#i’m feeling soft and poetic tonight

[super-clearlysaltybouquet]

The One With the Blouse (2/2)

Part 2/2

Wolfstar x reader      Sirius Black x reader      Remus Lupin x reader      Sirius Black x Remus Lupin      Sirius Black x reader x Remus Lupin 

Established couple (throuple)

Summary: Sirius apologises, Lily and Remus help

Warnings:

Minor angst

Hurt/comfort 

Fluff

Word count: 1.5k

You trudge up the steps of the girl’s dormitory. Tonight at least you know you’ll have an empty room. After a party, Marlene and Mary tend to fall asleep on the couches by the fire. Always the last to leave, and the first to insist on helping clean up. Lily will be with James, recently endowed with prefect duties and a single room, you have no doubt he’ll be taking advantage of the privacy. 

You sit in bed and hold yourself tight, calming your rushing heart, and trying desperately to cease the tears that just keep falling. Hours pass, and the loud sounds of youthful jubilance from the party below do too. 

You want to believe that Sirius didn’t mean any of it. He seemed almost just as upset as you were when you left the dorm. He has a habit of self-sabotage when things start going too well, Remus did warn you about that. But you aren’t a fan of wishful thinking. It’s far easier to let yourself wallow in the believe that you three just aren’t meant to be, and that they’ll do better without your imposition.

A soft knock on the door startles you, “Y/N, can I come in?”, Lily, that can’t be right. You respond in a daze, and she steps in wordlessly, looking far too sympathetic for your liking. 

“Remus said you might need some company”, she smiles.  

“Did they enjoy the party?”, you ask, entirely genuine. 

“They never came down”.

She moves to sit across from you on the red sheets, her fingers lost in her pockets as she pulls something out. A paper crane.

“Sirius made it for you”, she says, and your fragile heart summersaults. 

You extend your hand out, and Lily drops the paper to your open palm. The moment it touches your skin the bird begins to fly. It flutters around you in circles first, then flaps its wings in place between the two of you. It’s beautiful magic, Sirius’s touch is unmistakable. The paper rearranges itself back into its basic form, a flat sheet of parchment with writing on one side. 

It reads quite simply: 

I’m an idiot. I’m so, so sorry. Will do better. not your fault. Sirius,

It’s not exactly poetic, or even particularly romantic, but you appreciate the sincerity. The spreading, watery ink bleeding between letters - and dark raised tearstains affirms the earnestness of the apology. Lily seems hesitant before she speaks again, but her tone is reassuring, “You know, with him these things are never personal, he used to get like this with Remus when they first started out too”, and that shocks you. They seem like a complete unit now, reading each other’s minds and silent cues in a way you haven’t mastered yet. It seems almost unbelievable to imagine the two of them at each other’s throats. 

“I should go talk to them”, you sigh. Despite Sirius’s apology, you've resigned yourself to your fate. Re-playing the events of earlier tonight again and again in your mind, you can’t help but feel shameful. Maybe you overreacted, or you didn’t pay close enough attention to Sirius’s frustrations early enough. As if reading your mind:

“I understand why you’re upset; he told me what he said to you” Lily says, “If James said anything like that I don’t think I’d ever speak to him again”,

“You don’t think I should forgive him?” you ask, eyes looking back to the paper crane. The charmed parchment has re-folded itself perfectly and continues to fly.

Lily shrugs, “Sirius isn’t James, he doesn’t always mean what he says”, and somehow you find that incredibly comforting.

-

You walk to their dorm, paper crane in hand. Your stomach turns when you knock. There’s a rustle and a small shout from inside before the door creeks open, quicker than you’re prepared for. Remus steps out. His eyes are bright red and puffy, and looking at his hands on the wooden door you can tell he’s been picking at his fingers again. You hate to think that you might've been the cause of any of his pain. “Lily gave you the crane”, he says, half smiling now, and you think things might just be okay. 

He cracks the door open further, welcoming you inside with his hand at the small of your back. 

“Are you okay?”, you worry, glimpsing between his eyes and his scratched fingers, 

Remus nods. 

“All better now”, he says, half smile growing into nearly a grin, you believe him.

“Where’s Sirius?”, you ask.

Remus motions his head to the bathroom, and you cast him a bewildered look,

“I cast a silencing charm”, he explains, as if that really explains anything at all, “He needed to calm down”, he adds.

“So, he’s taking a bath?”, 

Remus shakes his head and waves his wand. The sound of sniffling and quiet crying finds it’s way through the dorm room, slightly muffled by something indistinguishable. 

“He’s got his head in the sink”, Remus says, and you really have nothing to say in response, “We had it filled with ice to keep the muggle beer right, I thought the cold would calm him down”, he elaborates, like an adoringly patient parent talking about a particularly affected toddler. Remus’s tenderness towards Sirius fills you with something light, and warm. You don’t miss the unspoken detail; Remus couldn’t bear to listen to your lover cry.

“He was in the wrong, and he really is sorry”, he says, and you don’t need to be convinced. You wonder how many times they’ve been through this, the arguments and reconciliation you’re only just learning to navigate. 

Remus opens the bathroom door for you, and low and behold Sirius’s head is in the sink. Three bottles of beer are parked haphazardly in the corner of the porcelain to make up for the space a human head takes up. He’s still wearing the same blouse. His shoulder are shaking, and his hands are so white gripping the sides of the sink that they’re almost luminescent.

Remus walks up behind him, rubbing circles up and down his back. He gives you a quick encouraging glance before he’s leaning down, speaking softly into Sirius’s ear, “Sweetheart, Y/N is here to talk to you, Lily gave her your crane”.

His head shoots up from the ice, pale and wild looking, like a corpse brought to life. Hair completely drenched, and ice water dribbling off the tip of his nose. He turns to you with wide eyes, looking entirely panicked. 

“I’m so, so sorry darling, I’m such bloody idiot”, he spills out, “I didn’t mean any of it, I’m not sure why I said it anyway, and then you were so upset, fuck sweetheart”, his words come out at a million miles a minute, you’re sure he’s taken your time apart to ruminate intently on his misdeeds. He takes a second to breathe, “-then Moony was upset with me too, Walburga sent me a howler yesterday and it got my mood all mixed up, I should have just talked to you, such a bloody idiot”, he pants out.

Remus hasn’t stopped circling his gentle hands up and down Sirius’s shoulders, providing a much-needed salve to the other boy’s anxiety. 

“I shouldn’t have left”, You say with regret “I should’ve stayed to talk to you”,

Sirius shakes his head, sprinkles of sink water flicking off the ends of his hair, “I upset you, you had every right to take a minute to yourself”, you nod in response, grateful he isn’t holding your flightiness against you. He seems much calmer now, the ice water, Remus’s touch, and your return serving as the perfect trifecta. It’s all slightly awkward, you’re both unsure how to proceed, stuck just for now in that fumbly post-argument stage. Remus spares you a slightly desperate glance, begging silently for you to say something. 

“Thank you for the crane, and the note”, you oblige.

“I meant what I wrote, I’ll do better”, he says it with conviction, and you appreciate the affirmation. “I'll do whatever you want, I’ll strip and flog myself all the way to Holyhead if-”, you interrupt him in haste, you’re not even sure he’s joking.

“-no no Sirius I forgive you, really”, his tense shoulders relax like mountains relieved of their own weight, and in the corner of your eye you think Remus’s do too. 

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”, he questions,

“No, I mean it, honest”, and you lift your hand up beside your face, mimicking the action of taking some sort of oath. It puts a slight smile on Sirius’s face. “Come here”, you say, and he collapses into you, initiating the tightest hug of your life. He’s wet and cold, but you couldn’t care less, glad to have him back in your arms.

“Next time, please just tell me if I’m being too fussy, and I’ll give you a bit of space”, you say, muffled practically inside Sirius’s armpit. You feel him nod emphatically, “I promise”.

A warmth has returned to the dorm, and the red and gold accents of the room are suddenly more vibrant. The three of you stay up for a while, just holding one another, and talking softly into each other’s skin.

#wolfstar x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x remus lupin #poly!wolfstar x reader #marauders #poly!wolfstar

[l0ve-dov3]

where the sun shines. | 11

percy jackson x demeter! reader

summary: in which you and percy have finished swimming, and are left with the waves and soft-spoken thoughts.

warnings: none!

word count: 409

authors note: so, i was gonna try to write longer chapters, but i kind of like these quick little moments with percy, so i’m gonna keep it like that! i hope you find this installment interesting, because i think it’s pretty cute.

series masterlist. | previous part. | next part.

The moon cast a ray of light over Long Island Sound, the splash of the ocean overcoming an eerie silence. You and Percy Jackson sat silently, feet just touching the water as you lay in the sand.

Tonight, you and Percy snuck out to the beach; crossing the activity off your summertime bucket list. You’d spent the past week pacing around camp half-blood, fulfilling your duties as a counselor, and were in desperate need of a break.

The only person who let you relax was Percy, so of course he had to be there.

“Do you do this often?” the boy spoke gently, earning the attention of your tired eyes. You couldn’t help but notice how the moonlight did wonders for his features.

“Only when I feel lost.”

“Lost?” Percy spoke, raising a brow. He turned his head, expecting to meet your eyes, but you were already re-focused on the sky.

“Like…” you sighed gently, “Like when the sky feels a little bit grey, and every glance feels a bit more like a stare. On the days i don’t know where to turn, i look to the moon.”

There was a silence. a soft, comfortable silence that left your friend sinking in its warmth. Percy’s eyes lingered on your turned-away face, almost allured by the way you spoke to the sky so sleepily. Your words had fallen so smooth on his ears, and with each syllable came a rush of serenity.

He wondered if your voice always sounded this nice, or if he was just sleepy.

“The stars.” you whispered, yawning. “They remind me of your eyes.”

Percy’s heart froze in his chest. “My eyes?” he returned, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips. A wave splashed the balls of his feet, and he shivered at the striking cold.

“I said your eyes, didn’t I percy?” you chuckled. His name felt so right on your lips. “I usually mean the things I say.”

Percy scoffed, though it wasn’t a product of real annoyance. His eyes remained focused on you, and he nearly jumped when you met his eyes:

Deep, swirling with sleepiness, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

Your eyes were beautiful.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Percy?” your voice sounded as soothing as the waves. Face softening from tiredness, you looked at Percy intently, and he returned your gaze with twice as much fervor.

“Do you always feel this poetic at night?”

“No,” you breathed, “just when i’m with you”

#aesthetic #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #camp half blood #pjo tv show #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #x reader #demigod reader #demeter #demigods #friends to lovers #lovers #love #oblivious

[togrowoldinv]

Fear of Heights

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When Natasha takes you on the jet for the first time, it’s a night with many firsts

Note: Soft Nat! Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

“You know I’m scared of heights, right?” You say as Natasha puts the jet in motion.

“You’re going to be fine, detka,” Natasha says. She’s wearing a mischievous grin.

You’re sure she didn’t ask Stark before bringing you here. You’ve been dating Natasha for a couple of months. When you asked her if you could see more of her world of avenging, you didn’t think she would take you up the super jet. But here you are.

“Natasha,” you say quietly, gasping a little when you feel the gravity shift from entering the air.

“Y/n, hey look at me,” Nat says. You look into her green eyes that have become your favorite color. “Just one second and you can hold my hand, baby. Okay? Hold on.”

Natasha seems to kick the jet into high gear and soon her hand reaches for yours. You lean your head closer to her. She gets the memo. Nat stands by your chair where you’re tightly strapped in and you grip onto her.

Natasha chuckles a little at your death grip on her waist.

“I think you’ll enjoy it when we get there,” Natasha says. “I’m sorry you’re scared right now.”

And she does sound sorry. Also, a little amused.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, sweetheart. But it’ll be worth the wait,” Natasha replies.

You keep a tight grip around her waist as you rest your face against her abdomen. Natasha doesn’t mind and she hardly moves as the jet hits air pockets. She’s a practiced flyer.

“Here we are,” Nat says.

You glance away from her and look out the window. In front of you is a beautiful sunset over a mountain with water all around.

“Oh wow,” you say. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Natasha says but she’s looking at you. Not the view. “We can land and watch it if you want. Or stay right here and I can make the top open.”

“Let’s land and watch,” you say.

Nat smiles and leaves your side to land the jet. When you land, she unbuckles you and takes your hand. She stops before exiting and grabs a basket from the floor. You didn’t notice her bring that on.

She just smirks at your surprise. Nat lays out a quilt on the ground.

“Ladies first,” she says, gesturing for you to lay down. You do so and she joins you.

Natasha’s arm rests under your head as you watch the sunset. It’s the perfect kind of silence where neither of you feel uncomfortable.

That’s how you always feel with her. Like you can talking, quiet, or living in a daydream and everything still feels perfect.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say once the sun has sunk below the mountain. You look at her from the close distance and see her beauty.

“Are you glad you faced your fears?” Nat asks. You scrunch your nose up in dislike. “It’s okay to say no.”

You both chuckle at her words. The moment is so soft.

“Will you say yes if I kiss you right now?” Natasha asks.

“You’re a cheeseball,” you tell her.

“You love me,” Natasha teases with a grin.

Her eyes go wide after she realizes what she said. But you don’t hesitate.

“I do love you, you know,” you say.

“You do?” She asks so quietly, so innocently that you could cry.

“I love you Natasha Romanoff,” you say. “I’ve loved you for a while now and I want to love you forever.”

A single tear falls from Natasha’s eye. It’s a poetic scene as you reach out and wipe the tear.

“I-“ the simple word comes out of her mouth slowly. She’s not said this to anyone and truly meant it. “I love you.”

