#i’m too gooey lately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevebabey · 1 month

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it was supposed to be short n small and now its 3k & its unedited and u all have to just deal with it bcos it was supposed to be SMALL | ao3

The driver's side car window makes a resounding thunk when Steve’s forehead falls against it.

Through the glass, his keys glint tauntingly back at him.

Still tucked in the ignition, locked in on the inside. So close and yet so far from Steve who is, unfortunately, locked on the outside.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

He lets his head raise up a bit just to drop it back against the window again, this time more in punishment. Of course, of course, he coughs up the money needed for a warrant of fitness and then he goes and locks his keys in the car the next day. Like he needed one more cost added to his finances.

Steve steals a glance at his watch. Fuck, if he doesn’t get on the road in the next 10 minutes, he’ll be more than late to work.

His eyes glance across to Eddie’s van, parked beside his own car, outside the trailer home in Forest Hills. Then he looks back at the trailer.

He can ask. He can just go inside and ask Eddie for the lift— and explain that the reason he can’t take his own perfectly fine car is because he’s so goddamn thick between the ears that he’s locked his keys inside, like some kind of moron.

The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like his father.

Something thick grows in his throat. He swallows it to no avail. Embarrassment begins to flush down his neck, hot and uncomfortable.

No, no— he can’t ask Eddie because as far as Steve knows, Eddie hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

Even while Dustin and Mike make their jokes about him being a bit slow, even when Robin says at least you have your pretty face, Eddie brushes them off and laughs. Takes them as jokes with no merit to them. Steve knows though.

So what if he doesn’t want to burst his bubble just yet?

He knows Eddie will figure it out eventually— because they always do. When he asks too many stupid questions and needs things explained twice and— and it’s just inevitable, okay? He knows that.

Fixing his glare through the window of his car at the shiny pair of keys within, Steve wrestles with what would be worse; being late or accidentally tipping Eddie off when they’ve just gotten so close.

Close enough to share a kiss, two nights ago, under the covers. It was barely more than a peck. But Steve knew it had taken a miraculous amount of courage from Eddie to do it— to surge forward and grab Steve’s face, his rings cool against his skin, and press his mouth against his Steve's own.

Eddie’s lips had been chapped but his smile had been pure sunshine and Steve thinks he could’ve stayed forever under that blanket, memorising the shade of pink Eddie’s cheeks turn after a kiss.

They’ve been dancing around it ever since. Each interaction is more charged, more flirty, more gooey. Long lingering looks and pointed nudges that make Steve feel like a 14-year-old with a crush again, in the best way.

So, no. He exactly can’t go ask.

With a heavy sigh and glance up at the darkening sky, Steve is only glad he’s not supposed to pick up Robin today as he begins to walk.

—

One phone call to the auto-shop reveals exactly how much it’ll cost to get his keys retrieved. Which is, to say, entirely too much for one adult living on the wage of a Family Video employee.

And they won’t be able to get anyone out for another whole day.

Growing more and more frustrated with himself, Steve angrily jots the number down into his little notebook, the pen pressing down hard enough to leave indents on the page behind it. Keith is somewhere out the back, snacking no doubt, and leaving Steve to man the front.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother him— especially because he could discretely make the phone call he needed— but now it’s just him, the empty store, and the number in his notebook that stares back at him.

Oh, and it’s raining.

The darkening sky from earlier had transformed into something closer to a thunderstorm, rain lashing against the windows and driving any and all customers away. Which is fantastic— just what Steve needs now, really the fucking cherry on the top.

The phone rings, the noise unusually shrill in the silence of the store. The film playing amongst the aisles has been on mute as soon as he’d gotten his hands on the remote and Keith had disappeared out the back.

Steve stares at the phone, watching it ring once, twice, before he picks it up with a heavy sigh. He dredges up his customer service voice.

“This is Family Video, how can I help?” He greets, putting as much pep into his voice as he can manage—which turns out to be a meagre amount.

“Did you walk to work today?”

Steve straightens up at the sound of Eddie’s voice on the other end of the line. His free hand instinctively smooths down the front of his vest before he quickly remembers Eddie can’t actually see him.

“Eddie?” He asks, instead of answering the question.

“Your Highness, himself,” Eddie responds. His tone is that usual jaunty playfulness that Steve’s come to adore. “Now answer the question, Steve-o. I thought you were one of those smart guys who actually listens when the weather report comes on the radio. Why the hell did you walk?”

Steve’s shoulders curl in, just an inch, and his eyes seek out the open notebook with the quoted amount, underlined and circled, staring back at him. His throat grows a lump at Eddie’s unknowingly poor choice of words.

“Thought I would walk today.” He replies, his voice clipped. “You know, walking, exercise, good for you? Any of these ringing a bell for you, Munson?”

It’s supposed to be a joke but Steve can tell by the end of the sentence, it’s come out way too sour to land that way. He sounds mean.

Steve cringes, clutching the phone a little tighter and screwing up his eyes. He waits for Eddie’s response.

“You know,” Eddie says, sounding a lot duller all of a sudden. “I was calling to maybe offer you a lift through the rain—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that-“ Steve cuts in, that same strange embarrassment swelling in his throat. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“—But if you’re gonna be a dick about it, you can enjoy the walk.”

Steve grits his teeth and pinches the bridge of his nose because this feels a little too much like a line from his Dad— but it isn’t because Steve is the one digging this hole all on his own. He’s the idiot who fucking locked his keys in his car and walked to work and snapped at Eddie and—

“No, I’m sorry.” He says, still a bit too tense.

Idiot, idiot, you’re being a fucking idiot, Harrington.

“A ride would be appreciated. Please.”

A pause. This time when Eddie speaks, he’s a little softer. “You off at five today?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at five.”

The dial tone sounds as Eddie hangs up but Steve stays where he is, phone pressed against his one good ear, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The rain begins to flood the parking lot.

—

Five o’clock comes around too soon.

The rain has let up, just barely, but enough that Steve can actually see Eddie’s van when it pulls up into the parking lot. It rocks about dangerously in the wind and Steve suddenly feels bad for making Eddie come out to get him.

He could’ve stayed here, taken the longer shift. Told Keith to take off early and just walked back home when the rain let up a little more— or just camped out the back on the couch in the employee room if it never did.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He’d started doing it more and more when his parent’s visits to home became more frequent. It was easy to pull a few white lies out and Steve far preferred answering questions like: Where were you last night? than Why won't you come out to our event tonight? Show face for the Harrington's? It's not like you're doing anything with your life, right?

The only reason he’d stopped, actually, was because he had become good friends with Eddie.

Eddie, who loved his company almost any hour of the day. Who gobbled up each and every morsel of food Steve cooked up, whether it was good or partially burned on the sides. Who told him he had a place in the trailer, day or night, rain or shine.

Eddie who… was waiting outside at five o’clock exactly, pulled up to the curb so Steve wouldn’t have to walk through the rain for more than a moment.

There’s a sliver of surprise, deep within his chest; like he thought Eddie might’ve not shown up and forced him to walk through the rain, just to learn his lesson. It would make sense, Steve thinks. You reap what you sow.

He clocks out hastily, barely murmuring his exit to Keith who doesn’t look up in the slightest. Steve heads for the door and decides then and there, he’ll happily pay the number in his notebook if he doesn’t have to tell Eddie what a fucking moron he actually is.

Water splashes as he dashes down the steps and Eddie’s leaning across, pushing the door open so Steve doesn’t even have to wait to yank it open in the rain. He slides in, sprinkled with rain, slams the door closed, and instantly gets blasted with heat.

“God, you’re a lifesaver,” Steve sighs, sticking his hands out towards the air vents which are working in overdrive. They whir loudly in complaint. Eddie smiles, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the warmth, and twists the wheel, his eyes on the road before him.

The van groans and the bumper dips, kissing the gutter, as they roll out onto the road and head for Forest Hills. For a moment, Eddie focuses on driving straight before he flicks his gaze across to Steve.

“You know I wouldn’t have actually let you walk, right?”

Steve blinks, unsure of what to say in response, because he actually did think that was a possibility until about 2 minutes ago. He shivers as a stray drop in his hair sneaks under his collar, cold and wet.

“Right.” He answers, giving a hesitant smile back.

They’re driving slower than usual due to the rain. Steve lets himself sink back into the worn seats of the van, comforted by the familiar smells. A tang of tobacco, a stronger hint of weed, and that musky deodorant that Eddie swears by— even if Steve has never heard of the brand before.

But, well, it must be working in some sense because when Steve takes a deep breath, he smells it and feels a sense of calm. He doesn’t even notice he’s begun staring.

The strange weather has made Eddie’s hair frizzier than usual and paired with his rosy cheeks, Steve thinks he looks goddamn delectable. He gets caught up in a daydream about having a hot chocolate when they get back to the trailer, maybe even sharing a blanket on the couch and—

And then, Eddie turns and says, “So, wanna tell me why you walked? For real, this time?”

Something shrivels up within Steve. The tightness in his throat from this morning returns. He turns his head and looks out the window.

“I don’t get why you don’t believe me when I say I walked because I wanted to.” He grumbles, almost too low for Eddie to hear over the rain.

Why are they still talking about this? He thinks of the keys through the driver’s side window, thinks of the number in his notebook and the much smaller one in his bank account, and has to hold back from thumping his head against the glass again.

Something metallic jingles behind him.

Steve whips around, his eyes zeroing in on his keys dangling from Eddie’s hand— clearly just retrieved from his pocket. Something ugly and warm wakes up inside him, his stomach knotting uncomfortably, and his cheeks start to burn in embarrassment.

Idiot, Idiot, Idiot.

He knows, he already fucking knows how stupid you are.

Eddie’s eyes dart off the road to look at Steve. “Cos you’re clearly not telling the truth.”

Steve averts his gaze, turning his face back to the window and the wet pavement rushing by beneath the car. He swallows but the lump in his throat doesn’t move.

