shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly with each too-quick beat of his heart.

They’re all spots that you’ve only dreamt of having your lips touch.

On rainy days when he shakes his hair out like a dog with the sole purpose of hearing the way you squeal in surprise, the drops of water finding their way down his temple and filling you with the urge to kiss it away.

When you slip into daydreams from the desk behind him during class, your eyes stuck on the exposed curve of his shoulder where his shirt collar is stretched just a little too loose, your lips tingling with the all-too vivid phantom feeling of his skin beneath them.

Trapped in his embrace, his height just enough that your face is smushed into his collarbones, nose crushed against him and pulling in the woodsy scent of his cologne, your mouth pressed limply to the soft cotton over his chest but aching with the desire to pucker and leave behind a gentle peck.

“No! No, it’s not that!” Stiles denies immediately. He’s already reaching out to drag you closer again, hands curling into your waist the moment you attempt to slip backwards into a bubble of shame in the passenger seat. “Kissing you would be the opposite of horrifying! It would be, like, a dream come true or- Or-”

Your eyebrows creep up your forehead at that, the barely there curve of a nervous smile pulling at the corners of your lips as his words seem to tumble out faster, growing increasingly difficult to understand as he rambles in a way that you’re all-too familiar with.

“-Because if I was going to kiss anyone, I’d want it to be you, but if I do kiss you and I’m horrible at it and you’re, like, repulsed-”

You’re still trying to piece things together despite the jumbled bits you seem to have missed. Your lips part in astonishment and his fingers tighten where they’ve begun to anxiously dig into your hips as he continues.

“-What if I’m worse than Mark? What if.. What if I’m so bad that you kiss me once and then you never, ever want to kiss me again because I was so unbelievably-”

“Stiles!”

You cut him off, already scooting closer until your left thigh is practically in his lap. His words cut off, a sharp inhale tearing past his lips as your hands find his shoulders, your thumb dragging over the freckled skin of his neck. You can feel his pulse jumping wildly against the pad of your finger as you finally voice your question.

“Are you telling me you’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask the question as delicately as you can manage, but he still winces as an embarrassed flush colors his cheeks further.

“Not.. Not technically.” He admits quietly, big brown eyes still tinted beneath the crimson glow from outside the Jeep.

“Not technically?” You repeat slowly.

“I don’t know why I thought saying it like that would make it sound better,” He says weakly, “It didn’t. It was still just as mortifying. And so, so lame.”

Your heart flutters, cracks, and then ticks up in quick succession as your flooded with a wide array of conflicting emotions. You can’t quite believe what it is you’re hearing.

“You haven’t had your first kiss?” The words come out a bit more heartbroken than you intended.

Stiles looks horrified at the bluntness of your statement for a moment before he’s swallowing harshly, eyes dropping from your own for a fleeting second.

“No,” He says in a quiet voice, nearly a whisper as his eyes flick back up to yours, “But, um, if- If you’re still offering.. I mean-”

Your heart is positively hammering in your chest, so hard you worry he might be able to hear it, but then your thumb drags up and brushes over his own racing pulse again and his nerves seem to somehow calm yours. Your lean forward until the tip of your nose catches on the bridge of his again, eyes not leaving his as you move achingly slow, giving him time in case he decides to change his mind.

“You’re sure?” You ask softly, the whispered question little more than a breath of warm air against the bow of his upper lip.

“Uh huh.” He just manages the quiet sound of affirmation, a small nod of his head has your lips brushing lightly and the barely-there touch pulls a sharp breath of anticipation from him.

“Okay,” You say quietly, dragging one hand to the back of his neck so you can guide the angle of his head just a touch to one side.

His grip on your hips readjusts and tightens further, one of his clammy palms slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, and the warmth of skin on skin has you breathing out harshly in the sliver of space between your lips again. Your eyes flick slow between his, wide pools of scarlet-tinted whiskey watching you with rapt attention. Your mouth curves up with the hint of a smile, a soft breath of laughter falling into his parted lips as your fingers dig into the thick muscle of his neck.

“Close your eyes, weirdo.” You whisper fondly.

“Shit, fuck. Sorry, yeah. Eyes closed.” He rambles off quickly, eyes pinching shut immediately and hands squeezing your hips as if silently promising that he’s ready.

Endeared. You’re so fucking endeared your organs feel as if they’ve gone warm and syrupy beneath your skin.

Despite your admonishment of his eyes being open, you find yourself unable to pull your own away from watching every small tick in his features. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you brush your nose across his and when the tight pinch of his eyes slackens and he takes a small nervous breath of anticipation, you finally press your lips to his.

It starts with just a small peck as your brain whites out for just a second. His lips are soft and chapped and plush against your own. You linger for a brief moment before you’re separating just enough to slot your mouths back together a little better.

His lower lip finds itself between yours and he gravitates toward you when you make like you’re about to draw back a second time, his mouth blindly searching for yours. He applies more pressure as he seems to become more sure of himself, one of his hands sliding to the base of your spine to drag you closer.

Impressed, you guide the angle of his head to tip just a hair further, your lips parting to exhale a hot breath into the gap between his own. A small sound rumbles from his chest as he tries to replicate the heat of your kiss on the next meeting. His lips fall open just enough that his breath mingles with your own and your brain goes a little heady with it, thighs tensing as blood rushes in your ears and heat pools in your gut.

You draw back and you’re forced to tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place when he tries to chase your mouth again. His eyes crack open to meet your own when he finds himself unable to catch you in another kiss and his pupils are blown a little wide, black overtaking brown until only a small ring of rich chocolate remains. You’re sure you don’t look much better, with the way our chest is threatening to heave with excitement, your fingers trembling where they’re gripping onto the muscle of his shoulder and woven into his hair.

“That was.. That was good.” You tell him after a moment, voice embarrassingly shaky, “What.. What’d you think?”

“Good.” He returns just as weak, “Great. That- Mhm. Awesome.”

His eyes are on your lips again and he looks downright hungry, but then, so are you.

“You’re a natural,” You praise breathlessly, eyes flicking between his rapidly as your fingers unconsciously tighten in his hair, “I’d never guess that was your first kiss – It was.. You learn fast.”

“We- You should probably show me more,” He insists, already leaning back in until his forehead finds your own, “That way I won’t end up like Mark, y’know? With pretty girls complaining to their friends about how wet and gross and bad it-”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He blinks at you as his lips curve up at the corners, the tip of his nose catching against yours to shoot sparks down your spine when he replies, “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” Is all you manage to get out as a smile tugs at your own lips.

“You want to maybe show me how to use tongue without, being completely repulsive and, like, drowning you or whatever?”

“Mhm,” You agree easily through a breathless laugh. You can’t quite help the quick press of your lips to his and you feel the relieved exhale that falls from his nose and fans out in a warm puff against your face. “Just for the record, though-” You feel the need to elaborate, “There is a time and a place for wet. When things are really hot and heavy and you’re in the throes of passion or whatever — a little too much tongue is great. It can be really, really hot. But- Like I said, time and place.”

The information leaves Stiles looking mildly overwhelmed and severely aroused, but he’s nodding dutifully, “Uh huh. Got it. Noted. I’ll remember that.”

“Okay.”

His mouth is claiming yours again before the word is even fully out, the sound of it lost in your lips and what remains is smothered by your gasp of surprise. You let him control the pace for a moment before remembering that you’re supposed to be the one guiding him.

You bring one hand up to his face, thumb catching his chin so you can guide his jaw to drop open a bit further as your tongue teases against the inside of his lip. His groan meets your ears, the sound of it sending a shockwave through your body that you’re still reeling from as he repeats your action with truly startling ease. The warm wetness of his tongue has you feeling hot all over, and when it catches against the tip of your own before retreating, you nearly whimper in protest at the loss.

He effortlessly settles into the pattern of give and take, hot brushes of tongues broken up by soft pecks against slick lips. His fingertips dig into your skin like he’s afraid you might slip away into nothing if he doesn’t hold you tight enough and you find your own fingers scraping at his scalp in response.

You’re both making soft little noises between the quiet smack of lips, the leather seats creaking every time your weight shifts in an attempt to get closer.

The lack of oxygen has your head a little fuzzy at the edges when you finally pull back and each of your exhales mingle warmly in the small sliver of space between your mouths as you both fight to catch your breath.

“I, um. I don’t think you have to worry about your kissing technique.” You tell him breathlessly just to break the silence, “You’re all good. A, uh, a great kisser. Eleven out of ten.”

“Cool. Cool. That’s great, I, um-” He coughs quietly, nervously, as he leans back to put a bit more space between you, “Would you maybe want to do it again sometime?”

He’s looking at you with pretty brown eyes blown wide and bleeding earnestness. The hand around your back has fallen to your upper thigh, the grip of it tightening as if punctuating certain words as he speaks. It’s entirely possible that your brain sort-circuits, because a moment of silence passes before he’s barreling on.

“-because I, for one, would really like to do that again sometime. Maybe.. Maybe after a date? Or during a date — that part doesn’t really matter. I just really like you and I have pretty much since forever and now that I’ve kissed you-”

“You like me?” Is all you manage past the heavy thumping of your heart in your chest, your ears — Shit, you’re pretty sure you can feel every pump of it in each trembling twitch of your fingers.

“So much that’s borderline embarrassing, yeah.” He admits, throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.

A breath whooshes past your lips, filled with relief and surprise and elation.

“I like you too.” You say after a beat too long, “Holy shit. Stiles, are you kidding me? I’ve liked you since the fifth grade.”

“Really?” He looks mildly shocked.

A giddy laugh escapes you as you drag him forward again to bring your lips back together. The kiss is chaste, but filled with so much emotion it makes your head swim a bit.

“Damn,” Stiles mutters suddenly, the frustrated curse puffing out against your cheek, “Does that mean we could’ve been doing this the whole time? Like, years of kissing-?”

His words cut off when your lips find his once more and he gives in easily, his train of thought thoroughly derailed.

“I guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for then, Stilinski.. You up for the challenge?”

Stiles nods wildly and he’s pulling you back in before you can say anything else.

#stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles x y/n #stiles x reader #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles fluff #dylan o'brien fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf stiles #*#dylan o'brien imagine

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dizzybizz · 5 months

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hai here is a sketch dump with too many fandoms :) sorry about the ungodly amount of men here i have been going through it and by it i mean gay

ok wait i ran out of tags??? it wont let me tag them all😭😭😭 im gonna have to be sparing with them uhh i guess i will have to ramble under the cut then cus i like rambling in my tags but i cant with this one 😭

(ok im back from the ramble: it is way too long.... proceed forward if you want to see some guy just absolutely talk nonsense for entirely too long)

no cus i swear i have tried tagging more stuff than this before and never hit the limit but whatever

hello i really use this like a fkn blog huh

i just wanted to provide some thoughts on the harper and rosé one first bc its important to me 😌 cus i was thinking abt harper and how in my head and heart of hearts she would be the kid who thought you get pregnant from kissing and i dont think she ever really grew out of that belief. <- this ended up spawning the idea of harper being a sex-repulsed ace and i will die on this hill actually. fight me or die, you die either way actually nvm

this is just a buncha blorbos i dont know what to tell you really. sketch pages like these always end up so weird for me bc for some reason my brain always wants the characters in them to interact in some way. whether that be talking or just reacting to what the other is doing... its something i cant stop with, its so stupid and silly and i hate it and i love it. where else would i see kabru slowly losing his mind with how loud phoenix wright is in court????

I THOUGHT I HAD GOTTEN OFF THE RAILS WITH THAT BUT THEN THE NEXT PAGE HAPPENED. and all i could do was laugh and ask "what the fuck am i drawing??? HOW DID WE GET HERE? WHY IS THISTLE HERE WITH LEOPIKA HELP" LIKE that page started with the big leopika and then i was like "man i miss thistle lemme draw him real quick" but the curse struck and now hes being homophobic so </3

i rlly like how the nic(k) page turned out ... i just have a lot of nicks i like drawing idk.. the lil guy is an oc,,, one day his ref sheet will be finished and itll be awesome but not for now, sorry baby, no can do. im weirdly happy with how the hands turned out for all of them tho?? so thats a W

yotasuke, murai, nick (youll never know which one im referring to. .. jkjk its hoult i love the pose there ehehhe), nic and the entire last page r my favs. i like em all but those rlly get me yknow- the olly too ofc but ive already posted him, dont mind him being here, hes part of the set. AND OVER ALL IVE BEEN HAVING SO FUN WITH SHADING BLACK AND JUST LEAVING SPOTS BLANK ITS SO ?`????

WHY IS THIS SO LONG PLS DONT READ ALL THIS THIS IS STRAIGHT UP EMBARRASSING AGHSDFGSDHJSGD im all like "yeah i dont like talking about myself or whatever" but as soon as i get to my process or blorbos or smth the floodgates fucking break open, not even burst man.

also dont mind how i havent even acknowledged pingas twink pokemon counterpart. hes just here for shits and giggles i dont know the guy like at all, i watched a handful of eps of horizons and that was it RIP

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battydora · 1 year

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"DISOBEY"

masterlist | rules

CHARACTERS: hantengu clones, demon reader

CONTENT: nsfw, dubcon, noncon, minors dni!!, gn reader (afab), reader is upper 1, reader forces the clones apart and makes them sumbit to their pleasure, power dynamics, strong dominant/submissive dynamics, power abuse, threats, sexual frustration, graphic descriptions of blood and mutilation, fivesome, angry sex, stress relief sex, cunnilingus, breast play, bruises, hate sex, small plot, slight vouyerism, restrictions, teasing, praise/praise kink (a tiny bit), reader's a demon whose emotions are intense and usually overwhelming (specially anger), so any intense and/or positive emotions can counter the effects negative emotions have on them, sexual stimulation being the example today, reader is referred as "they", "ma'am", "mistress" & "my/our lady", barely proof read

A/N: hey demon slayer fandom how we feelin bout s3......... you know the drill, these fuckers are hot and i'm here to please the disgusting person i am. MINORS DNI!! I'M SERIOUS, I WILL BLOCK YOU.