You smile and kiss her lips. Natasha kisses you back like she’s never kissed anyone before.

When you break for air, you keep your hands on her face. You hold her delicately.

“I love you,” you say again.

“I love you too,” Natasha says. It’s easier for her this time.

You two lay there and talk for a while before you go back to the jet and fly home. Facing your fear was absolutely worth it.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort

[infernalodie]

𝐄𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 || 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐎𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐚

“𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘯', 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯' 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥“

Inspo: Hozier - Eat Your Young

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: Her body was a sanctum you couldn’t get enough of...

Warning: Smut, thigh riding, body worship, and some fluff.

Words: 1257

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

There was a certain level of obsession when it came to Jenna’s body—coming in waves of lustful thoughts that you managed to keep at bay whenever she was gone for filming. Leaving you stuck at home to look at the old videos you had taken of her. All of them focused on her body. Naked, wet, and flush from your love bites and nails that had been dragged across her skin. Each of them had a poetic essence to them that sent a flood of desire and need through your bones. Needing to feel her soft skin in your hands. Her figure morphing into whatever you wished.

But these were just desperate thoughts to fill in the decaying hours of days when she wasn’t near. The difference now was her warm aura invading your sense. Blinding you from the setting.

“Y/n.” You blinked, gaze lifting from your wine and toward the girl sitting on the opposite side. Her eyes were bright with curiosity and her lips curved in a small smile. “What’s going on in there?”

You slightly fell further into your wooden chair. Tongue peeking out to wet your dry lips. Gaze flickering around the luxurious restaurant Jenna had decided to pull you out too. It was for some sort of date since she’s been gone for 3 months and hadn’t been able to call that much.

It was just an obstacle.

Finally, your eyes met hers and your head cocked slightly to the left. Orbs ran up and down the beautiful black dress, she wore tonight. Lingering a moment longer on her breasts and neck before you finally returned her gaze. “I’m trying really hard to not toss this table to the side.”

The eagerness sent a chill down Jenna’s body that she attempted to keep obscured from her sip of wine. Hoping the expensive liquor wouldn’t show easily your words were so convincing. Or that the lighting was in her favour and not revealing the warmth that invaded her cheeks. Yet, her lips were still curved as she glanced up at you and asked, “Why are you waiting?” Then she tilted her head, unable to contain the brattiness that had built over the time of separation. “It’s okay if you’re scared of sex while I was gone. It happens to the worst people.”

The sassy attitude and overall comment made your lips twitch. Unable to contain the faint smile that formed as you placed your napkin down and stood to your feet. “God, I missed you, darling.”

Jenna’s eyes followed each of your movements. Her lips were hidden behind the brim of her glass that blocked the grin that was slowly building on her face. And when you made your way around the table, leaning down with one hand resting on the back of her chair and the other firmly on the table, she finally pulled away from the intoxicating beverage. Meeting your gaze that was hollowed out of its joy and replaced with that indescribable lust.

“Since you left, I have been starving,” you muttered softly. Each breath of each word fanning her face which only intensified the flush. “All I could do is look at those videos and pray you would be home sooner than later.” Reaching one hand up, you tucked a few strands of her hair out of her face and behind her ear. Displaying the edge of her jaw. “And now, having you home, I think I can finally have the world for myself.”

And something in the way you spoke. How the words rolled perfectly off your tongue. Jenna couldn’t resist you any longer.

Jenna’s mind was in a tangle of conflicting thoughts that all revolved around you. Lost in the feeling of your lips pressed against her neck and your hands roaming her body. Scratching, biting, kissing—she loved and wanted it all.

Her hips moved without the need for permission. Pressing her wet pussy to your denim thigh and gliding it across the material. Letting her soft whimpers fill the dark bedroom lit by the moon's natural glow. Able to make out your caramel features staring up at her adoringly. Almost enthralled by her twisting expressions of pleasure. The conflux of sweet moans that made your heart pound in excitement.

“So beautiful.” It was a quiet praise, but enough to make Jenna’s heart swell. Urging her to try harder, to reach the finish line that she knew would satisfy you.

Your eyes slowly slithered down her petite figure. The tense muscles that ebbed with each roll of her waist that moved with such precision and repetition that created a foggy effect on your mind.

Licking your lips as your hands gripped her hips. Feeling the radiating heat from her body intensified under your calloused palms. It might’ve just been your mind playing tricks on you. But you liked the idea that you had this wordless effect on her that she didn’t know about it. Or that it may just be her body that had a certain spell cast on you.

Whatever it may be, it left you breathless and left to stare at your girlfriend's ethereal body.

“Fuck.” Jenna’s eyes rolled back, body slightly quivering. Her hands held your shoulders, needing a grounding aspect as she lost her sanity from the firm and pleasurable friction against her clit. You helped guide her, giving her a breadcrumb trail to follow as one of your hands slid up her shirt and grope her breasts. Rolling her pebbled nipples between the pads of your fingers, lips slightly parting with a shaky sigh. “Yes!” Jenna’s hand flew to the back of your head, making you look up at her. “Suck them, please!”

Obliging her plea, you yanked the shirt up and captured one of her nipples. Her body shook with the warm sensation that perfectly blended with the chill in the air. Your warm tongue flicked and lathered her nipple until she dug her nails into the back of your neck. Forcing you to switch between the two with her ruts grew far fiercer in urgency.

That knot that she’d missed was becoming more apparent with each glide of her cunt. Each millisecond of stimulation to her clit pushed her closer and closer to the edge. And with you sucking, licking, and biting at her breasts, she was feeling the ecstasy build till it slammed into her. The sheer volume made her choke on breaths. Hips stuttered with her legs clamping around your thigh, body quivering as you held her flush to your chest. Her moans shook the walls as her face scrunched up in bliss.

You helped her through, prolonging the orgasm for as long as you could. Laying her down swiftly and rubbing her clit with your fingers, slowly. Feeling your own pants soaked at the visceral reminder of why sex with Jenna would be the best you would ever experience.

When it ebbed away, she let her half-lidded eyes flicker down to you. Finding you kissing her stomach softly. “If…” She swallowed the lump in her throat, face grimacing at the rawness. “If you’re trying to go another round, you gotta give me a bit longer, baby.”

All she earned was a hum for a moment. Watching the desire in your eyes flow up and down her body with a certain hunger that Jenna was never prepared for. And you looked up at her, flashing that toothy smile that only whispered the lack of sleep Jenna would get tonight.

“I think I get to eat now, right?”

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega fanfiction #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega fluff #jenna ortega x black!fem!reader #jenna ortega x black!reader #jenna ortega x black reader #jenna ortega x black fem reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #x reader #x black!reader #x black!fem!reader #x poc reader #poc reader

[flordeamatista]

𝙒𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙍𝙚𝙙

pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Reader`

concept: Fire burns passionately when passion is present.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: Beefy Bucky, poetic fluff, poetic kisses, body worship, holiday poetic smut ─ p in v smut, size kink, unprotected sex, nicknames ─ (Angel, baby girl)

a/n: This is for the ‘Tis the Season to be Thot-y’ writing challenge! My dialogue prompt was: “you got me a Christmas present?” and my festive device was ‘Christmas decorations.” And my hot babe was Beefy Bucky.

 Hi, @jadedvibes I'm your secret santa, and I hope you're beaming when you read the notification. The fact that I had the pleasure of becoming your little holiday menace made me so excited.

the cute gif/line divider/moodboard made by me

lovely betas: @lunarbuck and @writing-for-marvel

Masterlist

Let me meet your needs, and like lightning, you strike me down.

A crimson bow is placed on top of the gold-wrapped box. The Christmas lights are clearly reflected in your eyes. You are excited to offer this gift to your beefy man as he stares at you with his sparkling blue eyes. 

He cautiously opens the box, his eyes widening at the contents before darting up to you and back down again, running his fingers across the polaroid. It's the most beautiful picture of you in red lingerie, tossing gold tinsel in the air.

When he recognized it, his eyes widened, and you caught his beaming smile as he turned to face you. 

"Is this my gift?" Standing up with the package in his hands, he walks towards you, his eyes lustful. In a moment, he is mystified before closing the box, looking at you, and taking you in. 

He tosses the package onto the table and glances at you. 

You breathe, "Yeah, wrapped in your favorite color, and I’m wearing it right now."

"Oh-" escapes Bucky's throat as he arches backward, every nerve on edge. Dark blue eyes burn the trench coat as he looks around and forgets he is in public, and here you are teasing him.

"Would you like to touch and take it off, big boy"

That's what you do to him-take the air out of his body and make him happy.

He can take you apart in the restroom, or he can be a gentleman and wait until you get to the car. He sees the twinkle in your eyes, and he knows you love to be a menace. 

You feel his lips touch your earlobe as he pushes you out the door.

“You look so pretty for me, but are you gonna scream for me? Wanna hear my name come out of that pretty little mouth." He whispers so close to your skin.

Seeing his hands on your waist, holding onto his arms, and feeling the veins tremble on your fingertips, seeing the muscular curves of his arm reminds you that tonight's show is yours.  “Do you like to tease me, pretty girl?”

You live every second of your existence to tease him, and you like being with him simply to get a chance to turn him on and thank him for making him the savage beast he is. You can’t wait to get home and finish the teasing.

It feels so good, waiting on your patient lips, getting carried away by your words.

With a feather-light kiss, Bucky places his lips on your back, and you can feel the seductive moistness of his lips against your skin, enveloping your whole body and releasing a sensation of warmth and cushioning on your back. Your shoulders are now swimming with warm kisses while his fingers trace the garter straps.

The feeling of Bucky's fingertips digging into your hips, Bucky's forehead tipping forward against your back.

“Have you been nice or naughty? ”

"Yep," you whisper, breathless, as you turn around to answer the question because you know either way you respond, you’ll be teased. How do you answer such a question?

Now that he knows how jolly you are in your gift-giving, Bucky speeds every spotlight to find out how naughty you've been.

Your garter wraps around your full thighs, and your bralette squeezes the soft curve of your breasts. Because of the cool air and the texture of the lace, your nipples are barely visible and hardened. The hardness of his dick has increased. You are the perfect gift when the loose-fitting strap slinks downward over your shoulder.

As you twirl around a little more, you show him how it fits around you and how the red garter kisses your skin.

Bucky licks his lips because he wants to devour that pretty skin of yours and show you what you do to him. 

The moment Bucky reaches for your bralette strap, your skin shivers.

Whenever Bucky touches you, you feel dizzy, lost, and found. He is the only man who makes you feel loved and seen. From his warm hand to his cold hand, dancing around your body and creating a sense of love in your soul.

You quickly pull silver tinsel and slide it over his eyes, he is effectively blindfolded. A very sexy sound comes from his throat, and he shakes his head slightly. "Can I open my eyes now?" he asked, a smile playing on his full lips.

“It sounds like a no to me." He says amusedly, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

"No. You can't open your eyes," you tell him. “It's either you're a good boy, or you're getting coal for being naughty.”

“You like me being naughty, Angel.” 

Before you can begin the sentence, he grabs you and pulls you to him. He starts at your thighs, stroking up and down your silk stockings as he warms your skin. The sensation sweeps up your spine.

At the top of the stockings, he brings his lips to the bare skin and runs his tongue along the garter. His fingers run over the red lace, stopping to finger the small black bows. 

He caresses your skin with his thumbs, making you moan, and leaving you breathless.

 It's like you're going to burst when his lips trail kisses along your collarbone, licking and tasting your skin to the point of bursting. You can feel his lips numbing with pleasure after he whispers, "You make me want to do some naughty things to you," before he bruisingly kisses your lips. 

With the kiss broken, he pulls off the blindfold and steps back, looking you up and down. You catch your breath when he finally meets your eyes with ocean-blues, glistening with lust. You feel the raging passion in his lips as he kisses you searingly, the heat of arousal breaking through.

"Naughty boy," you pant against his lips.

He growls low in his throat and grabs your ass, lifting you up into his lap. You wrap your legs around him and bury your face in his neck as he makes his way to the bed. 

Upon inhaling the inviting scent of his warm body, you breathe in the pleasant notes of cedar and sandalwood, along with the inherent sweet scent of his beefy body.

With your own kisses, licking the skin on his neck, and smearing him with your own love, you can not savor him. You're thrown down on the bed, covered with his body, as he holds your hands above your head. 

Now you are his. 

“Angel, behave yourself."

He tortures you with his lips and tinsel like a feather, lying perfectly still while you whimper and try to obey him. 

When he presses his palms against your breast, massaging and squeezing the soft flesh, he watches as it expands over the lace with a groan. A moan escapes your lips as Bucky leans forward to brush his nose against yours. 

Bucky gently touches you deeply and presses his lips against your ear, “Want you to come. I want to see you all flushed and pretty,"

You detect none of the frantic energy from moments ago. Taking in the soft, rough lips of Bucky, you lose yourself in the feeling, comparing it with your own feelings. Your senses are rekindled as you inhale his sweet lips.

You have my heart when your lips are swollen with sensuality and desire.

The shockwaves of pleasure spread through your body as you clench your fists into the sheets. Your lips part slightly as a raw moan escapes your throat. Bucky groans softly, slipping his tongue between your folds to taste you and probe you gently. You urge him for more, letting your soft moans slide from your mouth as you arch up against his tongue.

A hand reaches out under your hips, caressing your lower abdomen, then he moves his hand down to your mound, teasing your folds apart. Bucky licks a stripe between your entrance and your clit slowly, swirling his tongue gently over it while humming softly.

As you rock against his mouth, wanting more and falling into the blissful pleasure, you feel as if you are on top of the Christmas tree, watching the lights dance, Bucky's name echoes in your ears.