“Okay, look I don’t actually care that you walked to work,” Eddie continues, placing the keys down in the cup holder between the seats. “I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me that they were locked in your car.”

Steve can’t help it, the way his shoulders hike up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip meanly, nearly drawing blood. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it— Eddie’s still trying to rationalise away what everyone else has already figured out.

“I just—” Steve starts, on the defence, but it comes out a bit too wet. He forces himself to swallow again, thankful there’s no sting of tears in his eyes. “I can fix that shit on my own. That’s all.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie agrees.

Below them both, the hum of the van begins to dwindle and Steve realises abruptly that Eddie’s slowing down, pulling over to the side of the road. He looks to the side, at Eddie.

“Please, c’mon, I just wanna go home, man.” Steve pleads, not even caring that he’s referred so casually to Eddie’s trailer as his home.

“Wait, just,” Eddie waves a hand as he sticks the van into park, releasing the wheel and properly turning to Steve.

“I just want to understand. You know I can pop the door to most cars in, like, 5 minutes. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Eddie,” Steve stresses, turning away with a pointed sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, latching onto the roots and tugging at it. “Just leave it, please.”

“Or asked for a lift!” Eddie continues, his hands gesturing out a bit wildly. “I could’ve given you a lift even.”

Steve's eyes slice across the van and he wills back every emotional outburst that wants to lash out of him, to poke the right spot that will hurt to get Eddie to back off.

But Eddie is just staring at him, brown eyes wide, a little furrow between his brows, and is just confused. Concerned.

“If you keep driving,” Steve murmurs, almost dejectedly. He ducks his head low and turns back to the window. “I’ll tell you.”

It works— the engine rumbles back to life and the wheels roll gently back out onto the road, just a couple more minutes from Forest Hills. Steve watches the road and tries to grasp for the right thing to say, each possibility dissolving like smoke. His eyes squeeze shut tightly. The rain dins loudly on the roof of the van, a song and dance of the elements.

By the time they’re entering Forest Hills, Steve still hasn’t said a word. The van crawls up into its usual spot, next to Steve’s own car, and Steve stares down at it. He can hear the soft click of Eddie’s seatbelt as he releases it.

He supposes it’s too late now, anyway. Eddie already knows. He keeps his eyes out the window as he speaks, his voice flat and dull.

“I just... I didn’t want you to think that I’m an idiot, too.”

There’s a questioning noise behind him, a little noise from Eddie’s throat that slips out, unbidden.

“Too?” He echoes. “Steve? Who thinks you’re an idiot?”

Steve huffs loudly and turns back, throwing his hands up. “Jesus, who doesn’t? Would you like a list?”

Eddie’s face twists into a meaner expression than Steve's ever seen before and for once, he properly matches the dark clothes and spooky tattoos he dons.

“Yes. And I’ll go door to door— wait,” He shuffles, shifting up onto his knees so he can stretch over the console and place his large hands on either side of Steve’s face, directing his gaze towards him.

It’s reminiscent of a kiss not too long ago. Despite all the burning self-deprecation that churns inside, the pleasant reminder dulls it significantly.

“I’ll go door to door to anyone who ever made you feel that way,” Eddie repeats, now face to face with Steve, their noses nearly touching. His brows are still pull tight into a furious frown. But it's not at him, Steve realises. “And I’ll do something— I’m not sure what yet, but it’ll be foul and like, maybe I’ll put instant mash potatoes on their lawn and— okay the specifics aren’t relevant but this— this is.”

He searches Steve’s face intently, eyes darting around, making sure the message is sinking in. His expression softens out, his eyes suddenly sweeter than before. “You’re aren’t an idiot, Steve. You aren’t an idiot for making a mistake and I’ve never thought that about you.”

Steve blinks. Swallows heavily and god fucking dammit, is the thickness in his throat ever going to disappear? This time it feels different though. He’s not sure how.

“You don’t think I’m an idiot, do you?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head, moving Eddie’s hands with them at the same time. It’s true, he doesn’t. Eddie is… goddamn fucking wonderful. He’s like a warm summer shower through the wretched seasons of Steve’s life. One of the reasons it was worth living through the entire ordeal of 86.

The rain outside continues, pitter-pattering on the roof, somehow softer than it was a second ago.

“Okay,” Eddie says, a small smile on tugging on his lips.

“Okay,” Steve says back. He tries for a smile and it’s easier than expected, though it wobbles at the ends. It doesn’t matter— Eddie is still gazing at him, brown eyes shining and Steve believes what he says.

“Okay,” Eddie says one more time, his smile turning closer to a grin. “Let’s go make some cocoa, yeah?”

He moves to retract his hands but Steve moves faster, his hands darting up to hold them in their place, palms against his cheeks.

“Wait,” Steve murmurs, watching how Eddie stills and keeps his closeness, their noses still a couple inches from touching— and Steve clings to the threads of courage in him tightly.

His hands slide off Eddie’s, grasping lightly at his wrists, and it’s easy to lean forward and connect their mouths in one swift motion.

Eddie squeaks— then melts.

It takes half a second before he remembers to kiss back, equally as enthusiastic and it’s nothing like the first kiss they shared under the covers. The rain dances around them and Steve swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s pulse soothing, feeling the barest jump of his rabbiting pulse.

When he shifts back, breaking the kiss, Steve keeps the closeness, the tips of their noses bumping together. Eddie’s hands feel blazing warm on Steve’s cheeks but when his lashes flutter open, catching sight of Eddie’s glorious pink cheeks, he thinks it might be his face burning up too.

They tumble inside through the rain and with all of Steve’s prayers answered today, they also share a blanket on the couch, ankles linked beneath the rumpled fabric. They make hot chocolate, Steve’s style, and sip it at, making googly eyes at each other over the rim of their mugs— until Eddie laughs too much and spits it down his front.

Steve doesn’t feel stupid again— unless that is, you count feeling stupidly sappy.

(He does not.)

#get it OUTTA MY SIGHT #god this ate up too many hours for the final product #resisting the urge to boo my own work #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #hurt/comfort #technically it is tehe #steddie hurt/comfort #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington hurt/comfort #uhhhhhh that's all folks.#i just need a boost im having a week and its friggin. monday #okie byeeeeee

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milkbreadandtadpoles · 3 months

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stsg x angel

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒。⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒

snippet: measly 0.5k of an insight into my poly!stsg brain. reader is neutral!

warnings: stsg it it's own warning. suggestive language, suggestive dom/sub behavior and dynamics. reader being a pouty angel ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊ also, proabably poorly edited

author's note: dawg i just had some inspo and had to put thoughts to paper. and i must share! please enjoy my brain rot, my little clan of followers and those who will be searching in these tags.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒。⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒

“Would you suck the strap?”

“It’s seven thirty in the morning, Satoru. Please don’t start right now.”

“But I’m serious!”

“Shut up, Suguru is still sleeping.”

“I’m not.”

You palm your face, glaring at Satoru through your fingers, “You woke him up.”

“I doubt me talking about your sexual tendencies woke up the household princess.”

“Can you just flip the pancakes?”

“Oh, you’re making pancakes?” Suguru murmurs, gruff and syrupy. His hair is haphazard, yet silky and smooth. The frizzled strands frame his angular, gaunt face. It’s too cold for there to be color in his face, kissed by late moonlight instead.

“Yes, like the mother hen I am.”

Suguru has a sleepy, languid smile on his face when he watches you roll your eyes. You’re in the prettiest pajama set- cozy and warm and accentuated, eyes still riddled with sleep, head of hair a little out of place. But the light flooding the kitchen makes your cheeks glow.

“We don’t need a mother hen in the house.”

“Oh, please,” Satoru snorts, waving around a spatula with chunks of gooey batter threatening to splash against the back of the kitchen wall, “‘Toru, please make me some breakfast. Toru, I’ll give you a kiss if you-“

“I didn’t say that.” You bark, brows furrowing. Placing your hands on your hips, you frown.

Satoru beams. “You might as well have- it was with your eyes.”

“My eyes?” There’s a pout on your face when Suguru has the audacity to smile. “They were half closed when I walked into the kitchen this morning-“

“They wouldn’t have been if you drank the tea I made you-“

“I did drink it.”

“Oh?” Satoru’s lips quirk, satisfaction apparent in his shrewd smile. “You’re such a good pet for listening.”

Your cheeks burst into flames, mortification further trailing into the deep lining of your gut when the little, white haired freak has the audacity to coo. Suguru holds a hand up, and both of you quiet. Submission is a small word compared to what authority he can pull from the two of you.

“It’s seven thirty in the morning, Satoru.”

And you smile, looking at the man who might as well have hung the moon and stars and sun himself. Shit, he might as well be the sun. The gravitational pull of the planet of you and Satoru that make it bearable living together.

That shatters briefly when he murmurs slyly to Satoru as he flips a partly burnt pancake, “Give it at least an hour or two before you start making her look like that.”

“Suguru.” You whine and he smiles the type of smile that melts your insides.

Huffing a breath, he tells you about going to get ready, to be good before he leaves the kitchen- abandoning you and Satoru in a vice like silence. There’s a pout on your face, laboriously crawling onto the kitchen counter to swing your sock-covered feet while the devious little shit continues to stack up pancakes as though there were four more of you in the house.

But they have an insatiable appetite, so it's a comment you hold with a bite of your tongue.

