#i do have a habit of laughing when i watch them struggle though. it’s just so fucking yummy ugh

[verysium]

BLUE LOCK REVERSE ICKS 😳

😭 i read this as blue lock icks and was about to drag them all through the dirt with a brutally honest character review. but anyways, reverse icks is still a good idea, so here you go anon:

rin has abandonment issues. now before u come for me, let me explain. ever since sae left him, he's been hesitant to let anyone back into his heart, and that's why you mean so much to him. his hand automatically reaches for yours in the crowd so you don't get separated. when he has nightmares and dreams of you leaving, he wakes up, patting frantically on your side of the bed until he finds your body and relaxes. hugs you as if he'll never let go and buries his face into the crook of your neck and just whispers "thank fucking god." and you can see his chin wobbling as he struggles so hard not to cry, but deep down you know he's a very sensitive soul and you're quite literally his whole world.

sae's entire character is a reverse ick. have you not seen that man? he is beautiful. but i'll give u a little scenario: sae attends a charity gala, and you're invited as his plus one. you're busy getting ready in the bathroom, and he just leans against the doorframe, breath hitching when he sees you all dolled up in your fancy dress. coughs to hide his blush when you turn around and ask him for help. creeps behind you silently, his hot breath grazing your nape as his deft fingers reach for your zipper. his hands are callused and gentle when they clasp the back of your necklace (the one he bought for you), and the cold metal contrasts with the warmth of his hands on your shoulders. his heart is beating so fast that his fingers tremble and struggle with his tie, so you fix it for him but when your gaze travels back up his face, you catch him staring down at you, his eyes filled with an intense emotion. your gesture of kindness reminds him of his mother and how he hasn't gone back home in ages and how blessed he is by the gods to have you in his life.

kaiser does the hair tuck thing where he kisses a strand of your hair and smooths it behind your ear. he tries so hard to be a suave and charming gentleman, but honestly he's just an awkward loser. screams like a girl when you watch horror movies together and hugs you so tightly you think your lungs might burst. but then he gradually quiets down and falls asleep in your arms, and you think maybe he's not so bad. he canonically is not a morning person, so when he wakes up, he has the homeless cut 2.0 with the wild bed head and groggy facial expression. also has a weird habit of walking around the house naked. in any other situation, you would've yelled at him to put some clothes on, but his physique was looking extra good today, and you sort of got distracted. he definitely noticed and not-so-subtly flexed his biceps. always tries to make you laugh even though his pick-up lines are terrible and he can't tell a good joke to save his life.

nagi sometimes wakes up before you and pulls your body closer to him. on most occasions though, it's you who wakes up before him and he drags you back to bed. he hates it when you work late and hovers above you like a phantom, waiting for you to finally finish and go cuddle with him. if it gets to the point where you fall asleep while working, he will tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight. the next morning, you find all your work finished, albeit in poor handwriting. in all honesty, nagi is a genius, and he tries hard for you and only you. if any other person asked them to finish their work, he would've flat-out rejected them.

isagi is good with children but often at his own expense. unsuccessfully tries to make a baby laugh but ends up getting distracted and slamming face first into a telephone pole. now that made the baby start giggling, and he just smiled through tears with a red bump on his forehead, insisting that he was alright and didn't just knock his two front teeth loose. whenever he babysits your siblings/cousins, he ends up doing all the grueling work like changing diapers, taking out the trash, cleaning up after the gremlins. and yet the children will still favor you and not him. tries to act like he's not heartbroken but boy did that sting a little too much.

barou buys you flowers. has a big stupid blush on his big stupid face and refuses to admit that his heart skips a beat every time you look at him. does that thing where he looks the opposite way to pretend like he's not interested before shoving a bouquet into your hands. he's also very protective. holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk so you don't get run over. holds the door open for you every time. tried to make those origami hearts for you, but his fingers are thick and stubborn, and he stayed up all night in a fit of rage because he's not used to delicate work like this. you ended up getting a lopsided piece of crumpled paper that barou insisted was a heart, and you agreed because why would you hurt his feelings?

chigiri knows how to braid your hair. makes you sit in front of the mirror while his slender fingers carefully brush the soft strands. he can get complex too. dutch braids. french braids. fishtail braids. also does that cheesy couple tradition where he braids a piece of his own hair with yours as a symbol of love. most people don't know this, but he's actually a crackhead. sometimes when you're walking down the street, he'll do impersonations of the various people he sees. the old lady at the laundromat. the two aunties at the flower shop. the fisherman near the boardwalk. he even imitated your dad once, and you nearly lost it. he's too funny guys, but you need a sophisticated sense of humor to understand him.

and that's about it. sorry this was so short anon, but my brain is dessiccated this week.

#asks #blue lock #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x you #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi x y/n #isagi yoichi #isagi x you #isagi x reader #yoichi isagi #barou shouei #barou x reader #barou shoei x reader

[pedgito]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)

word count: 11.6k - part two, part three, part four

The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least. 

Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.

The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”

“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“

“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”

Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students. 

“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. 

The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them. 

“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question. 

There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly. 

“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”

“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”

“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”

His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning. 

“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”

And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet. 

He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm. 

He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts. 

“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”

A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you. 

“So—are you a therapist?” 

He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.” 

The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble. 

“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.

“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”

He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.

He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—

“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”

Outside of being a professor, obviously. 

Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.” 

Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”

You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.

The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours. 

And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not. 

The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.

Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue. 

“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”

“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest

“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”

Really fucking crooked. 

He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.

He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.” 

“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend. 

Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.

You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point. 

“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.” 

You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage. 

You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.

And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse. 

☆.｡.:*

“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?

Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you. 

It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities. 

“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.

The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure. 

The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars. 

“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”

Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you. 

“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.” 

You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you. 

“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”

“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”

“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly. 

You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look. 

At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later. 

“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd. 

“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.” 

“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”

And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more. 

“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile. 

“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.” 

The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.

You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone. 

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells. 

It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.

“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly. 

The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.

Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?

Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder. 

And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.

From what you’ve seen, at least. 

“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.

“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.” 

One hell of a fucking coincidence. 

“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.” 

Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt. 

“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him. 

“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.

Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.

The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand. 

“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”

There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.

“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately. 

“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”

And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system. 

“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away. 

This was too weird.

“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story. 

Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“

It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at. 

“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”

And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.

But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.

And not secretly—very, very openly. 

“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.

“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.

You both take a hard stop, looking each other down. 

“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”

“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”

He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school. 

“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”

“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid. 

He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.

You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”

Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance. 

“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking. 

“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.

“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”

Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”

You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.

“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt. 

“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”

“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.

It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.

“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”

You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”

Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down. 

You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime? 

“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”

You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face. 

“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”

“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.

You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.

“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”

“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”

“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”

“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.” 

“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”

When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.

 “I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”

Saying it makes it even weirder. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”

The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.

Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding. 

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.

“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”

And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.

“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.” 

“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”

You nod hesitantly.

Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.

☆.｡.:*

“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.

“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“

“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”

Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.

“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride. 

“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “

You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway. 

“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.

“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.

“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”

Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”

Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many. 

It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.

He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened. 

It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking. 

☆.｡.:*

Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you. 

You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong. 

It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.” 

And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process. 

“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”

It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.

Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend? 

When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”

It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?” 

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane. 

“He drove you here?” She asks.

“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.” 

You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.

“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“

“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.

“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.

“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the information.

“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”

“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”

“What does he teach again?” 

“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.

“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”

There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk. 

“What did you guys talk about?”

“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”

“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious. 

“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”

“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.” 

“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.

“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.

“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”

“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.

“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“

And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”

Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”

Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.

“Give me a ride.” 

Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is. 

☆.｡.:*

“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”

You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus. 

“Uh Professor…Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.” 

His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.

The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him. 

“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”

“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“

“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…

“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”

“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”

“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went. 

“Max?”

“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk. 

“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”

“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?” 

You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.

“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”

Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”

“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”

You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see. 

“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”

“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit. 

“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference. 

Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”

You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point. 

“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”

“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.

“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”

And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.

“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”

“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there. 

If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.

“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.” 

Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.

Which, yes, you absolutely were.

You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it. 

He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.

You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.” 

You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”

The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.

“Wanna let go now, sir?”

Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life. 

“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, hopefully.” 

It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.

You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.

☆.｡.:*

He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.

He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained. 

“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”

It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt. 

And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.

He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture. 

It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play. 

Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way. 

“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window. 

“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together. 

“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.

It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”

“Clearly,” You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”

He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.

“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”

Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage. 

“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.

“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor. 

“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.

“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you. 

“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“

He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really. 

“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”

“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”

“I thought it was really good.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.

The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.” 

It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior. 

A different bar, same band; one night only. 

“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.” 

Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”

You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too. 

“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.

He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.

“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.

There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.

“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.

And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else. 

☆.｡.:*

The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it. 

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”

“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.

“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”

“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”

“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”

The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.

She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good. 

“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”

“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.” 

Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.

“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.” 

“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. 

“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus. 

“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.” 

Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.” 

“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.

It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down. 

You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.

But to you, it was worth it. 

You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body. 

He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that. 

Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years? 

It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous. 

☆.｡.:*

“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.

“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“

Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day. 

“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”

“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.” 

Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.

☆.｡.:*

The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore. 

It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word. 

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.

“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”

“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly. 

He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”

It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.

“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”

“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.

“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”

“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”

“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”

He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.

“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”

What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.

“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.” 

“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”

“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.

“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”

“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment. 

Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.

“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”

“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”

Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it. 

“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.

“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.” 

And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.

There was no turning back now. 

His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.

Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.

It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.

The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”

“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.

“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.

Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.

At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately. 

“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”

And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands. 

“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”

Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”

“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.

“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?” 

It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly. 

“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”

His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on. 

“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“

Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.

Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for. 

“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”

Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument. 

“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”

You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”

His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear. 

“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“

All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you. 

And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore. 

“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”

He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees. 

“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”

It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before. 

Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.

“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.

Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.” 

“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants. 

The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both. 

Who speaks first? 

He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along. 

“I’m—“

“Should I—“

The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened. 

He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have. 

“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”

He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.

“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”

Not a fucking chance.

“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”

It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel. 

And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face. 

But to Eddie, it's shame. 

Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words. 

And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand. 

He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything. 

It was exactly what you wanted. 

author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #my writing #1kfic #5kfic

[meanbossart]

i just need to take a second to gush about how much i love durge drow and astarion, they feel so fleshed out and perfectly written together in their fucked up wretched ways. They really inspire me to write more for my own tavs, hopefully one day ill be able to say im as happy with my own work as i get when seeing yours. I have to ask though, do you have any tips on drawing head shapes and faces? or maybe about wrinkles? i find i really struggle with that stuff when drawing and i adore how expressive and grungey all your art looks!

First of all thank you so much, I love hearing what people think of the two of them together 😭

Honestly you've hit on something that's quite near and dear to my heart, I love developing and figuring how to draw and stylize different faces to get the most unique, interesting looking results - everything about the details is highly rewarding to me. What does x type of nose look like from this angle? In this style? How can this eyeshape best translate to my art? How different does a face look when its making this expression? What does that MOUTH DO? etc etc.

In fact you kind of inspired me to put a little tutorial/guide together the last hour lmao and what a blessing it is that the two current subjects of this blog serve as great models here, being that their faces are basically polar opposites!

When it comes to heads, you've probably heard it a dozen times before that you want to think of them in terms of geometry and facets; my process to drawing them is pretty conventional so I won't spend too much time on it, but it goes something like this:

Obviously I don't do every single one of these steps most of the time, which is just something that comes from practice/developing muscle memory, but it is helpful to start off this way for two main reasons:

By making these guide lines and splitting a head into pieces like this, you'll have an easier time seeing and understanding it as a multidimensional object, and in turn, facilitate It for you when you venture out into doing wacky angles and lighting.

Making different headshapes starts HERE. notice how Astarion's "face" slate is narrower and longer, how my durge's jaw pieces sit lower on the head, how all of the same pieces came together in the same way but we ended up with one real pointy elf and a real brick of a drow - making characters look different successfully begins very early in the sketching process.

The next thing you want to do branches out into every day life: start noticing yours and other people's facial features. How does an upturned nose look from a high angle? How does the size of someone's cheekbones affect what they look like when they smile? How about when the light hits them a certain way? Does someone's lip shape changes when they pout? When they laugh? How does a person's hairline change the shape of their face? You do NOT need to creepily sketch every stranger you see on the bus, but get into the habit of actually noticing what people look like when you talk to them - when you look at pictures, when you watch movies - make a mental list of interesting ways mouths, noses, and eyes can come together in a variety of different proportions to make completely distinct looking mugs, and how they change depending on how you are looking at them.

Light and shadow play a HUGE role in how faces look, too, basically as crucial as actual bone structure does. As you see up there I tried to rough out how natural, head on, and underhead light would look on these two very different looking guys, and while we can see definite patterns, there are small differences that come to be because of the sizes and shapes of their features.

Here is a very, very basic look at how some of these features come to look the way they do, how they interact with one another, and how they compare between a blocky, rather conventionally "masculine" head and one that's much softer and slimmer.

Note please that it is not one or two characteristics that give a chaarcter their "look"; you can reduce a face to eyes, mouth, and nose through stylization and still have them be recognizable, but if you want to do more than that, you have to consider the whole package! Chin, cheeks, brows, direction of the jaw, slope and size of the forehead, depth of eyes, ridge of the nose, etc - I know this is probably far more than you bargained for, but if you start making note of a FEW of these things now and slowly add on, this will eventually become second nature to you.

Similarly, understanding how these characteristics come together will help you with rendering light and shadow in a realistic way, and predicting what their facial expressions may look like - if no two people are alike, neither are their smiles. :)

Lastly, remember that I'm no expert - I have developed my own methods and semiotics and yours may look slightly (or vastly) different, and that's fine! I hope only that by sharing this it has given you a base to work off of.