He groans deep in his throat and closes his lips lightly around your clit, sucking it very gently as he continues to tease it with his tongue.

Love is more than words, so he wants you to feel his desire. He teases you a bit to get you to feel it.

As the tremors of your orgasm sweep through you, you choke out a gasping moan of Bucky's name in between other unintelligible sounds. Bucky spanks you for being so naughty.

It is a gift to see Bucky’s face as he watches you come for him. He knows that nobody can make you feel like this or even touch you how he does. 

The holiday night is just beginning. 

It was like a spark of life at the end of a long night, light to ignite the flame of your love that made him thrilled, thrilled merely to exist.

You let out a soft breath at the feel of Bucky's hardness trapped between you both. You slip your hands around his waist, pushing him back slightly so that you can wrap one leg around him, pulling him toward you. You arch your back off the bed, letting him start to press into you. "I've been nice. I need you now."

Bucky moans low and raw as you rise against him. “Yes, you've been nice, and your pussy's been nice too,” he chokes out, grasping tightly at the base, squeezing hard.

He whispers hoarsely, steadying the head of his cock at your entrance as he slips inside slowly, changing his hip positions as he goes.

After Bucky slowly begins to enter you, you let out a chorus of moans. You’re beginning to ache for it - something you haven’t experienced before. Your body is singing as the sensations start flowing through you again, and everything is amplified by the feeling.

A deep breath is taken by Bucky as his hips touch yours, allowing him to feel. 

Then, with a swallowed groan, he gives into the instinctual impulse to thrust, to just move, and he settles into a slow, deep rhythm in order to stretch the moment out as long as possible. Even though you are already so close to him, he wants to prolong it forever. He feels so good around you that you can’t do anything else.

Fire burns passionately when passion is present.

Almost like being on top of the world, you can feel his touch in all the right places and feel your body temperature rising  as you float above the clouds. You bite your lip as the emotions overtake you, and you lean over and pull Bucky up for a deep kiss. 

Can this man really love you and still be real? Since the first time you met Bucky, he has been the greatest blessing to you. It has been an honor to feel him in the most intimate way possible.

As his hand wraps around your throat, he applies gentle pressure. At his mercy, you feel electric jolts coursing through you. 

You feel Bucky's hands slip on your neck as he kisses you hard. The momentum of his thrusts drives you back to the edge as he grabs your other hand and digs his fingers deep into them for leverage. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his hips. As the heat pools in your stomach again, you whine softly.

As if moonlight shined over a misty night, your eyes seduced me in every way.

"I got you," he whispers into your neck, kissing your pulse and feeling the rapid beats.

As soon as you let go, he grabs you, driving into you hard, and joins you. Your screams are filled with his name.

With his hips stilled and burying his face in your neck, Bucky softly whispers, "Angel, my precious Angel.".

Taking hold of his angel, he breathes an inaudible blessing out to the gods.

Bucky shifts with you, pulling an arm out from under you to smooth your hair away from your damp forehead. He lightly circles your lips with his fingertips, he breathes, "Best holiday gift.”

The air around you grows quiet as you lean into his hand, your breath evening out. Your eyes slowly open, and you gaze at Bucky.

My lips, eyes, heart, and soul all tell a story, and he has the honor of telling mine through my body.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #beefy!bucky x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #Tis the Season to be Thot-y #bucky barns fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #marvel fanfiction #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x latina!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n

[callsign-rogueone]

midnight snow - d.a.

Dain Aetos x crush!reader  part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 734 🏷: no real spoilers, no pronouns used for the reader! for the sake of this story, leadership has night duty like college RAs (Dain gives me overly-serious RA energy lmao). reader is implied to be shorter than Dain but in my head he’s like. 6’2 so 🤷🏻‍♀️

meet me on the south side of the courtyard at midnight, the note had read.

In the distance, the bell tower tolls twelve times. Where are they?

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” your dragon scolds. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

You shush her urgently, flattening your body against the wall as footsteps approach, and drawing the blade from your side.

As soon as the dark shape of a person appears in your vision, you press them up against the wall, dagger poised to strike.

“It’s just me!” A familiar voice says through the dark.

“Dain?” You ask, stunned. You release him quickly, laughing in bewilderment as he steps into the light.

He blinks at you, confused. “What’s so funny?”

“You’ve never broken a rule in your life, but you were the one who left me that cryptic-ass note saying to sneak out after curfew?” You ask, sheathing the blade.

He blushes. “I just wanted to see you. But I’m on watch tonight, so technically, you’re the only one who snuck out.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you tease, rubbing your arms. You hadn’t realized how cold it was out here until now, the adrenaline having faded as soon as you realized who you were meeting here.

He drapes the cloak he’s holding over your shoulders, wrapping you in soft warmth and the comforting scent of standard-issue soap and something distinctly him.

You close your eyes for a moment, just content to stand here by his side. 

“Look,” he says quietly, nodding toward the archway in front of you. A soft winter snowfall has started. 

You watch in amazement as a wash of tiny white flakes swirl with the wind, drifting across the courtyard. “It never snows where I’m from. We just get rain all winter.”

He reaches forward, catching a few tiny flakes on his hand. “No two are identical.”

You point at a pair on his index finger. “That one’s you, and that one’s me.”

His breath forms a gentle cloud of heat in front of him as he laughs. “Yeah?”

You hum in affirmation. “Totally different, but both made up of the same thing, with the same goal.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “Only you could give snow human feelings.”

“I’m trying to be poetic here, mister logical,” you huff.

“My apologies. Please continue.” 

The two flakes are starting to melt against the warmth of Dain’s hand. “They’re only here for a short while before they fade and return to the earth, but they’re beautiful while they last.”

“Stronger together than they are separately,” he adds quietly, wrapping an arm around you.

You smile, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

For a moment, all is calm and quiet. The snow continues to fall, but you’re warm under Dain’s cloak, pressed against his side, watching the ground slowly be covered by the white flakes.

Two sets of heavy footsteps approach: Infantry, on their watch.

Dain steps back to give you a few feet of space, but he doesn’t suggest that you run or hide. “I was thinking for squad battle this year, we should pair based on strength to balance things out,” he says, and you blink, confused until you realize what he’s doing.

You’re hiding in plain sight.

“Yeah,” you agree. “That gives the smaller squads a fighting chance, and that way it’s still a challenge for everyone, but we won’t lose as many. Our numbers are already too low.”

You hold your breath as they pass, glancing at you wordlessly before continuing on their way. When you’re sure they’re gone, you sigh in relief, giggling. “Nice recovery there, wingleader. Sounded very official.”

Dain laughs, pulling you back into his embrace. “Thank you.”

You yawn softly, resting your head against his shoulder. It’s nearing one in the morning, and you’ve had a long day.

He rubs your back gently. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.” He takes your hand, leading you back upstairs to your room in near-silence until you reach your door.

You reach for the clasp of the cloak to give it back, but he stops you. 

“Keep it,” he says. “It looks good on you.”

Feeling brave, you stand a little taller, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Dain.”

He spends the rest of his watch wandering the halls, replaying that moment in his mind until the sun rises.

#dain aetos #dain aetos x reader #fourth wing #reader insert #fourth wing x reader #mine

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

hello hello beautiful people of the internet, i’m feeling Some Sort of Way tonight and would like to wax poetic about my views on Dionysos’ appearance:

i think of Him only as a Him because it subverts the image of the god i used to worship. gone is the He/Him who thinks of me as a disgrace, as something to be changed, as something to be hated. in its stead is the He/Him who takes my hands and truly claims me as His own, just as i am.

also He’s a He/Him as in He has top surgery and phalloplasty scars in gold, and a He/Him like a butch lesbian in the 1950s using those pronouns so His femme wife Ariadne can have a semblance of a “normal” life, and a He/Him like some super feminine gay guy, and a He/Him like you’d call a particularly friendly cow/cat/snake/other wild creature.

He’s got long, dark hair that falls down His back, and always seems to have just come undone. His skin is dark, and seems to change colors as though He were perpetually sitting under a sunlit tree - lighter to darker, darker to lighter. He smells of frankincense, but somehow it’s not the kind you get in churches. His body is soft, and seems to pose no threat - appearances are nothing when you have power. He is painted with red paints depicting fearsome animals, but also vineyard scenes.

Dionysos is constantly wearing crowns of something. He’s wearing crowns of ivy, or of vibrant flowers and foliage that Ariadne makes for Him. two bull horns sprout from His head; they are decked out in brilliant golden rings and chains - there is irony in this, and He knows it.

He wears clothing (sometimes), but what that clothing is is never certain. it is soft and warm, but smooth and cool at the same time. it is something that is fitting of a King, but can be worn to run wild in the woods. usually it’s a dress, sometimes it’s simply a fawnskin draped over His shoulders.

His voice is something loud and chaotic, but only a few are blessed enough to ever truly hear it. it strikes fear into the heart, but is followed by intense peace. He never speaks alone - the retinue that follows Him does plenty of speaking as well.

And, finally, He brings with Him a beautiful joy. it’s a joy that is felt in a gently weighted hand while praying, it’s that joy that comes from fruits given by strangers, it’s that first rush of tipsiness in a bottle of wine, it’s the feeling of wildflowers and grasses brushing against your ankles, it’s the first breath of warm air in the spring and the first breath of cool air in the fall. sunny days and starry nights are celebrated equally joyfully under Him, and He holds His followers through every day.

#was i drunk writing this? #yes #is it still true? #ya #also guess the stuff that i’ve actually experienced #vs the stuff that’s just me vibe-checking Dionysos #dionysian #dionysos #dionysus #dionysos deity #dionysus deity

[silkscream]

okay okay arvin req…you’re making dinner and minding your business and arvin’s just watching you…you fuck on the counter..i’ll leave

right in front of my salad????  [nsfw]

but yea. ok. you’re making his favorite chicken soup but he’s hungrier for something else. you’re too busy chopping vegetables to even notice the way he looks at you, stares at you with wide eyes because he’s a goner. he’s never been quite so soft for anyone else before. suddenly, you look up and smirk at him.

“need something, sunshine?” you tease.

“just you,” arvin drawls. he saunters over to where you are and massages your shoulder lightly, lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. at first you turn your head, rejecting him, but he turns your head himself and kisses you deeply. 

he leans into you, hand on your neck and the other wrapping itself around your waist to cage you in his warmth. he smells like cigarettes and beer. you feel his tongue on your bottom lip and makes you shake a little. he moans into you, which surprises you because he’s normally not the most vocal. he sounds almost desperate. 

“baby, i have to make the soup,” you mumble in between kisses when you realize the pot of water behind you is boiling.

“just turn off the stove for a little.”

“arvin!”

“fine,” he sighs. for a few minutes, there’s silence between you two except for the sound of liquid swirling as you mix the vegetables into the broth. the tiny radio on the kitchen counter hums a love song you recognize from when you were a teenager. back when things were easy and you imagined yourself just like this, making dinner for your lover.

arvin gazes at you as he leans on the counter. once you’ve put in the noodles, you lower the heat on the stove and turn back to face him. you flash him a smile, faking him out by walking towards him but leaning right next to him instead of in his arms, and you take a sip of your glass of wine as you lean into your book.

he puts his hands on your waist from behind, hugging you in his warmth as he nests his head on your shoulder. you feel the locks of his hair tickle your cheek. 

“keep thinking i’m getting too greedy with you, but i can’t goddamn help it,” arvin sighs into your skin.

“what do you mean, greedy?”

“like i don’t deserve you,” he rasps, his voice low. “y’just, ya know, give so much to me that i feel like i keep taking. and sometimes i think about you and it’s like i opened up some door that can never be closed again.”

“you’re being very poetic tonight, russell.”

“you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear, woman,” arvin chuckles. “I want you so bad all the time that sometimes i think i oughta go to hell for... the ways i think about you.”

“so i’m the apple to your eve?”

he laughs. “yeah, you could say i’d eat you the fuck up, baby.”

with that, you turn and kiss him. it’s as easy as breathing, but it somehow makes you feel you’re leaping off a cliff. when he groans, you can feel your pulse quicken. when his tongue smooths over your collarbone, you quickly work the buttons off his shirt rip it off.

he does it faster than you can and brings his hand to crawl up your thighs, rumpling up the bottom of your dress to your hips. if practices idolatry in anything, it’s the way he looks at you like you’re a miracle. his hot breath fans over your face and it feels like you’re about to get eaten from the way he looks at you. the adrenaline runs through your bones.

he can’t even wait until your panties have slid down your legs completely -- they get stuck at your knees when he lifts you onto the counter and circles your clit. you make the smallest moan and he considers it a melody.

your teeth sink into his shoulder as you hiss from the feeling of sensitivity within your walls, dripping wet. tenderness floats through your body as you revel in the pleasure of his fingers inside of you. he goes faster and deeper when his name shakes out of your mouth.

arvin uses his other hand to shed his trousers and pump the length of his shaft. he spreads your legs apart further so that he can finally enter, and together, you sigh in ecstasy.

“oh, god--”

“that’s it, sweetheart,” arvin groans. “fuck, you’re so good to me... shit.”

you tremble in his grasps as he drills into you harder and faster, mouth moving with his. you want your tongue in his mouth, but he pulls your head backwards as he grips your hair. you gasp at his roughness, whining when he pulls harder when you try to get closer to his mouth.

“arvin, wanna kiss you,” you whimper.

“i know, honey. you’re just too fucking cute when you want somethin’ so bad. what else you want, darlin’?”

“want you to cum inside me,” you moan. 