#thank you to the babs i follow who post this #you've inspired me!#i think i wanna make a tiny like small little series who knows!#lol i love posting all my little ideas #it's my baby diary #anyway #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #satosugo #satosugo smut #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #my works

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hyuckiefluff · 9 months

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drunk in you | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers word count: 1.9k ish warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, suggestive language, reader is down bad for mark (aren’t we all), implications of drunk sex summary: was Mark Lee’s new haircut really the drop that would tip the glass over and make you spill how you really feel about him?… Well, the haircut and also the alcohol. author's note: i’m backk!! srry for disappearing for *checks calendar* two months lol this has been sitting in my drafts since mark cut his hair aaand i wanted to post it for his bday so let’s pretend im not 3 days late! HAPPY BDAY MARKIEEE <33 it’s a bit short cuz i felt like i’d have to make a second part if i wanted to add smut to yknow fully get into it lol idk but consider this a little teaser and if it doesn’t flop I’ll post a second part :)

part 2

A sudden burst of bright light pierced through your closed eyelids, jolting you awake from the deep sleep you were in. As you gradually became aware of your surroundings, you couldn't ignore the soreness in your muscles and the strange stickiness between your legs. However, it was the foreign hand resting right on top of your ass that sent alarm bells ringing through your mind. Your eyes shot open, and regret instantly washed over you as a pulsating pain hammered at your head.

"What the fuck..." you groaned, attempting to focus your blurry vision and make sense of the situation. Upon looking around, you realized that you were in the guys' dorm, more specifically, in Mark's room...

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

If you were in Mark's room, then that hand... and the body it belonged to, had to be...

Oh my god, what happened last night?

8 hours earlier…

Drinking with your friends after a grueling week at uni wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. In fact, it'd be weirder if you were cooped up at home worrying about midterm grades instead of laughing your head off at whatever Jeno just blurted out. First sign that you were drunk, the boy wasn’t even that funny. His neck and ears were flushed crimson, a clear sign that he, too, had indulged in one too many drinks. And there was Jisung, practically glued to Jeno's side, oozing a whole lot of gooey affection that he would vehemently deny once he sobered up.

Renjun and Haechan were locked in a heated argument on the floor, their voices rising in the air over some trivial matter that would probably be forgotten by morning. Surprisingly, though, they seemed to be the least intoxicated among you.

Meanwhile, Jaemin was frantically rummaging through the kitchen, his frustrated groans and curses echoing throughout the room. It was clear that his search for more alcohol was proving to be a fruitless endeavor.

Beside you, Chenle was on his phone, engrossed in a replay of the Warriors game. At first glance he doesn’t look drunk, but you knew better. If he were truly sober, he'd be shouting and cursing at his phone screen, venting his frustrations as his beloved team struggled to keep up. Instead, he was lazily sipping from his nearly empty cup while his glossed over eyes remained glued to the screen.

Mark Lee was the only one missing from the group. You sent him a few voice messages letting him know that if he didn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes you would eat his portion of the kimchi jiggae you’d ordered earlier. He responded within seconds with a funny GIF that showed a man running and tripping.

Mark stumbled through the door just a few minutes later. He was soaked from head to toe, his hoodie covering most of his head. He was panting and his shoes were muddy and wet, he got rid of them in the entrance and looked up, clearly out of breath. But you were already stuffing your face with his food anyways. Whoops.

Though as soon as he pulled down the hood a chunk of food went down the wrong pipe. You coughed uncontrollably, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to regain your breath.

"Dude!! Are you seriously eating my food?" he exclaimed.

But when he noticed your struggling state, his words trailed off, replaced by genuine worry. "Yo, are you good?" he asked, walking closer to you and patting you in the back.

You managed to nod weakly, staring up at him.

"Why’re you so late? Oh, new haircut?" Haechan chimed in from the floor.

"Yeah... what's the verdict?" Mark asked, turning his head to the side to better show off the lines of his undercut, his gaze lingering on you.

So many thoughts raced through your mind but you were unable to form a single word. Mark had had long hair for quite some time now, and it was you who had encouraged him to let it grow. You enjoyed styling it, braiding it, and adorning it with charms—Mark gave you the freedom to do whatever you pleased with his hair. You had grown fond of his long hair, especially after helping nurse it back to health from the damage caused by bleaching and dyeing. Yet now he was sporting short hair and an undercut with edgy designs on the side, and you couldn't help but openly ogle at him.

He looked hot as fuck.

It’s true that you harbored feelings for Mark that went beyond friendship but you were always able to hide it well and it worked out better this way for both of you (or that’s what you liked to believe). Needless to say you liked him a lot and had for a while so the sight of his new look had sent your emotions spiraling. He showed up merely minutes ago and you already felt so weak at the knees and your brain was fuzzy even though you hadn’t drank that much yet.

"Don't like it," you muttered, hoping your words would deflect attention from the clear shift in your expression. Turning around, you sought refuge on the couch next to Chenle, placing the bowl of food aside. Your stomach was turning weirdly, making it impossible to swallow another bite.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being so dramatic. It was just a haircut. But, god, he looked so good.

In an attempt to calm yourself down, you chugged your cup with soju and let out a big groan after emptying it. The sound catching Chenle’s attention as he peered curiously from his phone. You offered him a closed-lip smile, prompting an intrigued eyebrow raise from him.

Mark was awkwardly standing on the same spot. He was a bit taken aback by your sudden coldness. He definitely picked up on your strange reaction the moment he walked through the door. But he brushed it off.

"Okaay… Well I was late 'cause I was getting the good stuff," Mark explained, his frown replaced by a grin as he pulled out a beer from the bags he was carrying.

"Let's goooo!" Jaemin yelled, returning from the kitchen right on cue as if he some sort of alcohol detector. He eagerly snatched the bags from Mark and made a kissy face to the boy.

The tension eased a bit with Jaemin's infectious enthusiasm, and you decided to not focus on whatever Mark was making you feel right now. The drinks were here, and the good times were about to roll. You made a mental note to sort out your feelings later.

Alcohol definitely did not make your situation better. The more you drank the harder it was to keep your thoughts at bay. Mark was now sitting on the single couch in front of you and every little expression or movement he made had you either biting your lip or pressing your thighs together.

Talking about thighs… the shorts he was wearing displayed his muscular legs in a way that was making it quite impossible for you to not devour them with your eyes. God, your brain had turned into that of a hormonal teenage boy. Were you seriously staring at his thighs and imagining how it would feel to ride them?

Haechan came over to you and filled your glass with more Soju. You downed it as soon as he was done pouring it, earning you a weird look from Chenle who had been eyeing you ever since Mark arrived.

"Okay, what's with you?" Chenle mumbled, the words escaping his lips just loudly enough to capture everyone's attention. Considering you had the noisiest group of friends, all eyes turned your way, including Mark's.

Mark seemed to be getting tipsy; you could tell by the way his big, expressive eyes shimmered even more than usual and the faint blush that adorned his cheeks and neck.

"Hmm?" you managed to reply, your gaze still fixated somewhere on Mark's face. You were completely unaware of the intense amount of attention you were giving him, but Chenle, who was relatively more sober than both of you, picked up on it.

"You're literally looking at Mark like you want to eat him," Chenle chuckled, teasingly calling you out.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Renjun asked, suddenly intrigued by the topic.

"I am?" you replied, sounding genuinely confused, though your heart raced with thoughts you were about to voice out loud. "Uhm… yeah I kinda do..."

An audible gasp followed, and you knew without looking that it came from Haechan.

Mark's expression remained unreadable, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, revealing no discernible emotions. Was he weirded out? Normally, you might have felt self-conscious about blurting out something like that, but alcohol had significantly lowered your inhibitions.

"That's a wild thing to say," Haechan interjected with a mix of shock and amusement. "Do you actually wanna tap that?" He pointed at Mark, who was still gazing at you.

"Very much so," you replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, even though you were openly talking about hooking up with your best friend in front of all your other best friends.

"Why don't you come here then?" Mark's words caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but notice the way he shifted, his legs spread invitingly.

You burst into laughter assuming he was only joking to tease you. However, the lack of a reaction from him made you realize he was dead serious. Your eyes locked on his own, reflecting the same desire you had been giving him just moments ago.

The idea of getting up and walking to him, straddling his lap, and kissing him flashed through your mind.

But the moment was interrupted by a voice that snapped both of you out of your trance. "Gross!" Jisung whined, hiding his face in Jeno's back, the older one lazily laughing and patting Jisung's thigh. "Okay, c'mon, I think we've all had enough to drink," he declared, getting up, with Jisung clinging to him. Chenle follow suit also giving you two a slightly disgusted stare.

"Yeah, one more drink for me, and I'm afraid the kimchi jiggae I had earlier might end up all over the carpet," Haechan chimed in, rubbing his stomach before disappearing upstairs.

Renjun also stood up and playfully messed up Mark's hair while saying, "By the way, happy birthday."

You glanced at the table clock and realized it was already 12:01. You had been so excited about Mark's birthday earlier in the day, but the alcohol and the tension between the two of you made you totally forget about it. Gathering your courage, you approached him. He remained sprawled with his legs out, but now he looked up at you, his lips slightly wet, distracting you momentarily.

"Happy birthday, silly," you smiled and awkwardly patted his head, hoping he didn't notice how you pressed your thighs together, trying to ease the uncomfortable ache between your legs.

"What did you get me?" he suddenly asked, and you blinked a few times, your brain struggling to register the extremely flirtatious tone he used.

When you didn't respond immediately, he continued, "Because I can think of one thing I want the most right now," lightly grazing your leg with his hand. You didn't flinch or move away.

"R-really? What is it?" you found yourself stuttering, a reaction that would have made you cringe if you were more sober.

"Come here, and I'll show you," he smirked and with little protest from you, he pulled you onto his lap.

a/n: i have a smut scene ready for this (well it’s in my brain but I’ll squeeze it out if u guys want that second part) soooo comment or simply like this so i know the audience wants it

also yes i did change the title of this but pls disregard that lol

part 2

#nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream fic #nct dream scenario #nct imagines #nct smut #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n #nct moodboard #mark lee x you #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream drabbles #mark lee imagines #mark lee fic

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celestial-grls · 10 days

Text

Midnight Snack - Kate Martin x reader

-Summary: Fluffiest blurb ever about Kate waking you up because she's hungry and wants company...like how could you resist her?