Anyways, I HOPE this has been helpful and not just the unsolicited ramblings of a face pervert.

#ask #art #advice #tutorial #astarion #DU drow

[whorekneecentral]

As Red As My Stockings

Trent Alexander Arnold x Physio!Fem!Reader

Warnings: takes place in the '23 season (after the newcastle match but imagine it to be in November or something so it fits the timeline lmao), andy and ibou are so annoying towards trent, virg is over them, probably incorrect physio treatments, one teeny tiny hint to medical role play for like 0.2 seconds, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, trent is sooooo !!

Word Count: 2,519

Author's Note: our vice captain >>> anyways, this one was a bit random. hope y'all enjoy it :))

merry smutmas series

--

Trent’s crush on the pretty physio is well known amongst the players. They make sure to help him fulfill one last Christmas wish before you all head home for the holidays.

Liverpool FC had been your home for the last few years and in your time there, quite a few players had come and gone through your room. All of them were wonderful and talented and charming in their own ways but no one beat the boys you had now.

If you could give them a middle name, it'd be troublesome.

It's Tuesday morning and the boys were returning for training. Liverpool had played Newcastle on Sunday, leaving the boys with another 2 points added onto the board but were left without their captain after a red card.

Currently, their captain was laid on the bench in your physio room, the rest of the boys scattered through the training room - you can see and hear their noise through the glass panels that separated the two rooms.

"I don't even know how I did it," Virgil tells you, watching as you massaged the spot before he could join the rest of the boys.

"I'm sure you must have over worked it during your shouting match with the ref," you glanced up at the man, there's a smile on his face even though he's rolling his eyes.

Before you finish with the captain, the door to the physio room swings open. The younger players had a habit of hiding in there to avoid training, especially when they knew Virgil wasn't in.

In comes Andy with his arm over Trent, squeezing the vice captain in a headlock. Ibou comes running in after them.

They weren't aware that their captain was currently in there with you.

"Oh hey skip," Andy shouts to his friend, struggling to hold Trent in place. The man struggles, pushing Andy away from him when he realizes Virgil was in there. Ibou blocks the doorway, stopping Trent from passing.

You were taping Virgil's knee, smoothing the tape as he looked over at the three of them. "Why are you in here? Don't bother y/n, she's working unlike some people," he shoots them a glare, making you laugh.

"All done, big man." You step back, picking up the roll of tape. You look over in the direction of the other players in the room. "What can I help y'all with?"

Andy says, "Trent strained something in his thigh." Trent was glaring at Andy; if looks could kill.

You nod towards the empty chair, putting away the stuff you used on Virgil before turning back to him. "Need anything else?"

"No," Virgil shook his head, still laying on the bench as he scrolled through his phone. "I'll head out in a few."

"Okay," you smiled, walking over to where Trent now begrudgingly sat. Ibou was snickering in the corner of the room, leaning on the wall by the door.

"Ibrahima," you called, the man freezes at the use of his full name. "Do you need something ?"

"Just water," he says, rushing off to the fridge to grab a bottle.

Andy's got a hand over his mouth, covering his giggles. "Don't start before I kick you out too, Andrew." You look over at him and he presses his lips together, sliding his fingers across it and turning it; locking it up so he doesn't make noise.

Trent sat quietly, so still that you almost missed his chest raising and falling with each breath.

"Which one?" you asked, crouching in front of him. His brows furrow, looking at you confused. "Which leg?" You clarified and he raised his left leg slightly.

You nod, "can you pull your shorts up a bit?"

Ibou and Andy were giggling behind you and you can't help but look over at him, the two of them shutting up, or at least attempting to.

Turning your attention back to Trent, you touch his thigh carefully, working your fingers over the muscle and the man groans. You glance up at him, "there?"

"Your hand's cold," he says and you move your hand away. "Sorry," you say, rubbing your hands together to try and warm them up.

You put your hand back carefully, not wanting to freeze him again but when he doesn't complain, you find yourself moving your hand along his thigh to find the strain. Your fingers were soft against his skin, Trent was thinking of what other injuries he could fake to come in and see you, to have you feel him up.

"Trent?" You called, pulling him from his thoughts, "where exactly is the strain? I can't feel anything."

His cheeks are red, he's been caught. "Uh-"

"Look!" Andy's hunched over laughing and Ibou's leant back laughing right beside him. "His face is red!"

"Shut up!" Trent grumbles, looking away from you and you bite back a smile before Virgil speaks, standing up. "Yeah, both of you shut up and go back to training," he tells him, shooing them from the room.

He smiles at you, nodding as he ushers a laughing Andy and Ibou out of the room. You turn your attention back to the vice captain. "So the strain?"

"I mean.." he starts and you hum, waiting for him to go on as you stand back up. "It was more of a tweak than a strain. "

"Of course," you nod, knowing he was bullshitting you.

This wasn't the first time he had landed himself in your physio room with some non-existent injury. Trent thought you didn't know about his crush on you but you did; if the players did one thing when they came in, it was gossip - especially amongst themselves when they think you aren't paying any attention to them.

You reach for his shorts, pulling them back into place. "Well if this tweak comes back, come see me. I'll treat it." You tell him, a smile on your face.

Trent stands, nodding. "Thanks, y/n."

"Anytime, Trent."

He was off to training once again but you called for him, stopping him in his tracks. "Next time you wanna see me, just come by. No need to bring the whole squad with you." You give him a look, the man's face red as he nods, walking out of the room.

--

The afternoon rolled into the evening, the boys finished up their training and whoever needed to be checked out stopped by but for the most part, the place was empty.

You had stayed back after the rest of the staff had left, putting up some decorations for the holidays. You're up on the chair, taping the garland to the wall when someone knocks on the door.

"Hey," Trent calls, stepping into the room before shutting the door behind him. You smiled at him, getting off of the chair. "Hey Trent, you okay?"

"Yeah," he nods, walking over to the bench furthest from the door. You did a few things, putting away the tape and the scissors. "What are you doing here so late?" He asks, leaning on the bench.

"Putting up decorations," you tell him, back turned to him as you shoved the leftover decorations into the bottom cupboard. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

He shrugs, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shorts. "I uh.. well there's a pain in my thigh and it won't go away."

"What happened?" You walk over to the man, "I can take a look if you want."

"Yeah, could you?" He says, watching as you crouch down in front of him. Trent can't stop himself, all the filthy thoughts flooding his mind. "Where's the pain?" You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes and he inhales, trying to control himself - the thought was there, he just had to make it happen, that's if you wanted to.

"Upper thigh," he whispers and you nod, rubbing your hands together which makes him smile, reminding him of earlier that day. "You're gonna have to pull your shorts up, Trent."

He nods, pulling the left side up and bunching it by the top of his thigh as you slowly start feeling over the area. Your fingers were soft but firm, his head tipped back and lips pressed together as you moved your hand a bit closer to the top of his thigh.

"Where exactly is this pain?" You look up at him, brows furrowed. Trent looks down at you, tongue passing over his bottom lip. "A little higher," he whispers and you finally get what he meant.

"Oh," you nod, moving your hand up further until it was near his cock. Trent glances down at you, watching as your hand rubs over the bulge in his pants. "There?" you asked quietly and he bites back a smile, nodding.

"Now why didn't you just say that from the beginning, Trent?"

"You're the physio, y/n. I knew you'd figure it out," he smiles when you stand. You hum, nodding. "So tell me," your hand still rubbing over him, Trent glances between the two of you. "What do you think is the appropriate treatment for this?"

"Whatever you think would fix it, hm? You're the professional."

You move, about to lower yourself onto your knees again but Trent stops you. "As much as I'd love to see you on your knees for me.. fuck, I can't wait."

"Wait for ?" You teased, letting him move you around. He rolls his eyes, bending you over the bench. "Okay then, don't answer me." You mumbled, fully well knowing what he meant.

Trent pulls on your pants, pulling them down, You can feel him shuffling behind you, his own pants tugged down just enough. The tip of his cock presses against you when he leans over, his hand on your hip.

"Can I?" He asks, his hips jutting forward just a bit. You hum, nodding but Trent doesn't move, "I need words, y/n. C'mon love."

"Fuck- please, Trent."

Your arms are propped on the bench, holding you up. Trent's hand slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your panties and your head drops forward.

Panties pushed to the side and he didn't have to hear anything else, lining himself up with you before his hips dig into you. He gives you a second to adjust him before moving.

He smiles at the way your face twists in pleasure. “God, you're so pretty," he sighs, pushing your shirt up a bit as his hips dug into your ass. 

Trent's hips dig into your ass, your hips are surely going to have a bruise tomorrow morning.

When you feel the tip of his cock press against a certain spot, your head falls forwards, his name falling from your lips. "Just like that," you mumbled, your nails digging into the leather of the bench. You could see the little half circles indents it left but you didn't care.

He can feel you clench around him when he does that, his hips ramming into you from behind again. "Like that, love?"

"Fuc- yeah." You nod, barely able to keep yourself standing let alone speak.

His hand on your hip slips down between your legs, reaching for your clit. He barely moves his fingers before your own hand reaches down to rest on his. Looking down, the outline of his hand pulls your attention, no matter how much you wanted to look away, you couldn’t bring yourself too. 

He pushes you down forward the bench, you prop yourself up on your forearms once again. You can see the reflection of the two of you in the glass door across from you; Trent's behind you, a hand on your hip and the other shoved down your panties, you're a mess, begging him to keep going.

Now Trent's not the biggest guy but he was bigger than you, both height wise and he was broader than you - you'd never admit it to him but god, you thought about him often. How good it would feel to have him on top of you or for you to be on top of him, how you fantasized about how good his fingers would feel or better yet, his cock.

You didn't have to fantasize about that part anymore.

The knot in your stomach tightens, and obviously, you know the size difference exists but you’d never seen it like this. Trent towers over you and his large hand covers your hip. Your body doesn’t even block his hips from view when he fucks you.

Your eyes find his in the reflection and you don’t even have to say anything, he knows exactly what you’re saying. 

Trent smiles. "It’s okay sweetheart, I know.” He whispers to you, thrusts getting sloppier by the second. The way you squeezed around him would send him over the edge just as soon as you did. "Me too," he tells you and you hum, "inside."

"Inside?" He asks, unsure if he heard you right.

"Please, Trent."

You had the man wrapped around your finger. Anything you wanted, he'd give you. All you had to do was ask.

The two of you in sync, his chest pressed to your back as you both came down from your orgasm. He rubbed your side softly before leaning down to press a kiss to your neck and pulling out slowly. He smiles to himself when he hears the whimper that slips past your lips when he pulls out.

It takes a second, the two of you slowly getting redressed. You leant on the bench behind you when you looked at Trent, his face red. "Want some water?" You asked, already walking to the fridge.

"Yeah sure. Thanks." He ties the string on his shorts, you pass him the bottle when he walks over. Trent takes a sip before he speaks. "I uh, I'd love to take you out for dinner before we head out for the holidays, y/n."

"Usually, you'd take a girl out to dinner before you fuck her like a whore, right?"

He chokes on his water, rubbing his chest. "I- yes of course."

You laugh at his reaction, wiping away the water from his bottom lip with your thumb. Trent's hand rests on your lower back, "can I take you on a date, you know a proper date?"

"Promise to do that same thing after?" You joked, nodding towards the bench. Trent laughs, nodding. "If that's what you want."

"Oh shut up, mr. I can't wait."

Trent's cheeks are red again, making you smile. Your hand rests on his cheek, reaching up to give him a kiss. "Yeah, I'll go out with you."

"Good," he smiles. There's a knock on the door before he gets a chance to speak again. "Are you guys done?!" Andy shouts from the other side of the door. "I forgot my charger in there!"

You and Trent exchange a glance, laughing as he lets you go, letting you open the door to let Andy in. The Scotsman looks between the two of you, the state of the two of you was a give away; skin all sticky, clothes wrinkled and out of place, Trent's face is red and you've got a bit of a wobble to your walk.

Andy laughs, wiggling his eyebrows. "Oh! You two soooo-"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Andrew."

--

taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander arnold x reader #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football smut #merry smutmas xoxo

[heartsteel-heartbeats]

More dating Heartsteel Kayn HCs (Birthday + Halloween Edition! ft. Rhaast)

Brief mention of drinking, but doesn’t go into full detail.

(( Happy birthday to this silly guy!! 😚😚 )) ~ OBBY 💗

You’ve known Kayn’s birthday was on the 30th and not the 31st thanks to a certain K/DA member texting him at a very unfortunate time, but you did enjoy the idea of celebrating both days in general. Kayn, on the other hand, prefers the 31st because that is what he says his birthday is. It doesn’t hurt to just simply indulge him. If he wants his birthday on the 31st, who the hell are you to say? Don’t let that stop you from doing something fun on the 30th though. Try to take advantage of the fact he has a habit of staying up very late. As long as you two aren’t caught, perhaps you could get away with a thing or two. Maybe a little spray paint to liven up this boring alley right?

Kayn might catch on to what your intentions are and he will tease you about it and telling you his birthday is tomorrow, but he truly does appreciate what you’re doing. Any moment he can spare just to be with you is everything to him.

“Is this for my birthday? You know that’s tomorrow.” “Whattt? Of course I know that.” “This is for my birthday, isn’t it?” “Totally not.” “It’s totally for my birthday!” “It’s past midnight anyway! It’s your birthday right now!”

On the 31st, do expect Rhaast to make an appearance. In fact, it may or may not have been his idea for you to dress up like him. He thinks it’d look cool, and luckily for both of you, some people seemed to have the same idea to dress up as him. Of course, it’d be obvious to tell which one was the real Rhaast, but you? The media can just say you were just a “mysterious talented artist” who practically nailed the costume. At least they never got a picture of your face or even your name, and they’ll never know that you actually got help from the man himself.