“yeah? fuck-- fucking... love you,” -- he lets go of your hair to hold your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks -- “so good. my best girl.”

his praise makes your head feel dizzy, not to mention how turned on you were from him being rough with you. you whimper loudly.

“yeah? you my best girl?”

“yes,” you breathe out desperately. “arvin, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“that’s it, sweetheart.”

you gasp in ragged breaths, bottom lip trembling as your body vibrates with the detonation that your lover had planted himself. your orgasm surges through you but he fucks you even faster, has you pulsating around him while he murmurs your name, voice low and dripping like warm honey. even under your dingy kitchen light, arvin shines like a glowing candle. his slow breaths bring you back to earth and something shifts in the way you see him. maybe you crossed a bridge to heaven. god knows he had when he first met you, and now he can’t be around you without your whole presence echoing within his senses like a scream in a cathedral.

#arvin russell x you #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell smut #tom holland smut #blurb

[hypnotisedfireflies]

A Social Pariah

@poetic-justicesong sent me some wonderful Joel & Sarah prompts.  I dipped my toe into an early snapshot of their life in Mermaids and it’s a bit of a challenge for me, but it’s fun to push myself so I really want to dig into these.  I’m keeping them as separate posts rather than posting the ask itself, otherwise I might lose track without it floating in my inbox. :)

This is compliant for both DD and SQ.

1/? : The first time Joel has to be strict with his discipline with Sarah, where she usually has him wrapped around her finger.

The sound of Sarah wailing permeated the very foundations of the house.  It broke through her sealed bedroom door, bounced down every step and circled round and round Joel’s head like gathering rain clouds.  He ran the dishcloth under the faucet and squeezed it out, bouncing his fist up and down in midair as the little droplets escaped through his fingers.  He took his time cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, alone.  That chore was usually shared between Joel and his daughter but there weren’t no way she was gettin’ her little ass downstairs to help tonight.  No, that was a bridge too far. 

He'd thought that by the time he washed, dried and put away every dish that Sarah would be through with her tears.  But they just kept comin’ and they were giving Joel a stomach ache.  His unspoken mandate of raising a little girl who’d never want for anything or have reason to cry was at war with the fact that she had to learn the hard lessons, too. 

All grown up at eight, Sarah had been counting down the days to Poppy’s birthday party.  They were going to the roller rink, the one styled somewhere between the 50s and a John Hughes movie.  That rockabilly nostalgia of the 1980s which had given boys cheap leather jackets to sweat through in summer and poorly-styled DA hairdos.  Tommy had gotten pretty good at sculpting his own hair like that back in the day.

But then Sarah had broken the carnival glass lamp.

Look, the lamp didn’t mean much to Joel.  It was kind of ugly, bright red puckered with little golden orbs in two ornate little tiers.  It was only in the house because it had belonged to his mother, but Joel didn’t pour his attachment into such things.  People and memory were what mattered, not stuff, and certainly not stuff that looked like that.  He didn’t remember his mother having any particular feelings about it either – or his father – which was probably how Joel had ended up with it in the first place.  Luis had just brought it around one day while he was cleaning out his place and left it behind.  In most of the intervening years since, it had lived in the closet.  Joel had only taken it out recently because … well, they needed a lamp in the lounge.

So breaking the lamp wasn’t the problem.

Once the backsplash was wiped clean, Joel’s soft heart could no longer be overruled and he trudged upstairs to give Sarah one, final chance.  She wanted to go to the roller rink party so much.  It was tomorrow, Dad.  She had made her choice but she was … well, she was bringin’ the house down and making him feel like the worst father alive, so he decided to try just one more time with her.

Joel knocked on her door.

“Go away!”  Sarah sobbed dramatically on the other side.

“I’m comin’ in,” Joel told her and counted to ten, just in case. 

When he opened the door she was sitting on the side of her bed with Hoppy, her wallaby plushie, in her lap.  He was very wet.  Sarah’s face was streaked with tears and she looked so goddamn morose.  The world had ended.  She would be a social pariah. She wouldn’t know any of the stories the other girls told at school on Monday.

He sat beside her with a big, sympathetic smile.  He poked Hoppy.  “He’s getting’ a shower.”

“He says you’re the worst,” Sarah sniffled.  “Meanest dad ever.  You don’t even like that stupid lamp!”

“No, I don’t,” Joel agreed.

“You’re so mean!”

“But you know what I like even less than the lamp, huh?”

“I’m not lying! I didn’t break it!  I didn’t break your stupid lamp!”

He nodded slowly.  There was no sense arguing with her:  the lamp had been intact when Sarah started dancing along with MTV and when Joel came back from the garage five minutes later, it was in pieces. I didn’t do it!

“Last chance, babygirl.  Come on.”

All she had to do was tell the truth.

“I didn’t do it!”  She wailed. 

She’d dug herself in way too deep to give up now.  Being caught in the lie and maybe getting a stay of execution was preferable to admitting it.  She had just come too far.

Joel tapped Hoppy’s nose and came to his feet.  “Guess you’re stayin’ home with me tomorrow.”

“I hate you!”

“And next weekend, too.”

“I hate you!”

He closed the door on her and this time, as he went downstairs, he felt decidedly less guilty.  A real hardass wouldn’t have given her so many chances.

Sarah tried again in the morning.  She’d slept on it and reckoned with her predicament differently.

“I’m sorry I broke the lamp,” she said solemnly, standing before him as he drank his coffee.

He was glad to hear it, but he also wasn’t as dumb as she probably thought he was.

“Okay.  Thank you for tellin’ me the truth.”

“… can I go to the party, now?”

“The deal was on the table yesterday, baby.”

“What?!”

“When I ask you something, you tell me the truth.  Not the next day.  Not in your own time.  When I ask you.”

She gaped at him.  “Dad!”

“So next time – ”

“You don’t even like that stupid ugly lamp!”

“Nope, but I don’t much like you lyin’.  Ugly habit, Sarah.  Thought you and me were a team?”

“I hate you!”

She burst into fresh tears and dramatically flung herself up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door shut.

Joel slurped his coffee and turned the newspaper to the sports section.  “Sure, you do.”

#tlou #driftersverse #asks #tlou fanfic #the last of us #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #sarah miller #joel & sarah

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Chapter 1: Obey the Groove

Virtue, manager of new band Bardic Inspiration, takes everyone out to relax after days of trying to find a new guitarist. Hijinks ensue, and something begins that nobody could have predicted.

When it comes down to it, Virtue thinks that Absinthe is a romantic. A fool-hearty, ridiculous, stupid romantic, but a romantic nonetheless. She’ll rant and rave up and down the halls that no she’s not and I don’t even like romance, but Virtue knows better. 

Every gesture, every gift, every heart-felt word is a sign and a treasure. The idea of a fantastical journey, even one grounded in the real world, is overly appealing to Absinthe’s soft heart, even if that journey belongs to someone else. To put it simply, every moment of Absinthe’s life is tinged gold and pink with meaning, adventure, and desire. How is that not a romantic’s view of the world?

Tonight, however, takes that to a completely new level. Whereas normally Absinthe will find cosmic meaning in what song she hears first, and that’s the extent to their fantasy, the person playing guitar in front of her has taken the toned down rose tinted glasses and shot it full of trenbolone.

It was supposed to be a relaxing night, too, which is why Virtue is so fucking annoyed at the singer. Bardic Inspiration finally got a big break, opening for a tour in a few weeks. So of course Michael decided now would be the best time to go further his game developer career, leaving the band short of a guitarist. Today was the last day of try-outs, and after a night of going out and taking it easy they would decide who would be the newest member of their little entourage.

At least, that was the plan.

Alas, the glue of the group, the poetic Absinthe Malone, chose a bar with local musicians. Secretly, Virtue was hoping that this wasn’t because Absinthe didn’t feel like anyone who tried out over the last few days was “it”. Hoping is useless when you know better. 

“Virtue, I think it’s him.” Absinthe whispers in Virtue’s ear. “I’d need to sing with him, y’know, but I’m almost positive it’s him.”

Virtue groans and rubs their hand over their face. “We just spent four days doing tryouts for 54 different people. How do you know none of them will work out?”

“You know why.” She prods them with her elbow, and Virtue almost hates that they know exactly what she means. “Besides, if this works out, and the band likes him, makes your job easier, right?”

“I don’t think you know what my job is, Sin.”

Too late, she’s already gone up to him as he finishes his song. He’s talented, Virtue will easily give him that. Almost as good as Michael was, at least on the guitar. He has Michael beat on vocal talent, no matter how easy it is to do that. 

Objectively, he’d be a good fit musically. The covers he’s been playing are in line with even Gemini’s stranger tastes, he’s clearly competent enough to learn Michael’s parts, and he can actually hold a tune.

But the biggest problem is the one that Virtue’s been having with almost everyone who tried out. One of the three band members doesn’t like them with a passion. With Gemini it’s more understandable, she’s aggressive and touchy towards almost everything in life. She’s loud and brash and gets on peoples nerves if they’re not prepared. 

In fact, that last fact was so common that a large portion of people who tried out would almost get into fights with the drummer. Granted, some of them were her fault, but nobody in the band wanted someone who Gemini could rile up so often. That fact made Virtue incredibly angry some days.

If they managed to get past Gemini, Airael was the next large obstacle. Virtue doesn’t even know why he dislikes the people he dislikes, but the fact is always loudly announced. If any person simpered or whined when told that they were an “inherently unlikeable musician” (ooh boy Virtue wanted to strangle Airael for that one), the bassist would point blank refuse to have them considered.

And most unfortunately for Virtue, it was Absinthe who took the cake in terms of most tryouts disliked. If they played fine, then Absinthe would sing with them, and then make a disgusted face and sit back down. If they didn’t play fine, she’d tell them to leave while glowering at the paper in front of her.

So overall, Virtue wishes that Bardic Inspiration was filled with anyone else right now, and wishes that everyone stop looking for the magical perfect guitarist to show up and just get on with it. Hopefully (against Virtue’s best interests), this random guy playing the guitar on a Thursday night will finally put this saga to rest.

“What’s Sin doing?”

Virtue jumps as Airael appears next to them. Considering how tall he is, it should be impossible, and yet he always finds a way to sneak around.

They sigh. “She thinks that this guy is the one.”

Airael hums in thought, and looks him up and down. “Well, he sounds good, and doesn’t look like a douchebag, so I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you think Gems could get to him?”

Another pause as Airael looks at Guitar Guy again. “If she does, I don’t think it’d be too awful. Too early to tell, though, you know that.”

The pair watch as Absinthe moves the microphone and gets ready next to Guitar Guy. She’s almost vibrating with excitement, but Guitar Guy is chewing on his lip and shifting his feet. Whether out of nervousness or anticipation, Virtue can’t tell.

“Ooo! Is Sin gonna sing a song tonight?!” Gemini makes her way to the duo and stands in between them with a large grin. “Is he gonna be the one?”

“We don’t know, Gems.” Virtue almost sighs, the exasperation almost drowning them. Why is it that everyone they work with is so exhausting? “If, against all odds, Absinthe likes him, and Airael likes him, and you don’t kill him, then I’ll talk to him. But who knows if that’s ever going to happen.”

Gemini’s grin only grows sharper. “Cross my heart hope to die, I won’t cause any major problems.”

“That doesn’t help with anything.”

“C’mon, Virtue. She’s so cute she’d never hurt a fly.” Airael bends over towards Gemini and gives her a peck. “Look at her.”

Virtue groans. “Flies are not who I’m worried about and you know it.”

“Look at her!”

“Ahem.” The group turns to look at Absinthe standing at the front of the small stage with a big smile. Even a year later, Virtue can’t believe how perfect she looks with a microphone in her hand. “I thought you all should get a little bit extra on this beautiful night! So a little change in vocals for this song!”

She looks back at Guitar Guy and mouths a countdown. He starts to play the beginning of Absinthe’s little brother’s favorite song, and Virtue decides to watch him play instead of watching the crowd like they normally do. 

Absinthe starts to sing, and the familiar wave of unending care, love, and excitement rolls through Virtue. The dirty secret of Bardic Inspiration’s success, their singer’s ability to push their emotions out into the world using music, literally. A secret held only by her three bandmates, and one ex-bandmate. 

Virtue watches as Guitar Guy relaxes, and then tenses his shoulders. He takes a deep breath while playing, closes his eyes for a moment, and his body relaxes again. When he opens his eyes, they follow the crowd, and slowly find Virtue’s gaze. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch. He’s probably played here a few times, if a stranger’s stare isn’t startling.

Their shared gazes hold for a few seconds more, and he goes back to scanning the people who are likely looking at the stage with a new reverence. Virtue can understand their reaction. It’s similar to their first time hearing Absinthe sing. The pure force and genuinity of the emotions sent out feels like touching divinity in so many ways. 

The more that Virtue studies Guitar Guy, the more they see how subtle his reaction to the Power is. His face didn’t change, other than the initial tensing it’s not apparent what happened, but he’s truly relaxed now. The tensing in his legs is gone, he isn’t sitting perfectly straight in the chair anymore, and he’s actually looking at the crowd.

The singing stops, and there’s a taunt silence as everyone realizes that the music isn’t playing. They clap, Absinthe does a dramatic bow, returns the microphone to its stand in front of Guitar Guy, and she skips over to everyone. 

“I think he’s the one, guys.” She grins. Airael holds out the drink she’d been sipping at earlier, and she shakes her head. “I’m already on cloud nine. That was better than any time I sang with Michael.”

Virtue starts to corral them over to a table to talk as Absinthe gushes over the feeling of being on stage with Guitar Guy. She can barely sit still, and Virtue orders some food for the table.