DISCLAIMER: this is a dubcon/noncon fanfiction (the first one I ever made), please take in consideration I'm against non-consensual practices and I DO NOT promote them by any matters, I'm choosing this gender merely for the fact that hantengu such as the reader are demons and as we know so far, demons' interactions with eachother are ruthful and cruel, senseless in average human intercourse since they feel and act differently the way humans do, I could've done this any other way but I chose to stick to kimetsu no yaiba's logic. self-contradictory but just stick around with reader being upper one and gyutaro still being the sixth, i was lazy to make it sense.

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

it certainly was shocking news for the upper moons to find out the sixth was slayed by the demon slayer corps. otherwise there wouldn't be any other logical reason for the demon king to summon all of the, remaining, upper moons, in the infinity castle. including yourself, upper one.

akaza was asking about you but he didn't know you were already there, listening to all the rambling he and the rest of the upper moons were having seconds ago. however, you voice didn't make an appearance until the biwa lady made clear you were present from the very first second, akaza's eyes widening with awe and concern. gyokko remained in place silent and hantengu whimpering terrified at your mere presence, like he usually did. kokushibo looked up, you were in a building nearby, your demonic figure sitting upside down on the ceiling, your hands sitting modishly on top of eachother, waiting patienly for your king.

"i arrived way before any of you did."

"oh (y/n)-sama, you've been here all the time... aren't you pleased to find yourself meeting with me after so many years? ah, you're stunning today, i bet you've becoming much stronger these past decades." douma's carefree voice reached everyone's ears, touching a nerve inside akaza, his bad mood being worsened by the women eater demon.

"douma" your mysterious and harassing voice called upper 3's name, sending a raw shiver down the latter's back, gyokko and hantengu trembled at your mere voice, which sounded horrifying "give up your brattish behaviour" your shiny and dangerous eyes glare at him across the castle, threatening "know your place." another quivering and breathtaking shiver hitting his senses cruely.

you weren't entirely in the mood to deal with these bastards, you always found yourself hating each one of your demon associates, an inmense desire of finishing each and every one of them was what kept your mind daydreaming about, the mere idea was something that made your body tremble with excitement and unwanted sexual arousal but it was always an impediment to know that you had muzan kibutsuji's evil eyes fixed on your back and that he could make you dissapear within a blink if you did anything against his experiments. so you remained in line, interacting with them whenever you had to.

the meeting was as shitty as you were expecting, muzan scolded every single one of you and left you more angered than you would've wanted, this anger that kept building inside of you made your body tense, your eyebrows were frowning as your body temperature continued to raise in anger. once muzan leaves, you look around the room, your eyes landing on hantengu, the poor demon was trembling in a corner, he felt your harassing gaze towards him and looked at you, who was suddenly standing infront of him. your black hand reached his clothes and he cried out the moment you picked him up. "you're coming with me, you have a task to complete before fulfilling the king's desires."

and out of the blue, your figures dissapeared from the castle. you had taken the small demon to the forest, no one around, only a river running a few meters from you. hantengu was crying and mumbling nonsense, fearing at the look in your face that was... certainly frightening, your eyebrows frowning, your eyes wide open, your teeth clenching in pure fury and drops of saliva falling off your lips. your hands held his body and your sharp nails digged into the head and body of the old looking demon, blood spreading on your fingers as you pulled both ends to behead upper 5, tearing his skin apart and violently ripping his head off. he grunted and yelled in pain, his body splitting apart entirely to your inhumane strength as a pool of blood spread on the ground beneath you. you let his head and body fall to the floor as you watched each part regenerate into two separate demons: sekido and karaku. you walk to sekido who was staring at you entirely upset at your behaviour, you gripped his clothes and pulled him towards you returning the same angered expression.

"how are you allowed to do this, upper one?" you raised both of your brows to his words, furious at his statement.

"you are not in position to scold me, do not." you stated before gripping his hair and fiercely rip off his head, letting his other clones show up: aizetsu and urogi.

"how come i never seen our upper one this upset? this is kind of exciting" karaku spoke this time, standing up from the ground and walking towards you "have anything special in store for us tonight, mistress?~" his voice was charming and intrigued, a wide grin taking over his face as he licked his upper lip, showing the black kanji tattooed on his tongue.

"it saddens me to be the ones to deal with (y/n)-sama's anger... hantengu ran away to hide in the woods already..." aizetsu joins the conversation, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

"how can you be sad about this? sekido is being scolded by our lady" urogi chuckled out a laugh but their focus returned to you once again, you seemed upset.

"everything just makes me so angry... the demon slayers, douma, akaza, all of the upper moons... our demon lord... you all just find a way to GET ON MY FUCKING NERVES!" you began to rant, your body itching at the intense frustration and fury growing inside of you each second, you fell to your knees consumed by rage, teeth clenching hard enough to seem like they were about to shatter "please me, hantengu, make your stupid blood demon art useful and cease these intense emotions inside me" further on, you started undressing, your hands helping you body to get rid of the kimono that was denying your skin the ecstasy of being naked. all the clones looked closely, frozen in their places.

once all your clothes were scattered on the floor, you lifted your gaze to meet theirs, you were infuriated, they could tell. so the first one to react to your angered gaze was aizetsu, as a natural reaction towards threat and probably for being used to sekido's mistreatment towards him, whose anger paired yours in that moment. the sorrow demon let his spear fall to the ground and walked carefully towards you, afraid of disobedience. he knelt infront of your exposed figure and kissed your lips, cupping your cheeks while doing so. the kiss was well welcomed, you kissed the blue demon fervishly and hungrily.

then karaku followed, sitting beside you and hugging your torso, pulling you closer to kiss your neck with intensity. you opened your eyes in middle of the kissing and stared at sekido and urogi, who were standing there, urogi looking at the other two clones get their way with your body, a senseless excitement hitting his body at the view, making his wings quiver. and as for sekido, he was clenching his fists, his jaw almost hurting out of fury, how dared you use his clones to please yourself? were they some kind of toy to you?

you frowned at them, your left hand made its way to aizetsu's crotch, squeezing his clothed cock which lead him to break the kiss to let out a soft whimper, breathing heavily and closing his eyes. your right hand did the same to karaku's, making him grunt into your neck.

"m-my lady..." "oh, that's...oh~" their voices cried out holding onto your body as you massaged the areas for a little while. aizetsu mumbled nonsense into your left ear, pressing his body against your own seeking closeness and karaku making sure to do the same on your right side moaning softly, licking and biting your earlobe, both of them entirely poisoned by your touch.

"why are you just standing there? i gave you an order" you demanded once again, it infuriated you to see sekido so so upset with you, your body filled with rage and excitement hoping your provocations were enough for them to fucking move. urogi gulped, hesitant, before walking towards the three of you, placing himself behind you, arms wrapping your torso and animal-like hands cupping both of your breasts, squeezing and massaging lively, stealing a grunt from you instantly.

sekido's mouth was half open, astonished at the view of you having complete control of each one of them. the grip on his weapon tightened, unsure of what to do now, he wished he could fight you but he knew quite well you would destroy him within a second, he just wishes to... agh! he just wished you would just vanish, you arrogant piece of-!

"sekido" his raging thoughts about you were cut off when you called his name, your tone of voice switched instantly, it was deep and threatening, you could just let him stand there and take a great look at what you were doing to his counterparts but you wished to have him doing something so much better, you wanted him, you wanted him to pleasure you, to watch his face clench into annoyance and anger because of you. your hands made their way to aizetsu's hips and moved him aside, letting him sit beside you so you could open your legs widely, karaku and aizetsu couldn't help but stare down at your soaked cunt, its scent captivated the three demons around you and karaku's such as aizetsu's hand tried to reach it to please you in their own ways but your own stopped them, with a serious expression and your eyes never meeting theirs, the latter only fixated on sekido.

"no, let sekido take care of that, maybe it'll hit some sense into him before he ever thinks of disobeying me again."

the three of them looked at him and was aizetsu the one to speak, for someone who was often saddened everytime sekido spoke and scolded him, this was impressive and sort of satisfying "sekido please... you know what they can do..."

clearly upset, your statement made the anger demon throw his weapon to his side with rage a few seconds later.

he walked to you, aizetsu and karaku doing you the favor of holding your legs wide open for you, the red eyed knelt infront of your body, taking a good look at your wet cunt, pausing for a moment as he contemplated you. he looked up again, his eyes meeting yours, unsure of what to do next.

"put that blabbering mouth of yours to good use" you commanded, your bright eyes staring directly into his before he got his body to fully lay on the ground, face inches away from your slit, he purposefully digged his nails into the skin of your thighs, tiny drops of blood painting his fingers.

"yes, ma'am" every drop of anger was poured into that "ma'am" of his as he broke the distance between his lips and yours, his tattooed tongue licked from the bottom to the top in a slow motion, sending a shiver through your abdomen, you moaned out loud and grinned the second his tongue landed on your clit.

you felt urogi's cock twitch against your back, you threw your head back to land on his shoulder, looking at his yellow eyes with a serious gaze. "are you hard already, urogi?" at your words, the joy demon gulped and nodded "yes, my lady..." his voice is sweet and a bit shy, you smirked at his response and tilted your head.

"should your upper one do something to fix that?" the seduction on your voice did not help urogi to keep his composure at all "please... please do" his pleading voice was music to your ears, it almost made you feel sorry for him, you only chuckle before giving a response.

"i'll treat you if you continue touching me. does that sound fair?~" excitement quickly filled his orange eyes "yes, my lady" as his hands continued to massage your chest and his mouth reached the back of your neck, biting and sucking passionately. karaku and aizetsu exchanged glares interested in your words, would they get a treat too if they please you? they couldn't take chances so they continued to kiss and squeeze your body, arousal growing bigger inside them each second more.

it was karaku who, holding your right leg open, started grinding against you, slight pants leaving his mouth as he was trying to satisfy himself somehow, the whole situation got him excited and needy for some touch, he almost couldn't hold himself back. you noticed his motion right ahead and stopped him. "you're not allowed to do that, karaku" his eyes widened and he gulped "but mistress..." he pleads but takes his words back the second you glare at him, intimidating "how... how can i earn my release, mistress?"

you chuckle at his question, an evil grin showing up.

"huh? earn it? that's the deal, karaku, you don't- hah~" a broken moan escapes your lips, sekido's tongue made sure to hit your sweet spot just in time "oh sekido, you're hitting it just right~ keep going~" you praise, the anger demon didn't want to admit that you calling his name like that actually made his stomach flutter. how could he find this exciting? how do your praises make him so eager to fulfill your request? his anger was being condescending.

karaku frowns, a grimace expressing his need to do something about the tent of his pants, but how can he disobey you? he wanted to be selfish, but urogi and sekido being praised and paid for what they're doing, made him feel jealous, he has been good from the beggining, didn't he deserve a prize too? an urge to compete against his counterparts rushed through his body, maybe like that he could get your attention. but he couldn't do much from there, urogi was working on your chest and sekido had the best part... it all feels unfair for him, he had to try another ways, so he leaned in and kissed you passionately, hoping your attention was drawn at him. the kiss caught you offguard but you decide to play along with his idea, you smiled inbetween the kiss, noticing what he was doing.

aizetsu in the other hand, was kissing your neck and leaving gentle marks along it, listening to what you were saying to karaku. however, when the green eyed kissed you, aizetsu felt left a little behind, he felt your touch fading away each second karaku spent kissing you, he didn't want that, it saddened him to not being touched and payed attention at by you, he needed you too. he took karaku's actions as a provocation, a threat to his territory and being so he couldn't allow karaku getting away with you so he came up to your face and held your chin lovingly, making you pull away from the kiss to make you kiss him, you give in smiling, sensing both of their jelousies compiting over you.

karaku was offended and tried to draw your attention back at him, insisting in kissing you again. you look at him from the corner of your eye, kissing aizetsu passionately at the same time. you were teasing him, watching his face twitch in jealousy for seeing you kiss his counterpart so vively, so intensely, as if you really were enjoying aizetsu more than you enjoyed karaku. his hand instinctively pressed his aching cock when he saw you biting aizetsu's lower lip, sharp teeth pulling his skin with desire, making him moan softly, never breaking eye contact with karaku. he was having enough, he was about to beg for you but chose being rough, he leans to your mouth even when you and aizetsu were kissing and tried to kiss you. aizetsu didn't give in and keeps fighting for his place, turning the kissing into a kiss of three. saliva being exchanged between your mouths. you laughed between the kiss at their little competition, this is so exciting!

your senses were through the roof, pleasure continuing to build up inside of you, a wave of sensations hitting you body as the clones did their job, sekido being more skilled in his area than you originally expected, his mouth working you to your climax, tongue licking and lips sucking in the right places, making a mess beneath him. your legs broke free from karaku and aizetsu's grip, suddenly sandwiching sekido's head almost making him lose focus as he made you cum. a loud moan drowned in your kiss with the other two as sekido licked your clit to help you go through your last bits of orgasm.

you pulled away from the wet kiss and rested your head on urogi's chest, sighing in relief for finally getting the release you needed all night, you held onto karaku and aizetsu's shoulders as you breathed in and out, chasing breath regulation; the winged demon massaged your belly and waist until you recovered your breath completely, he smiled with satisfaction at the view of you exhausted for all the job they've been doing for the past moments just to please you, it made his stomach flutter with excitement. your body continued to release an inhumane amount of hormones, all the fury contained in your body earlier had completely vanished at the mere touch of upper 5, you were contented and pleased, yet... you weren't satisfied, if someone offered you another round or more, you would accept without hesitation. you suddenly felt sekido crawling onto you, you contemplated him, his angered expression continuing to grow as his mouth drooled spit mixed with your fluids, his kimono subtly falling off his shoulder exposing his skin, you couldn't lie, that was kinda hot, you grinned at him.