Rhaast does eventually escape from the crowd just to go to you and drag you onto a rooftop to watch everyone else. Does he make fun of other people’s attempts to dress up as him? Absolutely.

“[name]! Look at that one over there!” “A for effort, at least.” “No, that’s too high! Bump it down to C tier.” “Hah! That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Not even low B tier?” “Not at all!” “Oh come on, look at that one. That one’s not that bad, right?” “Ugh, more like cheaply made.”

Rhaast himself is pretty anti-paparazzi. Not in the “literally blinding in the camera” kind of anti-paparazzi, but rather the one that tends to scare them away quite literally. Popping out of nowhere with a loud “BOO!” and a boisterous laugh. Although in general, Rhaast is just really hard to get a good picture of if it’s not during a show. I mean have you seen him? Look at him go.

tbh he’d probably scare some kids too

Since we’re talking about Rhaast, let’s talk about your relationship with him. He loves you. In fact, he’s the one that pushed Kayn to approach you when he realized how Kayn felt about you. In a way, you could say this relationship is polyamorous. Rhaast still gets very jealous if he’s not let out to have time with you, though it’s not so different with Kayn. Both of them can get pretty jealous in general.

“You’re such a wimp! Just do it!!” “No..!” “Oh come on!! They’re perfect! You even thought it!” “Well-! Yes, I did! But-!” “They even love the way I work things! If you want them, you have to get them before someone else does! Have you seen how that other guy was looking at them earlier?!” “I am not doing it.” “What’s that saying? “The worst they can do is say no”? Just do it Kayn!!" “Ugh! Fine! Tomorrow." "Pussy."

Rhaast was Kayn's personal alarm that next morning. He wasn't going to let Kayn forget the plan. Let’s just say he was a bit of a mess when he finally came to you thanks to Rhaast, but when you said yes, he was ecstatic. Kayn struggled trying to keep a straight face when all he can hear is Rhaast yelling triumphantly. That was also the day you realized Rhaast wasn't just his "alter-ego," but rather a whole other person that only Kayn hears and lets out time to time. Well, you did like Kayn, and you did like "not simply an alter-ego" Rhaast, so it worked out.

He definitely tried scaring you a few times. Maybe he succeeded, maybe he didn’t, but he’s done a handful of things to you and others to try and get a reaction. Maybe you grew a resistance to it overtime and your reactions gradually changed.

Rhaast does let you snap some pretty cool photos of him which probably includes him doing dangerous stunts. Still, seeing him go do what he loves to do without anything to stop him was nice. That didn’t stop you from being worried if he’ll actually get hurt, though. He sometimes teases you on that. To be fair, he does this all the time and comes out unscathed.

Heading towards your next destination (which would be wherever they had agreed to celebrate his birthday) had to be done with the two of you doing in different routes so that attention wasn’t drawn to either of you, or to you specifically. Wouldn’t want too many speculations now, though it is fun to see the fans create their own thoughts on the matter. They were either entirely wrong, or they were so close to the truth. You were going to meet up again a few blocks from the location, and of course, he was there first waiting for you in a wall just to kind of surprise you. You were greeted by Kayn instead of Rhaast, and he lifts the mask on your face to give you a kiss.

“Hey there gorgeous~” “Hey yourself. Were you just standing in that wall the entire time?” “Guilty as charged. You’re so slow.” “Says the one who can walk in walls.” “Yeah, but you love it when I do it.”

Serves as good time to just walk and chat now that you’re away from the crowd. Most people, and kids, would be at home and maybe sleeping by now, so the streets are rather empty.

“Not that I’m complaining, but are you here because Rhaast is tired?” “If I let Rhaast drink to his heart’s content, none of us will be going home.” “Since when did that ever stop you?” “Yeah… But Yone won’t be letting me off the hook, so I’m unfortunately at a limit.” “And on your birthday. What a shame.”

Whether this is your first time meeting the rest of Heartsteel or not, it’s safe to say you get along with them fairly well. Ezreal wanted all the details, but gets cut off by Kayn who would pull you away from him. K’Sante and Alune are always fun to talk to, so if things get too rowdy, you can run to them and chat for a while.

You’ve spotted Aphelios taking pictures of some stuff happening, like how Kayn and Ezreal are still bickering which he’ll post somewhere later. He’ll probably go to you to show you some photos he took of the others a few days or weeks prior. There was even a photo of Aphelios and Kayn beating Sett with plushies and pillows (Ezreal took the photo). He’ll send it to you if you ask.

You know those little charms he has on his belt of Rhaast and his shadow assassin form? Your gift to him were matching charms of you and him. He wears the charm of you with so much pride, he loves it so much. You're even placed between the two he already had. No one would suspect a thing either if they see your little charm of Kayn. It's normal for people to have silly pins and charms of their favorite artist, and if anyone asks where you got it from, just say you made it yourself. It wasn't a lie after all.

It’s safe to say both Kayn and Rhaast had fun on their 48 hour birthday.

#obby’s scripts! #WOO FINALLY #dude i like #love the idea of Kayn and Rhaast having an Eddie and Venom relationship here? #heartsteel #league of legends #league of legends heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #lol kayn #shieda kayn #league of legends kayn #kayn x reader #league of legends headcanons #league of legends rhaast #rhaast #league of legends x reader

[the-s1lly-corner]

How they react to you telling them you're pregnant

Obligatory reader is afab but like most of my posts they're gn/gendered pronouns aren't used

Slenderman;

Cue the confusion

Pregnant?

Surprised more than anything, he didnt think that he could get you pregnant considering you're both different species

And also he didnt think he was fertile; at least not in the normal sexual reproduction way

Kinda just

Accepts it

Now do I think he would be a good dad?

Maybe? He wouldn't be horrible or absent, but some human things are still foreign to him, including raising a child.. so hes probably going to need a decent amount of guidance

I feel like he'd also be a helicopter parent? He already watches you like a hawk, he'd probably start doing the same with his kid as they get older

"Hey (kid name) who's that tall white boy following you??" "Oh that's my dad"/j

Becomes more protective of you during the pregnancy and the weeks after

Takes it in stride tbh

Splendorman;

Pause

Before you start to worry he scoops you up

Also thought it wasnt possible, but is hyped when he finds out the news

He WILL pamper you... may also dip into overbearing territory, though

He just doesnt want you or the baby to get hurt

He says goodnight to the bump later on in the pregnancy tbh

Oh you know hes gonna be decorating their room and giving them loads of toys

Would be a good father but may dip into unhealthy habits

This dude struggles with toxic positivity imo, so that's definitely something that's gonna need to be addressed

Laughing Jack;

Okay obviously ALL of them are probably going to be sat down and told the news, but Jack is gonna need the most talking to given that he probably doesn't grasp the gravity of it

He KNOWS what pregnancy is, he KNOWS what a baby is; but he doesn't know the intricacies of pregnancy if that makes sense

Like he doesnt know about the soreness, or cravings, or how fragile those tiny human beings actually are. Dude already struggles with being gentle with adults

So it's going to require a long and in depth talk about everything that's going to happen if you guys decide to keep the kid

Reaction wise, he takes it seriously. Kind of uncanny compared to his usual silly demeanor

Again, due to him being a lil dumb hes almost under reacting

As a parent I think...

Okay he'd probably kinda suck

He would love the kid but he would be so so so irresponsible I'm so sorry

Gives the kid candy for meals (bro cant cook)

Get that man into some parenting classes PLEASE

Eyeless Jack;

Another "I'm surprised because I deadass thought I was infertile" one, given my whole lore/Hc for EJ

The most worried out of them all

"What if they're like me and are cursed? What if they hate me? What if they grow to hate me? What if-"

He baby proofs his cabin... before insisting that the baby stays at your place primarily (if you haven't moved in with him) because he's scared of his whole... eating people thing

Please give him loads and loads of reassurance, hes gonna need it

He'll work hard to be the best father he can be, though!

He takes the kid out for walks in the woods, teaches them different plants and bugs and tells them which are dangerous

"Oh I don't want to hold them, what if I hurt em?" *falls asleep while holding his baby after reading them a story*

Masky;

You gotta baby proof him and the house im sorry, hes feral

Another "you're gonna have to sit him down and lay down the rules" type deal

Hes already mellowed out around you but he needs to mellow out a touch more for an infant

Hard to gauge his reaction but he seems.... excited? Hard to tell when hes sitting still and wearing a mask

When the baby comes he, like slenderman, also watches them like a hawk

You will walk in on him sitting over their crib at 3am/hj

Surprisingly gentle when it comes to handling the kid, just casually walks around with them and shit

Great for looking after the kid during the night while you rest

Hoodie;

V similar to Masky but he's already naturally calm

Putting this here now before I forget but he would take his mask off to make faces at the baby to try to make them laugh

Mf doesn't take his mask off for you though ☝️🙄/hj

Surprisingly good at calming down screaming infants for some reason

Similar reaction as Masky; hard to read but way easy to guess its positive since he lightly boinks where his mouth would be under his mask to your cheek while papping your stomach

Hes a lil silly

But hes got the spirit

Good dad, me thinks

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #slenderman x reader #splendorman x reader #laughing jack x reader #eyeless jack x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader

[friendly-neighborhood-boricua]

Squint And You'll See It

Summary: Sirius and his potions partner are trying to brew Polyjuice Potion for class, and he can't seem to figure out why she won't wear her glasses.

Notes: Sirius Black x shy!reader. All fluff, really. This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. I'm weirdly self-conscious about the sounds I make, how loud they are, if they could annoy/distract people, etc. so I wrote this just to comfort myself about it lol. I ended up using Y/N a bunch because using too many pronouns in a row makes my brain bristle so oh well. Still though, this is the sweetest thing I think I've ever written. Enjoy! <3

Y/N squinted up at the blackboard as Slughorn collected the class’s attention once again, and Sirius just about melted. The all-too-familiar scrunch in her nose and the crease between her brows gave him more comfort than he probably should have taken from her struggles to see the properties of Chinese Chomping Cabbage from so far back in the classroom. After an especially rapid flurry of blinking, she scribbled a couple notes on her parchment before fisting her knuckles in her eyes tiredly.

Sirius nudged her gently. As if it wasn’t already, the honey-doe eyes she gave him had his heart overflowing with a plush fondness. 

“Your glasses, love,” he whispered, nodding to her book bag, which hung off of the back of her chair. Y/N looked at it, then blinked twice. The glasses were a new and quite helpful development—one she hadn’t quite gotten into the habit of using yet. She eyed the bag again.

“I’m alright,” she whispered back and returned to her notes. 

Sirius frowned. “You sure?”

She nodded, giving him a light smile. 

Sirius frowned slightly but returned to his notes when Slughorn chided him for having his eyes elsewhere. But how could he be blamed? Only a madman would rather learn about ingredients than watch her. 

For a surprisingly long while, Sirius managed to stay focused on his notes, sometimes copying Remus’s, who sat on his right side, and only occasionally sneaking glances at Y/N, who sat on his left. After what felt like an eternity, Slughorn finally let the pair work on their Polyjuice Potion at a work table in the far back of the classroom. Sirius had come down with a nasty case of spattergroit several weeks previous and missed a week and a half of the brewing process. Unfortunately, Y/N had missed several days herself due to a family matter (now resolved with nothing to worry about, she had assured Sirius countless times), ending in the complete devastation of their original Polyjuice batch. And so, Y/N, unwilling to take a bad mark, and Sirius, ready to do just about anything to keep spending time with her, decided to make another batch. 

“Do you want to gather the ingredients or shall I?” she asked as Sirius scooted his stool closer to hers (to better reach the cauldron, of course).

“I can get the ingredients,” he said, flashing what he hoped was his most charming smile, and she blushed.

“Alright, I’ll, erm … I’ll work out our next instructions …” Sirius nodded as Y/N fell into her reading, smiling to himself as her brows furrowed once again to scan the page. 

Sirius skirted the classroom towards ingredient shelves, passing by James, Peter, and Remus, who all raised their brows at him with smirks. He simply rolled his eyes, rummaging through the shelves until he had gathered the correct ingredients. But when he turned around, ready to make his way back to Y/N and their Polyjuice Potion, he was met with a horrible sight: Remus, holding a tight-lipped frown in a near-futile attempt to ward off a smile, Peter, doubled over with laughing cramps, and James, turned around in his chair and arms wrapped around himself, raking them up and down his back in a sultry fashion as he pretended to make out with someone. 

With a peeved sigh, Sirius chucked a bundle of knotgrass at James, seed pods bursting and small nettle-like seeds clinging to James's hair. Of course, the three burst into peals of raucous laughter. Sirius groaned, and quickly made his way back to the back work table as Slughorn chastised the rest of them.

“Sirius, are you alright? You’re looking a bit … erm, warm.”

Sirius’s ears burned even hotter, and his eyes flew to examine the grout between the floor tiles.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m perfect, lovie.” He set down his armful of glass jars and clay bowls, trying desperately to change the subject. “Found what we’ve got to do yet?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Just here, it says we must add three bits of boomslang skin—”

“Got that here.”

“—crush the bicorn horn and add that—”

“Got that as well.”

“—and then there are some cooking instructions, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Sounds good to me, love.” Sirius smiled warmly. 

The two worked in harmony, Y/N checking and double-checking that she was measuring everything correctly and Sirius adding the ingredients once she had prepared them. The two worked in sweet, warm peace, managing only one easily-averted disaster, all while keeping quiet as Slughorn continued to teach the rest of the class. There was a strange sort of domesticity to it that made Sirius’s heart skip beats, and he imagined himself with Y/N in their future home, huddled around a cauldron and brewing something to keep them warm on a Siberian night—

“How long should it be at a high temperature again?” Sirius asked, forcing himself from his daydreaming and adding the crushed bicorn horn.