Airael puts a hand on Absinthe’s shoulder, and she stills. “Sin, we need to talk to him first.”

She turns bright red and leans over so her candy green hair hides her eyes. “Sorry, sorry, yeah, of course. We do this together. I know that.”

Gemini cackles and ruffles Absinthe’s hair so it starts to stand up. “We know, Sin, you’re just excited.”

Absinthe whines into her hands and puts her head on the table. “Leave me alone to die of embarrassment.”

Virtue hums as the food arrives. “So I shouldn’t bring up you essentially bullied a random stranger into letting you sing one song for their set.”

There’s a muffled scream, and Virtue knows that she’d be banging her head into the table if they weren’t in public. Everyone laughs, and Airael pats her back sympathetically.

“Can someone kill me please?” Absinthe begs, and everyone laughs again. Virtue turns to watch the rest of Guitar Guy’s set absentmindedly.

“Also, what’s his name? You never told us.” They ask, and get another muffled scream in response.

Next chapter

#p bangs the keys #the powered universe #tpu #original writing #creative writing #my writing #virtue #virtue character #gemini #gemini character #airael #airael character #absinthe #absinthe character #bardic inspiration #bardic inspiration band

[greenorangevioletgrass]

BRO, ik I told you already but part two was SO good (like, not that I expected else but damn), I already reread the whole story haha

I'd love to read the blurb for "From Eden" by Hozier.

For reasons 👉🏻👈🏻

Luv uuu! 💕

Ho-ho-hozier! It’s the god of filthy sex and poetics, so what better way to celebrate his music with some sexy time???

warnings: rooster is promoted, also rooster is a goodboi, smut [sub!rooster, softdom!reader, dirty talk, praise, orgasm denial, face sitting, unprotected sex]

***

Bali is heaven.

The infinity pool in your ocean-view villa sits right at the edge of the cliff with the beach down below, you’re a short scooter ride away from bars and restaurants and shops—although you spend most of your time staying in, fucking like rabbits…

“Mrs. Bradshaw,” he gushes as he lies back against the headboard, admiring how the white silk chemise falls over your curves. The V-neck dips low, down to your torso, and trimmed with lace. It’s so simple and classy and in the soft glow of the night lamp, you look positively angelic.

“Commander Bradshaw,” you throw a lazy two-finger salute as you walk over to him, climbing onto his lap.

His rough hands glide softly against the fabric over your thigh. It’s just a tad longer than your other lingerie pieces, and it’s somehow driving him nuts. “God, I can’t wait to ruin you in this,” he growls into your lips, seizing you into a searing kiss.

“Bold of you to assume I’m not the one ruining you.” you pull away with a coy smirk.

And if he was nuts before, he’s gone completely batshit now. “Oh?”

“Mm-hm.” you run your manicured nails along his abs, “In fact, why don’t we play a little game right now?”

You shift a little and feel him stiffening against your ass. He is fucked. “I’m, uh, I’m listening.”

“I’m gonna spoil you tonight,” you state simply, purring in his ear. “With my hands, my mouth, my cunt…” you nibble his earlobe and you know you’ve got him —hook, line and sinker.

“What’s the catch?”

“The catch?” you hum in contemplation as you shift lower and lower until you’re level with his cock. All veiny and hard and leaking at the tip. You take him in your mouth, a lot of him at once, and he hisses between his teeth. “You can’t curse.”

“What the f—”

“Ah. Quitting already?” you tear your mouth off of him just as swiftly, raising your eyebrow at him in challenge.

He clenches his jaw and he answers, almost petulantly, “No.”

“Good boy,” and just before you return your mouth to his cock, “At ease, sailor.”

“I’m an aviator.”

“Whatever.”

He scoffs, equally offended and aroused by how easily you dismissed him, although it’s soon replaced with a gasp as he hits the back of your throat. Jesus Christ. You’ve got his brain in his mouth, and right now he can’t think. His mind is hazy on chasing the pleasure in the warmth of your mouth.

And as his hand finds the back of your head, a devilish smile blooms on your lips. You let go of him, relishing in the frustrated whine he makes, and grabs his wrist. “Rule number two: no touching.”

“Are you fu—” he stops, catching himself, and takes a bracing breath. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“You know I’m a lot stronger than you, right?”

“I know, but…” you hum, casually stroking along his length, “I’ve also got my hand wrapped around your dick, baby. Literally and figuratively. And if you so much as graze a finger on me or say a bad word, then it’s game over. You understand?”

He hates you so much. “Fine,” he begrudgingly obliges. But of course, he’s not gonna go down without a fight. “If I’m good to you, will you let me inside you?”

Just as you figured out how to flip the switch in him, he also knows how to get under your skin. And he knows that you’re also struggling to resist him.

“You’ll have to get me nice and ready first.” You push him so he’s lying on his back.

He already knows what’s coming, even before you clamber up, hiking the dress to expose your glistening folds, and he has to consciously bite his tongue to keep from swearing. He knows if he just opens his mouth, you’ll drip right onto him and he’ll lose it.

“You remember your rules?”

“No cursing, no touching.”

“You remember how to tap out?”

He snaps his fingers three times.

“Mm. Gonna ride your face now, okay?”

Rooster nods, looking up your skirt earnestly. Eyes falling closed when his tongue finds your slit. For a moment, the torture seems worth it. Yes, he’s about to cut his hand open by digging his nails so deep as he fists the bed sheets. And yes, he’s thinking about all the curse words known to man. But she’s also grinding into his face, fingers buried in his hair, sighing out shit baby I’m gonna fucking cum fuck fuck fuck—

If he ever drowns in your pussy, he figures it’s the best way to go.

You move down to his lap again, a little less graceful this time having just come down from an orgasm. Kissing away the arousal smeared on the corners of his mouth, his chin, his nose.

“Good boy…” you soothe a hand along his face. “Guess it’s time for your reward, huh?”

He leans up, chasing you for a proper kiss. “Yes, please.”

And as you sit on his cock, taking all of him inside you, a single strap of your dress slides off of your shoulder, exposing your hard nipple on top of the soft swell of your tits. He’s not sure whether it’s you or God or both, but he’s this close to coming.

And you can see that. Hell, you can feel it. And of course, you’d try to hold it against you. “Oh! Almost forgot to tell you the last rule.”

Fuck.

“No cumming until I say you can.”

His head falls back against the pillow with a groan.

“Told you I was gonna ruin you,” you goad him smugly.

The rules do not apply to you —you’re free to touch and curse and come as you please. Rubbing your clit and rolling your hips and bouncing on his dick like your life depends on it. And through it all, you count how many times he got close and begs for release.

“Baby please, I’m gonna—“

“Aw, but you look so good like this, Roo.” Chest heaving, cheeks blushing, eyes watery and unfocused from your undoing. “Just give me one more, okay? One more, and then I’ll let you fill me up with your cum and watch it leak out of me.”

“Oh my God…” he nods weakly, letting you bring him to the edge, and pull back until the sudden loss of sensation sets him on fire.

He’s shivering under you, flexing inside you, and you’re certain he’s aching now. With your thighs clamped securely on his waist, you flip the two of you over so he’s on top.

“Go on. Cum inside me, Bradley.”

In the years of your relationship, you mostly refer to him by Roo, an affectionate form of his callsign, or other terms of endearment such as baby, sweetheart, etc. Bradley is strictly saved for special occasions, and right now it sets something off in his head.

Something that drives his hips to slam into you at an ungodly speed. Fucking you so good that you’ve forgotten the rules you set for him, and guides his hand between your legs.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna cum,” he pants out, pressing your clit just a touch harder. And as your walls clench around him, it’s game over. “Fuck!”

He swears he blacks out for a moment, and when he comes to, his whole body weight flops on top of you. He tries to lift himself off of you, but you whimper. Wrapping your limbs around his back.

“It’s okay, baby. Just… just stay here for a sec.” You run your hand gently along his spine, nails lightly scratching his skin.

And in the arms of his wife, devilish as she might be underneath the angelic facade, he finds peace.

#the actress & the aviator #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x actress!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster smut #ava writes

[ceilingfan5]

I feel like you specifically wrote #11 for Taakitz

“C’mere.” Taako grabs Kravitz by the wrist and tugs him over, and Kravitz hopes his heart isn’t visibly pounding through his ribs, muscle tissue, skin, and four layers of dark clothing. It’s entirely possible. Fucker’s a frog in a bongo up in there. Taako’s hands are so warm and so very touching Kravitz’s skin and not to be a regency freak about unglov’ed contact, but Jesus Christ, is all. 

“What can I do for you, Taako?” Kravitz says, like he’s a retail employee in his own home and not Taako’s roommate, who has been in this exact position many a time. He knows. Why ask? He likes the rhythm of it. 

“Taste this, obviously,” Taako says, snorting, for the hundredth time. He pulls a tasting spoon out of his apron and swipes a tasting taste for Kravitz’s useless opinion, and Kravitz tastes that tasting taste and feels heaven between his cells. That must be what holds his body together in a recognizable and debatably sentient shape. 

“Holy shit, Taako, this is amazing.” Kravitz wants more than a taste. Is this dinner? Sharing dinner? Taako didn’t say he had a date tonight, did he? Kravitz gets more, right? Any more? Even a little?

“Every time you taste my cooking you just say it’s amazing, Krav,” Taako snaps, putting his hands on his hips. With the cinched apron, it’s a good look, and Kravitz is looking respectfully, he promises. “You’re a poet, you bitch, e-la-bor-ate! Does it need more salt or not, I swan to John!”

Kravitz grins, feeling a little called out and a lot pleased that Taako wants his actual for real opinion. And also remembered the poet thing. He doesn’t exactly brag about it. It’s a hard thing to advertise without looking like a total douchebag. Add in the acoustic guitar and his, well, everything else, and Kravitz has got to be pretty delicate with any self-advertisement whatsoever. A lot of “not in a dick way I promise” and so on. “Believe me I’m not a poser, I really do like this shit.” It’s exhausting. 

Kravitz wonders if Taako remembers the poem. Kravitz’s brain gears catch something and start making a terrible machine noise in his brain that promises to chew any fine clockwork that dare think too hard about such a thing. 

“Kravvy,” Taako sighs. “Think out loud.”

“Couldn’t possibly,” Kravitz says, instead of choking and dying on the nickname and the soft hint of annoyed affection stored in that particular spaghetti-stained tupperware container. “If you want a poem about it, I’ll need five to seven business days. But how about, uh,’hot damn’? No? ‘Dewishis?’ How about that one? How about that thing I said?”

Taako elbows Kravitz in the stomach, but only half out of irritation, the other half being him doubling over laughing so hard he almost forgets how to breathe. 

“Fucking excuse me?”

“I said dewishis, I don’t know what more you want from me.”

“I- I don’t know!” Taako wheezes, gripping the counter. “You dumb stupid asshole, I’m trying to romance your brains out with my spices and simmering and you’re telling me my shit is dewishis? Dewishis, with your whole ass?”

“You what?” Kravitz says, remembering fondly when the room had oxygen in it. Oxygen used to be his favorite. Talk about something he could wax poetical about. Remember breathing? He could do it so easily! 

“I-” Taako stands up straight, looking a lot like a deer facing an on-coming flying saucer. One with a sharp blade on top, like a Roomba with a knife taped to it. Run away, little deer. Not down the road! Go perpendicular! Perpendicular! “I, uh, I. Didn’t, say anything.” He holds the ladle like a baseball bat. “Hold still, I’ll fix this.”

“Do not fucking give me blunt force head amnesia when you just confessed your love for me!” Kravitz bolts, and Taako gives chase. It is not a large apartment for these Looney Tooney shenanigans. 

“HOLD STILL I SAID! LOVE I DID NOT SAY. DID NOT, CANNOT BE PROVEN.” 

“YOU FUCKING LIKE ME AND YOU’RE TRYING TO WOO ME WITH SAUCES!”

“ACCUSE ME IN A COURT OF LAW, MCCALLISTER!”

“STOP FUCKING CHASING ME, I LIKE YOU TOO!” 

“YOU JUST WANT TO KEEP YOUR SKULL UNDENTED!” Taako skids to a stop, sliding on the laminate in his socks. He leans on the wall, huffing and puffing, and glares at Kravitz, who has mounted the couch in his defense. 

“Maybe so,” Kravitz says, gravely as possible. “Or maybe I was thinking about kissing you when I tasted it so I couldn’t do any words good at you, did you think of that?”

“Fuck you! Bullshit! I call bullshit!”

“I can prove it. Easy. C’mere.” Kravitz hops off the couch. Taako squints, still gripping the ladle with force. Kravitz wonders if his gambit is gonzo, but then he’s grappled by the lapels and kissed quite intensely. It is not how Kravitz imagined this would go. 

It is fucking amazing, though. Kravitz even considers passing out about it. Very regency. 

Taako pulls back, grip still unrelenting. He eyes Kravitz, and Kravitz returns the look, and they catch their breath. And they laugh. 

“Don’t tell me you did that to get out of describing my cooking, asshole.”

“Nah,” Kravitz says, pulling him into another kiss. “I’ve been pining for ages like a dumb idiot, I promise.”

“Good,” Taako says, definitively. And then, “Fuck! My sauce!!!” and bolts back to the burner, leaving poor dumbstruck Kravitz with hand-drawn hearts chirping around his head. 

#taakitz #taakitz fic #taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #thank you!! #sorry this is insane

[sammysvanfeet]

Secret Soulmate || Part Four

Jake x Reader - Soulmate AU

Word Count: about 6k! it's a long one

WARNINGS: swearing, vulgar language, slight objectification, alcohol use and intoxication, smut (penetration), unprotected sex, mentions of drugs and strippers, implied infidelity, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, illness, death.