Tonight, you and Kate seemed to have exchanged roles. Usually, you’re the one who’s up way past your bedtime, reading or giving your rapt attention to a video essay you found. Kate usually is the one gently asking you to come to bed, and she never needs more than five minutes before she’s dozing off and completely snoring. Tonight, you got some shut-eye, nestled into the warmth of her neck with your legs tangled together under the covers. There’s a few days before she has to leave for a tournament, so you’re taking as much time as you can to be with her knowing that once everything starts up again, there’ll be a stretch of time before you two can really be together like this. It’s dark, yours and Kate’s dog is asleep at the foot of the bed peacefully snoring.

“Y/N,” Kate turns over to lightly touch your face, whispering and trying to wake you up as nicely as she can. The small inkling of guilt settles as her eyes adjust to your sleepy face, how the top of your head fits right into her neck.

“Y/N…baby,” Kate whispers again. This time you stir a bit.

Through a slight frown you mumble, “Hm?”

Kate starts shuffling to trace some lines into your palm, another strategy for waking you up nicely.

Her tracing the lines inside your palm feel so familiar, her automatic little habit to feel closer to you. She presses feather-light kisses to them too, waiting patiently for you to open your eyes. She’s so relieved when you finally do.

“Kate,” you rub at your eyes, still half-asleep and gooey at how sweet Kate is trying to be while waking you. “What time is it, baby?”

“It’s late. Like 12:30 I think?” Kate and you are fully facing each other, slowly blinking..

“Do you have to be up early tomorrow? Or can we sleep in a little?” You ask her through a yawn, you start to blink at her when she yawns back at you.

Kate couldn’t adore you more than she does right now, as you reach for your glasses from the bedside table so you can see her better and check the time. The strap of your tank top slid off one shoulder when you sat up in bed and she instinctively went to kiss your shoulder.

“No, I don’t have to be up too early,” She doesn’t stop slowly blinking at you or tracing the side of your arm with her finger, constantly touching you to remind herself you’re real.

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose and lean down to peck a kiss to the corner of her mouth, “Good. You couldn’t sleep?” You worry about her, and you’re almost certain she knows that.

Kate closes her eyes when your hair falls over her face, receiving your little kisses and breathing in the lotion you put on before bed. She’s going to miss it when she’s away in a few days. “Not really. Will you come have a snack with me?”

She gives you this pleading look, her eyes big pools of warmth. You tell her, “I’ll do you one better…I’ll make us a snack,”

She automatically protests, “No, baby, you don’t have to. I feel bad enough waking you up.”

“I’d feel worse if you had one without me,” then you get out from your side of the bed and wait for her to join you, “C’mon, no objections please.”

Kate’s already tried to offer to help, but you refused. “You don’t think I can cut an apple or something, big shot?”

“‘Course not. I know you can. Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?” She’s lingering next to you as you chop the apple into slices and slide them onto a plate. You look up at her with her sleep mussed hair tucked behind her ears and her blue baggy boxer shorts rolled around her hip and her socked feet and can’t imagine wanting her to do anything but sit down and look as pretty as she does right now.

“I’m sure. Now sit,” you’re doing your best to be stern. The truth is, you’re not the least bit bothered to be slicing an apple and warming up some peanut butter for you both to munch on right now. Any moment you get to share like this feels like suspending time, pausing to try and make it stretch.

Kate does as you say and sits across from you on the island. It’s almost too much, the warmth of the kitchen light, you pushing your glasses up, the sound of your slippers padding across the floor as you look for chocolate chips. She’s watching you with her chin the the palm of her hand, feeling dazed from the sleepiness and quietly delighted by the way you assemble the slices and spread peanut butter on each one.

You make a big show of sprinkling chocolate chips on a few because you know she loves them. “Ta-da. Midnight snack for Martin.”

“Thank you, baby. My talented little chef,” Kate stretches a little bit before she starts chewing. Making an equal show of closing her eyes and nodding in approval at the snack.

You lean closer into her from across the kitchen island and take a slice from the plate. There’s only the low hum of the refrigerator and Kate quietly giggling between bites before she says, “Think I made the right call, waking you up,”

There’s about an inch of space between you two now, you close it to kiss her sweetly before telling her, “One time only offer. Don’t do it again, baby.”

#kate martin #my writing #kate martin x reader #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb

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lovebugism · 5 months

Note

"s'mores are perfect when the marshmallows are burnt" "you jsut can't cook" + eddie munson for blurbcember ❄️

ty for requesting! :D — you freeze your ass off to spend some time alone with eddie; he learns you love him more than s'mores (established relationships, fluff, 1.6k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You and Eddie sit stranded in Steve’s backyard, the only ones brave enough to weather the late-night cold.

The bursting bonfire died down to a couple of sparkling orange embers, and the party followed accordingly. While your friends sought shelter in the warm living room, unfreezing their fingers around cups of hot cocoa, you and Eddie remained outside in the navy blue winter — too stubborn to tread behind them.

“But wait— we haven’t made s’mores yet!” you’d whined. The shivering bodies of your friends rushed by you and into the heated house, anyway. Eddie was the only one to stay with you after the fact. ‘Cause his girl was gonna get her s’mores even if it was the last thing he ever did.

He makes the first one perfectly. Mostly because that one was for you.

You sit patiently in the slanted wooden chair, knees up to your chest, drowning in the thick leather jacket Eddie gave you for warmth. It smells just like him — like pine and childhood. It keeps you as warm as the smoky marshmallow on your tongue.

The melted sugar gets caught in your teeth, along with the chewed-up graham cracker and gooey milk chocolate. You smile with it all anyway when Eddie’s second batch doesn’t turn out nearly as good as his first.

“Eds, that’s burnt!” you laugh with your mouth still full as he smacks a blackened marshmallow between two square cookies.

In several layers of dark flannel, the boy shrugs lazily. He plops onto the adirondack beside yours and shoots you a lopsided smile, tinted pink and softly chapped. His skin, made more pale by the dark and wintery night, rivals that of the shining full moon. It makes his flushed cheeks that much more rosy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about— s’mores are perfect when the marshmallows are burnt.”

He takes a too big bite to make a point. You grimace at the crunch of the over-cooked confection, then smile when the melted sugar sticks to Eddie’s chin. “No, you just can’t cook,” you retort with a lovesick grin.

“But I’m right!” he insists, black crumbs sticking to the corners of his mouth.

He’s too hardheaded, and you’re too in love with him to argue about it any further. You just smile and shake your head, so full of adoration you’re sparkling with it. “You’re so cute,” you murmur, features warm and visibly fond.

He grins wide, never minding the food caught in his teeth. “I know.”

“Should we make everyone else one?” you wonder, nose scrunched as you spare a look over your shoulder.

Through the sliding glass door, you can see into the golden-lit living room. Everyone’s lazing under blankets, crammed onto couches or lounging on the floor. You can’t tell if they’re sleeping or not. You feel the need to take care of them anyway.

Eddie scoffs with his mouth still full. “Hell no! Those cowards chickened out on us,” he answers bitterly, then in a deeper and posher accent, continues. “Only the bravest of warriors can be rewarded with such fine delicacies.”

“Getting hypothermia makes us ‘the bravest of warriors’?”

“You’re the one who wanted to stay out here!”

“I did,” you argue with a laugh. “But not for the stupid s’mores.”

He gets cartoonishly confused. His bushy brows furrow and his winter-kissed features swirl together. If you weren’t weathering the winter for his obviously unmatched cheffing skills, then what exactly were you out here for?

“Then… for what?” he wonders slowly and with his dark eyes squinted.

You roll your eyes at your oblivious boy. A smile hints at the corners of your mouth. “Eddie…” you murmur, hoping your sudden sheepishness might give him some sort of hint. Telling him, ‘I’m out here in the freezing cold because being next to you makes me feel warm’ is far too sweet and not at all on brand for either of you.

“What?” he says with a faint laugh, still visibly clueless.

“I stayed out here because of you, you idiot,” you confess, giggling softly when it makes his doe eyes get all squishy around the edges.

“Oh,” he hums, then grins all wide and giddy. “Sweet.”

It’s too easy to forget how much you like him sometimes. Mostly because he doesn’t feel very deserving of you at all. He just takes all the sweet moments alone with you that he can get, then tries not to explode every time you remind him that you love him back.

“I am starting to get cold, though,” you murmur, jaw tense to keep your teeth from chattering.

A crisp breeze rolls by and shoves its teeth into every inch of exposed skin it can bite. Your cheeks and lips have long gone numb with it. You can only wrap Eddie’s jacket around you so much before it stops helping.

“Well, I know something that’ll warm us up…” the boy beside you croons with an audible smirk.

Your face scrunches at the implication. “Eddie…” you grouse.

“Get your head out of the gutter— I’m talking about booze.”

You squint at him. He reaches between his many layers and pulls out something from the inner pocket. It glimmers beneath the moonlight for a moment until you realize what it is — a glass, small and polygonal, half-filled with amber liquid.

“I picked the lock to Steve’s dad’s liquor cabinet,” he confesses, twinkling with boyish excitement. “This looked the fanciest, so…”

At a loss for words, you shake your head. “You’re insane,” you tell him, even though your smile says that you’re in love with him and all his crazy.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to figure that out,” he quips and unscrews the glass cap. He sniffs the liquid inside, then takes a sip without fear. He winces at the taste.

“Is it good?” you ask, hiding your laugh behind your palm.

“It’s great—” His answer comes wedged between coughs.

When he passes the small glass off to you, you take your own baby sip of the alcohol, with much more hesitation than the boy beside you. The bitter taste coats your tongue and stings going down. The burn makes you cough. Your chest blooms with warmth.

Eddie’s brows raise expectantly. His lip quirks at the edges. “Good?”

“It tastes like rubbing alcohol,” you grimace and hand the thing back to him.

“That’s how you know it’s good!” he insists. He takes another sip and doesn’t flinch this time around. “Like— this is the shit rich people spend hundreds of dollars on just to pretend it tastes good.”

“Being rich must suck,” you observe with your face screwed up.