“Erm …” Y/N’s nose practically brushed the page with how closely she peered at the instructions. With the smallest sound of annoyance Sirius had ever heard, her head moved to allow her eyes to travel along the far wall, where a dozen or so posters displayed recipes for a variety of potions. She sighed lightly, squinting heard and pushing herself on tiptoe (as if it would help).

“Use your glasses, love,” Sirius suggested but was quickly brushed off.

“‘M fine, really,” Y/N murmured, eyes still squinting. 

“Sweetheart,” the word caught Y/N’s attention, and she fell back onto her heels, eyes barely meeting Sirius’s before drilling into the bubbling cauldron, “you’ll give yourself a migraine. Use your glasses.” Y/N glanced uneasily from Sirius to her bag on the back of her chair and back. Sirius’s brows furrowed. “What is it, love?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Then … wear your glasses,” Sirius reasoned, and she let out a little huff. “Why don’t you want to wear them, lovie?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to wear them, it’s just …” Sirius watched her with soft, almost concerned eyes.

Y/N sighed, pushing herself onto the stool with knees pressed together. The thought was silly, but she had known Sirius long enough to know he wasn’t going to let this go. 

“The buckle on the bag, it’s …” Sirius’s knee knocked gently against hers. “It’s loud—it clatters about when I open it. Catches people’s attention. And my glasses are in the bag, so if I open the bag, people will stare, and then people stare at me when I have my glasses on anyway—not that I’m not grateful for the glasses! They’re a great help for seeing the board during cl—”

Sirius couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, and he almost felt bad at the pout Y/N dealt in return. “First of all, love, people stare at you and your glasses because you look fucking divine when you wear them. I should know.” He brushed her arm playfully with his, and she flushed a brilliant shade of red-pink. “And second, no one thinks anything about your loud bag buckles, I promise.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I just—I don't want to disrupt them is all …” 

Sirius chuckled again, but still, Y/N didn't make a move for her bag. It took only a moment and a half of contemplation before Sirius burst into the most fake-sounding fit of coughs ever created in the history of this Earth. Nearly the entire class turned to stare at him as he seemingly hacked up a lung, and he hung himself dramatically off of the table’s edge to play it up just that little bit more. 

“Mr. Black, are you quite alright?” Professor Slughorn asked, eyes slightly wide with concern.

“Y-yes, Pro—” Sirius coughed a dozen more times, discretely winking at Y/N, who seemed to get the point and quietly retrieved her glasses from her bag. Not a soul noticed.

#sirius black x you #sirius x y/n #sirius x you #marauders era #sirius black fluff #sirius x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x shy!reader #sirius fluff

[live-laugh-neteyam]

97 & 98 w/ whoever from the 101 prompt thing.

maybe reader got shot in the spine and is recovering, but is stubborn and doesn't ask for help. they catch reader breaking down bc she can't stand long enough to wash herself.

maybe Jake bc he can relate w/ him being in a wheelchair previously or one of the boys (Ao'nung, Roxto, Lo'ak, Neteyam) bc they feel somewhat responsible.

can b platonic or romantic, idc.

Thanks!

Take Care Of You ||| sully family x omatikaya!reader

masterlist

pairings: sully family x omatikaya!fem!reader

summary: sully’s stick together

words: 1k

warnings/notes: injury, gunshot wounds, recovery, angst with sweet moments, use of y/n

It was never supposed to happen. The bullet wasn’t meant for you. But how could you just stand there and watch when your brother was in danger? Taking fate into your own hands you pushed Neteyam out of the line of fire.

You don’t remember much after that.

In and out of consciousness you remember Neteyam pleading with you to stay awake, your father looking over your wound, and your mother’s screams. The blood curdling screams of your mother was something that you could never forget.

A miracle.

That’s what Ronal said after examining you. The bullet lodged into your spine should’ve killed you, but Eywa had shown you mercy.

Lucky.

That’s what Norm said after extracting the bullet. Jake insisted on calling Norm and Max out to look at you. Not that he didn’t trust Na’vi medicine, but he was once human. Old habits die hard.

The first few months were hell. You weren’t dead but you felt like you were. You wished you were. It would be a long road to recovery and you weren’t sure you had the patience for it.

Especially when everyone looked at you the way they did. Eyes full of guilt and regret. The pity that flood their eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach.

Your brothers weren’t very good at hiding their guilt. There was a part of you that felt bad for them. You knew they felt at fault and they were letting it eat at them.

“I thought you were a goner.” Lo’ak joked around. His laugh never reach his eyes though. You could see the fear they still held.

Neteyam was with you on the day you finally could sit up by yourself. He was proud of you, he truly felt happiness for your accomplishment. But the guilt was crawling it’s way back up.

You were no longer the mighty warrior he grew up with. You’d never be her again. That split second decision changed the course of your life for forever. Relearning even basic things, everything would now be a challenge for you.

Neteyam hated himself for it. It wasn’t supposed to be you.

Jake was able to keep his feelings to himself. Only letting it effect him in private. He was forced to watch you struggle every single day with nothing he could do to fix it.

He related all too well with what you were going through. Jake didn’t think he’d ever have to deal with something like this again after his consciousness transfer.

But there you were, his babygirl stubbornly trying to recover on her own. He cursed your hardheadedness but a part of him understood. Jake was the exact same way when he was a human. He couldn’t stand the looks of pity he’d received; it made him work harder to prove himself.

Jake blamed himself for what happened. A father protects and he couldn’t even do that. The whole point of uprooting his family was to protect them. Every time he looked at you he was reminded of his failure.

For the past few weeks you had been working on your mobility. Everyone told you to take it slow, not to overdo it. You couldn't help but rush into things, itching for the taste of freedom you missed terribly.

Reaching out for the walking stick your father had brought you, you attempted to stand up. Wincing you leaned onto the cane even more. With one hand you dipped a rag into the bowl of water by your bedside.

You felt gross. It had been months since you had a proper bath. This wasn't what you wanted but it would have to do. Trying to run the cloth over your arm was proving harder than you originally anticipated.

Your body was starting to ache. Your legs felt like they were set on fire. Panting like you had just run a marathon you were exhausted. Not being able to stand any longer you collapsed back onto your bed.

Tears stung your eyes. You were frustrated with yourself. You weren't even able to do simple things for yourself. Grieving the life you lived before you let your sadness overtake you. Hiccuping as sobs escaped you.

Neteyam's ears twitched as he heard crying coming from your room. Protective instincts kicking in he rushed towards your room.

"Y/N?" He tentatively asked before bolting in.

The sound of your brothers voice made you prickle up. Quickly wiping off your face in hopes he wouldn't notice your tears.

His heart sank at the sight of you. Putting up a strong façade throughout your healing process, you never acted like anything bothered you. The broken girl he saw before him was new.

“You were crying, weren't you?" He asked.

“What does it matter?” You huffed.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed taking a seat next to you.

“What isn’t wrong?” You mumbled as more tears fell. “I can’t do anything anymore. I’m useless.”

“You are a lot of things sister. Stubborn and hardheaded? Yes. Useless? You could never be useless.” Neteyam gently wrapped his arm around you for a hug.

“You saved my life Y/N. How could you think so little of yourself?” He frowned.

“You would’ve done the same for me Neteyam.”

“That’s not the point. You didn’t have to. I owe you my life.” He stressed. “Now what can I do to help you?”

“It’s fine Neteyam, I don’t need anything.” You tried you best to brush him off.

“You’re hurt. Let me take care of you.” He pleaded.

“Fine.” You nodded. “Could you help me freshen up?” You asked sheepishly.

“Of course.” He jumped into action taking the discarded bowl and cloth.

“You know we’re all here for you right?” Neteyam asked after a few moments. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

All you could do was nod. You felt stupid. Knowing you needed help and that your family was more than happy to provide it; you pushed them out trying to do everything on your own.

“What’s dad always say?” His tone teasing.

“Sully’s stick together.” You muttered rolling your eyes.

“That’s right.” Neteyam nodded as he dabbed your skin with the cloth. “You’re gonna get through this Y/N. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’ll try to be better at asking.”

Your brother nodded seemingly satisfied with your answer. You were the strongest person he knew, he had no doubt that’d you be able to pull through.

After all Sully’s stick together

Taglist:

@ilovejakesullysdick @fanboyluvr @athenalikethegoddess @loverofallthingsfandom @forasgaard @plzfeedmebread @instabull @avatarappreciationblog @romimiux @ferrtan @tammitammytime @eternallyvenus @dreamyescapesfromreality @dvxsja @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @mightyneteyam @doggyteam2028 @bananafruityawne @mooniequeen @shayligames-blog

#avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #neteyam #fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction #becca writes 🌙 #neteyam imagine #neytiri sully #jake sully #lo’ak sully #angst #sully family #sully family x reader #neteyam x sister!reader

[kindagayfish]

General (Stampede) Wolfwood x reader headcanons cause he makes my brain go brrrr

Also, reader is gn and there is some nsfw below the cut!

You’re in the car when Meryl hits him, and the first one to his side to see if he’s still breathing. When he looks up at you and sees the sun haloing your face, he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven

Nickname’s you “angel” for the day

“And that just leaves the last one for me and the angel.” The dark-haired man flashes you a grin, nodding towards the fourth chamber inside the giant worm.

“Wait, hang on, why do I have to go with you?” You stammer out, heat rising to your cheeks.

“You guys don’t trust me right? Wouldn’t it be smarter to keep an eye on me then?”

“Would be better if I went instead,” Roberto cuts in, eyeing the man.

“Sorry old man, you’re not really my type.” He waves Roberto off before heading towards the opening of the chamber. “Now we don’t have any time to waste standing around.”

“Y/n” Roberto tosses you his gun. “Shoot’em in the knees if he tries anything.”

“Yes sir”

You’re surprised when he’s the one who pulls you from the giant worm’s guts. And after thanking him, he gives you his name.

Falling asleep on Wolfwood’s shoulder in the car is just a habit that wordlessly happens after he joins the group. At first you would just lean your head back and try to stay upright while squished between Vash and Wolfwood. However, this will lead to your head bobbing a lot and not actually being able to fully fall asleep so after watching it happen for the tenth time, Wolfwood just guides your head down gently onto his shoulder. Vash would definitely raise an eyebrow at him but Wolfwood would ignore it with the deepest blush on his face.

When you ask him to do something for you the first time, he’ll ask for a kiss as a reward.

If the request flusters you, he’ll laugh saying he’ll put it on your tab and wink. If you take him up on the request, he’ll completely lose his composure and be stuttering out nonsense (honestly didn’t think you’d actually do it).

Keeps his white shirt unbuttoned even more than normal after catching you staring one day (I MEAN HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN’S TITS?????)

Will sometimes just hand you his cross just to see you struggle with holding it up. Thinks it’s hilarious and always waits until you beg for his help.

WILL MANHANDLE YOU JUST LIKE HIS GUN THIS MAN LOVES HOW STRONG HE IS AND WILL SHOW OFF EVERY CHANCE HE GETS

While running from danger Wolfwood will legit throw you over his shoulder and carry his weapon under his other arm

If you are getting shot at though, he will use his god-given strength to throw you out of the way. You might still get hurt, but better to be alive with a broken arm than be dead full of bullet holes.

I think every time he uses one of his vials, it also heals the damage in his lungs from that nasty smoking addiction and that’s why he can still sprint at full speed without wheezing

Will finally have his Oh shit I’m in love with them moment after you get hurt for the first time (I have a fic im writing for the confession and it’s so good omg) but keeps it to himself because he isn’t sure you feel the same. Probably thinks you wouldn’t ever want to be with a man who calls himself an undertaker.

Even before his big realization, Wolfwood was very protective of you. If you got into a disagreement at a bar, he knew you could handle yourself, but that didn’t stop him from hovering behind you with a deadly aura, his eyes threatening any man who dare approach you.

A nsfw treat >:)

I honestly believe this man is the definition of a switch

Like I feel like he himself would be such a brat, but also could dish it out to a brat partner???

SUCH A TEASE

Praise and body worship!!!!!!!! Literally your body is a temple to him

I feel like he would have some silly and serious moments with you. Like this man makes LOVE to you, but also just loves to tease and fluster you and loves when you get shy/embarrassed.

But Wolfwood is also so easy to fluster too so it’s just a battle of who can shut the other person up first

He’s got some hot breathy moans (lord have mercy)

Wolfwood will say a prayer before going down on you

He’ll have you naked, situated on the bed so that your legs hang off the edge while he’s knelt in front of you on the floor

“Oh heavenly father, I have come to thank you-”

“Nicholassss what are you doing?” You laugh as you prop yourself up on one elbow to give him a look.

“Uh, thanking the lord for this meal? You’re ruining it. Now I have to start over.”

He’ll trail kisses up your leg and thighs while finishing his prayer, before finally bringing his eager lips to where you need them the most.

#nicholas d. wolfwood #wolfwood x you #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood headcanons #trigun x reader #trigun stampede

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Fixing each other up:

Summary: Bandaging each other up after various missions, talking about your days.

Warnings: Quite fluffy <3

Word count: Short one! 950 words

“It’s not all my fault!” You say laughing as he lifts up your top and winces at your bruises. Both you and Anakin had finally snuck away from your various post-mission debriefs. Only now, in these moments of privacy were the two of you ever yourselves. Only now could you reveal your injuries to each other, and patch each other up.

You only did it for the minor stuff, well… the non-life-threatening stuff. Both of you had a habit of getting quite beat up when you were out and about in battle and rarely did you have the patience or the desire to visit the medical wing. So it had become a ritual. Once everything official had been taken care of, you would come back to one of your quarters and give each other the care and attention you needed. It wasn't just the physical closeness of patching each other up after missions, but the emotional closeness that came with it which made it so essential for the two of you to remain close and connected.

Tonight you thought perhaps you ought to have seen the doctors, judging by the look on Anakin’s face as he bared your bruised abdomen. It was pained and shocked. Though, by the way he had been limping on the trip over you assumed he had been a bit too reckless as well.