A/N: This one switches between the reader's (first person) perspective and third person perspective because I felt like that is what I needed to do to further the story. Also, unlike other chapters, there is no mention of what is going on in the present.

*Flashback - Late 1970s, Austin TX, USA* Third Person Perspective.

A cacophony of applause and screams reverberated throughout the packed venue. This was one of the biggest places that Greta Van Fleet had played in their still developing career, they were truly up and coming now. Labels were starting to pay attention to them, newspapers had begun to spin sordid stories on the alleged antics they got up to backstage, but beyond that they were truly starting to get recognition for their unique sound and poetic lyricism. They had a steady fanbase of die hard fans, ‘The Peaceful Army’ as they affectionately called themself. But with the increasing fame came the newer fans, this juvenile following made up mostly of women that wanted to fuck them and men that wanted to be them.

“You were a great crowd tonight Austin! Thank you for having us, until next time!” Josh bellowed into the mic, barely audible above the roaring of the screaming attendees, “Be safe and have a Happy Halloween! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” The frontman winked, eating up the wolf whistles and attention.

Josh holstered his mic in the stand and strutted off stage followed closely by the rest of the band. Once backstage, he immediately shed the sweaty suede vest that had adhered to his bare torso like a second skin, hissing as the two separated. He remained clad in sinfully low rise jeans, his happy trail peeking out and leaving little to the imagination. Sam, their little brother and bassist, headed to the cooler in the center of the room and began cracking open four beers, beginning to hand them out to the other band members.

Jake joined the group last, carefully storing his trusty guitar in its case. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, as he so often wore it, exposing the soft tanned skin of his chest and stomach. Beads of sweat slowly trickled down his face, his neck and the valley of his chest. He often ended his shows this way, sweat drenched and exhausted. Being that he was an extremely talented musician, he always gave his all on stage. Jake wiped his brow with the back of his hand before reaching out to accept the ice cold beer that Sam was holding out and taking a long pull of the drink, “See that girl in the front row? She was giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes all night.”

“Who, the angel?” Josh quirked an eyebrow, always competing with his brothers, “I saw her first.”

“Nah man, not her… She’s all yours. I’m talking about the black cat. There was something about her, she was just captivating.” Jake hummed in between gulps of beer.

“You say that about all the barricade bunnies. Remember the redhead from last week? I could hear the two of you going at it all night through the wall of the hotel room. How many rounds was that? Four?” Sam rolled his eyes playfully, yet his cheeks flushed at the memory, he’d never admit it but he’d gotten off to the sound of that girl's screams and moans the next day.

“Five actually.” Jake smirked, giving Sam a knowing look, “But this one feels different.”

“Think she’s your soulmate?” Josh teased, elbowing him in the ribs.

Jake shoved him in retaliation, “Fuck that. I can’t be tied down. You know I’m all about free love, baby.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Josh clinked his drink with Jake’s, “To free love!”

“Free love!” Danny and Sam chorused.

The adrenaline of the show began to die down as they bickered and joked with one another in the cramped dressing room, waiting for all the fans to slowly trickle out and start bar hopping. It was Halloween night after all. More than a few drinks had been consumed by all of the band members at this point, but you wouldn’t have known it. These men lived on beer and tequila and it took more than a couple of drinks to actually take any effect on them.

“Come on, we can just put on some cheap masks and no one will recognize us.” Sam pleaded, probably desperate to get his dick wet.

“At least he’s not asking to go trick or treating like last year.” Danny joked.

“Shut up,” Sam threw an empty beer can at the wall behind Danny’s head, before directing his attention to the brooding guitarist posted up against the wall, “Bet your cat girl is out there drinking tonight, some other guy is probably sweet talking her right this second and her panties are getting wet for him instead of you.”

Jake’s eyes darkened at the thought of the mystery feline, he didn’t want to admit it to his brothers but something did in fact feel different about her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her all night. Usually he loved the throngs of adoring women, the bras thrown on stage and tits being flashed at him. But tonight, all he wanted was for her gaze to be on him and only him. He wanted to see her smile, he wanted her approval. It was intoxicating and he didn’t know why.

Finally Josh relented, slapping his knee and heading towards the emergency exit, always used to making decisions for the rest of the group, “Fuck it, I’m in. Let’s go find Jake’s pussy.”

“Sammy boy, I think you should slow down.” Danny pushed the glass of water towards his friend, always watching out for the rest of the band and being the voice of reason. 

“No way man, it’s not even 1AM, I can go all night.” He slurred, lifting up the shiny red devil mask he was donning to allow him to take another shot of liquor.

Sam was feeling particularly uncooperative so Danny had to pull out the big guns, “Keep drinking and you won’t be able to get your dick up tonight. That sexy nurse sitting in the corner has been checking you out all night, bet you could buy her a drink and let yourself sober up a bit. She’d probably let you fuck her in the alleyway.”

Sam almost choked around the clear liquid, “You for real, man?” He did little to hide the fact that he was now checking out this blonde in the nurse costume, trailing his eyes from the push up bra emphasizing her tits down to the short hem of her white dress. He smirked when he met her gaze again, watching how she batted her eyelashes and smiled at him seductively. 

“Go get her, you fuckin’ dog.” Danny encouraged, slapping his friend on the back. “Think I’ll go wingman Josh over there, his angel is looking a little bored.”

Sam left the booth abruptly and made his way over to his conquest, knocking the table with his hip and spilling several drinks in his wake. He threw an apologetic smile over his shoulder but did little to help clean the mess, instead beelining for the awaiting woman. Danny reached for some cheap napkins in the center of the bar table, sopping up the beer and half finished shots, always cleaning up the messes of others. 

A heaving sigh caused him to turn and look to his left, momentarily forgetting the seat was occupied, “Fuck, Jake. Almost forgot you were here.” He chuckled to himself.

“I think I’m gonna call it, man. This is the fifth bar we’ve been to and she’s not here.” Jake didn’t have to elaborate, it was obvious he was still fixated on the black cat from the show. He wouldn’t have admitted this to anyone else but Danny, their relationship was different from the other boys, they had a mutual understanding and respect. Danny was one of the only people in the world that Jake could be vulnerable with.

“So you think she’s the one? Your mate?” Danny kept his voice low, almost talking to Jake as if he were a wild animal, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and have Jake close himself off again as he was so prone to doing.

“Does it matter if I never find her again?” Jake mused, staring at the amber liquid in his glass and swirling it around absentmindedly.

“I wouldn’t end the night just yet.” Danny said in a sing-song voice, causing Jake’s head to snap up towards the door. 

A small group of people piled in, but he could see the black pointed ears nestled atop her head, the reflection of the black catsuit that clinged to her body so beautifully that he was almost jealous of the garment. At that moment, she turned to look at him, smiling knowingly. All the air rushed from his lungs and a warm fuzzy feeling filled his body, time felt like it had slowed down as he watched her walk further into the smoke filled bar, approaching the table.

“She probably recognizes us.” Jake gulped, answering a question that no one had asked.

“We’re wearing masks.” Danny responded, gesturing to his skeleton mask and Jake’s werewolf disguise. “Go to her, Jake.”

Jake looked at Danny for approval, before he was met with an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder. He nervously approached the woman, both of them meeting in the middle of the room, encompassed by writhing bodies dancing to the sultry music blasting from the bar’s speakers.

Jake cleared his throat before speaking, “Do you want to dance?” 

First Person - Reader’s Perspective

He was standing here before me. He was real. I reached out to finger the sides of his cheap furry mask, snickering at his choice. “What’s so funny? You don’t want to dance?” He asked me, almost sounding nervous.

“Mmm I don’t really dance. It’s just your choice of costume… Is the big bad wolf coming to eat up the little black cat?” I asked huskily, hungry for this man whom I had watched throw ‘O’ faces and grind up against his guitar all night. 

Since I had first heard their song ‘Highway Tune’ on the local rock radio station, I had felt this inexplicable pull to the band, felt this connection that I couldn’t explain. The feeling only amplified from when I had first heard his intricate guitar riffs to the first time I saw his face in a magazine. The moment I had laid eyes on him, my heart felt like it would burst. I cut out the article clippings and taped up the posters in my room like I was a teenage girl, admiring this beautiful man and praying I wasn’t crazy for thinking he was meant to be mine. I had to see him in person to confirm what I knew deep inside. Jake Kiszka of Greta Van Fleet was my soulmate.

“That’s awfully bold of you.” Jake responded.

“What?” I muttered, confused.

“You said I was going to eat you up.” He smirked, obviously knowing the effect he had on me. But I knew the effect I had on him too. I didn’t miss his glances and soft smiles he had provided just for me throughout the show. He felt it too.

“Well we don’t have much time to get to know each other now, do we? You’re leaving town tomorrow, heading out to the next city on tour. And I’m staying here. We can spend the rest of the night dancing and trying to hear each other over all the noise in this god damn bar, or you can come home with me right now and we can get to know each other in a different way.” Bold. Yes, I was certainly feeling bold right now.

“Well, fuck me.” Jake breathed out, shocked by my forwardness.

“That’s the plan.” I winked, “Go let the rest of the boys know you will meet up with them tomorrow and meet me outside. You have two minutes or I’m leaving without you.” 

I spun on my heel without a second glance back, already anticipating Jake had scrambled off towards the booth where the drummer was seated, no doubt asking him to relay the information to his two brothers. I pushed the heavy door open and shivered as I immediately felt the kiss of the brisk October air. Texas was usually hot, but the evenings brought a chill to it this time of year.

“Here.” Jake’s voice startled me as he placed his leather jacket over my shoulders. I nestled deeper into it, throwing him a thankful smile. “So, where’s your place?” He questioned as he removed his mask, tossing it into the nearest garbage can.

“About a block from here. Why? Impatient?” I teased.

“I just want to be alone with you.” Jake responded, his words without innuendo, suggesting he was being completely honest. “I don’t want to waste this night.”

I grasped his hand in mine, leading him through the intoxicated bar hoppers lining the sidewalk of Downtown Austin, “It’s just a little apartment up here, right above a laundromat so it always smells like fresh laundry.”

We approached the brick building, I took the lead as I fished my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the main door. Jake entered behind me and immediately his lips were on mine, he pushed me up against the door and kissed me hungrily yet sensually. I pulled away briefly, “My apartment is on the second floor.” I gestured with my eyes to the elderly woman peeking out of her door nosily, shaking her head in judgment.

We both giggled as we took the staircase two steps at a time, neither of us wanting to waste the limited time we had together. Once we were inside my apartment, it was my turn to press my wanting lips against his. He removed my cat ears, throwing them haphazardly off to the side as we shed each other's clothing. I walked backwards, the layout of my small apartment memorized as I led him into my bedroom.

My knees hit the bed and I was on my back, bouncing off of the plush mattress. Jake stood before me now, fully naked and completely erect. I salivated as I drank in the entirety of him. His face looked as if it were sculpted by the gods themself, his body was perfection… but that cock. It was perfectly sized and so pretty and pink. It looked as soft as velvet and I found myself wanting to feel it for myself. I wanted to feel it with my fingers, my mouth, my pussy.

“I need it.” I whined, referencing his cock or just his touch was anyone’s guess. I needed something.

Jake placed each knee besides me on the bed, straddling me before threading his hand into my hair and pulling my head towards him. His lips immediately found mine and his tongue begged for entrance into my mouth. This kiss was more heated, more needy. There was the same passion behind it but now there was desperation. We weren’t focused on the rhythm and dance of our dueling tongues, this kiss was full of clacking teeth and drool… it was messy, it was feral.

His hands roamed my body, caressing and grabbing, pinching and kneading. No inch of skin was left untouched by him. If I had time to think, I would have found it quite melancholy… Was he memorizing my body because he would not have the chance to again? The thought had dissipated by the time his mouth was on my tits, sucking and nibbling on my pebbled nipple, one hand working the other so it wasn’t left out.

“Yes Jake, just like that.” I moaned out, causing him to growl against me, sucking harder. 

I cradled his head, peering down and locking eyes with him as he suckled against me. He pulled off of my nipple with a pop, nuzzling his nose between my cleavage, “What do you need, pretty girl?” He crooned.

“Need that cock. Need it inside me.” I pushed him up and off of me and rolled onto my front before positioning myself on my hands and knees, wiggling my ass in front of him enticingly.

“Fuck, baby. You are perfection.” He rasped, slapping the meat of my ass with his right hand and fisting his weeping length with the other.

“Need you now. Please?” I begged pathetically.

“Shhh, I’m gonna give it to you.” Jake soothed as I felt his tip run up and down the length of my slit, collecting the slick that had coated my cunt and was now dripping down my thighs. I didn’t have time to be embarrassed about my obvious arousal because before I could process my insecurities, he was pushing into me. He was thick, his size was not what I was used to and I panted and whined as pushed inside of me inch by delicious inch.

“God, Jake.” I moaned, “So big. Feel so full.”

“Fits inside of you so well. So perfect. You were fucking made for me.” He grunted possessively.

We stayed like that for a moment, me feeling inexplicably full and him feeling me squeeze him like a vice. Savoring the moment, the closeness of it all, the overwhelming emotion and connection that came with this kind of intimacy. Despite the fact that we had yet to hold a full conversation, with him here inside my bed and my cunt I had never felt closer to anyone.

I held my breath in anticipation as he slowly removed himself from my needy hole, before immediately reentering and thrusting back in. The sound that escaped my throat was wanton and whore-like but I didn’t care. He took my noises as encouragement and began to pump his hips faster, balls slapping against my skin as he fucked me fervently.