“Oh, totally,” the boy scoffs. He goes to take a swig, then sends you a worried glance with the glass up to his lips. “Are you warm yet, at least?”

“Not really… My throat just kinda burns.”

“C’mere. Before you end up like that psycho from The Shining.”

Eddie slouches softly in his seat and holds his arms out beside him. The invitation is a hard one to turn down. Hair wild, cheeks rosy, and dressed all snug — he looks so visibly warm. You want to curl into his chest like a cat and stay there forever.

“You want me to sit in your lap?” you wonder with your brows pinched.

He nods.

“Eddie. I’ll crush you.”

His features swirl with hurt. “I’m offended that you’re doubting my strength right now, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

“Get over here before I cause a scene.”

There’s not much of a scene to cause. Both of you know this. You rise on rigid, frozen limbs anyway and walk the short distance to him.

His palms are oddly warm as they curl around your hips. You sit hesitantly on his lap at first, as tense as a rock, until he pulls you down completely. His arms settle around your waist like they were always meant to be there, hands fitting with you like a puzzle piece. It doesn’t take long for you to melt against him.

Eddie grins at the comforting weight of you. “See? This isn’t so bad, right?”

You try to bite back the beam tugging at your lips. This kind of love makes you feel like a teenager again — heart singing like it’s never been stung before.

“I mean, yeah, but Steve and Robin are watching us through the blinds,” you tell him as a laugh sputters from your lips.

You can tell they’re trying to be discreet, but their eyes showing through the slats — at two varying heights — are a dead giveaway. It took the two of them ages to get you and Eddie together, so you’re not entirely surprised by their snooping. They’re nothing if not your biggest cheerleaders. Even if it does make them a couple of creeps sometimes.

Eddie doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder at them. He just tilts his chin up at you and smiles with all his teeth. “Wanna give ‘em a show?”

You smile. Then press your tingling lips to the cold skin of his rosy cheek.

You know that isn’t exactly what he was asking for, so his plea for another doesn’t surprise you.

“One more?” he wonders quietly, chocolate eyes glimmering with boyish hope.

Happily, you lean in for another peck to his cheek. He turns his head at the very last second and smacks a proper kiss to your mouth.

You pull back, face agape with shock, like he’s never kissed you before. “Eddie!” you gasp.

His doe eyes sparkle with feigned innocence. “What?”

“You’re incorrigible,” you insist and settle further into him.

His contented sigh brushes your temple when you rest your head against him. His ringed fingers give your sides a squeeze. “That’s a real big word, sweetheart. Means you like me, right?”

You let yourself smile wide. He can’t see how lovesick you are from this angle, or else he’d know that you do a whole lot more than just like him. “Yeah, Eds. That’s exactly what it means.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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ceruleancattail · 6 months

Note

requests are open, yay! if you wouldn't mind i'd like to request a cute fluffy scenario with Ace and Floyd! reader finds their s/o funny, and maybe a particular joke gets them laughing pretty hard,, i think it's so cute when there's a dynamic of one character laughing and bring themselves and the other takes time to admire the scene, maybe slipping in a comment about how it's endearing. basically reader laughing with said characters and a cute scene from it! sorry if this is hard to understand!

Hiiiii!!! Thank you sm for the request, it was so fun to write for oh my goodness…. I’m soft, so soft for merry laughter…..

Ace and Floyd with a s/o they like to make laugh

Ace x reader, Floyd x reader

Ace

Ace’s elbow seems to naturally gravitate to your side. Gently nudging you, jabbing until you finally oblige him. Leaning over your shoulder, lips just a hair away from your ear, Ace whispers.

A little snarky comment, just for your ears alone. He’s rather good with coming up with those on the fly, honestly. With his quick wit, there isn’t anything he can’t joke about. You two could be in the most boring lecture in earth, and one word from Ace would have both of you in hysterics.

Ace has a certain fondness for teasing people. He also has a fondness for your laughter. The way it rings out, a joyous sound. The way it just bursts out, your entire body shuddering from your chuckles. He could listen to it all day.

You have a smile that just spreads across your lips in the most delightful way. You beam when you’re laughing , grinning for the world to see. Your cheeks flush scarlet,brighter then the heart on his cheek. The way you lean next to him, fist pummelling his arm playfully?

It goes straight to his heart.

Ace finds himself leaning over to you more and more often. Until he long has familiarised himself with the scent of your shampoo, the way you hair felt against the curve of his cheek. Sometimes, Ace catches himself making a fool out of himself. He’ll chastise himself mentally, embarrassment tinting his cheeks a pale pink.

Yet when he hears your laugh, all of that just melts away. Hell, Ace can feel his heart melting, growing all warm and gooey the more he gazed at your trembling form.

Man, you’ve really got him whipped, huh?

Floyd

Floyd has always been honest. Maybe it’s in his nature as a predator. Go straight for the throat, and all that. Most of his nicknames are like that. Pinpointing a person’s most fundamental values, and relating that to a creature of the ocean.

Floyd’s observant. Watching the student body come and go, eyes flickering from one student to the next. He sees a lot of… situations. Not all very flattering, but it makes a good story. He sees a lot… but lately, his gaze tends to stray toward you.

Floyd’s gotten into the habit of seeking you out on campus. Arms leaning off your shoulders, his cheek squished right next to yours, Floyd purrs straight into your ear. In that playful voice of his, he’ll relate whatever amusements the Night Raven College had for the day, his own chest trembling with laughter.

He could feel your shoulders shake underneath him, your own body shaking from every burst of laughter that slipped right off your lips. The way you laugh, the gleeful sound better than any music Floyd’s ever heard.

Even after your chuckles dies down, Floyd’s fingers are raking your sides, tickling more pearls of laughter out of you. He likes to see you breathless, grinning away. Your cheeks bloom a gaudy scarlet whenever Floyd’s a little too funny. It’s a pretty shade. Red isn’t a colour he would normally find underneath the sea, but it looks great on you.

You’ll never find Floyd far from you again.

Can you blame him, shrimpy?

You’re just too adorable!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #ace trappola x reader #twst ace #Floyd leech #Floyd leech x reader #Floyd x reader #Floyd #lucky charm🔷

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cypherthesuccubus · 28 days

Text

I’m not done with you yet….darling~

Alastor x Reader -Part 3- (NSFW)(MDNI)!!!!

WARNINGS: smut, blood kink, bondage, slight S&M, Dom/Sub, rough rutting, mate marking, leash play/ownership, slight degradation, praise kink, body worship, ass worship, cock worship, she/her pronouns, vaginal sex, creampie, facial

Other Tags: Fluff, Angst

Note: Reader will receive aftercare

Things are getting rather tense wouldn’t you say? Part 3 is finally here! I hope you enjoy this one my darlings! Cause I certainly do~😈

(Y/N’s P.O.V)

It’s been a week in a half since being in the hotel now. I did profusely apologize to Charlie for my behavior that one time I decided to drink. She forgave me of course, and warned me not to do it again if I really want to be redeemed. I felt really bad about doing that to her, but everything is ok with her and me now. I still hung out with Angel and Cherri; I just didn’t join in when they wanted to drink and stuff. They really are really good friends when you get down to it though. Through out these few days I did the best I could by helping around the hotel. Some days I helped Charlie come up with new group activities. There were times I helped Niffty clean and cook; she gave me a lot of cleaning tips and on how to make a mean jambalaya. She cooked that often cause it was one of Alastor’s favorite meals. I didn’t peg Alastor to have a favorite dish honestly, since he pretty much said to me that night he was a cannibal. I’ve been doing my best to avoid him; especially his gaze. Thank god he’s been keeping his distance as well, but every time I enter into a room with him being there; instant red eyes watched me. Observing me. Almost burning holes forever deep into my soul. The air always felt even more static like the longer he stared. There were times I would catch him staring, and he will notice right away. But instead of looking away, he would purposefully lock eyes with me as if to warn me about getting too close. I honestly don’t know much more I can take!! Ever since that talk with Alastor that night; I haven’t been sleeping very well. These dreams would always wake me up in the middle of the night; drenched in sweat and seriously frustrated. They always start with me running from something I couldn’t see; just absolutely terrified. As soon as this thing tackles me to the ground; turning me over while pinning my arms above my head. It gives me a better look of what’s gonna seal my fate.

Everytime I always see Alastor staring down at me. His eyes half lidded; always filled with hunger as his long tongue lulls out his wide, sharp teethed mouth. Licking his lips in anticipation just to taste my flesh. I shuddered every time he lean down to give my neck an agonizingly slow lick. All the way from my collarbone to the lobe of my ear; giving it a nibble. Then he would always whisper into my ear; making the pit of my stomach do loops.

“You will be mine soon….darling~”

Before his teeth would sink into my neck, that’s when I would wake up. I wish these dreams would stop!! Not only do I wake up sweating; having to change my clothes and shower. Every time I pull down my panties; just gooey strings of my fluids connected me to them. How did I get so soaked from almost being eaten?!?! Not only have the dreams and him staring at me been unbearable. There’s been this faint smell that’s been forming since that night we talked. It’s been getting slowly stronger by the day, but at night, it becomes overpowering that I would have to cover my face when walking to my room at night. By then it’s already too late, once that smell hits my nose, I instantly have to change my panties once again. I don’t know where the smell is coming from, but soon enough, I’m gonna find out and put it out at its source; so I can finally sleep in peace for once.