"had enough sekido?" you teased playfully, chuckling at him.

"not quite" he growled and positioned himself between your legs, approaching you as he undressed his torso "how fucking dare you? are we just some toys to you? you're disgusting, upper one, leaving me and my counterparts stupidly aroused, you don't deserve being done for the night"

"hah? who said i was done for the night? it's funny that you mention it, actually, i could just get up and leave you and your pathetic clones here and let you starve without my touch, i would love to see how you would handle from there. you're all hard as a rock and i don't need to see it to prove it, you weak creatures, whining and begging for my attention, it would be so fun if i just left!" your voice gained a mocking manner, a cocky attitude hitting in as you allowed sekido between your legs, a short laughter escapes your lips "but... how could i... you were all such good boys, my heart squeezes with pity, i come to the conclusion you deserve at least a prize. so, sekido, if you want yours, form in line, i'm not done with all of you just yet."

thanks for reading!

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d34dlysinner · 6 months

Note

Back at it again with my war crimes shenanigans.

Kings + Lucifer (n anyone else who'd fit, not sure) with a MC who's lacking several braincells despite being a rather smart person. The type who'd touch a burning stove out of pure curiosity, or put tide pods in a microwave to see the reaction. Empty headed but not lacking intelligence it's just gotta be coaxed strangled out. They get themself into some serious ahh danger due to head empty y'know the usual 'I fucked around and now I'm finding out but hey, MY CURIOSITY IS SATIATED' cliché lmaoooo.

Oml, thanks for the ask😭 (minor spoilers chapter 4 ending)

Minors DNI

You were messing around on the streets when you heard someone call out your name. You looked up in the direction of voice and saw an angel smiling down at you. Not the kind smile of course. It was one of those sadistic smiles that said: "I'll actually blow up in a second and you'll die with me."

You normally would run around trying to avoid the angel, but for some reason your brain couldn't register that you're in danger. In fact, you were even more curious what angel blood (of an angel weaker than a seraph) would do.

So all you did was stand and watch up with a calm expression present on your features.

Satan ran up to you and pulled you away and ran with you through some alleys in Gehenna where he knew it'll be hard for angels to fly in.

He looked down at your panting frame and checked if you were alright.

"We're you frozen in fear or just curious to see what would happen?", he asked as he remembers how you stood there without any fear present on your face. When you didn't give him an answer and looked down he knew it was the latter option to his question.

"You made a promise to help us in Hell... You should keep it. Sitri, for now you shall stick to MC's side until she's out of this... curious mindset.", Satan said to Sitri who just made his way over to where you two were.

He wasn't going to scold you, but he needed you to be careful.

Mammon made hands rise up from the floor to shield you from the angel. Those golden hands shielded your entire frame, only disappearing a few seconds after the explosion.

When the hands opened up, you saw the normal blue sky and the red painted ground around you. You made your way over to Mammon and were dragged into a big hug.

"Master... I don't know why you just stood there, but don't do that again."

You felt a bit guilty because of how worried he became. You wanted to apologise, bit were interrupted by Bimet scolding you.

"How could you make his majesty so worried. How could you just stand there without even a reaction of fear in your face. You should be grateful that his Majesty blocked the blast.", the ginger demon rambled on.

He was only stopped when Mammon told him that he scolded you enough.

Beelzebub somehow got you away from that blast. You didn't really know what happened because it went by so fast.

"You should try and fight back or run whenever there's an angel.", Beelzebub said.

He wasn't scolding you, but he did think that it would've been a waste if a snack like you did something like this.

"Oh... and you should sometimes ignore that voice in your head. Stay curious.", he said. He understood what you tried to do. Or why you did it. In fact he has heard Bael rant many times about how you let your curiosity get the better of you. Beelzebub was at least happy that he was on time with saving you... This time...

Leviathan dragged you into his coffin and you both managed to get away from the blast.

You wanted to thank him for saving you, but stopped yourself from doing so the moment he shot an angry glance at you.

"Are you insane? Why did you just stand there instead of running?", he started and didn't stop.

"When I told you that you were dangerous factor to Hell and when I locked you up in my coffin I should've done so.", he said. He didn't really register what he said at that moment, but you did. He was talking about that moment where you met him and that he almost killed you by locking you up in his coffin.

He wanted to continue scolding you and being angry, but it stopped the moment his words fully registered and when he saw tears stream down your face.

He really didn't mean it like that, but he did understand that to you it may have been a bad memory. He embraced you.

"I didn't mean to say that. I just need you to be more careful in general. I've see the stupid things you did out of curiosity, but atleast try to be safe.", he said.

Lucifer, a fallen angel, had more tolerance to the angel's blood than most demons had. Also him having an entire kingdom full with healers helped him in what he did.

He just took the blast for you.

To say that he was angry at yet another wound, that he may or may not be able to heal, was an understatement.

But his anger did vanish a bit when he saw you tear up out of shock, guilt and worry.

"You should continue crying. It's the only thing keeping you safe from me.", he said.

Whether he meant that sexual or not, no one knows. Lucifer's words are just as mysterious as his actions.

He would be healed in no time. Searching for you only to see you getting scolded by Marbas. He didn't stop Marbas.

"His majesty blocked you. You should be very grateful. Also, what would you have doenif you were hit? We are healers yes, but we don't create miracles. You are just like those demons in Abaddon. The ones that give us extra work."

Marbas was angry, but not only because of the explosion incident. Also because of the amount of times you let your intrusive thoughts win. Which results in him and the other nobles of Paradise Lost to heal you.

You coming to Paradise Lost to heal was on par with the amount of times Dantalian came. It maybe is an exaggeration, but that didn't mean that you didn't frequent that place to get healed. At first they blamed it on you being a human, but that thought broke the moment you told Buer that you just wanted to see what would happen if you touched a hot pan.

He, the others and Lucifer were worried.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb asks #whb satan #whb beel #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb lucifer

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 months

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Harry was a lot.

And if he was being honest, he felt like he'd always been a lot. Like the burden of his company came with far too many complications, far too many challenges for his friends and loved ones to bear. His emotions were big, his sense of duty and justice were big, his opinions of the world were big.

His body and its desires (or lack thereof) were a lot. The way he loved, obsessively, immensely, deeply, every atom of his soul devoted to reshaping itself to fit that of his beloved, was a lot (too much, always too much, and still not enough).

He was just a lot. Loving him, he reasoned, must be a fairly difficult task (it was difficult for him, so surely it would be difficult for someone else).

This dilemma tumbled around in his head as he fried some eggs and potatoes, avoiding the garlic since it did something funny to Draco's stomach. Wondering how he could possibly make himself into something less, or perhaps, if he was unable to do that, how he could give Draco enough in return for his love. Was there a way to repay someone who loved him enough to give up sex, to listen to the endless ramblings in his head, to sit and cuddle with him on the couch even when Harry's most innocent of touches caused a wave of arousal that he then ignored? How-

"Morning, love," Draco murmured, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and leaning against him.

He swallowed around the thoughts crowding into his throat, marbles rolling around in his mouth. "Hey," he rasped, light and cheerful as he could.

Draco moved so that he was at his side, arms still around him, "what's that?" he asked softly, thumb trailing over his side.

"What?" Harry asked as he flipped the potatoes.

A finger traced the frown at the corner of Harry's mouth, brushed over the line between his eyebrows, "What's going on in that marvelous head of yours?"

"Breakfast is ready," he said in lieu of answering the question that he wasn't even sure where to begin with.

Draco caught him as he started to turn toward the cupboard for a couple of plates, "Wait," he said, throwing a stasis charm over their eggs. "Tell me?" he asked softly, eyes warm and soft, curious and just a little afraid.

And Harry couldn't stand that look, couldn't bear the thought that Draco might be wondering if it was something he'd done that had upset Harry's delicate balance inside his head. "It's just," he bit his lower lip and looked down at where Draco's hands had caught his. "I'm a lot. Asking you to live with me, to share a life with me, it doesn't feel fair to you."

He chanced a glance up at Draco only to find him staring back with that particular look of affection that made Harry want to curl up into a ball because it was too much and he wanted that affection too badly. “Darling,” Draco started.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and barely resisting the impulse to cover his ears.

“Harry,” he said, a soft huff of a laugh escaping with the sound of his name. “Light of my life,” he continued, moving closer to Harry again and wrapping his arms around his waist once more, firm chest pressed solidly against Harry’s back. “My love,” he continued.

Harry squirmed, letting out a plaintive groan.

“I love you so much,” he pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s neck and Harry couldn’t help the way his head tipped to the side of its own accord to give Draco room. “You are my most favorite human being in the entire world.” He squeezed Harry’s stomach a little tighter, “better yet, the entire universe. Getting to live with you makes me impossibly happy.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Draco replied. “I choose you, Harry. I choose this life. I want this life. And nothing you can say about it will make me change my mind.”

Harry sighed and let his body relax against Draco’s, the sweetest defeat he’d ever accepted.

“That’s more like it,” he said, holding Harry tighter. “Just love me and let me love you. What else could we possibly want?”

And when he put it like that, Harry supposed there wasn’t really anything else he could ever want.

———————

Read more of my fics if you’d like :)

#drarry #love #soft #fluff #ace harry #short and sweet #reassurance

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rfswitchart · 2 months

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Obligatory Huntlow post for ASIAS anniversary

So, I might as well do an anniversary post for Any Sport in a Storm, shouldn't I?

Pop quiz: When did Willow Park fall in love with the Golden Guard? There's a lot of answers you COULD say for this. Maybe she started realizing it when they were in the Human Realm. Maybe she realized when he grabbed her out of the sky or was in the detention pit with him.....

You COULD say that.... but you'd be wrong. She realized it the moment Hunter stood between the Entrails and Darius. "Wait, how do you know that?" you might ask. Simple. Because as a writer of 25 years and someone who has had many crushes and relationships... I know that kind of body language and tone of voice well.

"After all, it will be 52 weeks until 'Caleb's' next day off..." Note the way she SAID that. Sly, coy, definite tongue in cheek. The way she's looking over her shoulder back towards him. I mean COME ON, there's a heart shaped cloud just above her head. Hearts being between the two of them is a big tell for that. It's called THEMING. "Ok, but that's just one moment..." Au contraire, did you think I'd come into this with one example? Remember, I WROTE THIS ALREADY. Now, pop quiz #2: Why did Hunter, who had only ever met Willow ONCE know the difference between the real and fake one?

After all, there is no way he could have known that after just one encounter. You can not determine a person's entire personality based on a sole encounter, no matter how much of an impression it left on you. The answer, again, is simple...

Because they had been talking over Penstagram since ASIAS. Probably took a while due to Hunter not being used to typing and stuff, but I cannot imagine they weren't talking since that night. It also explains why Willow trusted him so easily during the scout invasion of Hexside. Because it couldn't JUST be the breathing technique that swayed her. After all, Hunter had lied and betrayed her and her friends before.

...Again with the hearts. THEMING! Anyway, even if we discredit ASIAS and Labyrinth Runners, or how she totally went to kill Kikimora for trying to hurt 'him' (and stopped when she could have hurt him) and ran after 'him' specifically when 'he' was captured (remember, it was Luz, she just THOUGHT it was Hunter) Fine, let's forget all that then...

Because even if you discount those things, she definitely had a thing for him while they were trapped in the human realm. How do I know? Ok, time to teach you kids about flirting 101.

"I'm gonna borrow that book when you're done with it! ;)" She's not saying "I want to read that" because she's curious about Cosmic Frontier. She is saying "I want to know more about your interests," and saying it with a tone that says "I want to turn this into a date if I can." Even before when she's taking a picture and shutting down Amity's snarking on Hunter's costume, her body language, her words, her tone. They are all suggesting there's more than just 'friendship' there. When it comes to flirting, it is not WHAT you say, it is HOW you say it.

Also, while I'm on the subject. Willow is canonically Pansexual, she is not Ace. Also, she is not Demi/aromantic, she is heavily guarded and has trust issues from years of bullying and nearly everyone looking down on her or using her as emotional support. I have the same problem for the same reasons, and I know for a fact I am not aro. I am guarded because I've been hurt before, same as Willow. Hunter is the only one who ISN'T like that.

He doesn't see her as weak and frail, he doesn't rely on her for stuff, and he wouldn't be caught dead hurting her or looking down on her. That is HIS captain, and he'll be damned if he won't see her as anything short of incredible. And boy did he let her know that, more than once.

Anyways, sorry for rambling. Let's all appreciate these two amazing, powerful witches who really do compliment each other's lives.

#huntlow #the owl house #any sport in a storm #willow toh #willow park #hunter toh #hunter deamonne #hunter noceda #willow x hunter #Never underestimate a flirter

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smuttysabina · 7 months

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Incandescent

(Rose x Male Reader, 3k Words) Tags: Femdom, oodles of fluff, some fun sex, some trauma is involved, kinda artsy, some physical as well as mental abuse

A/N This is a quick little story I spun up after I imagined Rose ranting while dominating you, enjoy!