“I feel it, Jake.” I managed to mutter.

He snaked a hand underneath me and placed a palm over my belly, “Feel me right there?”

I moved his palm up to my chest, clasping his hand close as it settled on my left side, “Feel you right here.”

Jake didn’t say anything, so I glanced over my shoulder to look deep into his eyes. He simply nodded but his face conveyed all the emotion he felt, everything he couldn’t find the words to say. He pulled out and roughly maneuvered my body until I was on my back again. He reentered me and we kissed and sighed into each other's mouths, whispered praises and ‘yes right there’ in between our moans. The room felt hot and sticky and smelled unmistakably of sex but I never wanted this to end. Somewhere in between this dance, his hand had found its way between our conjoined bodies and had begun to rub tight little circles on my throbbing clit.

“Can’t hold it.” He whined, such a beautiful sound. “Need you to cum baby, I’m so close.”

“I’m right there, Jake. Fuck. Please. Cum with me.” I commanded, not understanding the repercussions of my words. All I could think about was his skilled guitar fingers and the way he was pounding me. I was so close to that sweet release, I was chasing my own high as well as his as I bucked my hips to meet him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He groaned, his hips stuttering against mine.

“Jake, fuck–” I whined as my body started to shudder, my orgasm taking me by surprise. Our bodies writhed and moved in tandem as we rode out that earth shattering high. I clawed his back and he bit the junction of my neck as we tried so desperately to cling to one another through the blissful feeling.

Slowly my grip on him softened and his rough bites turned to soft pecks. My limbs relaxed and I retracted my arms, he slowly pulled his softening length out and gently laid down beside me, pulling me close to his body.

“That was…” He trailed off, fucked out brain not able to form a word that would adequately describe what we had just experienced.

“Mhm.” I agreed, eyes now heavy with sleep. “Will you stay?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He promised he would call. Every day at 5pm my landline would ring and I would rush to answer it. This time worked for us because I was home from work and he was in his most productive hours, he’d slept off his hangover and he was still hours from having to go on stage. We spent the next three weeks talking for hours every evening when he called. I’d make a sad little dinner, light a candle and pretend he was really with me.

I looked at the ticking clock on my wall. It was now past 10pm. I sat on the couch with tears streaking down my face. I should be in bed by now, I had to get up early for work. I had to face the facts, he wasn’t going to be calling tonight. He was in New York City playing his second night of sold-out shows, he wouldn’t be near a phone for hours.

I sniffled, wiping a tear with the back of my hand as I flicked through the TV channels. There wasn’t much on this time of night but I settled on a late night news show, just in time for the entertainment highlights.

“For tonight’s top story… Rockstar Jake Kiszka of Greta Van Fleet was seen snorting an unknown substance off of the chest of an exotic dancer at one of New York City’s most well known strip clubs. Onlookers said he paid multiple girls to perform private dances and was seen to be engaging in extremely lewd behavior with several of the women. Channel Five news can confirm he was seen leaving the club with at least one of the women, shown here in this exclusive picture we have obtained.”

All the breath was stolen from my lungs as the image appeared on the screen. Jake looked extremely worse for wear, pupils blown out and hair unkempt. He had sported stubble on his face, that was new for him. His clothes were dirty and worn but the busty brunette dressed in high quality lingerie was all over him. Her expression made her look like a cat that had got the cream and after five seconds too long of looking at the image that had utterly shattered my heart, I leaned forward and vomited all over my shag carpet.

Once I was done retching, I collapsed in upon myself. I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep, but before I could do that I reached into my pocket and pulled out the reason for my nausea. It wasn’t Jake’s infidelity, it was the white stick I was holding with those damned two pink lines.

Third Person Perspective

“She’s here… I can feel it.”

“What are you talking about, man? There’s like 20,000 people out there. I feel it too, it’s fuckin’ electric.” Josh exclaimed as he adjusted his flashy velvet jumpsuit, looking beyond his reflection in the mirror to meet Jake’s eyes. 

Jake winced and brought his hands to his now aching temples, rubbing rhythmic circles to ease the tension, “No it’s her, it’s Y/N.”

Josh arched a brow skeptically, running his hands over the shimmering golden fabric that accentuated his waist, “I say this with love, as your brother… It's been years, over a decade, even! If she wanted to be found she would have been by now. I doubt that of all the places in the world she could be, that she’s here in Austin watching you play.”

“He said the same thing last couple years when we came through Austin on tour.” Sam nudged Danny conspiratorially.

“I can fucking hear you.” Jake growled, kicking a chair in front of him out of pure frustration.

Josh spun on his heel, his attention now taken away from his preening and his focus on grounding his twin brother. “Jake, we have a packed arena out there screaming our name. I need you to take a deep breath, get on stage and play that god damn guitar. It’s either that or we leave right now, throw all this shit away and blow through what money we have saved until we end up like every other washed out fuckin’ rockstar.” 

“That’s it, I’m done. I quit.” Jake threw his hands up in defeat.

Sam jumped out of his seat in a panic, “Wh-what? Jake, you can’t do that. You can’t just walk out right now. What about all of this?” He gestured with his hands wildly, referencing nothing in particular, but meaning absolutely everything.

“Find someone to replace me, or don't. I don’t care. I’m done with this lifestyle. I stayed in this band long enough even though it ruined the chance of me ever being with my soulmate.” Jake’s voice was raised now, he was becoming hysterical.

“Jake, please think about this.” Danny said calmly, hoping his soft voice and rational words would have an effect on his best friend.

“Daniel, I can promise you I’ve thought long and hard about it. I’ll play this last show if that’s what you all want. But once I walk off of that stage… I’m out.”

The band members exchanged shocked glances, the air felt thick with tension and they all waited to speak with bated breaths. Finally it was Josh who broke the silence, “I’ll respect your wishes, brother. But for the record, I think you’re making a big mistake.”

A knock on the door unknowingly interrupted what would become a significant moment for the band. An assistant ushered the boys on stage, in the chaos of it all no one seemed to notice at first how solemn the men were as they walked up to their instruments; not waving to their fans or greeting the crowd as they usually would. The lights illuminated the stage and they played their songs to the best of their ability, they fulfilled their duty, but the somberness between them was now palpable, it was obvious. The concert was devoid of their usual showmanship and antics, instead the members exchanged pointed looks, and maybe even shed a tear or two at what would become the last show Greta Van Fleet ever played.

Jake set his guitar down and walked up to where his older brother stood panting, catching his breath as he had just finished belting out the final song on their set list. They looked at each other and hugged, causing fans to whoop and cheer at the show of brotherly love, but as Jake grabbed Josh’s mic and turned to the crowd, an eerie silence fell upon the arena.

Jake cleared his throat nervously, “You were a great crowd tonight, Austin. As you always are. But unfortunately this will be our last show as a band.” Murmurs and gasps now spread throughout the rows of people, whispers traveling from the barricade right to the nosebleeds at the very back of the packed arena. “Being in this band has been an experience I will never forget. This was my dream and these three men, my brothers, were with me every step of the way. But this lifestyle also caused me to lose the thing I should have treasured the most. It wasn’t fame or money or women, it was my soulmate. Y/N, if you are here tonight, I’ll be waiting at the same place we first talked. I won’t have a mask, it will just be me as I am, baring myself to you.”

Josh looked nervously at Sam and Danny before moving to take the mic from Jake’s hand, “Thank you for that heartfelt speech, brother. Unfortunately his words are true. We have made the decision to disband, much to the rest of our chagrin. We will continue to support Jake’s decision and we hope that you, the fans, can understand and grant us grace and love as we navigate this next chapter. Thank you for your years of support. Until we meet again.”

With those parting words, the boys abruptly left the stage, immediately being accosted by panicked managers and members of their label begging them to reconsider. Boos and wails followed closely behind and echoed backstage as they all tried to process what had just happened. Jake dodged and weaved around the various suits, locating an emergency exit and hauling himself through the heavy door into the parking lot. He got his bearings momentarily before he took off in the direction of that very same bar he’d approached Y/N at many years ago. The nerves started to kick in, what if she didn’t show? What if she didn’t recognize him? The years had aged him of course, but the rock ‘n roll lifestyle hadn’t been too kind. His hair was longer and messier, he sported a slight beard and had dark circles under his eyes. He was still handsome, in a way that only Jake could pull off but now he felt unsure of himself. He was used to being admired and adored but that meant little to him now, he only cared about her and how she felt about him.

He paced back and forth in front of the now run down building, shocked to find that the bar no longer existed. The signage was still there, just barely. It was faded and rotten and it felt like Jake’s heart did now. Whatever hope he had garnered was slowly sifting away with every passing moment he spent pacing alone.

“Jake?” A voice called, but it wasn’t the one he was expecting. He turned slowly to find a girl standing before him. She was barely a teenager, far too young to be out alone in a place like this.

“Kid, you shouldn’t be here. Why don’t you get home, your folks are probably worried about you?” He waved his hand dismissively, not in the mood to provide an autograph to some starstruck child.

“You had a werewolf mask.” The girl spoke, causing Jake’s head to snap back towards her.

“What did you just say?” He now approached her slowly, cautiously.

“She was dressed as a black cat. It was Halloween 1978 and she had just seen you play. She said she had felt the connection before you two even met.” The girl continued, “She went to every bar on this street to look for you, she had to know it was real, that you were her soulmate.”

“How do you know all of this? Where is she? Where is Y/N?” Jake tugged at the roots of his hair frantically.

“You see, it was that night that I was conceived, she said. The night you first met, your love was so powerful that I was the only natural result.” The girl started to sniffle, “She told me all about you, she took me to your shows every time you came to Austin. But she said we couldn’t let you know we were there, that a rockstar with your lifestyle couldn’t make a good husband and father.”

Jake began to sob, falling to his knees in front of the girl that he had now realized looked so much like her mother. The same sparkling eyes, the same colored hair. But that nose was unmistakable, it was him. “Where is she? Where is she?” He wailed.

The girl's voice grew thick, her emotion mirroring Jake’s, “You broke her heart.”

“I know, I know. Damn it! I’ve wanted to make it up to her since she left, if I could have just explained. None of it was true!” His fists pounded the concrete, his stomach lurched and he felt physically ill as a result of this interaction. “Please, I just want to see her. Where is she now?”

“She’s dying. She doesn’t have much longer left, but this was the only way I could get to you. She doesn’t know I’m here but I need to give her this before she leaves. You need to give her closure.” 

“Take me to her. Take me to your mother.”

First Person - Reader’s Perspective

I’d spent the evening drifting in and out of sleep, willing myself to stay up to make sure my daughter got home safely from her late night study session. I heard the key enter the lock and click before the front door creaked open.

“Honey? Is that you?” My voice was hoarse as I called out to my daughter, listening for the closing of the door to make sure she was safely inside.

“Yes, mom. I’ll be right there.” She called back, voice wavering slightly as it so often did when she spoke to me lately. It was hard for her to see me like this, practically deteriorating before her eyes. She was too young to experience this, to be her mother’s caretaker.

Heavy footsteps drifted down the hall and approached my bedroom at the back of our small house, “Honey, are you alone?” I asked softly, knowing I had little energy to overpower a hypothetical intruder.

“Y/N?” A man’s voice called. His voice. 

Oh yes, I feel it now, though I am weak that connection is still there, “Jake?” I questioned in disbelief and frustration. Of all the people in the world, it is him who should not remember me this way.

He pushed the door open slowly, his expression giving away his pity as he took in the sight of me, “It’s you.” His voice broke as he scrambled to the side of my bed, clutching my delicate hands in his. “I’ve been looking, I never stopped looking. I swear to you, none of it was true! And had I’d known you were pregnant, I would have quit the band sooner, I would have–”

“You quit the band?” I interrupted.

“For you.” He clarified, looking absolutely broken.

I smiled but it was devoid of any real happiness, “It’s far too late for us now.”

He began to weep, and I held him as he did. I could barely muster up the ability to cry anymore, my tears long dried up after months of diagnosis and treatments. All my energy had been focused on ensuring my daughter would be taken care of after I’d left this Earth – knowing she was so loved and so wanted, and knowing if I were given the choice that I’d never want to leave her side.

��Can I lay with you?” Jake asked softly. I nodded and maneuvered my body as much as I could, allowing him room to crawl into the bed with me. He needed this as much as I did, I suppose. We needed a real goodbye.

“Honey?” I called, waiting patiently for our daughter's presence to join us in my room. “Come lay with us.” I patted my free side.

She climbed carefully into the bed and they both held me, their arms encircling my waist as they cried softly. I rubbed soothing circles on their backs, peppered soft kisses on their heads and just held them. Relishing in this one moment of happiness I could have. Their arms grew heavy with sleep, their weight holding me down and keeping me anchored to this Earthly vessel of mine. If only it worked that way, their love could hold me down and I would never have to leave. But that wasn’t the case, and I knew it was time as I watched them snore softly and contendly. I smiled fondly at the sight, knowing they would be okay eventually and that Jake and I would find eachother again. 

“I love you.” I whispered aloud before I slowly, softly let my eyes flutter closed and waited to draw my final breath.

TAG LIST

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[heavenlyhandscribbles]

In which the lion devours the lamb

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Warnings: mentions of blood, smut, I try to be poetic, it's bad, drug usage, high blowjobs, use of drugs during sex (consensual), A LOT of references to cannibalism. 18+

Summary: A poetic piece about coming to terms with love and also eating your lover.