Today started like any normal day. I helped niffty in the kitchen with breakfast again. Today was French toast or Waffles with sliced ham and eggs. Then we had a morning activity added in with the before dinner activity. Charlie wanted to instead having one long activity before dinner; she instead made 2 30 minute activities a day instead. She figured it would make even more incredible progress that way. This morning’s activities was directed around believe it or not. Consent. Her lesson plan was based around the term of consent and how important it is to use and have in our daily lives. Whether you’re asking for someone’s consent about using their car all the way to asking for their consent to having sex as well. She even explained how it’s important with even an already married couple too. Just because someone is married doesn’t mean they will want sex all the time. Even when married or not, always get your partner’s consent before anything. Angel couldn’t resist and added “Consent is sexy~” I couldn’t hold back the giggles with Angel giggling along side me too. Then I started to smell that smell again. It was faint at first so it was easier to push it aside, then it got even stronger after Angel’s comment. I look around the room to see where could that smell be coming from. It felt as thou it was right on top of me. As soon as I thought that I looked behind me and froze. Ruby red eyes looked down at me paired with a very wide grin more sinister than normal. “Good morning my dear~”

(Alastor’s P.O.V)

Her face turns to that deep shade of red once more as she slightly fidgets in place. Being as close as I am right now like this; she almost looks like a frightened and timid little doe. Unsure whether to approach or run away from the hunter. “Good morning A-Alastor.” She spoke with a voice almost as sweet as honey as she twiddles her thumbs nervously. Charlie looks over to us “Oh Good morning Alastor! We just went through our activity’s topic today. It was about consent and how important it is to use it in our daily lives.” I cock my head to the side “Oh I agree wholeheartedly Charlie. Consent is indeed very important.” Charlie smiles and claps a couple of times “I so glad you agree Alastor! See Vaggie I knew having 2 group activities a day would be more effective!” I zone out the idle prattle going on with the other others as I turn my gaze back down to (Y/N). She blushes once more as she locks eyes with me. Breath shaky as she quickly covers her nose. “Please tell me you smell that too Alastor. I have no clue what that is. Is it just me?” I smile even wider as I lean down to her ear “I will only tell you if you do a few….small favors.” She shudders as she speaks softly “F-f-favors?” I brush a stray hair and tuck it behind her ear “Come to my room by Midnight tonight….we’ll discuss terms then.” I stand back up to see her entire face glowing red as she let out a tiny whimper. It took everything in me not to drag her out of here and into my room already.

This entire week and a half was a nightmare for me. As much as I was trying to stay away and not interact with her; I’d still end up running into her one way or another. My usual tricks to help keep my season at bay was not working anymore. Slowly my physical tell tale signs were starting to show itself. First, my pheromones started to trickle out until I couldn’t cut it off anymore whenever (Y/N) was around. When she came close or whenever she was in the same radius as me; my pheromones would go out of control; filling my nostrils until I would have to retreat back into my room. It got really dangerous when we walked by each other in the corridor the other day. She was leaving her room as I was heading to mine. I instantly caught a whiff of her scent when she passed by. It smelled sweet as it clinged to the back of my throat. I quickly made haste into my room in hopes she didn’t know what was happening. Luckily I escaped in time before things got out of hand. The second sign was painfully obvious in which I made sure no one sees it ever. That day catching of catching her savory scent, gave me the most painful erection I’ve ever felt. As I retreated back to the room before she noticed; closing the doors quickly. My breathing became shallow as if I ran all the way here. I look down to see that painful tent I pitched was already leaking through my trousers; which I had dry cleaned that day as well. I touched it slightly; wincing at the pain, I knew it has gotten past the point of no return.

Reliving myself was too painful now, so I have no choice, but to give into my season….and to whom it wants. To whom…..I really want~ I need to prepare if I’m going through with this. I need to properly show her exactly what she’s been doing to me. She. Will. Be. All…….Mine~

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin smut #hazbin alastor #alastor smut #alastor #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #self insert #18+ post #18+ content #18+ blog #18+ account #18+ only

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dhampling · 3 months

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one more fem!reader, 2.9k

“You are truly selfless, Astarion. Ilmater in the flesh.” He rocks her slightly. Kisses her small head. “Don’t listen to your mother, darling. If you’re alone in your perfection you’ll be fighting off every eligible hand in Faerûn when you’re bigger. Wouldn’t want that burden solely on you now, would we?” - Your home is quaint. Astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough. astarion x fem!reader word count: 2.9k a/n: this is VERY FLUFFY and VERY SMUTTY. VERY, VERY SMUTTY. ALSO VERY FLUFFY. breedy stuff, graphic descriptions, milkers, basically filth. read parts one, two, and three respectively but can probably be read alone. afab reader.

Your home is quaint. Astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.

Not enough chaos, he argues; sipping from a glass as a king may a chalice, ruminating, swilling; tipping his head from side to side in measured consideration, often with youngling in one arm as you talk late into the early hours. Incense clouds you in a rich haze of ashy whirls.

How perfect would it be if we could both hold one? Or even two in tandem?

“Just think. If we continue now, they’ll all have left sooner. More time for us.” He reasons with an airy gesture, a satisfied smile.

You hum

“If we’re arguing along those lines then there’s certainly a case to be made for no more now, don’t you think?” You whisper, running a finger down the infant’s cheek as he holds her.

Astarion sighs. Looks down at the small gurgling thing in the crook of his arm with a quiet grin, too lovestruck to have any real belief in your rebuttal.

You sit in a huddle on the lounger, blankets swallowing the three of you. He keeps her close while you work inroads into a book you’ve been meaning to read since before she was born. The open shutters across the room give a perfect view of the speckled night sky.

He’s genuinely proud. Smiles like an idiot. Often forgets the frightfully draining toll that your pregnancy and her subsequent birth took on you when he waxes lyrical to his patriars about his plans to expand the brood as soon as possible. The women tend to look straight your way with a relatable pity.

On occasion he even has the tendency to talk like he had a real part in any aspect of her nine month gestation beyond conception, which you’ll remind him fast with a sharp elbow that he certainly did not.

He’s an idiot. A beautiful one, but an idiot nonetheless.

“But look at her! She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. We can’t simply deny the world more of this. It’d be criminal. ’

He turns and presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

‘I’m past that now, obviously; so I do feel my bare minimum, most humble contribution to society can be in the spreading of our perfect genetics throughout the whole of Toril.”

His hand lifts as if in visualisation. You paw it back down, eyes returned to the pages.

“You are truly selfless, Astarion. Ilmater in the flesh.”

He rocks her slightly. Kisses her small head.

“Don’t listen to your mother, darling. If you’re alone in your perfection you’ll be fighting off every eligible hand in Faerûn when you’re bigger. Wouldn’t want that burden solely on you now, would we?”

You scoff with a smile.

“That’s if any of them are able to get remotely close with you lurking about, love.”

He grimaces in good humour and tilts his head once more. Clicks his tongue.

“We’ll cross that barrier when we come to it, I’m sure.’

Gently he shuffles even closer to you, leaning to smatter your candle-warm face in a surprise flutter of giddy kisses. Eyes soft, unhindered.

This may just be the most gooey you’ve ever seen him.

‘You are right, though. I am missing the gory beauty in a good pile of viscera. I don’t necessarily see that fading in the coming decades.”

“I am always right.”

Astarion brushes a wayward hair down by your ear and gives one last kiss.

“That you are, my dear. Always.”

His sentiment rattles in your head for a while. Sitting in the shop with babe in arm, balancing the books while he trances back home, you find yourself driven to wreck by the unholiest visions of him.

Burning heat. Underclothes missing.

Fingers ghost the burgeoning swell under your immaculate dress skirt.

Molten hot, sticky linen; keening desperately into the palm of his hand as you lean over the counter.

Fraught.

A veritable army of his children born from you.

There’s a charm in the way he pleads his case to you. You’re not one to deny him when he finds his joys - gods know he’s endured enough of that during his life - and you know all too well you bartered on the idea of three that first night.

You think long back to the night you met out in the wilderness.

How scared he must’ve been in retrospect; how haughty he came across. The rake. The rogue. How you’d slept with a knife strapped to your garter because you simply couldn’t get a grasp on his energy, what he wanted from the tadpole.

Astarion. Now every part the housecat.

You weigh the pros and cons in your mind.

Admittedly, the cons list is large.

You dislike delving into your own complications regarding the birth of the dhampling now sleeping soundly in your arms because for the most part, they feel trivial. Moot. So many beings across the realms rear young every single day.

However, you remember refusing to let yourself forget the sheer scalding pain many do.

The days of fraught groaning in that dark sweaty chamber. The awful, awful hunger. Blood.

The paranoia over any possible gaps in the heavy shutters. Asking Astarion to step in front of the window time and time over to check for the smallest of notches or splits, the hysterical fear of the sun coming into contact with the infant. Both breaking into tears from sheer exhaustion and heightened tension more times than you can recall.

The blood from your womb. Rancid. He later assured that if anything it was a genuinely indulgent smell; but to you it smelled of rot. Decay. White sheets covered in brown spidery spatters.

Then the relief. Unbridled. Wailing and wailing and wailing.

A part of you enjoys it. He knows you do. The quiet dominance carrying his child implies; the lifelong commitment it ensures.

And her.

The love of your life. Small and warm and breathing yet coloured with the pallid tones of her father. Reddened eyes, pointed ears. When she latches you now feel the sharp pins of burgeoning fangs.

He gave her to you. He gave you a life of normalcy; where the prospect of a future is real, as opposed to a far-flung hope shared over a bottle of cheap ale. Devastatingly beautiful, life-ruiningly stupid; and all yours. You had to teach him how to use a kettle, for Lathander’s sake. You still want him to fuck you, even after that.

But you love him. Ridiculous as it is, that love is more than enough. More than you ever hoped your lot in life to be.

If he wants you to give him babies, he can have babies. You want babies, but only if they are, indeed, his.

You sigh with a content resolve. Though life is long, these moments feel shorter and shorter.

Your home together will never see hazy stasis again.

The moment dusk begins to blossom you head home in new rain.

You whip through the door after balancing the close of your parasol with the carrier, satchel forgotten in the entryway and shoes quickly slipped under the bench. The wind outside whips furiously against the shutters and the unending downpour of rain threatens to encroach on your worn terracotta tile.

You carry the youngling carefully up the stairs as Astarion calls after you and place her in the cot, planting a firm kiss on her head and watching for a few moments until she settles.