“Whose fault was it?” His voice was a low growl, not angry at you, but whoever had hurt you.

“Some nameless droid Ani, don’t worry.” He shakes his head and looks in your kit for some cream and bandages to pack over your bruises. 

Anakin's fingers traced lightly over your bruised abdomen, a gesture filled with love and concern. "I hate seeing you hurt, Y/N."

"I hate seeing you hurt too, Ani," you replied, mirroring his sentiment. "But it's all part of the job."

He nodded, but there was a shadow in his eyes, a constant reminder of the internal struggle he faced as a Jedi. The fear of losing loved ones, and the pressures of the Jedi Code weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was moments like these that allowed him to find respite from his inner turmoil.

“What did they do? Throw you into a wall?”

“… Essentially.” 

He groaned and that made you laugh, though that latest barely a second before you were flinching from the pain. “Easy, it’s ok.” He moved his hand from your stomach to steady your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your cheek as you calmed down. “I’ll grab you some painkillers.” 

As Anakin headed to the cabinet to retrieve the medication, you examined his own injuries. His face was bruised and his gait was wonky. Concern flooded your mind as you watched him. You wanted to tend to his wounds, but he was always so stubborn about receiving help. And he wouldn’t dream of you even mentioning his wounds while yours were yet unseen to. 

As he returned with the painkillers, you caught his eye and gestured towards his leg. "Let me take a look at those, Ani," you said softly. He hesitated for a moment, handing you your pills and a glass of water, making sure you swallowed them. 

“Alright” He said. You gently guided him to sit beside you on the bed and started tending to his wounds. 

"It's not as bad as it looks," Anakin assured you, but you knew better than to believe him. He always played down his injuries.

You found the necessary supplies and began to clean the wound. Anakin winced at the sting but stayed still, allowing you to work. As you bandaged his arm, he reached out and cupped your cheek, pulling you in for a gentle kiss.

You had been through so much together, and the bond between you had only grown stronger over time. As the two of you continued to tend to each other's injuries, you shared stories of the mission. Anakin told you about the droid battalion they had encountered, and you recounted your daring escape from a collapsing building. Your laughter and shared experiences made the pain more bearable.

“It was ridiculous, honestly. Obi Wan always bullies R2 but this was a simple elevator mishap, he was far too smug.”

You giggle, “Did he make another loose wire joke?”

“No but you could read it in his eyes.”

“Speaking of readings. Master Windu assigned me about a dozen files to read for our mission. Of course I read them all-“

“Of course.” He said amused.

“But none of it mattered because we were reassigned this morning.”

He sighs. “Let me guess, Windu called it a ‘valuable learning opportunity’”

“Well, there’s no such thing as useless information!”

“Ah yes, the ‘atmospheric density of Hoth’ will really come in handy one of these days.”

“It might!”

Anakin leaned into your touch, his lips forming a soft smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Y/N.”

You gazed at his beautiful face in the dim lights, his blue eyes shone. “You’d be much better acquainted with Master Che.”

“I don’t want to be better acquainted with Che.” His hand squeezes yours. 

The two of you finished tending to his injuries, and you helped him back on his feet. The painkillers you had given him were starting to take effect, and he walked with less of a limp.

"Come on, Ani, let's get some rest," you suggested, guiding him toward the bed. "We've earned it."

He followed you willingly, lying down beside you. As you settled in, he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. The weight of the galaxy's conflicts was momentarily forgotten, replaced by the comforting presence of each other.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars prequels #star wars fandom #clone wars #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars fanfiction #star wars #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you

[propertyofsamcollins]

"You see strength in my weakness"

Sam/Darlin' fic

796 words

A/n: Guess who finally finished a fic🤭 it took me way too long to finish this. I started months ago, but anywhooo, I hope you enjoy.

Darlin’ was nervous, and Sam could see it.

While they didn’t talk about their feelings much, Sam had learned that they expressed them with their body language.

The way they kept fiddling with the rings that adorned their hands, the continuous bouncing of their leg, all pieces of body language that Sam had realized the meaning to over the years.

“Darlin’, you alright? you look like something is eatin’ at you.” Sam asked, effectively breaking his mate out of whatever trance they seemed to be caught in.

“Hm? Oh, yeah I’m okay, just thinking...” They murmured, trailing off at the end, seeming to be caught in whatever loop of thoughts they were in.

“Thinking about what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Sam whispered, not wanting to disturb them too much.

Darlin’ looked up at Sam but stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing their options. Questioning whether they should tell him the thoughts running circles in their mind.

“There's just…” Darlin’ paused for a second. “There’s something I wanna say, but…i uh, i don’t know how to say it”

Sam smiled at that. Though he hated watching them struggle, he loved seeing how much they’d grown in the past 2 years. “Take as much time as you need Darlin’, there's no rush.” Sam stated, smiling, before cupping their face in his hands “I'd wait a thousand lifetimes for you.” And he smiled again, not that he’d stopped, but somehow, it looked brighter. Like the warm sun that he could no longer sit under, it was poetic in a way.

Darlin sat there for a second, simmering in their thoughts. They wanted to tell him just how much they cared for him, they felt they hadn’t expressed it much in the time they’d spent together, unlike Sam who was perfectly okay with reminding them just how much he loved them.

“I just…I appreciate you a lot, y’know?” They paused, looking up at their mate for some sort of confirmation, and Sam nodded, with the loving look in his eye he always seemed to have when staring at them.

“You,” they hesitated for a moment “You let me be weak, and you see strength in it, a lot of people don’t do that, and it means a lot to me” they whispered, voice wavering a bit, the vulnerability they felt at the moment was a lot, but they’d bare with it for him.

They’d do anything for him

Sam cocked his head to the side, a habit he’d picked up after spending so much time with the pack, and Darlin’ smiled at that, a small sense of pride filling them. “I appreciate you too, but I don’t really understand what you mean by ‘I see strength in your weakness’,” the vampire paused for a second, as if he was trying to figure it out himself, “Do you think you could tell me what you mean?” Sam almost whispered softly, his hand coming up to cup their face, while his thumb traced patterns onto their face.

“Well, it’s hard to explain,” Darlin whispered back, “But, basically, when most people see you weak, they tend to forget that you’re still strong.” the shifter explained, “And a lot of people start to treat you like porcelain, even when you don’t need it.” darlin’ paused, gathering their thoughts again, “Like, yeah it was nice when I was crying my eyes out, but I don’t need you to treat me like a piece of glass anymore, y’know?” darlin asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah, it’s like once they see you in a bad moment, they treat you like a child having a breakdown,” Sam paraphrased, it made sense to him, and he could definitely see how someone like Darlin’ wouldn’t like that. He knew they were strong, and he treated them as such.

“Exactly!” the shifter exclaimed, practically jumping out of their seat at the prospect of someone finally understanding what they were saying. “I can’t stand it when people do that shit, it irks my nerves.” they huffed, and Sam laughed, nodding along.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, holding eye contact with each other. A smile on both their faces.

“But…” the shifter hesitated again, “You don’t do that,” darlin muttered, smiling a little wider, “You see my weakness, and view it as proof that I’m strong, instead of dismissing my strength.” they whispered, “And I really appreciate it, so, thank you.” they finished, still looking at their mate, staring at Sam like he held the world in those beautiful silver eyes of his.

“Always, Darlin’, always.”

#i know its kinda short #butttttt it took me way too long to finish this to not post it #anyway i love construtive criticism so please tell me if theres anything i can fix #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted tank

[bump1nthen1ght]

Playing His Game (M!Orc x F!Reader) Part 2

Pairing: Male!Orc x Female! Reader

Warnings: Explicit content under the cut (18+ ONLY), degradation

Request: Would you do a part two for Gramus the orc and the female reader? Like an established relationship but still the same kind of nsfw?

Six months in, you think you and Gramus are officially out of the honeymoon phase.

Don’t misunderstand, the relationship is still amazing, the two of you are still very much obsessed with each other. Conversations aren’t dull, the dates haven’t stopped, and you even discovered you have similar habits of living! This isn’t that slump where he finds out your breath smells rank in the morning or you find out he doesn’t know how to wash whisks and genuinely some magic is lost. No, things are just a little different now.

7 months ago, you’d be opening your door in a sexy outfit, hair done and makeup freshly immaculate, trying to bend the sexiest way possible to get your hot neighbors attention. Now, you’re in one of his big shirts and your comfiest Monday™️ underwear, watching him do the dishes as you sip on a rootbeer float.(He once said he hadn’t drank one since he was 7. You try to make them every date night) Your hair is half-messy, your face is nowhere near camera ready, but damn do you feel hot. And maybe its because you just ate a delicious dinner and don’t have to clean, or because your fine-ass boyfriend is wearing those work pants that fit him just right, but you are unabashadly horny in this moment.

Its why you tip-tap your fingers around his back and onto his stomach, pressing your braless chest against him and taking a deep sniff of his shirt. Gramus chuckles, one hand leaving the dishes to pat your arm.

“What are you doing, love?”

His voice is so deep, always so soft. You love it, but you love it even more when it gets rough.

“Nothing.” You mumble into his tshirt, still rubbing circles into his toned stomach. The mischievous smile on your face says otherwise. “Is it illegal for me to hug my boyfriend?”

“No.” He laughs again, rubbing the back of your palm as he runs a mixing spoon under water. “But you’re a naughty girl, so you always have something up your sleeve.”

“Thats a bold accusation, sir.” You say, giggling into his back. “What proof could you possible have?”

“Well, one of your hands is playing with my waistband, for one.” You laugh again, snapping the fabric of his shorts against him. “And the fact that we had sex 3 times last night, yet you’re still hungry for more.”

“What can I say,” You press a kiss into his back muscles, “I find it hard to control myself around my sexy ass boyfriend. Is that a crime…” You intentionally slow your voice, trying to sound as sultry as possible, “Officer?”

“No,” Gramus wraps a hand around your wrist and, in one quick moment, has flipped you both around, your back now pressed against the counter as he smirks over you, “But I don’t like your attitude, slut.” Gramus other hand comes up and grabs yoru jaw, forcing you to look him right in the eye. The dishes lay forgotten behind you, Gramus mouthing the question “Green?” as his thumb rubs across your cheek.

You nod, licking your lips before pretending to struggle in his grip. “I guess you’ll have to correct my behavior, sir. If you can handle me.” You quickly yank your wrist out of his hand, trying to use his gentleness against him and take off toward your bedroom. But Gramus is used to your naughty tricks by now, pivoting your inertia to a nearby cabinet and slamming you (as sweetly as possible) up against it. He uses his body weight to press down and keep you still, though you fretfully play-struggle some more. He kisses his teeth, chiding your failed attempt.

“Nice try, but you’re gonna have to use more of those whore brain cells of yours to get passed me.” Using his forearm, Gramus keeps you pressed against the cabinet while he reaches down and undoes his belt. The clink of it falling to the ground sends goosebumps down your arms, a familiar slickness pooling in your sweatpants. “Now, I expect you to make up for your insurbordination. Maybe I’ll be genereous and even fuck you after.” Gramus doesn’t need any force to push you down on your knees, your mouth already salivating at the prominent bulge in his pants. Those blue boxer briefs you got him the other day strain in between his open fly, making you wet your lips.

“I guess I have to work extra hard.” You pout, looking up at him with all the sluttiness in your arsenal. “After all, that cock looks really big.”

“Damn right, bitch.” Gramus digs his hand into your hair and yanks you forward, shuffling down his underwear and stroking his cock twice. The tip of it taps your lips and you can’t fight the urge to lap at the leaking slit. Gramus’ thumb yanks open your bottom lip, slapping his head against your eager tongue. “That’s right, down on your knees. Where you belong.”

Despite his brutal words, Gramus gently slides his cock down your throat. He waits for your eyes to widen and your head to nod before he slides deeper and deeper, trying not to trigger your gag reflex.

Such a softie. You think, wondering how you became so lucky to have him.

Gramus always makes the cutest faces during blowjobs. His closes his eyes and scrunches up his nose. Even when his big hands yank on your hair or his hips fuck into your face, you can’t help but think he looks so damn adorable.

Drool slips down your jaw as Gramus slots himself into your mouth all the way to the base. You give yourself an imaginary pat on the back as Gramus begins gently thrusting. He curses under his breath.

“Fuck, I love this mouth.” Gramus pants, rubbing his thumb across your jaw. “You know how to make me feel good, huh? Fucking whore.” Gramus gently slaps your cheek, just enough to make a sound but not enough to actually hurt. He mouths a timid “Green?” again, to which you nod. He could honestly hit your harder, but you know he prefers not to risk it.

Balls slap against your chin as Gramus picks up the pace, pulling the hand away from your face and leaning it against the countertop. The leverage allows him to move his hips even further, to pound the back of your throat. The gargle of cock in your mouth combined with Gramus grunts make your pussy ache. You decide to sneak one of your hands up his leg while the other goes down to your cunt. The schlick of your wetness is obvious, obvious enough to make Gramus chuckle.

“You’re such a cock-hungry bitch, huh? I’ve barely touched you and you’re already soaked.” You don’t rebut, instead using your tongue to lick up and down Gramus cock as it goes in out of your mouth. The countertop squeaks from Gramus nails clawing across them. He licks his chapped lips. “Probably want my cum huh? You’d probably swallow if I shot my load down your throat, wouldn’t you?” You nod eagerly, looking so debauched with bruised lips. Gramus smirks, but surprises you when he abruptly pulls out, leaving you gasping. He yanks on your hair, forcing you to stand and leave your pussy unattended. Panting, you look up at him with wide eyes. “Too bad I make the decisions around here.”