Word Count: 1.1k

When a lion devours a lamb it is not slow and calculated. It is quick- it is hungry, and it is violently vile. Steve’s hand traces the delicate back of Eddie’s. He is the Lamb to Steve’s Lion. He is the split open pomegranate, leaking blood red onto Steve’s pretty clenched hands. He is his meal and his love and something else all together and he thinks it might kill him. Steve kissed along his jaw now, muttering against his flesh with a soothing tone, “How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy.” The lamb answers, still dealing with the effects of the new weed the two tried out tonight. Steve chuckled softly, kissing him still as he sat up, “Do you need anything?”

“I’m like… really horny right now.” He let out a small chuckle, looking up at Steve, “You?”

“Very.” He muttered, leaning down to watch Eddie’s lips move slowly, making a small popping noise as he let out giggles beside Steve. Steve smiled a crooked smile, his eyes closing as he savored the sound of Eddie’s joy before muttering, “Can we try something new tonight?” He asks, an offer to join him at the dinner table, to give him a new platter to dissect and try, and a new palette to fill him for the final course. 

Eddie nodded, “Sure, what’re you thinking Stevie?” Cocky, arrogant, and oh so loveable. Steve smiled, sliding and shifting himself so he was now on his knees between Eddie’s legs that were sprawled across the bed, “I think I just want to devour you whole, you’re so damn cute.”

Eddie chuckled, shifting and muttering out, “Okay, Hannibal Lecter.” 

Steve shifted to follow his movements, muttering into his shoulder, “I think you’re the only thing in this world I’ve learned to love.”

Eddie softened against him, the lamb baring his neck to the lion as he muttered, “I think I’m glad for that, in a selfish way. I’m glad I’m the only thing you can love.” He admitted, the greedy lamb, hungry to experience the fresh new awakening of the lion. 

The lion, or rather Steve, was the new but experienced member of these two primitive animals. Eddie has been running his whole life from lion’s. Steve has been chasing after… a different breed of lamb per say, and he’s settled on the equivalent of a black sheep. 

Eddie was his black sheep, lamb coated in black jean jackets and band shirts with scattered pins that pricked his skin. Eddie was the final sanctum of Steve's everlasting chase to find the final meal, and he savors every single bite, pained noise, and flushed expression he gets from Eddie. He is settling at the dinner table, whether the long winding one in his own empty barren home, or the small one settled in the same trailer he was in now, constantly covered in dice and papers. 

Steve prefers Eddie’s dinner table. Soft murmured ‘I love you’s’ over piping hot coffee. Gentle hands gracing his own as he muttered out he wanted the salt. Sweet praises of cooking and promises to make up for it that night in the bedroom. 

Steve believed, when he first looked at Eddie, he wasn’t just liking him, he fell in love, immediately. Was it an poorly-concieved infatuation with the out and queer metal head? Probably. But it’s an infatuation of devotion. Praying to the sheep’s head every night and kissing along his flesh like it’s the Hawaiian rolls he received in church when he was younger. The body of christ, given to him. 

Eddie shifted beside him, shaking Steve out of his trance as he leaned forward to look at him. “So, what did you want to try Steve-o?”  

“I thought maybe I could return the favor on something..?” Soft, but the offer of his final devouring.

“Sure.” Eddie shrugged, purely just enjoying the time he could spend with Steve. Steve nodded, hazy, and shifted down, tugging at Eddie’s boxers.

Steve will admit it. He’d never once given head. But he needed to do this, needed to finish off the lamb, feel him down his throat and take him further. So he did. Agile hands flying to his perfectly fixed ‘mane’ tug and yank as he swallows Eddie down. He takes the hot taste of him and embeds it into his brain forever as he glances up at him. He watches his resolve crumble, watches as Eddie finally submits to it all and bucks into Steve’s throat. The lion chokes on the lambs meat, static filling his brain as Eddie fucks his throat, taking him apart now. Eddie is close, he can tell by the sudden quiver in his right thigh. So Steve lifts his head to the top, swirling his heavy tongue around Eddie’s tip as he looks up at him, immediately sliding his head back down to swallow his release. Eddie falls apart, wool off the wolf’s back as he reveals the pure hunger in his own eyes, tugging again at Steve’s scalp as he cums down his throat and lets himself be devoured for Steve’s own entertainment. 

So now, the lamb is the wolf. The lion is still the lion, but hunger flourishes in both their eyes as Steve pulls back, a slick line of saliva following him from Eddie's now softening cock. Steve sits forward, and Eddie follows, both connecting as they kiss, the hot seed from Eddie’s cock swirling in their mouths as Steve pulls back, final words in his everlasting chase that is coming to a close. 

“Eddie Munson, I love you.”

“Steve Harrington, I love you.”

Eddie's response. The final breath from the lamb coat wearing wolf. Now the known reason for the black looking coat Steve supposed. Black sheeps are always the more violent ones. He figures it’s because the wolf coat from beneath is shining through. 

Eddie looks Steve over, chuckling a bit, “Dude you’ve been in and out of it all night.”

The lion facade fades away, a now tired Steve looks over to Eddie, “I think I like this strand, but I’ve been a little zoned out because of it. And now I’m tired.” He muttered, looking over Eddie

The consumption of lamb has stopped, but now the love and adoration of the lion had begun

Eddie smiled, fixed Steve’s hair for him, and leaned back, tugging Steve with him, “Then how about we go to sleep Stevie.”

Steve nodded at his lamb, muttering sweetly to him in a post-high, sleepy haze, “I love you, my lamb.”

Eddie chuckled, not understanding. The foolish lamb, wrapped comfortably in the lion's arms now as slept befell onto them.

#eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson/steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson imagines #harrington #munson #cannibalism #cannibalistic urges #drug usage #smut #one shot #masterlist #steddie smut #steddie imagine #steddie fanfic #steddie #steveddie #eddie x steve #gay mlm #mlm #mlm post #achillean

[french-toast-enjoyer]

short story part 3! (probably) the final part! 18+

warnings for gore, violence, cannibalism, and explicit sexual content.

Kallus has done this song and dance a million times, but not like this.

Carrying a body to the sanctum has always been an illicit act– yet tonight there’s peace in it. Neither rabbit nor doe nor prey of any kind have ever clung to his chest, pleading to stay in his arms. The dead don’t trust him to be gentle, but Yusuf?

Yusuf is in ecstasy.

He looks so at home upon the shrine of bodies, laid out like some divine bastardization of the eucharist. Far prettier than any lamb who’s ever known slaughter.

He rests there, briefly, letting his body be known by the creature.

Kallus shuts his eyes and worships his dying limb, nuzzling the icy skin and whispering solemnly to himself, as if saying grace.

“Will it be enough?” Yusuf asks, not without hope as he holds up his terribly frostbitten arm.

The beast nods into his palm, not looking back at him, “Just a taste. Will be gentle.”

“I trust you.” he said, petting the creature’s dark fur.

Slowly, carefully, Kallus opens his giant, jagged maw and easily takes Yusuf’s arm in, treading his fangs to the very end of the wound.

And he bites.

The limb surrenders with a vile ripping sound, putting up no fight as he grabs it and tears it off completely.

On its face the skin is scaly and lifeless, but inside it’s filled with the body and blood and spirit of something greater.

Something overtakes him in that moment, he’s lost in the sensation; the taste of flesh, the heat of blood, the relief that flutters between them is too much to bear. It’s soft and it’s poetic and it’s fucking ravenous.

He breathes it in and he lets it out, tasting the metallic heat on his lips. It stains his mouth redder than sacramental wine and he doesn’t dare wipe it away. His head rears back and he falls on all fours, towering over his prey.

But the fog lifts when he finally sees Yusuf trembling beneath him. His face comes into focus, and at last the monster sees what he’s done.

Yusuf’s eyes are wide, watering, and there’s a strange expression on his face. Glazed.

“Did not mean to scare you–” Kallus pants, stomach twisting with guilt as he hesitates to touch Yusuf, “did not mean to hurt you… sorry, so sorry, just wanted to–”

All at once the minotaur is wrapped up in his arms, bringing him back down to earth with a sweet refrain of “It’s alright, I’m alright.” that doesn't seem to ease the intensity between them.

In the heat of the bloodshed, a kiss silences Kallus’ ragged breaths. Yusuf tastes himself in the minotaur's mouth, and he moans.

Biting sensations of frost and pain and isolation are at last burned away by the warmth of Yusuf’s lips. Warmth only compared to that of his lover’s doorway.

Just as such, the two cannot pull away from the embrace, and they can't seem to get close enough.

Yusuf's clothes are torn away by thick claws, his pendant snapping as it's pulled from him. Whatever empire he served no longer matters as he lay against the altar. Even the cold couldn't reach his naked body in the heat of the moment.

Kallus was still decent, his cloak and loincloth covering the body he'd been cursed with as he passionately kissed up the man's bare neck.

Yusuf couldn't stand it. Seeing the minotaur so uninhibited and covered in blood turned him on, but the clothing hid away all that he wanted to worship. The minotaur had fallen silent. Pensive.

It took only a brief ghost across Kallus' waist to feel both the thin, flimsy nature of the fabric — as well as how aroused the man was by the whole ordeal. Yusuf was overjoyed, but that silence washed over him again as he pulls back from their kiss.

The minotaur’s cock stands painfully hard, jutting against Yusuf’s ribs and filling its owner with intense shame.

He'd been hard since the moment he'd bitten into the man.

The crack of the frostbitten bone, the heat of blood, the love in Yusuf’s eyes…

No, god, it was disgusting. It was disgusting and he was wrong to feel that way.

Kallus apologizes vehemently.

He looks down at Yusuf’s body, shuts his eyes, and pulls away in self-hatred. It wasn't right to want him, to unclothe him after what he'd done to Yusuf.

“Kallus…”

He ignores the man's attempts to make him stay, leaving him in the sanctum with all his other victims.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #short story #cw: gore

[squirrel-fund]

Hey, hey, Auds, my love, how are you? I’m here with another question, when do you think Ian and Mickey’s first “come here” was? Who said it? In what context? Was it soft and intimate? Heated and passionate? Lemme know😘💜

Chey!! I've thought a lot about this and I have THOUGHTS. (Jfc this got away from me. Put it under the cut for your scrolling pleasure)

I think the first "come here" happened at the sleepover.

Not long after this subtle (🤣) look:

They're sitting on the couch, not even watching the movie or eating the pizza rolls. But they are drinking and thank god for that because a little liquid courage never hurt anything.

Ian's been dying to kiss Mickey again, that van kiss was fantastic but Ian has always been a "Okay I like that, need more every day" kind of guy. (His pink donuts at the Kash n Grab show that... among other things 🤣)

But he's nervous.

Is this a thing that only Mickey can initiate? The guy's like a frightened animal when it comes to anything that comes within an inch of romantic, or sweet, or... in his words: fruity.

And that's understandable. Mickey lives in a house of horrors that remind him on a daily basis why those things are forbidden. Why those things could get him killed without a second thought.

But something about tonight just seems different. Charged. It's like they've finally turned the page and made it to the part where it's okay to feel these thoughts that swirl around their brains and commandeer their hearts. Making them dizzy and drawn to one another like some moth to a bug zapper. (Waxing poetically doesn't seem appropriate in the house their occupying)

Mickey laughs at something that happened on screen and it shocks Ian back to reality. Glancing over at the broody boy beside him that has the most beautiful smile he's ever seen. It's unfair, really. That something so beautiful, something so hopeful, is always hidden beneath glares and fists and doubt.

Ian is full on staring now, movie forgotten as he etches this memory into his brain. A souvenir for when things aren't like this. When Mickey changes his mind and the cold shower of their sobering reality hits them both like a brick wall.

Still staring at the screen, Mickey takes a sip from his beer and smirks. "Whatcha lookin' at?"

Ian doesn't hesitate. "You." Always you.

The movie completely fades away as Mickey turns his full attention to Ian. Red hair, green eyes, freckles every-fucking-where, even that lone ranger on the tip of Ian's cock that mocks Mickey from his viewpoint when he's on his knees. Ian's fucking beautiful and that word alone is a death sentence.

When Mickey invited Ian to come over, he convinced himself it was purely for sex. Fast, hard, impersonal. Their usual style that met both their needs.

But, truthfully?

He wanted... no... he needed more. But how could he say that? He had no fucking clue. So, he made pizza rolls and they were watching a movie. Fully fucking clothed.

It was nice. It was terrifying. It was new.

Ian was staring back at him, both of them grinning like idiots, but, if a boy smiled at another boy in the Southside and no one was around to see it, did it really fucking matter?

Ian blushed. "What are you looking at?"

Softness weaved through Mickey's soul. "You." Then he playfully rolled his eyes. "Dumbass."

Ian leaned against the couch, arms resting across the back and whispered "Come here."

Mickey didn't need to be told twice. He crawled into Ian's lap, trying not to let it show how much those two words meant to him.

Because those two words meant more to Mickey than Ian could ever know. They made his heart hurt because no one in his life had ever wanted him. At least for something worthwhile, something... good. No one needed Mickey and no one ever remembered his existence. Except for Ian. Always fucking Ian.

He gripped the back of Mickey's neck and almost too slowly, brought their lips together. Mickey melted into it, trying to say the things he didn't know how. This is different. This is scary. This is everything i never knew I could have. Ian slowed the kiss down, there was no need to rush. No relatives two feet away or video cameras watching their every move.

For once, in their whirlwind relationship, they could just be Ian and Mickey.

Two boys still learning about love.

#i don't know what this is #but here you go #i have spiraling thoughts about unseen moments between these two #asks from lovely people #chey you can ask me stuff anytime #anyone can #gallavich