Darkness cocoons you as tightly as any restraint, filling your senses, drowning your eyes in an endless nothingness that devours your sanity. The strongest prisons are the ones we make for ourselves, and the dark provides all the material you would ever need. Which is not to say that your fetters did not also exist in the mundane realm of existence outside of your thoughts, softly clinking metal binds your wrists and ankles to the stolid slab that supports you. The sound of the metal whispering against itself was the only indication of the passing of time; the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears already ignored as your brain probes for threats in the ceaseless night. You shiver in numbing terror as your mind concocts all manner of horrors for your stress-addled body to react to; anything was preferable to unending nothingness of unthoughts. Mankind had always feared the abyss of twilight, not from the dangers it might hold, but from what it awakened within; the agony of introspection. Little wonder then that we have always cleaved towards the light for comfort, not realizing that the greatest threat is often the one we can see the clearest. The door scrapes open behind you, casting dazzling shadows upon the walls that your eyes eagerly devour even as they bring tears of overstimulation. A voice as soft and sweet as honey drips into your ears,

"Now what do we have here?"

Your skin nearly tears itself from your bones in surprise, as a velvety hand gently caresses your bare shoulder, its owner's footsteps so quiet you had not heard their approach. Or perhaps, the pounding of blood in your ears had covered her movements; perhaps she wasn't even real... Murmured curses sound as the new arrival scrabbles around on the wall, her nails a cacophony to your sound-starved ears. The faint click of plastic soon follows, and your senses explode with pain as light sears into your brain, causing you to scream in astonished pain. You blink rapidly, squinting against the glare, the pale shape floating in front of you gradually shifting into a sleek white evening dress, adorning a radiant goddess. The beguiling beauty idly slurps on her drink as she waits for your cognition to return, her blonde hair tied back in a business-like manner. The light haloing her is intense, pouring down in a cone in front of you; the harsh buzz of it grating on your hearing. She gives a quaint smile when she notices sanity returning to your gaze, sloshing her drink around in studied amusement as you come to truly realize your predicament. Rose leans against the table and sighs, motioning towards the ceiling,

"Do you know how many times I've asked them to change out these lights? You would think with all the millions we've made for them, the least those imbeciles could do is at least replace this garbage with something nicer. Oh well, I imagine you didn't come here to listen to me rant about company politics; actually, why are you here at all? Don't answer, it was a rhetorical question. You got caught wandering where you shouldn't, so who do you belong to, hm? Not Jennie, that's for certain, you still seem reasonably sane and entirely undrained of all vitality. Perhaps you're one of Lisa's little toys, was she being too demanding of you as usual? Or are you Jisoo's... that must be it, she probably let you stumble around while she was busy elsewhere; typical. Ah well, now you are mine to play with, punishing you should prove to be an enjoyable way to destress..."

Horror dawns upon you as the idol distractedly rambles on, her fierce gaze boring into you as she talks. You stutter out a question through parched lips, your voice rasping from disuse. Rose pauses, and with another distracted sigh, pokes the straw of her drink into your mouth, allowing you to gulp down the refreshingly sweet liquid. She yanks the drink away from you after several seconds, but after examining the depleted state of her beverage she gracefully allows you to finish it off. A raised eyebrow prompts you to repeat your question, "Why?"

"Why what? Why do this? Because I can, because I enjoy breaking people until they worship me, because it's fun," a sleazy smile briefly appears, "And to be completely honest, because it arouses me immensely. Yes, it's very depraved I know, truly I am the weird one because I enjoy a little sadism with my sex. Any more burning questions? We have a little time until I finish my- oh right; well it's going to be rather gratifying sticking this straw in places it doesn't belong. Hm, what made me so angry? Oh my poor little dear, I'm not angry, just extremely irritated; I suppose if your interested I could torture you with mind-numbingly boring tales of lawyering... Oh you are cute, you think you're playing for time do you?" Rose traces her hand down your chest, making you shiver at her gentle touch, "You see, I find that the most agonizing thing for those I dominate is the waiting. You just keep hoping that the moment will never come, always worried that the next minute will be the one when I truly dig in. So I think a little..." she leans forward to breath into your ear, "Anticipation will make this more fun, yes?"

You let out a low moan as Rose's hand ends its journey and firmly grasps your genitals, giving them a squeeze in promise of the torments to come before withdrawing. Rose suddenly whirls, stalking back to her perch on the table; her hand automatically reaching for her drink before remembering once more that it is empty. She languidly waves at you, indicating that it is your turn to entertain, or simply suffer in silence. Rose pointedly settles a finger on the light switch, she knows. Terrified by the thought of being alone in the dark, completely at Rose's mercy, you rack your brain for anything forestall the darkness. "Why are you feeling so irritated?"

Rose grimaces, slowly returning to stand in front of you, placing her foot on the slab she lets out a slow breath; before promptly slapping you twice, "Now that, was a poor question, dear pet, now I am inclined to simply skip straight to the more intimate methods of teaching submission. Perhaps next time you'll learn to be more of an adroit conversationalist... Hm, why am I hurting you? I thought we established that already, now be silent or I'll fetch the ball gag- Oh, you meant why am I a sadist?" Rose pinches your chin, tapping on your face as she ponders whether she should answer the query. It is to your great relief that she appears willing to do so, forestalling your inevitable punishment, "That, is a long story, and would require a great deal of backstory, but I am a product of my vocation. Idol training requires some... demeaning concessions, so perhaps I am simply taking out my frustrations on all of you."

"That's the easy answer," your mouth foolishly spouts before you silence it.

Rose seems pleased by your boldness however, playfully squishing your lips together, "Is it though? Perhaps, the simpler answer is the best one; but still, such courage does require a reward..." Rose seductively hooks a finger over the top of her dress, before slowly pulling it down, revealing her breasts, pale skin glistening in the light. Your body automatically responds to such stimulation, your manhood hardening, your breath quickening as it pumps oxygen into your muscles in anticipation of sex. You manage to hold on to your sanity however, your mind still too riven with paranoia, to give fully into your primal urge to breed. Rose cocks her head at your reaction, "You know, most people would be humping the air right now; the girls too, not just the boys. I've seen more bitches than you've ever met sobbing as they beg me to impregnate them; it's sickening really. It's no wonder I have to discipline such degenerates, right? And the worst part of it," Rose pauses, considering whether she should continue before shrugging to herself, "The worst part is how much they adore me for it. They love me even before I break them; even my supposed "haters" are slobbering over themselves with devotion after only a few minutes in my presence. None of them hate me for it, none of them despise me for forcing them to demean themselves in the most perverse ways possible," Rose slips her hand down your neck, nails digging slightly into your chest, drawing white lines across your skin, "Will you hate me then, before the end? Your fear is palpable, but will you look up at me with loathing when I finally break you?"

To say that you are greatly concerned at the mental state of the idol sharing the room with you would be an understatement. You shudder at the thought of what horrors she would inflict upon you; evidently Rose is well versed in the art of pain. More horrifying yet, your body seems strangely aroused by that, depravedly hungering for its own destruction if it meant a chance to impregnate the sexual goddess. Her eyes bore intensely into your own, and you feel her claws starting to hook into you; something was needed to distract her... You gulp, "I'll try, but um, how do the other girls deal with it?"

Rose snorts in amused contempt, "You sure know how to inspire confidence in a woman, pet. But I'll indulge you, we don't. All of us idols are fucked up," Rose counts them off on her fingers, "Twice is a freaking breeding cult, Itzy are simply insane, IVE are spoiled rotten, Loona are is cracked as their fans, Red Velvet are literal whores, Aespa enjoy getting passed around like baubles, and don't even get me started about the boy groups... Oh and Blackpink, I would say we're the worst of the whole bunch," Rose distractedly sits on the slab as she rants, occasionally slapping your thighs for emphasis, "Do you know what Lisa did today? Of course you don't, you've been locked down here, alone in the dark. We were in a meeting with the idiots who run this place, and they were begging on their knees for us not to leave the company. Now they looked like they hated us for forcing them to demean themselves like that; well most of them did, some were enjoying it. But then Lisa, that crazy bitch, you know what she does?"

You cough, "She uh, fucked them?"

Rose blinks at your interruption, before snorting, "Good guess, but no, not yet at least; I imagine it will come to that eventually. No, Lisa just looked at these pitiful business men pawing at our feet, and then she pissed on them. Oh I am completely serious, she just pissed on them and giggled. I don't think I've ever seen Jisoo laugh that hard, and Jennie nearly choked on her coffee! To be honest, I also joined in, but at that point it was more about sending a message than anything else. So you see, all of us are bent in one way or another; especially us. Lisa is literally a nymphomaniac, she has a full-scale mental breakdown after a single day without sex. Jennie's sex drive is so monstrous she can fuck for weeks without stopping; you think I'm joking but I'm not. And dear Jisoo... she just loves showering her pets with so much love they drown in it; she's probably the least crazy of all of us. Hm, and me? Oh come now, no doubt you can already tell the direction my vices run..." Rose flicks a switch, causing the slab to tilt horizontal. She grabs your neck and leans in for a savage kiss, "So tell me pet, do I seem even remotely sane?"

"Um, yes?"

Rose laughs so hard she staggers, holding on to the slab for support as she howls. It takes some time to compose herself, but when she does it is to your relief that her dark mood looks to have dissipated. She gives you something approaching a fond smile and gives you the courage to push your luck, "See? Maybe you just needed some wholesome venting and not torture-sex after all!" Rose's smile grows more genuine, and she reaches behind her back, toying with something. With a suddenness that surprises you, Rose's dress cascades to the ground, leaving her entirely naked. Your eyes balloon as you drink in the awesome sight of an idol's body, her tender breasts, her taut stomach, and most importantly, the pair of lips gleaming mere inches away from your face. You feel something trickle down your shaft, as you gawp at the beautiful girl standing ever so close to you. Rose glances at your crotch with studied humor, she gives your meat a flick as she climbs up onto the slab, straddling your face.

"While the venting was nice, I still do desire some sex; so for your sake you had best pleasure me enough to keep me wholesome. Or don't, we're going to reach the point where I need to start getting truly inventive to keep you up eventually, so why not start early?" Rose promptly plants her pussy on your mouth, "So let's see if that tongue of yours is as skilled at pleasing as it is at talking. Be sure to give it your all, pet, I don't intend for you to be conscious by the time this is over, so spare nothing." After that she relaxes on your face for a while, glancing down at you on occasion as she idly gropes herself. For your part you spend the time drowning in her juices, frantically licking and sucking at the delicious flesh in your mouth. Eventually however, she orders you to stop, "Wow... you are fucking terrible at this, its so bad its honestly impressive. Are you a virgin? Though that's really not much of an excuse. Hm, that's the first of your chances to satisfy me gone, let's hope the next one goes better," Rose scoots backwards, dragging her pussy lips across your chest until they slide over your erect cock, "I was pleasantly surprised to see you hadn't cum when I stripped for you, perhaps that indicates you have more stamina than usual..." With a complete lack of fanfare, Rose sits on your cock in a single smooth motion, devouring every inch of you with ease. Your balls pulse in response, and she lets out a disappointed sigh, "Well I guess not, oh well."

Rose starts to ride you, uncaring of how sensitive you were following an orgasm; making a mess on your crotch as your seed leaks out of her. After several minutes of such excessive pleasure, you climax once more; Rose doesn't even bother slowing down. Only when you start to flag does she even start to pay attention to anything other than her own enjoyment, "You know, as much as you amuse me with all of your philosophizing, and even after all that wonderfully justifying on my part; at the end of the day I'm really just a cruel bitch, aren't I?" With a devilish smirk, Rose leans over, and flicks of the light. The abyss embraces you once more, but this time, you know there is something sharing it with you. You cringe, paranoid of all the horrors Rose will inflict upon you in darkness. She giggles, "Oh you are simply adorable dear pet, I should do this sort of thing more often, sensory deprivation truly brings out the animal in us..." Her hand is suddenly clamped around your neck, pinching off the blood flow to your brain, "So get it up again, or don't, I like it when you resist," A rain of stinging slaps and pinches descends upon, her abuse landing seemingly at random; often she pauses in her efforts until you are shivering with anticipation. Most terrifying of all, was how hard it made you, your cock becoming erect with fear. Rose laughs with delight as you climax once more, "God you are such a fucking quick-shot, you're lucky to have a girl like me to tolerate your pathetic cock. Do try to not black out too early, I might just keep fucking you anyways."

Ensconced in the endless gloom, you are completely vulnerable to Rose's attentions. She pinches and slaps, kneads and squeezes, licks and gnaws, sucking on your flesh until it bruises. You are lost in a world of unexpected pain and sensation, the only constant in your universe is the warm wetness around your cock. The heat surrounding your manhood seems to devour your misery, your suffering fueling a burning lust that somehow manages to keep you erect even after several orgasms. The heat of Rose's body imprints itself into your mind; no longer were you alone, now she was there as well. The ceaseless slap of flesh reaches a crescendo, Rose's sudden gasp painfully loud, as a fresh source of warmth spreads from your crotch. Her heaving breaths grow closer until they caress your face, and she murmurs, "Do you hate me now, pet?" Your body is a pattern of bruises and aches, your skin sensitive to the merest touch, your manhood a beacon of pleasurable agony; so you answer honestly,

"No."

Rose whistles softly, "Well I suppose I will just have to try harder then. Scream as much as you'd like, there's only the two of us in here"

You merely smile as a fresh round of abuse begins; how could you hate such a goddess? How could you hate Rose after she filled the empty void with such exquisite stimulation, banishing the horrors of nothingness. No longer would you fear the twilight of your mind, because Rose would always be there with you, dispelling the shadows, incandescent in the dark.