Gramus easily turns you around and bends you over the counter. He rips down your shorts with a single hand as he strokes his cock, whistling as he spreads open your pussy lips with two fingers. “Gods be damned, you are wet.” You don’t need assistance in opening your legs, Gramus easily sliding his dick across your wet folds, just catching on your clit. “I guess it’s for the best, wouldn’t want to break you. Though,” Between words Gramus shoves his cock to the hit inside you, stralignt he breath out of your chest, “ I bet you’d like that.”

While you’d typically respond with some snarky banter to keep the roleplay im lime, you find all you're capable of is a whimper as Gramus begins pounding your cunt. His calloused hands dig into your hips as he pulls you back onto his pelvis, nails leaving small half-moons on the skin. He slaps your ass hard and fast, pawing at the curve before hitting it again. You can only imagine how he throws his head hack, grunting with each hump, as your face is pressed into the cool countertop.

Gramus cock brutalizes your g-spot, his sweaty balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. The burn of his thick dick stretching you open makes your toes curl, some drool leaking out of your open mouth. Sparks fly up and down your abdomen and you know your lower back is gonna hurt tomorrow.

“F-fuck.” A throaty purr comes from Gramus mouths, slapping your ass again. He’s told you once before that he loves the way it jiggles, that it almost makes him cum every time. You wiggle your hips and push them onto his pelvis, getting another groan and a slap to your ass cheek. “Cheeky little thing.” He mutters under his breath.

“You know you l-love it.” You stutter, finally getting enough wits about you to back talk. But with drool all down the side of your flushed face, you doubt it's very intimidating.

“Damn right I do. Shit!” The knot in your abdomen winds tighter and tighter, Gramus flurried hips telling you that he’s also getting close. A thick palm circles around and grabs you by the throat, pulling you up while arching your back. “Say my name.” Gramus whispers in your ear, the pads of his fingers digging into your jugular. “Scream it.”

With your pussy clenching and your cervix as sore as it is, you doubt you could do anything but scream.

“Gramus! Gramus!” You yell, that knot finally snapping. Gramus shouts another “Fuck!” As your pussy puts him a vice grip, giving a couple more stuttered thrusts before cumming inside you.

You collapse onto the counter, your heavy breath fogging up the cool top. You can feel Gramus sweat dripping down onto your back, his head now laid in between your should blades as he catches his breath. A trickle of his cum runs down you legs, leaving a warm feeling in your gut.

“Damn,” Gramus mumbles into you back. “I forgot about the pans on the stove top.”

You sluggishly turn your head to the left, seeing the messy pot you used for spaghetti sauce tonight’s dinner. You chuckle.

“Sorry, I guess I was too distracting, huh?”

Gramus press a kiss into the center of your back, pulling his softened cock out of you.

“Trust me, it was a welcome distraction.”

Gramus presses another soft kiss to your lips, pulling up his pants and redoing his belt. He then runs a paper towel under hot water and begins wiping away at your legs, cleaning off the slow drying cum. A warm hand rubs your lower back.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You sigh, shimmying up your underwear.

“Nope,” You give Gramus a peck in the cheek. “I think that was just right.”

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #orc #orc x reader #female reader insert

[denjirv]

◌⑅⃝●♡⋆♡ Train The Dog ♡⋆♡●⑅⃝◌

Denji watches as his partner teaches him a trick or two

CW// Reader has a pussy, Dom!Reader, Sub!Denji, Petplay (leash, collar, uses of ‘puppy”), Cunnilingus, Asphyxiation, and Denji passes out at the end but he’s ok

⏤͟͟͞͞☆A/N: HEHEHE AHAHAHAHAH IM DONE MFFFFF OK SO IT’S REALLY RUSHED HEAD START WARNING I’LL TRY REDEEMING MYSELF WITH ANOTHER FIC  Denji had been struggling with getting all of the dogs to listen to him. Every time he feeds them they all surround him like hungry piranhas and won’t ever sit down when he asks them to. Luckily for him he has an amazing partner to teach him how. “I used to own a bunch of dogs growing up, all you need to do is show them you’re the boss” With the small bag of doggy goodies in hand you look down as the rest of the barking dogs start to jump up to grab it. Denji watches from the side on the couch as you giggle watching the yapping huskies try grabbing the food. “Now watch this-” Turning to the dogs you make sure you give them eye contact. The pupils dilated with excitement as your playful tone of voice switches to a more serious one. “Hey hey! Sit! ” They keep jumping though as the others try surrounding you. “See I told ya’ they won’t listen” Denji was starting to think that this was getting hopeless, then it took one word and one stern look. “Sit.” Like magic the dogs started to calm down as their tails still wagged, it wasn’t harsh enough for them to bow their head low and whimper but enough for them to calm themselves. “Good boys, here you all get a treat”. Grabbing into the bag you see some of them try standing up. “Hey! I said sit” The tone of voice alone was enough to grab the dog's attention back again. A moment of silence before you go back to grabbing each of the dogs their treats and feeding them. Denji watches in awh as such a command as all the dogs were just now behaving well so suddenly. “Now you try” Giving a smile of encouragement, you hand the doggy bag to Denji as he gets up from the couch. “Let them see what you have first to grab their attention” Denji clumsily grabbing at the brown doggy bone shaped treat he looks down at the dogs panting and wagging their tail. “Uh, sit?” Denji raised his brow with a crooked frown wrinkling his face. “Denji you sound so unsure of yourself” You chuckle when his face turns red, poor boy he’s trying his best at least. “Let’s try again, say it with more confidence” Confidence? Denji looked back down at the dogs who were all waiting for the chance to grab the treat from his hand. “S...Sit!” The dogs just stare, which made Denji cringe because when was the last time he’d have to play a dominant role? Never obviously. Denji sighs before handing the bag to you. “I think these dogs just hate me” You look down at the bag before grabbing it, you hate seeing your boyfriend sad so you think of some way he’d listen. “Your tone was wrong, you need to sound more serious- confident. Here let me show you” Denji looks over as you grab your treat from the bag. “You have to make sure they are paying attention” Denji’s brown eyes stare at the food in front of him. “Go like this” Suddenly the aura from you twists to a more dominant one. “Sit” Emphasizing the word you watch as Denji’s face grows a deeper shade of red, like his brain shuts down he finds himself on his knees, That’s when he snap out of it “I- I’m sorry!” Denji quickly got up. His heart must’ve been beating through his chest with the way his eyes were trying to fixate at you. “It’s a force of habit, I didn't mean to do it!” Denji was picking at straws to “win” your forgiveness. But you just laugh, it was shocking at first but you knew he’d must’ve been the type to be into that stuff “Well if you wanna be my puppy dog, how bout we finish up training the actual dogs here?” Denji nodded, you already have him hooked as soon as the idea of continuing this doggy roleplay was entertained. “You ready Denji?” Placing the collar around his neck you can tell how stiff he was with his posture suddenly improving, although his chest was comically puffed out. “Denji don’t worry about it, I’ll go gentle with you puppy” His heart skipped a beat, a small mutter “ok” fell from his lips as he looked up and felt his leash being tugged towards you. Denji on his knees looking up at you like a goddess, his goddess. Denji was naked with only his boxers on as he stared up, ready to worship you. “Let’s start by giving me all the pleasure, a good dog like you will get his reward if you do it right” leaning down you smile as Denji’s eyes widen, his breathing shortens with his quivering lips almost pressing yours. “But first, you need to make sure I feel good” Pointing to your panties, Denji’s eyes and focuses on the cloth hugging around your hips. “Take them off, puppy” Denji reaches for the panties with his hands. “Without your hands” You stopped him, Denji looked confused as he tilted his head back to you before back again at the set of the panties in front of him. He leaned his head down and started to use his teeth to drag the panties. Seeing the glistening folds right in front of him he got too eager. “Good boy” You petted his head, ruffling his blonde hair as his face brightened up with his tongue panting out like a dog. Slipping into a headspace that made his brain feel fuzzy and warm. You had control but a different kind, a kind of control that wasn’t cold and heartless like the one he was all too familiar with. And Denji was weak for that power as he dives in between your legs and starts using his tongue It was sloppy, wet and almost boyish with the way he kept panting and licking your pussy folds. A hot dripping wet liquid spreads across your inner thighs and his chin,ravishing every last drop of you. “God you’re so good” You moaned, head tilted back with the leash wrapped around your hand as you yank him further into your heat. He moans with a yelp as he continues to be used by you. Drinking up the hot sticky liquid into his throat, swallowing every drop slides into his mouth. Denji starts to use his hands to pry your legs further apart while sliding his tongue into your entrance. Causing you to moan louder as Denji kept eagerly licking you up. But you notice Denji’s breathing getting very unsteady, with his tongue wiggling inside your walls with his nose brushed up against your clit you realize he can only keep licking you up for so long. “Puppy I’m gonna use you, you better keep still and not pass out on me mkay?” Gripping the back of his head your hips starts to roll against his face Denji could only grip onto your thighs as his face and tongue was being used by you, whimpering and whining when that fuzzy feeling in his head gets more worse. Tongue almost cramping from how fast it’s moving around you pussy his nose flares when your moans keep getting louder and louder. “Fuck come on Denji, im close I know you can do it” It only took your words for Denji to push through, a collar wrapped tight around his neck and the sweet taste of your pussy had him feeling he’s on cloud 9 With the twitching feeling of your pussy cum was squirted all over Denji’s face as he drank it all up. His throat bobbing with each gulp of its sticky sweetness his eyes flutter open as his ruby eyes feel themselves rolling back. That’s when a sudden thud was heard, you shot up seeing Denji’s face covered in your juices but with a blissful look on his face. “Oh shit” You muttered as you looked down at the boy. You see his chest still breathing and let out a sigh of relief, you didn’t feel like having to explain to someone his cause of death was asphyxiation from pussy. You take off his collar and carry him to bed- well more like dragging him up to the bed. Despite his rather lanky build he can carry some weight on him. “Good boy, I’m sorry for pushing you too much” You admire his face, despite the mess he looked so content. But next time you mentally note, don’t try forcing his face into you for the first time

#sub chainsaw man #sub csm #denji smut #denji x reader #denji x y/n #denji x reader smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut

[s4turnzbarzzz]

michael myers (dead by daylight) nsfw alphabet

requested: no

Tw: smut

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

michael wont stick around after sex, your on your own to clean up

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

he likes his arms because he knows how strong he is

his favorite body part of yours is your neck because he loves the sounds you make when he chokes you

C= Cum (anything that has to do with cum basically)

he will cum anywhere but prefers to creampie you, he likes the way his cum drips from your overly used hole

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

he loves it if you try to fight back but hell never show it

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

hes not very experienced but he learns fast

F= Favorite position

missionary, he loves how he can see himself thrusting in and out of you, he also likes that he can choke you and see your facial expressions

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

hes serious, not because hes a dick or anything, he just struggles to laugh if you crack a joke and doesnt see the point in being aything but serious during sex

H= Hair (grooming habits)

he isnt groomed and he doesnt care if thats what you prefer. hes never had the time to focus on that and youll just have to accept it

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

hes rough with you, he only really has sex to get himself off but he will subconsiously learn what you like and will eventually get you off too

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he doesnt really jack off, why would he need to now that he has you?

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

dacryphyllia (crying), knifeplay, bdsm, choking, manhandling, hair pulling, primal play, voyeurism, cnc

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

anywhere, as long as youre the last survivor

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick)

he gets off on stalking and chasing you, especially if you put up a good fight

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

hell try anything once, but you have to suggest it

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

he prefers recieving because he knows hes in control. if you ask him really nicely im sure hell eat you out though

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

he goes fast and hard, he has really high stamina so i hope youre ready for at least 6 rounds and then some after he gives you a break

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

he prefers to take his time with you but wont tyrn down the oppertunity to have a quicky

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

he will try new things but you have to suggest something first for him to consider it

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

hes got really high stamina so he can definently go 6-7 rounds without a break, but if he takes a break its 10-12 rounds

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

hes not a fan of toys but if you want them hell let you use them on yourself

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

he'll tease you but he wont tease himself or let you tease him

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

the most youll hear from him is panting and the occasional groan, hes not loud by any means

W= Wild card (nsfw headcanon of any sort)

he would absolutely take photos of you after youre all fucked out

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

11 inches hard, 7 inches soft and hes girthy with afew larger veins un the bottom and sides. his dick also hangs a little bit even when hes fully hard (good luck♡)

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

his sex drive isnt super high but if he sees you doing something hell get hard from watching you while youre oblivious

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

im not sure he sleeps at all actually but no he doesnt sleep afterwards, he just gets up and leaves to do something else

#slasher fandom #dead by daylight #michael myers x reader smut #michael myers dbd #dbd x reader #smut #nsft alphabet

[streamsofstardust]

Moment's Silence | d.r.w x s.f.k

danny wagner x sam kiszka

word count: 4,967

content warnings: tiny bit of dirty talk like such a small amount, oral (m receiving/m giving), like the tiniest little bit of dom!danny but also not really, sub!sam... kinda, first time taking a ride on the fruity side, sam get anxious for a bit

summary: for danny and sam, the real fun starts after the party

a/n: I'm really trying to get consistent with posting fics. please don't hold your breath but I'm trying. also I'm scared as hell to post this bc some people aren't into slash fics and if it's not your cup of tea please just keep scrolling. this fic came from a conversation with @ofthecaravel and something i thought would be short turned out to be, well, not. but y'all know i tend to write a lot. anyway, happy pride

It had been a wild night and Danny and Sam were, without a doubt, hammered. Each of them had their fair share of mixed drinks, hard seltzers, and shots of straight liquor that night, but hey, the end of finals season was cause for celebration. And with the knowledge that their final year of college was starting in a few short months, the pair decided it was a perfectly good time to have fun.

Though maybe they'd had a bit too much fun.

The two men stumbled into their apartment as their uber driver sped down the street, no doubt on their way to pick up the next group of drunken college students. Sam had fumbled with the key for a time that felt excruciatingly too long to Danny, so Danny grabbed the keys and used as much focus as he could in his state to unlock the front door.