He’s still sat whining in the den when you descend and turn the corner.

Glasses balanced on his nose, cross legged and covered in patchwork throws. Book balanced on one leg.

“What have you done to her? Why can’t I see her-’

You flit to him and close the book while he continues to protest loudly, placing it onto the carpet and sitting snugly in his lap. Legs astride his thighs, calves wrapping around his waist. Glasses placed on the sill.

‘What have you done?! Answer me woman!” He shrieks as you laugh, bringing his hands to your own waist and holding you tight. Shaking you up and down on his thighs like a bottle of Soldier’s Champagne. Eyes wide as yours in fresh glee.

“I love you. I love you.” You murmur through giggles, pressing your forehead to his. He laughs loudly.

“I love you too! But where is my daughter?!” He is taken aback in the most pleasant of ways - mouth wide in a clueless grin, brows furrowed. Puzzled.

You still in a wide smile.

“You saw me take her upstairs! She’s fine! Idiot!”

“Okay! Brilliant! Why-’

He gestures up and down at your bubbling form.

‘Why this!?”

You lean into him once more - not missing the way his eyes blow out when looking at your joyous lips - and bring him straight by the lapels before pulling him in for the deepest kiss you can give. Hungry, jubilant; life-worn and yet happy. So incredibly happy.

“What in the hells is going on?!” He laughs into your mouth between the little kisses you press to his lips in quick succession, cupping his face in your hands then wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

“Another one. Let’s do it.”

It takes him a few moments of blankly staring with the same wide smile plastering his face.

“What?”

“Another little child thing. With you. With me. Ours. Yes?”

It almost looks as if Astarion is going to crumble under the weight of your words.

The same stupid smile, unchanged. Eyes on the precipice of an incredibly serious emotion entirely dependent on your next words.

“Really?”

“No.”

“What?”

You shake your head and laugh.

“Of course really. Really really.”

Every single part of him switches alight. He bounces you in his lap once more and you see it in him. The joy. The plan coming to fruition. His stupidly reverent love for you and the dhampling asleep upstairs, the many ways in which he wants to see just how full the heart can grow with each one.

“Really really really?”

His voice drops to a low whisper. The honey tone. Dulcet and laced with ribbons of clandestine hope.

You roll your eyes fondly.

“Really really, really, really.”

Shirts delicately washed ruffle by intricate ruffle hanging beside the wood stove in the glass-room. Hands fresh of suds. Towel dried, oat balm. The faintest whiff of Noblestalk.

You smile knowingly.

“She’s asleep?”

You whisper a whine; crawling forward on the counter with your elbows, panting, intuitively angling at where you anticipate him once he sees you.

“Not for long, I-’

Astarion’s voice spasms on seeing the subtle shake of your hips. The reverberation of your ass.

‘I think.”

A growl.

“Quick. Now.”

He bunches your skirt at your waist by the hem and loosens the soft ties of his night trousers. Presses his newly freed cock flush against the pillow of your ass and reaches around your front to run icy fingers down the centre of your already keen wetness. A fire tool, a glacier, the hiss-relief of his incendiary touch as his hips curl up into your core.

“Bend over. Keep that skirt up.”

Your underclothes are tugged unceremoniously to the floor as he kneels, lifted leg-by-leg from you and shimmied aside. Lifts his perfect head under the front of your houseskirt and his nose unexpectedly pressures your clit, his forehead resting into the flesh of your pubic bone as he licks a wanton stripe along your sex. Affixes his lips around your sodden hole and indulges himself in tongue fucking you for a brief minute, savouring ever drop of your lust-hazed salt. Your back arches and you wish for not a single thing than to suffocate him between your burning thighs as he gives you the most immense pleasure with that infamous mouth.

Not now. He would probably cry.

Wasted opportunity.

Wasted opportunity to fuck you full of his cum.

Every chance you’re fertile is one he wants his cock filling you to the very hilt, rocking shallowly against the very barrier of your cervix just so he can be sure every last drop carries, to impregnate you once more.

His hand - pooling with your free-given spittle - strokes his aching prick with learned urgency as he takes his fill from your soak into his waiting mouth.

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me.” You stutter as you buck your hips, fucking yourself on his tongue.

He has the nerve to laugh, soundwaves resonating deep within the attraction of your heated core.

Shifts to take your clit between his lips and suckles, rolling over the bunch of engorged nerves with a thoroughly debauched tongue.

“Go on. Beg for it.” He speaks barely above a whisper, gravelly in intonation.

You can’t see his face but you just know his eyes are heavy-lidded in the anticipatory pleasure of hearing it.

Hearing that you want him to fuck you like a bitch in heat.

That you need him to pump his swollen head to white-hot relief between your spongy soaked walls; to smatter your cunt with his cum, to make you round by his doing once more.

“All the prespill you’re wasting in your hand could have had it, you know.’

You whisper quietly, knowing you don’t want the youngling asleep in her room to wake. You’re seething with pure lust.

‘Could’ve had the fertile seed. The one to give us life again.”

He growls, leaving his latch on your clit with one last long lick before standing and moving flush to your ass once more. He smacks the plump flesh as quietly as he can muster.

“Say that again and I’ll have to fuck you with my fingers first next time. Make sure we don’t miss anything.” He hisses.

You stifle a wanton laugh.

“Don’t threaten me with a- ah!”

He bobs at the entrance to your cunt, soaking his own weeping slit.

Astarion doesn’t waste time with ceremony as he takes your eager cunt in one fell swoop; cock bruising your insides in an agonisingly beautiful burn. His moans are shaky with sheer pleasure. Every one of your nerves are set alight as he stills for a moment at the hilt.

You’re almost sure if you moved even an inch now while he adjusts he’d ejaculate there and then.

“Say it.” He whispers, leaning over you as you arch over the counter. His hand moves to your belly and presses the skin over his cock hard.

The searing feeling of every single inch of him. The ghost of a whimper. Your eyes roll into your skull.

At any other time you’d joke.

But you - at the very hottest moment of your heat cycle - picture nothing aside from the leaking red slit of his cock currently rubbing in the slightest of ruts at the tip of your cervix, leaking prespill into your hungry womb like glacial water at the height of midsun.

Your walls tighten around him as he presses even harder into the spot just below your tummy.

“Take me.”

He snaps.

Pulling back to secure either side of your waist in both hands, he starts rutting furiously into you over and over, shallow wet glubs, hellbent lust evident in the cream ring crowning your waiting hole. The crease by his brow as his face crumples in desperation time and time again.

His fixation on your point of connection is unbreakable, watching the bounce of his cock as he fucks it into you; each twinge potentially giving the leakage that gives you it. The thing he desires most.

Another baby.

You’re cresting on the edge as it is. Between your duties to your young daughter, your own intellectual pursuits, and Astarion’s tailor shop; it’s been far too long since you’ve copulated as frantically, as desperately as you are now. Every pump inside you is another closer to glory and your fingers work your clit with the joyous fervour of a newly anointed priest.

He continues to fuck you against the counter.

The press of your heavy tits against the solid wood, the pebbling of milk-sodden nipples through your thin nursing blouse giving the dark oak a parallel run of glossy streaks with each of his thrusts.

Fucking hells.

Another one. Another dhampir. Mother of two, his again and again. Three become four. You will it to be as you watch the milky swirls on the counter.

You’ll be bursting with him once more. The sheer ruin.

The white hot glare of your orgasm comes thick and fast, and it takes everything in you not to shriek in sheer pleasure.

He sags.

Stutters.

Groans silently, aching cock kicking violently against your walls as he releases through the clench of your own spasms. Ropes upon ropes of cum plugged deep at the entrance to your cervix with the engorged head of his prick.

You roll your hips to aid him through his release, rocking a little back and forth to ensure the pointed tip spears every bit of his seed where necessary.

It takes a few moments for the white-blind to subside, for the beleaguered groans to give way to sloppy, soft kisses down your shoulder blades.

He stays until you hear the sound of stirring upstairs, lifting a hand to ensure you’re hearing correctly.

“I’ll go. Lie down, hips up?”

You laugh.

“Got it. Glad to see the doting in full effect so soon.”

One last kiss on the stretch of your neck. Thoughtful. Quiet. He holds you like he never wants to let go.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #my writing #bg3 #astarion ancunin #dadstarion #nsft #three. minimum.

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eshayteaparty · 2 months

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Feathers

~Fandom(s): Hazbin Hotel

~Warning(s): gooey lovey dovey poopie

~Ship(s): Lucifer x reader

~Word count: 1,800

~In which you venture out of your room at an ungodly hour to find the king of hell himself struggling to tidy his wings, and decide to help him out.

-♥+♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥+♥-

Ever since Lucifer had come to stay at and help out with his daughter Charlie’s hotel, you had been on your toes constantly, trying to appear flawless to him.

You knew he was a nice guy, judging from how much he seemed to care about Charlie- he had actually seemed even more anxious than you were to meet the existing residents on the day he came in. When he had first greeted you, he’d taken both your hands and shook them with jest, looking up at you with an awkward, toothy smile on his face. Your eyes had been wide with fear, but you’d smiled back. His hands had been so warm.

Now he was settling in, though, you were reminded of his power on the daily and had been doing your best to keep everything spotless- including yourself. Sometimes it even felt like it wasn’t just his status you were intimidated by, but he himself. He was so…smiley. So kind. So fun, and so charming.

That made you nervous.

It was late in the evening, and you had just finished a nourishing dinner of cup noodles on your bed in your hotel room. You got up to go to the toilet, binning the packaging and opening your door. As you walk down the hallway to the bathroom your eyes are attracted to a dim but inviting light streaming from…Lucifer’s door. Usually, he would be asleep by now- you’d assumed that’s how he was so pretty.

On any other night, you wouldn’t have questioned it. After all, who would dare interrupt the king in his alone time? But as you moved to quietly sneak past his door, you could hear the sound of scissors snipping, and Lucifer uttering curse words. You hadn’t heard him cuss that much ever before, especially not around Charlie, so it was unusual.