#smut #blackpink smut #rose smut #kpop smut

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crusty-chronicles · 6 months

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Just Friends

An: Dropping this one before I watch the first episode of the live action today!!!!! Hope y'all enjoy.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" You chastised the red headed demon as you plucked another vine from his arm. Making sure to go over the injury with alcohol before wrapping it.

"Is that so?"

You met his amused expression with a glare. How this man could be so unfazed by a literal plant growing out of him, you'd never know. How he still found the energy to be cheeky was a mystery as well.

Although you knew it wasn't entirely his fault he was this injured. That damn tournament committee was partial to blame. Sabotaging Urameshi and his friends for no other reason than them being human. Betting money was another factor. Still, if Kurama hadn't been so cocky with the first demon, he wouldn't have been through hell after.

"Absolutely. You should've never fought twice in a row. Now look at you." You gestured towards the many open wounds on his chest.

"You're covered in blood. You're so damn lucky I'm studying to be a doctor." You dabbed more alcohol than you should've on a cotton ball before cleaning the scratches on his face.

A feeling of smugness when he let out a slight hiss.

"It hurts? Good. Maybe next time you'll learn to be more careful."

It was quite the sight to see. Kurama sitting obediently while you tended to his wounds. Letting you scold him without much complaint or push back. Kurama, a demon who'd lived hundreds of years with unfathomable knowledge, allowed you to call him stupid.

The most independent and arguably the most reserved, getting chewed out by a mere human.

It was funny, too. How he seemed to subtly lean into your touch. Closing his eyes while you wiped his face and releasing a content sigh when you finished. As if he were being pampered.

"You know I got injured pretty badly too. Maybe you should come clean my injuries." Yusuke called out. Though it was mostly meant to tease the fox demon.

You turned to face him at the same time Kurama's gaze hardened. A warning look directed at the spirit detective. But he could tell it wasn't really needed as you dismissed his offer.

"What am I the team doctor? I can't do all that 'magic power' stuff to heal what you've got going on." You gestured to the various brusing littered across Yusuke's body.

"You're best bet is Yukina."

"But you've got a delicate touch."

At his flirty tone you shot up from the bed and proceeded to chase him.

"I'll show you delicate!"

Kurama watched you go with a disappointed look. Missing your warmth besides him. Although he wasn't too happy with you being here, he couldn't deny being glad to have your familiar presence near him.

He had wanted to keep you far away from this. From his past that unfortunately intertwined with his present. Trying his best not to expose you to what he really was. A small part of him was still angry at Botan for bringing you here. But then again, she'd brought a prominent figure in each of his friends' lives as well. So he wasn't the only one dealing with this. He'd rather it be you than his mother wondering where he was.

Still, you were human. And a troublesome one at that. It was surprising you hadn't gotten in a brawl with a demon yet. Especially ones that were openly cheering for his demise.

You'd always been a bit protective of him. Having met as children when you defended him from being bullied for his fiery hair and oddly green eyes. Yelling and biting at the other kids until they left. Only to turn around and tell him he was gonna be your best friend from now on.

Something he thought was odd at the time. A human telling him what to do? Then again, he wasn't all that different from you in his new body. And he needed to be able to keep up appearances until he fully regained his powers. So he accepted and let you drag him where you pleased. He let you ramble about everything and nothing at the same time. He let you comfort him when his mother fell ill.

He grew to love having you in his life. Your lectures about how he shouldn't let others taunt him, even if he was fully capable of protecting himself. Though of course you didn't know that. He admired your ambition to enter the medical field so you could help the people who needed it. He looked forward to seeing your soft side that you'd only show to him after a long day.

You'd made him feel human.

Which is why he tried so hard to hide everything about his previous life from you. If you found out you'd most likely be scared or put in even more danger.

And he just couldn't risk losing you either way.

He tried cutting ties with you once, but you were a stubborn one. After what happened with Maya, he thought it was best you kept out of his life. Going as far as avoiding you. To which you responded by confronting him.

"If you don't want to be friends anymore, just tell me. Give me a straight answer instead of acting like a coward."

He was close to telling you he didn't want you around anymore, but the way you looked at him, with so much hurt and betrayal...He just couldn't find it in himself to let you go. Instead he asked you why. Why you didn't find him strange like the rest of your classmates. Why you spent so much time with him. Why it bothered you so much that he was ignoring you.

"Is that really what's bothering you? The answer should be obvious to a brainiac like you. You're important to me, Shuichi."

He realized then that you were important to him, too.

So he allowed himself to keep you around. He deserved that much for everything he's been through. Just so long as you were a part of his human life and not his demon one.

But fate had a funny way of playing things out. He should've known he couldn't keep this part of his life a secret from you forever. He just didn't expect it so suddenly.

Hearing your voice above the others shouting at him from the stands. He thought he might've been imagining it at first, but then he caught a glimpse of you from over the other demon's shoulder. The one that had threatened his mother's life with a push of a button.

He could see that you were nervous. Frustrated would have been a better word. As if you were mad he was letting himself get hurt.

You'd called him an idiot then too, after he won. Jumping down from the stadium and rushing over. Unfazed by the bloodthirsty creatures around you.

"You're such a dumbass. Making a big show out of nothing and letting that guy cut up your face. Let me see how bad it is." You scolded as you grabbed his chin and moved his head around. Inspecting the fresh slashes on his cheek.

"You're here?" He asked, still processing the fact that you were right in front of him. That somehow you managed to find your way back to him.

"Yes??? I don't think he hit you hard enough to have a concussion."

Kurama had to step away from you. All of a sudden overwhelmed because there was no way you were inspecting his injury right now. There was no way you were still treating him like nothing happened. Like he didn't just kill someone right in front of you.

"Why?" It was the only thing he could think to ask. Rendered speechless for the first time in forever.

"Why what?"

"Why are you here? How much do you know?"

How much did that troublesome reaper tell you?

"I'm here because my stupid best friend decided to get himself into trouble without telling me. Did you really think I wouldn't worry about you being gone for weeks? That I wouldn't get suspicious?" You used the sleeve of your shirt to wipe the blood off his face.

"I didn't want you involved." Came his answer. He still didn't know how much you knew. If now was the time to be completely transparent.

"Then you shouldn't have agreed to be my friend. To be honest, I'm a little hurt you didn't even bother to tell me. Let me guess, you thought I would freak out if you told me you were a demon?"

Ah, so you knew everything. Which meant so did the rest of the girls with you. He wanted to be upset at Botan's lack of ability to keep secrets, but he couldn't have been any more relieved.

"You know me almost as good as myself. Though it's surprising you're taking this so well." He allowed himself to relax in your presence. To let you continue inspecting his minor injuries.

"You really think I would care after all we've been through? For someone who's supposedly hundreds of years old, you sure are an idiot Shuichi."

"Shuichi..." He didn't know why his name sounded so foreign coming from you. Maybe a part of him expected you to call him 'Kurama' now that you knew the truth. Or perhaps he just wasn't used to hearing it when he wasn't trying to keep up appearances.

"Yeah? Do you want me to use your tough guy demon name instead? Don't wanna be embarrassed in front of your friends?" Your tone was teasing. And while he would have loved to hear his true name come from your lips, he couldn't deny liking the idea of only you having the privilege to call him Shuichi.

"No. I like it when you use my human name instead. Whatever feels natural for you."

"Alright, but you better promise not to keep any more secrets from me."

He was still cautious with you around, but it was more for your safety than anything. Though he should've been more careful with himself, too. It'd only be more stressful to you the worse he got injured. Still he couldn't promise you that he'd come out completely unscathed.

"You let that human walk all over you like the detective with his woman."

The sound of Hiei's voice brought him back to the present. Hearing the amusement that came with it at Kurama's show of obedience with you. The way he let you get after him for being careless.

"True they have a rather loud mouth, but it comes from a good place. I don't mind all that much, not when they've gone out of their way to mend my injuries. Or would you rather I go to Yukina instead?" A small jest that was made to get the three eyed demon off his back.

But Hiei knew what he was doing and wouldn't be taking the bait this time. Not when he knew he had the upper hand in this conversation.

"You'd give me the opportunity to steal your precious mate while you were distracted?" And judging by Kurama's small glare, he was right.

"... We're just friends." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. And in a sense he was. He'd never really thought of you in that light. At least, not until recently.

"Hmm." A unimpressed noise before you stumbled in.

Smiling triumphantly after having just tousled with Yusuke and an unfortunate Kuwabara who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The grin wiped off your face seeing Kurama up and about.

"Hey! Did I say you could get up and walk?!? You've lost way too much blood to be moving around! Get your ass back to bed right now!"

"I heal at a much faster rate, remember. I should be just fine." He tried to diffuse, but you weren't having it.

"You're not getting out of this one fox boy. Go lie down or so help me Shuichi, I'll knock you out myself!"

Again you'd used his human name. Who you knew him as. And despite your crude words, he could feel his heart skip a few beats.

Friends made each other's hearts beat a little faster, right?

They sometimes shared kisses with each other during a moment of celebration.

And sometimes, maybe sometimes they thought about what life would be like to wake up next to the other every morning.

"Stay with me and I won't move a muscle."

#yu yu hakusho x reader #yu yu hakusho #x reader #x y/n #kurama x reader #yoko kurama #shuichi minamino

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morphodae · 4 months

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◈ Wriothesley x reader (gender neutral they/them is used) ◈ SAGAU AU (self-aware genshin au) ◈ notes: hurt/comfort, short piece (drabble? idk), a bit of a fourth wall break? This is quite personal for me after being (falsely) accused of going through my coworker’s things at work two weeks ago. Needless to say, that was the last straw for me and I quit. Hope you all enjoy and find some entertainment in this piece and maybe even some comfort <3 ◈ winner from this poll

☆゜・。・。・゜★ ☆゜・。・。・゜★

He felt it before he saw it; the turmoil that brewed throughout the entire Fortress. It began as a feeling of unease, then melancholy, then it progressed into a blanket of static energy that kept everyone on edge. The Creator of Teyvat was clearly distressed, clearly going through something, yet Wriothesley could not figure out what. Unfortunately, work at Meropide involved duties that kept him occupied during absurd hours of the day and night, so he wasn’t able to fully investigate the cause of his beloved Creator’s sadness.

It wasn’t until one day that he heard it; his Creator’s sobs as They passed by him in the Traveler’s vessel. It was a visceral thing; the sound reverberating in his mind in the form of gut-wrenching echoes. Wriothesley couldn’t tell if They were crying audibly in Their realm or if the energy of melancholy traveled through Their mind into his. Even so, it seemed that others in the Fortress could feel it too – even Sigewinne – who was the one to concede first.

“Your Grace, the Creator is so sad,” she says, a small hand clutching her chest and an expression of genuine agony, “Wolsey and some other inmates came by today and asked me if I knew anything about it. The Creator seems to have a close connection with you. Your Grace, please try and see if you can ask Them what’s wrong or if you can help Them. I hate feeling Their sadness…”

Wriothesley lets out a small exhale as he sits behind his desk. “Thank you, Sigewinne. And… I know. I have felt it for a while now. They feel so drained and exhausted. I-I will try to alleviate Their turmoil.”

Sigewinne sighs in relief. “Thank you, Your Grace. It’s not just the fortress that is affected, either. I’m not sure the wildlife or flora on the surface of Teyvat will be able to handle any more sadness from Them.”

With that, Sigewinne leaves the Duke’s office and lets Wriothesley ruminate on what he wishes to convey to the Creator. He knew that he was held in high regard by the Creator; despite Them never visiting Teyvat personally…yet, anyway. He could surely hope that one day They would come in Their own vessel and not through the Traveler.

He clears his throat, deciding to throw caution to the wind and begin his comfort as best he could. “Your Grace? Are You there? I sure hope You can hear me… or feel me, at least. I want to know why You feel so forlorn. Is there anything that we, Your creations, can do to help?”

Silence. More silence ensues. After several beats, Wriothesley sighs. Surely, the Creator had Their own problems to deal with and he wasn’t even sure if Teyvat were Their only creations or not. Until–

“It’s just… so tiring.”

Wriothesley’s eyes go wide and he leans forward in his desk chair; unsure if he’s truly witnessing Their holy voice in his mind. With a certain amount of caution and gentility, he urges Them to continue.

“I dealt with these micromanagers, my bosses, for so long. I thought I could stick it out, you know? I tried to. I really tried. But having someone breathe down my neck for every little thing is so exhausting. No matter how hard I worked, no matter how early I came in or late I stayed, it was never good enough, was it? They are a small company so I just don’t understand how they feel they can get away with treating so many employees like that. I mean, the turnover rate is high for a reason and… please excuse me for rambling. I want to cry, I think. But I just can’t. I’m tired and angry and upset and… I know that I’m a hard worker. I know I did my best. But to be accused of going through a coworker’s desk when I was just trying to work? When my supervisor allowed another employee to go into that same coworker’s office anyway? I felt singled out and–,” Your voice is choked; a deep, rumbling sigh that verberates through the air.

Wriothesley cuts You off before he can feel You spiral, the frantic tone of Your voice and inner turmoil slices through him with great distress. “Your Grace, if I may, I don’t quite understand Your world nor do I understand what it is You may be going through,” he waits for You and when he feels You listening to his words and the stifling presence of negativity slowly begin to stagnate, he continues.