Upon entering their home, Sam flung himself face first onto the couch in the living room.

“Daniel, I dunno about you but I think I might have had a bit too much this evening.” He muttered, his face squished into the plush fabric of the couch. One of his long arms dangled off the side, his knuckles grazing the carpeted floor, while his legs were sticking out off the edge of the arm rest.

Danny huffed a breathy laugh as he sat down to untie the laces of his boots. Realizing Sam hadn't taken his own shoes off, Danny made his way over to the couch to remove them.

“Yeah I'm right there with ya Sammy.” He rubbed his hands over his face, pausing before speaking again. “God this hangover is gonna put me on my ass.”

“Dan?” Sam questioned softly.

“Yeah?” Danny looked up from where he sat on the floor, smiling ever so slightly at the sight of Sam's eyes fully closed, his plump lips pursed from being pressed against the seat.

“The twins are gonna fucking kill us if we’re late for practice tomorrow.”

The two men groaned at the shared thought, fully knowing how true the statement was. All four of them had a habit of being late, but Danny and Sam had a feeling they'd be struggling to make it out of their beds at all when the morning came.

“We should probably go to bed, right?” Danny asked his friend, already knowing the answer.

Sam nodded, lifting himself off the couch slowly to avoid making himself nauseous. After Danny stood up from the floor, the two walked into the kitchen to grab water, then down the hall where their bedrooms were.

Sam, clearly unable to keep his eyes fully open, was bumping into the wall every so often as he walked to his room. Danny laughed, grabbing Sam's hand and pulling him in the right direction, trying to avoid the bassist getting covered in any bruises.

Once they got into his room, Sam immediately dropped himself onto his bed, not bothering to remove the clothes he’d worn to the party.

“Come on, Sam, at least get undressed.” Danny playfully scolded, reaching forward to unbutton his friend's shirt.

The unexpected movement had Sam opening his eyes, a smirk appearing on his face as he watched the drummer fiddle with the fabric. Sam suddenly found himself much more awake than he had been, propping himself up on his elbows to get closer to Danny.

“Sheesh Daniel, if you wanted to get me naked all you had to do was ask.”

Danny rolled his eyes at Sam's words, unhooking the last button and stepping back.

“Funny, Sam. You can take care of your pants, I did my fair share.”

Sam furrowed his brows as he responded. “You sure? Because honestly you were doing such a great job taking care of it for me. Truly, where would I be without you Daniel?”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Danny shook his head and sat on the bed next to Sam, lifting his hands to release his unruly curls from the bun he’d confined them in.

“Probably passed out in the bushes somewhere on the side of a random street in Detroit.”

Sam's trademark stoner laugh rang loud in the room. “Ya know what? You're probably right. I guess I have to keep you by my side for the rest of our lives.”

Danny closed his eyes, the comfort of Sam's bed slowly dragging him into the comfort of a drunken sleep. He paid little attention to his words or surroundings. “Nowhere else I'd rather be Sammy.”

Sam, who had still been sitting up, looked over at his best friend. There was a feeling of warmth in his chest that he couldn't quite place the origin of, though he had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with Danny's words. It was odd, foreign even, to be hit with a feeling he wasn't used to when it came to Danny. Of course he knew he loved Daniel more than life, and that the feeling was mutual, but something about this felt… different. He took advantage of the drummer’s eyes being closed and let himself look at his friend.

He looked at the way Danny's long, dark eyelashes rested over the tops of his cheeks. How his soft lips parted just the smallest amount, his tongue slowly poking through to moisten them. The way his broad upper body moved with each deep breath he took. How his left hand gently played with the loose curls at the top of his head.

Sam found himself imagining playing with Danny's hair, twirling the curls around his long fingers, waiting silently to hear soft noises of approval fall from Danny’s lips and-

That was new.

The presence of the thought threw Sam off completely, immediately pulling him out of the daze he’d been in. He'd never imagined something like that, at least not with his best friend. And yet, despite being incredibly shocked by his own mind’s machinations, Sam couldn't say he was bothered by any of it. He wouldn't go openly admitting that though, and to deal with this new feeling, he decided to act, rather than speak, not entirely trusting himself at that moment. Afterall, it was probably just the alcohol messing with his head. He removed his shirt, then reached for the buckle of his belt, trying to be as silent as possible as he undid it and slid his pants down.

Danny hadn't spoken in a few minutes, and with no question as to why Sam hadn't responded to his last statement, the bassist assumed he’d fallen asleep. That was, of course, until Danny reached his arm closest to Sam's side to pull him back down onto the bed.

“Go to sleep Sam.” Danny's words were soft, barely making it out of his mouth.

“I thought you were asleep already.”

“Trying to be. Stop talking and go to bed.”

“Are you staying in here?” Sam questioned. It wouldn't be the first time the two had shared a bed, usually after drunken nights similar to this, but for some reason, Sam felt nervous to ask.

Danny scoffed. “Does it look like I'm moving?”

“I could make you.”

Danny chuckled at Sam's words, hearing the playful twinge in his voice “Doubtful.”

Sam, never being one to back away from a challenge - though one hadn’t exactly been posed - leaped up, straddling Danny's hips and immediately poking random parts of Danny's upper body. When that didn't garner a reaction, Sam sat back and released a frustrated breath, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Gonna have to try harder than that Sammy.”

Danny still hadn't opened his eyes, and Sam realized he could use that against him. Since Danny couldn’t see Sam's next moves, he did the only thing he could think of and began placing quick little kisses all over Danny's face.

This, naturally, was what got Danny's attention and his eyes shot open, his hands grabbing Sam's biceps to push him back and away from his face.

He laughed at his friend’s antics, figuring Sam was just drunkenly being silly. “You fucking dork! What are you doing??”

“Trying to make you leave so I can have my bed all to myself. Is it working?” When Sam finally noticed the grip Danny had on his arms, he swallowed harshly, immediately shoving any subsequent thoughts as far down as they could possibly go.

Danny shook his head, closing his eyes once more and lowering his arms to rest loosely on Sam's waist. “No, now lay down and go. To. Sleep.”

Sam, however, had other ideas, and after deciding to keep up with his alcohol-fueled, flirtatious actions, he continued harassing his friend. Danny, having shed his own shirt before working to remove Sam’s, brought one of his hands away from Sam’s waist, dropping it on his own bare chest. He softly dragged his hand against his skin, self soothing to help him fall asleep. It was then that Sam elected to leave more innocent kisses and pokes along Danny’s skin. Any spot he could reach, he touched; Danny’s face, shoulders, arms, all of it.

“Haha, Sam, quit it. I’m tired.” Danny muttered, chuckling and bringing his hand back to Sam’s waist to once again move him away from his body. Neither had commented on the fact that Sam was still straddling Danny, but both of them weren’t exactly sober enough to pick up on quite a few things. Another being how strange it was that Sam was kissing Danny.

“Well I’m not.” Sam countered.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Danny’s tone was light and playful as he spoke.

While Danny’s eyes were still shut, Sam leaned forward and licked the tip of his prominent nose, then sat back to giggle at his own actions.

Danny’s eyes opened at the warm and wet sensation, one of his hands flying up to wipe the saliva off his scrunched nose. “Ew! You weirdo, that was so gross.” He spoke through laughter, Sam’s own laugh harmonizing.

Without thinking, Sam bent down once more, this time licking a long stripe from Danny’s collarbone, up the side of his neck, and to his ear. After hearing Danny’s breath catch and feeling the drummer’s grip on his waist tighten, he spoke, whispering softly into his ear.

“Not so gross anymore, huh?” Sam’s voice had dropped a few octaves, and rather than sounding as if he was just fooling around, he now sounded intentionally flirtatious, almost seductive.

Before Danny could respond, Sam repeated the action of leaving kisses on Danny’s bare skin, this time, moving much slower and savoring each one. He felt Danny’s pulse quicken under his lips, as well as the harsh swallow that followed one particular kiss right under his ear.

“S-Sammy-”

“Shhh. It feels nice right?” Sam’s question could’ve been rhetorical, and perhaps it was, but he was certainly satisfied when Danny nodded his head, a soft, barely there ‘yeah’ leaving his lips.

Moving back, Sam took a moment to observe Danny’s present state once more. His pupils had expanded a fair amount, the black shade overtaking his bright, hazel irises. His breaths were coming in rapid succession, and his grip still hadn’t left Sam’s waist. While he might have thought it was subtle, Sam noticed the way Danny’s eyes shifted between his own and his lips, and he smirked.

But that marked the end of Sam’s upper hand for the time being. Maintaining his grip on the bassist, Danny shifted to sit up against the headboard, pausing a moment to give Sam a chance to back away. When he didn’t, Danny lifted his hands to grab Sam’s face, pulling him into a searing kiss. Sam hesitated for the briefest moment, somehow not anticipating his friend’s actions, despite the way he’d been acting. After he collected himself, he mimicked Danny’s hand placement and kissed him back just as fiercely. Both men released deep sighs, as if there had been a growing tension that was rapidly dissolving with every kiss.

Sam’s tongue moved to part Danny’s lips, licking over his bottom lip before entering his mouth. Danny groaned in response, his hips bucking up against his will. The action had Sam inching forward, resting his groin over Danny’s and grinding ever so slightly, hoping to hear those deep sounds once more.

Sam detached his lips from Danny’s, placing kisses to the side of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, and back to his neck, feeling an urge to leave a mark. Danny’s content sighs encouraged him, his teeth slightly nipping at the drummer’s warm skin and sucking before lapping over the bruise with his tongue.

Danny’s head was spinning, but whether it was from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through his body or Sam’s touch, he didn’t know. He whined at the feeling, subconsciously tilting his head to grant Sam further access to the open skin of his throat.

“Fuck, Sammy. What-what are we doing?” If anyone was going to pose the question in the heat of the moment, it made sense that it was Danny. He’d always been considerably more level headed and responsible than his counterpart, yet as the minutes passed, Danny felt less and less inclined to act in his normal fashion. In fact, the question had truly been posed as nothing more than confirmation that both of their actions really were happening, that everything was real, and not a drunken illusion.

But there was no mistaking the way Sam’s soft lips felt on his skin, nor the feeling of his cock hardening beneath his shorts. And Danny knew he wasn’t the one controlling Sam’s hips, which had still been rocking against him in a steady motion. He also didn’t miss how Sam, too, was growing increasingly hard under his boxer briefs.

Sam moved from Danny’s neck to speak into his ear, the warmth of his breath making Danny shiver. “Having fun. Unless you want to stop and actually go to sleep.”

If he was stone cold sober, Danny would’ve probably been embarrassed by how quickly he reacted to Sam’s suggestion, shaking his head and whispering several no’s. Sure, it was different, and maybe once he had a chance to properly reflect on the situation, he’d find it odd, perhaps even wrong in every way, but at that moment, none of that seemed to matter. The only thing either of them appeared to focus on was how good the other’s body felt against their own, and how desperate for more they both felt.

Danny felt Sam smirk against his skin, hearing a cocky “didn’t think so” escape Sam’s lips. He could’ve let Sam maintain control, avoiding the responsibility of making decisions or the anxiety that might have plagued him at the idea of initiating anything more. But he didn’t. With one swift move, Danny flipped their positions, Sam now finding himself on his back with the drummer straddling his waist. He swallowed harshly, suddenly feeling turned on by his friend’s strength in ways he hadn’t in the past.

“You’re such a little shit sometimes, Sam.”

Sam scoffed, the smirk reappearing on his face as he spoke teasingly. “Me being a little shit got us into this position, Daniel, and you certainly don’t seem to be complaining.” His eyes drifted lower to where Danny’s erection was barely being contained by his clothing before meeting Danny’s eyes once more. “Actually, it looks to me like you’re really enjoying all of this.”

Danny finally let himself look down at where his and Sam’s groins were pressed together, internally wishing his pants were already off so he could feel that much more. His body felt hot, almost too hot, but in the best way possible. They’d been around each other long enough to accidentally notice when the other was hard, but it always seemed funny before this evening. Now, there was nothing funny about the way Sam’s achingly hard cock twitched under Danny’s weight. And there was certainly nothing funny about the way Danny found himself craving the feeling of Sam’s bare skin against his own.

He grabbed Sam’s wrists, pinning his arms above his head and bent down, capturing the bassist's lips in another messy kiss. Both men felt nearly feral for the other, a clear need for more being extremely present in their movements.

To retaliate, Danny trailed his lips to the side of Sam’s neck, sucking a bruise to match the one he’d previously received. He groaned at the whimper Sam released, accidentally getting carried away and leaving a few more marks.

“Shit, Danny. God, that feels good.” Sam moaned, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

The sound of his name dripping off Sam’s tongue made Danny shudder, and he knew it would be burned in his mind forever. If this sequence of events never happened again, at least he’d have that to think about. But now wasn’t the time for worrying or ‘what if’s.’

Danny softly nibbled on Sam’s ear, relishing in the sound the action produced. “Do not move your hands. Do you understand?”

“What? Dan, come on, I want to touch you. Don’t-”

“I said,” Danny sat up, one of his hands harshly gripping Sam’s jaw and forcing him to look into his eyes. “Do you understand?”

Having heard quite a bit about Daniel’s sexual endeavors, he wasn’t completely shocked by the dominance in his friend’s voice. But that tone had never been used with Sam, and that was what threw him off. His pulse was racing, and his mouth suddenly felt very dry. He nodded weakly, ready to let Danny do anything and everything to him that he wanted. While neither of them had a solid idea as to how far all of this would go, Sam knew he’d agree to anything Danny suggested, and he had a feeling Danny would do the same.

“Good boy.” Danny purred, a smirk of his own appearing on his face at the sight of Sam being so quick to submit to him.