“But I do know that You are a kind and gracious Creator. You’ve listened to me, helped me, visited me at the Fortress. You already know me and know I don’t trust easily, and yet you still dedicate Your time to making sure I’m not so lonely. I…I appreciate that more than I can express. With all that being said, I want to tell You that we, Your creations, are here for You. No matter what. We’ll always be here for You and support You even if you feel You’ve been treated poorly and unfairly. We can feel Your good energy, the love You have, the hard work You put into everything. Your emotions are valid too. Please… don’t forget that.”

More silence ensues after Wriothesley’s impromptu pep talk to You. For a moment, he worries that You’ve already left, but when he hears a choked laugh he feels immediate relief.

“Thank you, Wriothesley. Just… thank you.”

He smiles at that and relaxes in his chair. “Anytime, Your Grace. We’re here for You.”

“I know.” He can feel the smile in Your voice.

Soon, Your presence dissipates and Wriothesley is left alone with his thoughts. The energy of the Fortress, and of Teyvat, quickly returns to equilibrium and no longer does the air feel so stifling and heavy. After several minutes, Sigewinne makes an appearance in the Duke’s office once more with a knowing smile on her face.

☆゜・。・。・゜★ ☆゜・。・。・゜★

#wriothesley x reader #x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin drabbles #genshin fanfic #genshin x wriothesley #genshin impact x wriothesley

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 5 months

Text

TELL ME YOU THINK ABOUT ME TOO

Part of the Seven Nights Of Sin - Series Three

Steven Grant x F!Reader (hints of Marc Spector x F!Reader) 18+. 9K. Friends to lovers with a shit ton of pining. Female masturbation. Oral sex (fem receiving). Unprotected shower sex. Steven being all soft and needy but also a little feral.

Prompt: "Do you think of me when you touch yourself?"

Requested by: @acrossthesestars , I am so sorry for how long this has taken me and I hope you enjoy it! 🖤

Their relationship was an odd thing Steven thought. Chaotic in the kind of way that not many would understand.

God, he just barely understood it himself after all.

It's him and it's Marc and it's you, all entwined, your lives like singular threads that were blown together and now lay impossibly tangled. Knotted so tightly that even if someone was to try and shear them apart, there would still be remnants of the others embedded in the one they tried to pull loose.

And then it went beyond that.

There were the separate tanglements that branched from the heart of the whole one. Himself and Marc. Marc and you. You and him.

He knew that there were differences - that there was something more between you and Marc. Another level to the relationship that Steven yearned for but felt would be pushing his luck to try and approach with you after you had already given him so much.

When he wasn't in control he sometimes saw fragments of it, glimpses that made him flush and his chest tighten, desire clashing with the jealousy that sat like an uncomfortable weight in the back of his throat. He saw you through the thinning glass between the alters, saw your lips part around a throaty moan that hit him like a train, the slopes of your bare skin, sweat slick and gleaming, as your back bowed in pleasure.

He was always quick to turn away before he saw too much, squeezing his eyes shut to give you your privacy and to chastise himself for those feelings that were steadily slipping further out of his already shaky control.

He was arguing against himself, the part of him that craved more than he should, stern in the reasoning that he should be grateful to have you in any capacity. To have your friendship and your care, your protectiveness over him and the way your eyes glowed with interest, gaze fixed on him and smile soft, warm and encouraging, no matter what subject he chose to ramble on and on at you about.

And if that wasn’t enough to make him hold his tongue then the insecurities that clung to his bones and his insides - his poor lovesick heart - in strings of black tar, were certainly more than willing to do the trick.

Because why would you want him like that when you've already got someone like Marc? Someone so clearly your equal.

Would you be offended by the idea of him as a partner - of being with both of them?

What if he ruined things entirely - made things weird and you leave? Plunging your hand in that mess of threads and ripping yours away, splitting fibres that burrowed beneath his skin and left him forever haunted by the ghost of you.

It didn’t matter that Marc had tried to tell him otherwise, gave Steven as many hints as he could without revealing the extent of your feelings because that was your business and not his place. His voice growing exasperated the longer that Steven refused to do anything about it.

"Do you really think she would put up with all of this, if she didn't love both of us?"

Yes.

No.

Bloody hell, he didn't know.

It’s a question he didn't have an answer to and so he chose to ignore it completely.

Buried it alongside the too fast flutter of his pulse beneath his skin when you drifted close, when your hand was threading through the mess of his curls. Gentle fingers tilting his jaw, stroking the fragile skin beneath his eyes as you checked for signs that he wasn’t sleeping as well as you’d like before you mumbled out a happy sounding noise, pleased when you found none.

He swallowed it back and pretended it didn't burn all the way down. Like the thought didn’t feel like it would burst him to flames the same way it did when he woke to find you wound around his body, legs tangled with his and your breath, soft and warm, against his neck.

The only reaction you gave when realising you had fallen asleep with Marc and woken with Steven, being the shy smile that crept across your lips as you gazed up at him, arms making no move to let him go, to push him away and create distance.

He didn’t know what else he was supposed to do.

He was in over his head.

It was after a fight that it happened.

They returned to the quiet of their hotel room, heads down and bodies tucked in on themselves as they passed through the plain reception and the corridors with their aged, peeling wallpaper until there was the relief of the door clicking shut behind them.

They were stained with the after effects of their violence. Blood splattered jaws and rust beneath their nails, the collar of Steven’s sweater torn wide, slit at the abdomen from where he was stabbed before he’d remembered to summon the suit and when he looked at you, there were already bruises blooming. Creeping across your skin - the swell of your cheek - before his very eyes, muddied shades of navy and lavender that made him wince and his hands twitch.

You smiled when you caught it, all easy charm, a sweet, placating thing that softened the sharp edges that still clung to your features after a mission. “I’m fine Steven.” You told him gently. “Nothing a shower and some bandages won’t fix anyway.

He nodded, a little unsure as always, trying to offer a simple smile back because Steven’s learned it’s best not to hover when it comes to you. To treat you like you were made of glass just because you were something infinitely precious to them. That you could easily grow frustrated at the way Marc loomed like a pissed off drill sergeant and Steven fretted like a frantic, mother hen when they saw you hurt all because you lacked an ancient god fused to your bones and hooked in the meat of your soul.

Instead he slipped into the bathroom and cleaned away the blood that itched at his own skin, his stomach only faintly twisting this time as he watched it swirl pink in the water before slipping down the drain.

He was getting better at it, he realised belatedly. It didn’t feel like he’d lose whatever food he had managed to get down that day anymore when he was faced with the evidence of what he had done, like his stomach wanted to turn itself inside out and he needed you to scrape the sweat-damp droop of his curls away from his clammy forehead. Mouthing soothing sounds into his shoulder as he groaned and coughed up his guts.

Once he was dressed in something that didn’t look like it’s seen the inside of a shredder he went out again.

It was routine by now. Him or Marc would go in search of food - flaky pastries dusted with cinnamon or soaked in syrup. Steaming pasta in rich, silky sauce with thick slices of buttery garlic bread. Tacos. Gyoza. Earl grey cake from the bakery you passed on your way into town.

Anything you asked for because it was the only way you ever really let them take care of you, only huffing slightly when they handed you the painkillers that you absolutely always argued you didn’t need if they didn’t bribe you first.

And by the time they typically got back you would already be lounging in the bed. Hair slightly damp from the shower, wounds neatly bandaged, and looking far too warm and soft than Steven’s poor heart could handle, sunk into the plethora of mismatched pillows.

It always made his heart flutter in his chest to come back to you waiting, to step into the room and find your eyes shining over at him, your hands already outstretched, making grabbing motions that had him chuckling as you beckoned him towards you with the food. Head tilting in the direction of the box tv as you teased him with a grin. “It’s about time, there’s an old crime documentary about to start, I thought we could watch whilst we eat.”

Which is why it struck him as odd when he returned and there was no sign of you. The bed still neatly made. The blank screen of the tv staring back at him, projecting nothing but his own reflection, when his gaze flicked to it.

He relaxed when he registered the faint sound of running water - the repetitive pattering of spray hitting the tiles. Shook his head at how his body had immediately drawn tight with anxiety all because you weren’t where he had expected you to be. The breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding blowing past his lips in a rushed exhale at the smell of your shampoo, fresh and slightly sweet, comforting in a way he couldn’t explain, seeping beneath the bathroom door.

Everything’s fine. She’s fine. You were just worrying over nothing.

But then he heard it.

His name.

Or at least, he thought he did. There was a few beats of silence when he stopped, quietly placing the bag of food onto the side as he strained to listen. Nothing.

It was maybe his imagination, he thought.

Maybe you had been mumbling to yourself, singing beneath your breath like he knew you liked to do when you thought no one could hear. He went back to sorting the food with another shake of his head, a mutter to himself that he was growing far too paranoid as he pulled out the containers and the plastic utensils before reaching over to the little tv to find something you might be interested in watching when you eventually did come out.

And then he definitely heard it again.

A touch louder, clearer that time than the last, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sound. It was a pained thing - a low moan that cut to a whimper and Steven almost completely lost his head.

Were you hurt? Had he left when you needed him? What if you’re trying to hide the seriousness of one of your wounds, bleeding out in there because of your stubborn refusal to worry him?

He called to you once. A second time that was steeped in a dizzying panic, and when there was no response again all thought went out the window. He was lunging for the door to the bathroom, sweat-damp hand fumbling with the handle before he nearly wrenched the damn thing off despite Marc’s suspiciously calm voice in his head telling him ‘Steven wait..it’s not what you think-’

He almost snarled at that, bristling in disbelief that Marc could be so unbothered when Steven’s fear had snapped to life in an instant to clutch him by the throat. There was an anger he wasn’t quite used to rushing through his chest, burning vicious and ugly, charring his bones as he spat back at the other man, “If you think I’m going to ignore the fact that she’s seriously hurt then you’re fucking mental, what is wrong with you!”

Marc didn't respond, at least not with words - there was a weary sigh that seemed to say ‘suit yourself’ and then silence. Good.

He refused to pay him mind, to focus on anything else other than you, getting you the help you needed, and when he finally flung the door open, the noise of it hitting the wall almost deafening in the silence of that tiny room, everything suddenly stumbled to a halt as what he’d just walked in on seared itself upon his brain. Burning bright behind his eyelids when he slammed them shut, a hand slapped over them for good measure.

Because you were all bare, steam-slick skin. Glittering with the droplets of water that caught the light and shone as they trailed down your body in a way that made the image of him catching each one with his tongue flash across his mind, unbidden, entrancing him until his gaze had followed a shimmering path to where he'd discovered the hand buried between trembling thighs. Your fingers that halted their quick, jerking movements as your pretty features morphed from pleasure to stunned surprise.

“Oh god - bollocks - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-"

He was rambling. Stammering on his words like his tongue was too thick for his mouth, choking on the billows of steam he was breathing in as his face flushed with the sickening kind of heat that came with pure mortification and good fucking god, what the hell was he doing still standing there?

“I’m sorry,” he continued, rooted in place despite every fibre of his being telling him to bolt. It burst out of him almost, jumbled and tumbling, all frantic to make you understand. “My name- I heard you say my name and I thought… it sounded like you were hurt and I know you like to handle your injuries alone but it sounded bad and I thought you could be bleeding out or dying and I just couldn’t–”

You were wrapping gentle fingers around his wrists before he could talk himself breathless, into an early grave with the way his pulse was hammering beneath flushed skin. Your voice fell even softer, barely rising over the sound of the water that was still pelting against the tiles, as you told him, “Steven, calm down. Look at me, it’s okay.”

He wanted to resist, unwilling to face the weight of your disappointment, the shame that would only double tenfold when that harsh glare of yours undoubtedly pinned him with it, but he found himself compelled by a featherlight touch at his jaw, the arc of cheek, sweeping the damp curls from his eyes just as they fluttered open.

Steven gulped as his stare settled on you, closer than he'd expected you to be, now wrapped up in a thread-bare towel that hid only enough skin for you to be considered decent but had him sending a prayer of thanks for to any god that would listen anyway. He didn’t think he’d survive it otherwise.

Not with the way you were actually looking at him. Touching him.

He was already having trouble breathing properly, his stomach still flipping from the memory of you, your closeness to him now when your soft moans were still echoing around in his head.

Steven, Steven, Steven.

His heart had yet to return to its normal pace and as it stuttered and beat itself violently against the cage of his ribs, he wondered if it was possible to die from something like this. From the desire and longing trapped and blistering beneath his skin, a wicked hot thing that was trying to burn him from the inside out.

It certainly felt like he could.

Your expression grew anxious whilst you simply watched one another, gaze troubled and brow knit into a soft frown. Your lip drawn between your teeth in a way that made him have to swallow down the urge gently tug it free with his thumb, to soothe away the rawness with soft touches. An even softer kiss.

Gods, he was pathetic.

Even when he was expecting you to be angry at him, for that gentle calmness to drop any second to reveal disgust, he still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about touching you, kissing you. Loving on you. He wanted to shake himself, to rub away the ache in his chest that worsened as your lips parted and he braced himself for you to tell him you couldn’t be around him after this.

“It’s not you who should be apologising, Steven.” You told him instead, voice tinged with guilt, a hint of embarrassment. Nervous in a way he’d never seen before. And when your eyes dropped briefly to where your hands were still cradling his own you missed the way he blinked at you in stunned confusion.

“I shouldn’t have been doing that - thinking about you like that - definitely not when you could hear…shit- I’m so fucking sorry you heard it and saw what you did. I get it if you don’t feel comfortable around me and you need a break or something, fuck - is that something you would want? Do you want me to go?”

Steven didn’t even know what to say. His expression had morphed into something utterly dumbfounded. His brain screeching to a halt at your apology - your confession?

It was spinning around inside his skull like a carousel, all bright flashing light and the swelling tinkling of fairytale music. Because surely it couldn’t be real right? He’d not really heard what he thought he had, he’d not heard you admitting that you think about him.

Maybe he’d been knocked out during the fight and this was a dream? He almost found it easier to believe.

Except for the fact that in his dreams he didn’t have Marc’s voice in his head - seething with frustration. He wasn’t being yelled at to say something. Say anything. He wasn’t getting stressed out by the irate stream of demands mixing with his own rapidly firing thoughts until they all muddled into something that felt an awful lot like the oncoming of a migraine.

He wanted to snap at Marc to be quiet for just five bloody seconds but then he was raising his voice again - more worried this time - and it cut crystal clear through the rest of the noise. Sharp enough for Steven to finally understand what the other man had been desperately trying to snap his attention to.

‘Jesus fucking christ Steven, she’s going to leave! She thinks you don’t want her - SAY SOMETHING.”

And Marc was right. You had drawn away from him, dropped your hands from his cheeks and tucked them into your sides, arms crossed over your chest like you were shielding the vulnerable parts of yourself you’d only just worked up the courage to expose.

Curling into yourself in the face of what you perceived as rejection.

He watched in a throat-tight panic as you nodded solemnly and made to squeeze past him, reaching for the door that had swung back closed behind him from the force with which he had thrown it open.

It was the brush of you against him that startled him back to life - a smack of reality cracking across his bewildered face that told him you were about to walk out of that door, out of their shitty hotel room and straight out his life if he didn’t stop you.

Steven was whirling around before his mind could even register having told his legs to move. He caught at your wrist with a shaky hand , the touch of it feverish against your skin that had rapidly cooled once outside the heat of the shower - goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips despite the balmy air that swirled around them.

You turned, fingers still grazing the door handle, and looked at him, wide eyed and apprehensive, unwillingly hopeful, and it was enough to make the muscles in his throat unlock. Words bubbling up and past his lips before he could even consider if they were the right ones.

“Did you mean it?” He rasped. “ You think of me when you touch yourself?”

There was silence for a second, maybe two, and by the way you sucked in a breath - lips parting as you stared at him - he suspected the question had been the last thing you expected to be asked.

It was agony to stand there and wait and Steven tried his best not to let it show, tried not to breathe because every inhale was drenched in you.

The scent of your shampoo and your body wash and your breath fanning across his lips when he subconsciously leaned closer. The weight of his heart that wasn’t really his anymore, hadn’t been since he met you, sat on his tongue. Ready to topple along with the desperate plea he was fighting to keep clamped behind his teeth.

Please. Please tell me you think about me too - that you want me just as much as I want you.

And then, “I did,” you whispered, soft and hushed like you were worried if you spoke any louder it would ruin whatever was happening between you, “I do.”

He surged forward and kissed you then. Both of you colliding with the door with the force of it, his lips crashing against yours like the world would spin off its axis if he didn’t have his mouth on you. It was a little clumsy but it still made your breath catch in your throat, made your body melt into his and your hands fly to clutch at the slopes of his shoulders as your surprise dissolved into something hungrier, the sensation of his mouth moving over yours dragging you under.

It wasn’t a sweet, soft thing like Steven had always imagined kissing you would go, all romantic like pretty sunsets and doves flying, a choir singing in the background as he tenderly cradled your cheeks in his hands.

It was tongue and teeth, months of repressed yearning bursting free and swallowing him whole, demanding that he devoured in turn. Making everything a little messy, touched with desperation. Frantic.

He let you part his lips, let you flick your tongue, quick and dirty, against his own and lick the needy groan from his mouth that followed until he was breathless and his knees threatened to buckle. A hand dropping to your waist to palm at the curve of it, fisting tight at the cotton towel, and the other sliding from your cheek to grasp a handful of the hair at the back of your head. Both meant to keep you locked to him just as much as it was supposed to keep him grounded.

Steven felt greedy with it, braver than he’d ever been with every little moan that slipped from your lips to his for him to swallow down and when you finally pulled back an inch gasping for breath, lips parted and expression looking entirely kiss-drunk, he felt like he’d found heaven.

His field of reeds, in the way your eyes were shining.

The way your fingers trailed up his neck and tangled in his curls to keep him from straying too far.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, voice lovesick and bleeding awe, painting your mouth with a sparkling grin as he pressed each word to your lips when you tugged him back down to kiss him again. “More beautiful than anyone or anything I’ve ever seen.”

You sighed into him, the hand in his hair tilting his head so you could kiss him deeper, a little more demanding before your lips slipped to the corner of his mouth, his chin, his jaw, sliding down his throat to suck a bruise at the skin before dropping a sweet kiss over the mark that made his hips buck against you.

It had a groan tearing through Steven’s chest when you pressed back, all silky, steam-damp skin and barely any material between you that suddenly felt that much less with the way it was clinging to you both.

“Steven…please.” You breathed.

And gods, you sounded just as needy as he felt.

So he hitched your leg high up at his waist and rolled his hips a little harder, a little more deliberate, drawing back just enough that he could watch how your lashes fluttered and your mouth dropped open, trying his best to take note of the exact angle and pressure that made you keen so he could do it over and over again.

He could feel how wet you were, the bare heat of you soaking into his jeans, pressed tightly against where he was achingly hard beneath the denim and Steven felt himself twitch at every gorgeous sound that poured past your lips - at the way you had snuck you hand between your two bodies without him noticing to palm at the thick outline of his cock.

It made his jaw go slack from the pressure, brain fuzzy from the bolt of pleasure that skitted down his spine when you squeezed him just right and then he was curling himself over you, burying you into the door and mouthing sloppy kisses and obscene praise into the skin of your neck whilst he rocked his hips.

He forced himself to bite back a whine when you pushed him back an inch, extracting yourself from his grasp so you could stand before him properly, eyes glossy and a touch wild, all panting breaths as your fingers curled around the hem of his shirt and tugged.

“Need to feel more of you.”

And then you were yanking it over his head, throwing it somewhere to be forgotten about whilst you pressed your hands into the warmth of his chest and made a greedy noise of appreciation that threatened to make his heart burst, a groan rumbling in his throat in response when you dragged your nails ever so lightly across his stomach and down to the waistband of his jeans.

His hands found yours then. Stopping them from popping the button beneath your fingertips, and when your eyes shot to his, the beginnings of the soft frown that shadowed them melting into something akin to surprise once you caught sight of him, he wondered if you could read the desperation that he was sure was plastered all over his face.

Because it wasn't that Steven wanted to stop that had him catching at you.

It was the utter assurance that if you got your hands on him he wouldn't last a fucking second that made his voice hoarse and his own hands tremble as he all but begged.

"Tell me more of what you think about… tell me what you want."

And Steven didn't think he'd ever forget the way you looked at him then, eyes darker than he'd ever seen them, hungry. Lips kiss-swollen and parted as you sucked in a sharp breath. Looking so fucking sinful that it had him swallowing down a choked moan.

You looked wrecked by his words.

By him.

He was almost embarrassed by just how close the sight drove him. There was a swell of something unforgivingly hot behind his ribs, searing in his stomach and his veins, all liquid gold and white flame, and he couldn’t resist re-capturing your mouth in a kiss that echoed just how helplessly he was affected by it all.

You drew his hands up whilst his lips were busy curving over yours, pressing them to the place where the towel lay knotted against the warm flush of your chest and when he groaned at the implication, the way the material came that little bit looser at the slightest touch, you took advantage of his distraction to skim your mouth across his cheek and to the delicate curve of his ear.

“I want you to take it off, want you to touch me” you murmured, breath hitching when he obeyed with quick fingers, worn fabric slipping away in a soft rush the same way his own breath exited his lungs. “Please.” Added like it was possible he would even think of saying no, like his hands, large yet reverant, weren’t already exploring. Pulling shudders from your body with every light graze of his fingertips. “I think about it all the time.”

Steven was a goner. Utterly devoted to bending to every whim that you had, to acting out every thought that had popped into your head from whenever you had begun to want him until right then. He wanted to know it all.

How could he not be when you were reacting to him so beautifully?

Your fingers had left his to wander long ago so you could twist them into his hair instead. Using your hold to crush him into you further and kiss him breathless when he touched somewhere that made you arch, to tug just a little meanly at the soft strands when he lingered on his path to where you were apparently growing impatient for him, and by the time he was tracing the crease of your thighs you were both wound achingly tight, panting into each other’s mouths.

He matched your moan when he finally slid his fingers through your folds, throat tight and something like pride flaring deep in his chest at the soaked heat he found there. At the soft, broken noise you made when he pressed gentle circles over your clit.

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispered against your lips. “Tell me.”

Tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good. Tell me exactly how you picture it so I can give you everything you want.

Tell me, tell me tell me.

“Fuck, yes, more– please - don’t stop.” You rushed out, voice strained but he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t the prettiest Steven had ever heard it. Absolutely hypnotising and he was under its spell without question, ready to worship at your altar in any way you deemed fit.

He kissed you with heavy-lidded eyes and open-mouthed, lips catching at yours in the briefest bursts because he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the way your chest heaved as he slipped a finger inside you, a second.

The way your own stare glazed when you told him just how much pressure to use whilst he curled his fingers and had you choking on the words, clenching around him before you could even finish.

You were feverish in his arms, mewling and arching as he picked up the pace and Steven almost lost his head at the state of you, trying his hardest to not bite his lip bloody when every flex of your hips into his hand had it pressing against his own need. He allowed himself to rock into you just once and then hastily pulled back as the pleasure burned white-hot, sliding his thumb a little firmer over your clit when you squirmed and whined at the loss of him.

“I know, I know– m’sorry love.” He gasped, breathless, chest tight and voice shot. “You feel so fucking good– I can't–”

You would be the death of him, he was sure of it. His hands shook, fingers curling around the nape of your neck in an attempt to hide it, and there was this unfathomable want clawing at his insides so savagely that he could hardly move without the friction of his jeans threatening to send him over the edge.

Bloody hell, you had him so fucking desperate he could scarcely think.

You both trembled as his lips ghosted across your cheek, each breath hot in your ear, as his voice quivered. “What else– what else do you need from me?- I’ll give you anything you want, darling, please.”

He barely registered the knock of your head falling back against the door, the whisper of a curse slipping past your lips, because at his words you had clamped tight enough around the twist of his fingers to make him shudder. Lashes fluttering at the way your nails bit deep into the muscles of his shoulders as the slick sound you being fucked on his hand grew over the roar of the shower.

“I- I don’t- Steven, oh fuck.”

Maybe that’s what did it. The way you were so ready to fall apart for him, all pretty and messy and pleading something sinful for more, more, more. Maybe it was the way the evening light peeking in from the tiny window had begun to turn into shadows, hiding the way his cheekbones were swept with pink better than the clouds of steam ever could.

Or maybe it was the fact that every time his name dripped off your tongue it made him feel so fucking wanted that he was delirious with it, his heart full and shining golden as you peeled back each of those strings of black tar insecurities that had choked the beating flesh for far too long.

Whatever it was, there was suddenly a new found confidence that burned through his veins, one that took every dirty thought swirling in his head and made him prepared to do them all. To give you anything you wanted, regardless of whether you were actually capable of forming the words for yourself.

There was no missing the blaze of your stare caught on his lips as he spoke after all.

Oh.

“Do you want my mouth?” Steven asked hoarsely against your throat. “Is that something you've thought about - you want me to taste you?”

He barely waited for your desperate nod and then he was gone. Dropping to the floor and ignoring the flash of pain that the cold tile spears through his knees as he buried his face between your soaked thighs.

The first flick of his tongue made your breath catch. The second had you twisting your fingers in the silk of his curls. A third had you tugging at him hard enough that Steven whined into you, the fingers that were dug into the meat of your thighs slipping to your ass to press you to him tighter, his hips thrusting against nothing whilst you bucked against the searing heat of his mouth, utterly uninhibited.

The sight of it was maddening, it was divine.

He still didn't quite believe this wasn't a dream.

There was sweat beading at your hairline - glistening along the column of your throat, the valley between your breasts. He watched the way your free hand trailed the softest path to one of them and squeezed, felt the way your body reacted to the added sensation in the flutter of your walls around his fingers. Squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter, as he rubbed at the soft patch of tissue until your thighs quaked around his head and you grew liquid.

Voice thread-bare when you whimpered that you couldn't take much more, that you were oh so close and please don't stop.

He went to flame then. To desperation and insanity and burning, searing need to devour you whole and drink you down until he either drowned or you had nothing left to give.

And just like you begged him to, he didn't stop until you spasmed and gushed around his fingers. Didn't stop when the call of his name cracked and broke as your voice gave out whilst he licked you through the violent crest of your climax until it's dying breaths and your body fell slack into the door. Propped up between the paint-chipped wood and Steven’s flushed body shoved tight against your own.

He didn't stop until you jerked in his hold, gasping and pleading, your fingers eventually releasing their tense grip in his hair to slip down to his chin, tilting it. Away from your swollen cunt as he was made to look up at you.

“Are you trying to kill me?” You laughed weakly, stunned gaze roving over every inch of him as you tried to catch your breath, and he wondered if he looked as wrecked as he felt before you. Wild haired and panting. On his knees with his eyes dazed and face coated glossy with you.

“I'm sorry,” he rasped, not bothering to even try and appear like he was very sorry at all, “you just taste better than I ever dreamed you would.”