He stood up from the bed, removing his shorts, but leaving on his briefs. He didn’t want to make any assumptions, especially given that this was the first time either of them had explored this type of relationship. Regardless, Danny felt the need to shed at least one layer, his body thrumming with a desire to feel closer to Sam.

Returning to his position on the bed, Danny was pleased to see Sam’s hands hadn’t moved from the spot he put them in. He straddled Sam once more, but sat a bit further back to grant himself access to trace his fingers delicately over the outline of Sam’s cock.

“Danny, stop teasing. Fuck, please stop teasing and just touch me.” Sam shamelessly begged.

Rather than give into the request, Danny shifted his hips up, his own erection now being pressed directly against Sam’s. The two of them moaned, and Danny took this as a chance to continue, moving his body to grind down. His actions were slow, intentionally drawn out but done with enough force to give both of them the friction they desired. He was struggling to stay composed, the feeling paired with the general circumstances being nearly sufficient to draw him to his orgasm. Sam, from what Danny could see, was feeling the same, his eyes shutting as his head tossed back onto the pillow. After a moment, Sam’s hips began lifting, perfectly meeting Danny’s rhythm as if they’d done this dozens of times already.

Being unable to touch Danny was driving Sam insane, and although he was slightly frustrated by the thought, he hoped begging would provide him with what he wanted.

“Dan, Danny please let me move. I wanna touch you, feel more of you. Fuck, wanna taste you so badly. Please, please let me.” Not a single part of Sam felt embarrassed by the sound of his voice. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about how whiny he was being, nor did he care about how easily he let Danny take control. If anything, he loved it. For a moment, Sam wondered how Danny would act if it wasn't their first time in bed together.

Perhaps at another time, Danny would’ve made Sam beg more, but hearing those words leave Sam’s lips in that submissive tone made him even harder. And, fuck, Sam begging to taste him? He felt like a horny teenager, seconds away from exploding.

But still, Danny remained at least somewhat level headed, and out of concern that Sam might have spoken in the heat of the moment, he took a second to double check.

“Are you sure, Sammy? We don’t- you don’t-”

“Dan, I appreciate the concern but I swear if you don’t pull our underwear off in the next five seconds, I’m ripping yours clean off of your body.” Sam’s words came out rapidly, absolutely no hint of his typical joking tone, his heavy breathing giving away just how desperate he felt.

Without a verbal response, Danny followed Sam’s request, shifting to remove his own boxers before placing his hands at the top of Sam’s. He was torn between wanting to strip Sam bare or tease him just a bit more, wanting to hear those sweet whines fall from Sam's lips. After some brief contemplation, he went with the latter, slowly pulling the material down and tossing it on the floor where his had landed.

He never thought he’d be face to face with this one particular part of his best friend, but instead of being weirded out by it, he felt hungry. Sam had stated how badly he wanted to taste Danny, and Danny would be lying if he didn’t feel the same. Neither of them knew what they were doing, acting purely on instinct alone, but it seemed to be playing out smoothly and it was clear they both craved more.

And then, as though a flick switched inside him, Danny replayed Sam’s words in his head. Instead of giving Sam what he fully desired, he reached his hand down, wrapping it around Sam’s length and giving a few gentle, experimental strokes. Sam whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut and his toes curling from pleasure.  It wasn't nearly enough, but god it felt nice. Danny was touching him considerably softer than he would’ve touched himself, but something about that, and the fact that it was Danny’s hand wrapped around his cock, made everything that much hotter.

But just as quickly as Daniel’s touch was there, it was removed.

“Christ, you’re a tease, Wagner.” His hands toyed with the pillow case beneath his head as he spoke.

Danny moved off of Sam and sat down next to him, leaning up against the headboard and doing his best to muster up some semblance of confidence. He bent one of his arms behind his head, his other hand grasping his cock to stroke himself.

“Well. You were begging to touch me, to taste me, weren’t you Sammy? Go on then, show me what you’ve got.”

Sam gulped, nearly choking on his own saliva. Not wanting to wait a second longer, he sat up, placing himself between Danny’s legs and bringing his head up to be eye level with Danny’s intimidatingly large length. His nimble fingers wrapped around the appendage, his grip light and uncertain. He wanted to pleasure Danny, he just wasn’t as confident in his own actions.

Sensing Sam’s apprehension, Danny wrapped his hand around Sam’s, urging him to squeeze tighter and stroke languidly. Once he felt like Sam had caught on to what felt good, he released his hand and gently caressed his cheek, Sam’s head tilting to nuzzle into his warm palm.

“That’s it, Sam. Just like that.” Danny’s praise seemed to spur Sam on, the bassist sticking his tongue out to lick a long stripe from the base of Danny’s cock to the tip. “Shit, oh shit. God, Sam. Who’s the tease now?”

Danny could hear his resolve slipping with every pass of Sam’s tongue. He moved his hand from Sam’s face to his head, gripping the silky brunette strands to nudge his mouth further. Sam didn’t need verbal instruction, opening his mouth to take Danny’s cock as much as he could.

Against his will, Danny’s hips bucked up, forcing his cock deeper into Sam’s throat, subsequently pulling a strained gag. Sam focused on his breathing, bobbing his head up and down at a steady pace, every so often flattening his tongue along the underside of Danny’s cock before swirling the muscle over his sensitive tip.

His hands latched onto Danny’s thighs, letting the drummer take control over his actions. He hummed around Danny, the vibrations sending pleasure throughout his entire body.

Danny felt his stomach clench, every part of him tingling as he approached his orgasm. His hips thrusted to meet Sam’s mouth, and he tossed his head back, his brows furrowing and a loud groan escaping from his lips.

“S-Sammy. Fuck your mouth feels so good. I’m s-so close, baby, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

Sam looked up at Danny through his lashes, his own cock twitching against the mattress. He couldn’t stand the lack of stimulation, and the slight friction felt good enough to have his pelvis rut against the material as he continued to suck Danny off. Even without the same treatment he was giving his friend, Sam felt just as close to finishing. He lifted his head once more to remove his mouth, brown eyes meeting hazel, the two sharing a smile before Sam spoke.

“Cum in my mouth, Danny.” His voice was hoarse, his lips swollen, his hair a tangled mess, and Danny swore he’d never seen his best friend look so damn beautiful. He nodded in lieu of a response.

With a few more bobs of Sam’s head, Danny was pushed over the ledge, his back arching ever so slightly off the bed as he came down Sam’s throat.

“Fuck! Sammy, fuck fuck fuck. Ah, Christ. God damn.” Danny could hardly contain himself. A combination of moans, curses, and Sam’s name slipping out over and over.

Sam removed himself from Danny’s body, pushing his hair back and staring directly at Danny as he licked his lips. Danny, having found the tiniest bit of remaining energy, jumped onto Sam after the seductive display, pushing him onto his back and wrapping his large hand around Sam’s leaking cock.

“I know you’re close Sammy, I saw how desperately you fucked yourself against the bed. You want it so badly, don’t you? Gonna let me make a mess of you?”

All Sam could do was nod rapidly, not having the ability to form words. His hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he held the fabric. With a few more tugs, and quite a lot of uncontrollable moaning, Sam reached his own peak, squeezing his eyes shut as ropes of cum spilled onto his stomach and Danny’s fist.

Danny waited for Sam to open his eyes, and when he finally did, Danny made sure they were staring directly at each other. Without breaking eye contact, Danny bent down, dragging his tongue over Sam’s torso to lick up his release.

“God, that’s fucking hot, Dan.” Sam spoke, groaning at the sight of his friend’s actions.

“You taste good, Sammy.” Danny said through a smirk.

Sam laughed at the statement. “You’re insane.”

Danny reached for his and Sam’s underwear, sliding his on before tossing Sam’s over to him. “What we just did is insane.”

As the two dressed just enough to cover what was left of their modesty, a calm silence washed over the room. Both men quietly scrambled under the blankets, neither of them sure of what to say now that things had simmered down.

But Sam’s mind was racing. Was Danny right? Was what just happened crazy? Crossing the boundaries of their friendship had never been a thought for either of them, at least as far as Sam was aware. He didn’t regret what happened, not even a bit. He couldn’t say he would’ve acted the same if he hadn’t been drinking, and while the alcohol might have pushed him to do what he did, he was happy. Satisfied. Extremely content, in more ways than one. It was the lingering bit of anxiety that prompted his next words.

“Danny, should we uh… should we talk about all of this?” His hands fiddled with a loose string hanging off the sheet. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Danny just yet, which seemed silly when he thought about it.

He felt Danny shrug from where he laid down next to him. “We can if you want to. Or we could go to sleep and deal with it when we’re sober.”

Sam chuckled, though the lighthearted laugh he usually had didn’t seem present. “I’m feeling pretty damn sober after that.” He paused, speaking again before Danny had a chance to respond. “I just… do you reg-”

Danny sat up instantly, already knowing what Sam was about to ask. He hovered over his friend, gently placing his palm on Sam’s face. “No. Don’t even finish that sentence. We didn’t do anything the other didn’t want. Honestly, I think part of me is shocked that it didn't happen sooner. So whatever concerns or fears you have, ignore them. I don’t have a single regret, Sammy. Do you?”

Sam’s eyes widened at the notion. “No. Not at all.”

Flashing his signature crooked smile - the very smile Sam had found comfort in since they were kids - Danny moved closer to kiss Sam softly. “Good. Because if I wasn’t so tired right now, I’d be jumping you for round two.”

The words brought Sam peace, a smile of his own finding its way onto his face. “Well there’s always tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Sammy. There’s always tomorrow.”

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[my-writings-and-musings]

We have our winner!!

Soundwave put up a pretty good fight though, Bee and Swindle also had a pretty strong showing! Thinking those three should definitely get some fics of their own too!

I went with something sort of silly because there's not nearly enough pining Megatron or Dorothy Malto content out there.

"Megs?"

For all of his boundless courage, Megatron couldn't help but feel a burst of terror when he was startled from his pleasant yet absentminded staring. Averting his optics straight away, he looked down at his side to find Dorothy Malto standing on the raised patch of land he'd chosen for a seat. Wearing casual clothes befitting of their shared day off-duty, her eyes sparkled with something more than mere enjoyment of the beautiful sunny weather. "What's got you so happy?"

Clearing his vents as casually as he could, the flustered mech tried to pretend everything was normal, thinking over his words carefully as he turned back to the scene he definitely hadn't been staring at previously. The young Terrans were all gathered behind the Malto family barn in a loose circle around the only other human present, you. Though too far away to hear what was being said, he could see you were just about done patching up the tiny cut Twitch had earned while the bots had been goofing off, and he knew from experience you were undoubtedly giving her a gentle reminder to be more careful in the future. Seeing such tender care for the little drone made a smile tug on his reluctant lips.

"It is… nice, to have another GHOST agent we can rely on." he answered diplomatically, not acknowledging the host of complex emotions that always rose up in his spark when he spoke of you.

"Mhmm." Dorothy replied with her same smile, following his gaze just as you finished up your patchwork. Twitch tested out the previously injured limb with clear delight, expressing her emphatic gratitude with a transformation and a zip about the sky that brought a chuckle from all present, including the two veterans. "Dr. Y/N is the only one I'd trust with my babies. They've kept every last visit secret, and they'll pop over no matter how small the issue is. The kids just love them."

"I can tell." he agreed with another chuckle as he watched you tenderly insist that the young Terran be mindful of her safety. He knew from experience the request would go unheeded, as young Cybertronians had the same danger defying habits as human youth, but your compassionate efforts made that complex surge of emotions in his spark rise up again. Ignoring it as usual, he tried to explain himself when he saw Dorothy had yet to drop her accursed grin. "Many humans have a… justifiable hesitation around Cybertronians, yet they treat us no differently than their human patients. I cannot begin to express my appreciation for their work."

There was a small sound from the woman he initially interpreted as a welcome dropping of the subject, but the moment his optics drifted back to you her words cut right through his defenses.

"Is that… all you appreciate about them?"

Expression briefly betraying his flustered mortification, he just managed to sound more frustrated than rattled. "What are you implying, Dorothy?"

"Oh, nothing." she replied, obviously fake indifference putting him on immediate edge. Dorothy had long since learned to read him like a book, far more intuitively than he could even read his own emotions, and he knew she was not the type to ever give up. Still, he wasn't at all prepared for her boldness when she finally spoke up, grinning from ear to ear as she did so. "Just that you've been doing a great deal of appreciating with your eyes."

Unable to stop himself from sputtering at the absolutely absurd and not at all true observation, he frantically looked your way to ensure you were still occupied with the Terrans before he replied in a forceful whisper.

"You are mistaken."

She actually laughed, looking beyond amused by the thirty foot warrior struggling with the crush he would deny under pain of literal death. Patting his side playfully, she gave him a wink that sent a blush blooming across his cheeks. "Don't worry, I won't tell."

"There's nothing to tell." he replied in a rush, looking back to you only so he could confirm you had not overhead any of their conversation. By the rare grace of the universe you obviously had not, as you were now in the middle of a very enthralled ring of Terrans and recounting stories of your more interesting assignments to keep them occupied. Once more those accursed feelings rose up in his spark, and he didn't have it in him to deny the warmth he felt every time he laid his optics on you. Seeing your tiny human form surrounded by the towering young bots that you treated with all the compassion and patience of human children simply overwhelmed his defenses.

Thankfully, Dorothy seemed to be willing to let the matter drop at that, and she offered only a playful parting tease as she turned to walk back to the house.

"Sure there's not."

He considered grumbling some kind of further denial, but didn't have it in him to be upset when you made the group laugh and did the same, your beaming smile giving him one of his own.

Dorothy pulled out her phone and turned back after only a few steps, going completely unnoticed by the lovestruck mech until she spoke up one final time. 

"I can get you their number."

Megatron could have combusted on the spot, and he could only try to hide his blush behind his palm as it surged across his entire faceplate.

"Dorothy!"

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