Your eyes glazed a little at that, a dopey little smile playing at your mouth with it, as the first tendrils of hunger crept back into your expression alongside the tender amusement. “Fuck, Steven - who knew you were such a smooth talker?”

He laughed, a bright burst, cheeks kissed pink with the heat of your words and the slightly smug feeling of satisfaction that rumbled through his chest as he watched you glow with pleasure before ducking his head.

“I think that's all you, darling. I can't help it - not with the effect you have on me.” Steven mumbled, a soft and embarrassed grin tugging at his lips even whilst they trailed high over your shin to the crease behind your knee - rising up, up ,up to explore the warm skin of your inner thigh as his fingers swirled delicate little patterns at your ankle.

He couldn't stop touching you, couldn't feed the ache fast enough that came with needing to do it more than he already was.

And when his other hand swept the length of your leg to stroke over your belly you made a playful grab for it and brought it to your lips, eyes shining down at him at the way his lashes fluttered and his expression turned smitten before you tugged at him. Pulling him up your body until his jeans were scraping at your skin and his mouth was surrendering once more to yours in a syrup sweet kiss that burned deeper, more feverish, the longer it lasted.

Steven let you wind around him, let you urge him closer and closer until he was crushing you against the door at your back- wood slippery with condensation.

He let you roll your hips into his own and finally allowed himself to chase the pleasure with you as it renewed its intensity, let the thick outline of his cock rock against you until you were groaning into each other's mouths. Hands knotted in his hair and pearl-white teeth grazing the plush of his lip when you drew back to murmur.

“I want you inside me– want to make you feel good. Please, let me show you the effect you have on me.”

It sent a shock through him - ripped a low, guttural moan straight from his lungs that was followed by a heat-soaked curse that you took from him just as readily as you had everything else he'd given so far.

He didn't even blink before asking. “Can you say that again?”

You licked your lips and grinned, breath stuttering as he continued to move against you, fingers digging hard into the meat of your ass whilst you clung to him. “I need you inside me or I'm gonna lose my mind, it's all I've thought about for months - the way you'd feel- how you'd fuck me- oh gods.”

Another desperate noise. “Fucking hell. Again. Please.”

This time he didn't try to stop you when you reached for the last article of clothing keeping his body separated from yours.

There was the sharp clink of metal as you tore your hands from his hair to wrestle with his belt, your fingertips slipping over the leather whilst you fought to tug it free from the loops of his jeans before it fell to the tiled floor with a quiet thud and a clank.

And then you were pushing his jeans down just far enough until he was able to shakily kick them off. His heart in his mouth as he straightened, utterly naked before you apart from the shadows that slanted over his skin.

He felt a flicker - the ghosts of his insecurity passing over his face before he could blow them away like cobwebs- and prayed that you wouldn't notice. That you wouldn't mistake his hesitation for something else and even consider it to be directed at you.

But instead it seemed that you understood. Your hands found his jaw and you drew him into a kiss that ached. A lovely, bruising thing that had him melting into you, any insecurities fleeing so fucking far away that he could barely remember what they felt like.

You held him as tightly as you could and hummed in delight against his lips when he did the same and crushed you to his chest, the sound of it morphing into something needy as his cock throbbed, hot and smearing slick against your hip.

“I want you, Steven, I don't have the perfect words to explain just how much right now… just know that I need you so badly it hurts– it's hurt from the moment I met you and I don't think it'll ever stop no matter how much I might have you.”

Gods, you were threatening to undo him.

You had said you didn't have the perfect words and then given him everything he had dreamed of. Everything he thought he would die still wanting and never get to hear.

Steven swallowed hard, throat bobbing, and then he was bending down to lift you in his arms, the strength of a god thrumming through his muscles and large hands gripping beneath your thighs as you wound your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Clutching needily at him whilst he peppered your face with sweet, breathless kisses.

“You can have me whenever you want,” he pressed the words into your jaw, the damp warmth of your cheeks as he walked you into the shower, murmuring the next ones over and over until the rush of the water threatened to drown them out, “I’m yours.”

You went soft for him in the cradle of his arms at that. Stripped down to your barest bones in the face of his raw emotion and it made his heart flutter and thump all too fast behind his ribs when your voice trembled on a sigh his name, so sweet and lovely.

Beneath the luke-warm spray and with cold tile at your back, you drew him closer, nudged your nose tenderly against his own and touched him as he fought to commit it all to memory. The way he felt - burning with each and every stroke of hand, each part of him alight as you murmured beautiful affections against his mouth - at the intimacy of it all.

The image of you that he was sure not even in death could take from him when it eventually came - eyes bright as jewels, lips swollen with his kisses, all lush, silken skin that shone under the weak stream of light the evening had yet to swallow. Droplets of water clinging to your hair and lashes like crystals. You looked like something ethereal, something otherworldly and untouchable, and the privilege he felt in being the one to see you that way, to contribute to the way you were a gorgeous mess, felt like something holy.

It was almost too much and Steven hissed sharply through his teeth when you finally guided him into you, a whimper caught in his chest and eyes screwed shut as you lowered yourself down inch by inch until his hips met yours. He felt like he was on fire, the warmth that had been blooming in his gut morphing into something violent and unimaginable that had his body tensing as he struggled not to finish before he’d even started. Head falling against your shoulder just before he felt your lips brush against his temple, parting on a rushed exhale.

“Oh,” you breathed, “fuck, Steven.”

At least, it seemed that you were in just as bad shape as he was. He’d probably say something similar if he could remember how to speak.

But his mind had splintered. Shattered apart to fragments and the only thing he could focus on was the way you were surrounding him- all slick, tight heat and the overwhelming sensation that burst through his chest of all his lost pieces suddenly slotting into place, like you were a part of his soul he wasn’t aware he was missing until you were finally joined once more.

“I’m sorry, I just need a minute.” He stuttered, voice hoarse and eyes blown wide, endlessly dark when he peered up at you. Half adoring, half pleading. “I want to make it good for you, you just feel so–gods, you feel too good.”

He could only moan when you kissed him, a filthy sound that would have had his cheeks flushing scarlet had he not been so out of his mind. Could only stare at you like you were pure magic taken form - no god or pact needed for whatever it was running through your veins - as you threaded your fingers through his hair and whispered. “It’s okay, Steven, it’s okay. It’s already so good, christ–you feel amazing, just let go for me, I want to feel it.”

It made his desperation threaten to win over. Head spinning as he dragged himself back out of you before surging back in, tightening his grip on your ass and lifting you up higher so he could do it again and again and again. Each thrust sliding you further up the tiles and pulling a strangled noise from the back of your throat that he quickly stole with greedy lips moulded over your own.

It started slow, deliberate and devastating, and then turned faster. Needier and unrestrained. The sound of panting breaths and skin on skin rising above the dull roar of water pelting against the tiled floor. Open mouthed kisses that were forced to come to an end because all the oxygen felt like it had fled both of your lungs, punched out everytime you slammed yourself down to meet the frantic rolling of his hips.

Steven had never felt anything like it and it was dangerously close to annihilating him completely.

There were wicked bolts of something animalistic, a feral rush of desire, threatening to weaken his knees and you gasped in surprise, legs clenching tight at his waist, when he moved to hold you with just one arm banded around across your back as his other hand slammed against the wall for support.

It changed the angle that he speared into you with and with the next thrust that came you were sobbing for him, seizing up like he’d plunged into the heart of your pleasure and pierced it - letting it flow out to the farthest reaches of you until you were curling into the solid press of him against you. Fingers in his hair and teeth searing a mark into his shoulder.

“Steven,” you whimpered and fuck, you sounded just as overwhelmed by it as he felt. Shaking in his arms as the heat wrapping around you both grew and grew. “Steven, Steven, Steven.”

It made him choke on his tongue, eyes rolling back at the way you were clenching around him as his thrusts became deeper, greedier. His cock harder than it had ever been whilst you made a mess of his stomach and his thighs and Steven couldn’t get enough, He was so close to losing his mind, so close to devouring you entirely and begging you to ruin him because every sound you made, every sweet little uh,uh,uh that tumbled past your lips was unlocking something wild tucked deep inside him that he was helpless to rein back. That had him babbling nonsense, incoherent words that dripped down on you like scalding hot honey.

And then he latched his mouth to your nipple, relishing the way you jerked as he flicked his tongue and scraped his teeth across the peak until you mewled before trailing a path of fire up to your collar bones and then higher again to the tender skin of your throat. Sucking a kiss there that had you keening and shone like a bruise when he drew back to meet your burning stare.

“Touch yourself.” Steven begged, more than a little desperate because you were so tight around him and he was so fucking close. Stomach quivering and flooding with golden heat. “Want you to show me– want to see how you touched yourself all those times you thought about this.”

You nodded slowly as if dazed by the request, lips parted and eyes gleaming dark. But you were quick to comply. Quick to thrust a shaky hand down to where he was fucking up into you, to the crest of your sex where you were soaked and scorching like a furnace, and once you were there, your fingers drew quick, sloppy circles to your clit that had you throwing your head back with a loud cry of his name whilst he watched, lust drunk and in awe.

“Shit, shit shit.” Each word that bubbled its way up your throat was ragged, edging on breathless as your back arched like a bow. “Steven, oh my god, I’m gonna–”

He surged up before you could finish, hand tearing away from the wall to tangle itself in your wet hair so he could drag your mouth to his and kiss you as you came. Holding you fiercely in place and groaning against your lips, swallowing down your own noises whilst your cunt fluttered around him, convulsing over and over until his movements grew frantic and messy. Warmth pulsing brightly in his groin and his stomach and his too tight chest.

It was too much - he was bordering on delirious. Everything was hot and wet and he was wound so tight that any moment it felt like he’d explode. Burst apart like confetti. It took every ounce of strength he had to stave off his own release so he could extend yours by letting the frantic rhythm of his snapping thrusts morph into a slow, intense grind that stole the breath from your chest and made it feel like he was melding himself to your body. Like you were burying into each other so deep that you would never truly be able to remove the imprint of the other afterwards.

There was a flash of pain from your nails scratching down his scalp and across the broad sweep of his shoulders, teeth scoring the softness of his bottom lip whilst shudders wracked your frame and it startled him, the low, starving noise it drew from his mouth. Knocked him flat when you drew the stinging flesh into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the marks you had left behind, and began to raise and lower yourself up and down on his cock that little bit faster despite the way he could feel the muscles of your thighs trembling around his waist.

And when you cupped his cheeks, eyes burning with a wicked hunger whilst you whispered against his mouth, Steven was utterly lost.

“C’mon Steven, let go,” you encouraged him, voice wrecked. Desperate. “Want you to come for me, I want to feel it, please.”

He fell apart for you then, crashed into bliss with his arms winding achingly tight around you as his hips stuttered and then came to an almost stop, twitching desperately and fused unyieldingly to your own. His vision going dark and your name like a prayer that he gasped into your skin over and over.

And when it all eventually calmed, the crashing of his heart beat against his ribs and your chaotic breaths, the exhaustion had him almost falling to the shower floor with you. Both of you slipping down the wall just an inch or two before he managed to right himself on weak legs to the sound of your startled laugh.

It wasn’t until he had set you down and moved to clean you up, massaging with gentle hands and tender sweeping kisses all the places that he’d gripped so tightly, the places where you were starting to bare his marks that had him frowning apologetically, that it finally hit him that the shower was running cold. You were both being pelted with what felt like tiny shards of ice against your rapidly cooling skin and you snorted a laugh when he yelped in shock and immediately dragged you out of there, eyeing him with a sticky-sweet kind of affection as he snatched the thickest towel he could kind and wrapped it around you before pulling you close in an attempt to warm you up.

The way you were looking up at him was making his chest ache, filling his lungs up with an adoring kind of wonder, the kind that sprouted wildflowers and soft vines that breached through all his organs to wrap around his ribs. Suffocating him in the best way with just how much he was in love with you.

It made it impossible for him not to ask. “Can I kiss you?”

And if he thought that you would laugh at him considering everything that had just happened, that only moments ago he’d been buried inside you, then he was delighted to be proven wrong. Because you were beaming at him the second the question rushed past his lips, eyes sparkling in the near dark of the tiny, damp bathroom.

“Please.”

So he kissed you like he’d always wanted to the first time, slipping his fingers through the wet tangle of your hair to cradle your head whilst his lips pressed sweetly and almost shy against your own. It unfurled like it held its own magic, the type that could stop time and make him feel like he was floating, tingles rushing all through his body until he was lightheaded and needed to draw back before he lost his breath to the irresistible pull of it all.

You just stood leaning into one another for a while, foreheads resting together, noses nudging each other lazily alongside the occasional soft brush of lips. And then you were wrapping him up in a towel of his own and leading him to the bed, using an extra towel to carefully dry him with a reverence that had his heart flip flopping in his chest and a blush rise high on his cheeks. He melted when you kissed him, little butterfly presses to his arms and chest before you pulled a clean sweater over his head, his thighs and his hips when he lifted them for you to pull his sweatpants on.

And once Steven had returned the favour, he was drawing you to him in the middle of the bed, your back to his chest and the food that had long gone cold balanced precariously on the blanket pooled around you both. He fed you bites of chorizo and feta fries, coated in herbs and sprinkled with pomegranate, whilst an old movie played and when those three words fell from his lips, without thought and as easy as breathing, Stevens was no longer afraid.

No longer felt in over his head.

He murmured against your hair. “I love you.” And swallowed the lump that threatened to form in his throat when you turned and smiled, your fingers touching his face like he was something precious you had spent a lifetime yearning for before giving him the answer to a question he’d always thought he’d have to ignore for the rest of his life to save his own heart.

“I love you too.”

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