You quietly knock on his door, but your knuckles end up pushing it open. You're met with the sight of the almighty ruler of hell himself…

…fluffing his wings.

Out of awe, you gasp softly, pressing a hand to your mouth and hiding around the door in hopes that he hasn’t noticed you, but before you can even blink, you’re startling back from him popping up in front of you, his gold and crimson eyes smiling at you despite his lips being pulled tight.

“Good evening, my darling y/n!” He greets you. His voice is a little strained, and sweat has gathered at his hairline.

“Good evening to you too, your hi…highness.” You say softly. “Are you okay?”

His smile sweetens, and he steps inside to let you into his room if you feel so moved. “Yes, my dear! Yes. I just- I was just- er. Um. I'm a bit busy right now! That’s all. And do stop with the formalities, y/n. I’d say we’re friends enough now, wouldn’t you? Ha ha!”

Your eyes are drawn to his glossy, glorious wings. You often gaze at them throughout the day, but tonight…they look different. Scruffier. He notices you looking, and his cheeks start to heat up, going pink.

“Oh…I see you’ve noticed. This is what I’m working on, my dear.” he sighs, fluttering his wings a little. “I’ve…been more physical, as of late, whilst we revamp the hotel, and these big ol’ things have gotten a little bent out of shape.” you start to smile, quietly amused. “I’m not very good at reaching them to…well, give them a brush. My arms are a little on the shorter side, as I'm sure you’ve noticed.”

You giggle, which makes him laugh along with you. You tuck your hair behind your ears, looking down at him again. “Would you like some help?”

He beams. “Are you positive, my dear? It makes for a tiresome task.”

You nod. Anything to touch his beautiful wings. He takes you by the hand, and leads you into his messy, duck-filled workshop, sitting you on the bed. He sits in front of you, holding still with his back to you. He passes you a plastic, prickly-bristled brush. “Just pick out any bent ones you see, darling. I can take it.”

You nod, and shuffle closer, taking one of his shoulders in your hand and preening his wings with the other. A collection of fluffy feathers gathers in your lap, and he sighs out of pleasure.

“That feels good. Thank you, y/n.” you nod, giving his shoulder a small squeeze.

As you brush, his wings flick against your hand, fluttering by your face with how close you are and making you squeak and laugh. He glances at you in his peripheral. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. sorry, your hi- Lucifer.” you reply, tugging gently on his left wing. “I just got too close. Why’re you moving? Does it hurt?”

He chuckles. “No, my dear. It feels just right. Don’t stop.”

You willingly oblige, and as you preen his wings, you hear him start to hum. It makes you smile.

“What song is that?”

“Just the song we sang to Charlie after winning against the angels. It’s very catchy.” he grins. “Especially my part, don’t you think?”

“I dunno….I think my part was pretty good..” you mumble, trying to bite back your laughter. He snorts, and flutters his wings over your face, watching you over his shoulder.

“Oh really? You were the best, hm? But you’re so shy, my dear. I couldn’t even hear you.”

You start to laugh again, heat creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks. “Ahh!! Quit it, Lucifer!” He only giggles more, slipping his wing under your chin and moving it around, making you squeal.

“You’re awfully loud for such a soft-spoken little thing, aren’t you?”

“S-shut up!!” You cry, tugging up the fabric of your shirt to try hide your neck inside it. He gasps jokingly.

“My oh my! That isn’t how you should ever speak to your superior, y/n!” he stops himself, however, seeing tears of mirth form in your eyes. “Are you alright? Too far?”

You smile in response, rubbing your face and neck free of the lingering tingles. “I'm just fine, thank you.” you say shyly. the blush seems to stick to your face. “Would you like me to continue?” You wave the brush around in your hand. He nods.

“Go on then, darling. I’d love to have your hands on me again.” God, this man is a tease. And you still have to go to the bathroom. You huff to yourself, and nod, giving his shoulders a firm rub.

“As you wish.”

The brush in your hand finds his wings again, and you card your fingers through the soft feathers, smiling as your arms bump with gooseflesh. “I’ve wondered for a while what your wings are meant to look like. Are you- are they seraphim wings, or something?”

“Close, my dear.” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice. “They’re duck wings. If you look around my quarters, you’ll see where I got my inspiration from.”

Your eyes flit around his workshop, and seeing inanimate ducks of all shapes and sizes makes you giggle. “Cute. Why ducks?”

“Why not ducks?” Then he sighs wistfully. “Charlie was a big fan of ducks, that’s why. And they are the animals heaven said I could have a say in creating. They’re very special to me.”

Your heart softens at the explanation of his obsession, nodding along as you tidy his wings. “I see. They’re very…um…pretty. You have pretty wings, Lucifer.”

Lucifer hadn't received a genuine compliment in years. Not since Lilith left him, not since Charlie had been taken away from him, and not since he had sorted himself out of the isolated, depressive episode of a funk in his room that had once seemed eternal. He takes your hand as you’re midway through separating his matted feathers, and presses a gentle, grateful kiss to your knuckles. Your entire body shivers as his heavenly warmth flows through your hand and up your arm, all throughout your soul.

“How kind of you to say, my dear y/n.” he says softly, smiling back at you. “I haven’t heard a thing as nice as that in….well, it’s been a long time.”

You nod back, shaking your hand to free yourself from the clutch the kiss still has on you, like a horse held back by a rein. “I-it's okay. I mean it. You’re beautiful, your majesty.”

He gently smiles, shifting around on the bed to face you and take your hands into his.

“I told you, my dear.” he says, filling your body with a honey-sweet heat once again. “Please call me by my name.”

“...You’re beautiful, Lucifer.”

He nods in approval, letting you go and shifting back around on the bed. “Much better. Go on, then. Your hands feel marvelous in my feathers, my dear.”

So on you go, plucking out the dirty, uneven feathers and smoothing down the ones left, giving his wings the appearance of a velvety curtain. You can’t help but marvel at your own work.

“I was right in saying so before, you know.” Lucifer says gently. “You’re very quiet.”

You sigh. “I’m just trying to make a good impression on you. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

Lucifer turns around again, just like that. He looks curious and a little amused. “Are you really saying that, my dear? Have you seen me? I couldn’t greet my own daughter’s girlfriend with grace! I’m a nervous wreck!”

Your heart warms with his comfort, and you end up smiling too. “I’ve seen. Excuse me, for- for being a little intimidated. You are the highest in hell, after all. And very….uh…yeah. Yeah, the um- the highest in hell. Royalty.” Good save, you whisper to yourself. He starts to grin.

“You seem hesitant.”

“I’m not.”

“If you say so, y/n.”

He turns back around yet again, letting you put on your finishing touches. Once you’re done you stand up from his bed, brushing your hand over the crease your body left in his duvet. You bow slightly at him, and he smiles.

“You’re very kind to have done this for me, y/n, my dear. Let me know when I may repay you.”

You shake your head shyly, feeling yourself start to blush again. “That- nono. I don’t need that. Anything. I…I had fun.”

“As did I, y/n.” he flashes his pearly whites to you. “Seeing you so very flustered by my actions is very fun.”

As he bids you goodnight, you don’t recall saying anything back. Instead, you smiled nervously, sweating as you waved goodbye, and exited his room, your heart pounding a mile a minute. You walked back to your own, hugging yourself and reimagining his warmth again, forgetting all about going to the bathroom.

-♥+♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥.♥+♥-

So cute hehehe thank u for reading pookies

More coming soon!

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eddiesxangel · 4 months

Text

Sugar and Spice | Santa!Eddie x Reader

Thank you to my beautiful darling Gia @onegirlmanytales for the prompt 🩷

“Santa Eddie and Sugar Plum are making a gingerbread house that turn into a food fight and then fucking in the kitchen while they lick the frosting off of each other ☺️”

wc: 1.4k

cw: pet names, p in v, blowjob, nipple play, food play

“Babe!” You scolded, “It will fall if you put too much icing!”

“How does that make sense? It’s like extra glue?”

Your gingerbread house looked like it belonged in Alaska with the amount of “snow” Eddie had used.

“I know, but it’s going to get too wet and gooey and crumble!” You huffed. You wanted it to look pretty and cute, not like it had been made by a 5-year-old.

“Oh, I know something that also crumbles when it gets wet and gooey,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Don’t be gross!” You laughed.

About half an hour later, you were still frustrated; the house walls were collapsing.

“Why won’t it stay!” You cried out in frustration.

“Why don’t we take a breather?”

“No, I want this to work!” You really should have listened to Eddie. You were at the point of steam coming out of your ears.

“Sugarplum…”

“What!”

You look up at him, and a little green jellybean bounces off your forehead.

“Eddie!” You scold as he is bent over laughing.

“It’s not funny!” You try to hold back your laughter, but how could you when it was so ridiculous?

You retaliated by tossing a handful of the peppermint swirls at Eddie.

“Oh, you wanna play it that way?” Eddie cocked an eyebrow.

“No! No! I take it back. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” But it was too late. Eddie had picked up the leftover icing and started to chase you around the kitchen table. You were quick. You managed to outrun him around four times, but then you got dizzy and tried to escape on the left. But Eddie was cunning and saw how your brain worked.

He anticipated the switch and got you by the wrist before you could escape.

“Got ya!” He tugged you into his middle and smeared the sweet white icing all over your cheeks.

“Babyyyyyyy” you whined.

“I didn’t think you could get any sweeter sugarplum.” Eddie bent down and licked a tiny bit off your cheek before peppering small kisses all over your face. You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics.

You tried to shimmy your way out of his grip to get the piping bag, but he was too strong.

“You know… I can think of a better way to use this stuff…. It’s clearly not working on the house.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What do you have in mind?” You decided to play along.

“Take your shirt off, and I’ll show you.”

Eddie let you go tentatively… making sure you wouldn’t try anything in retaliation...

Eddie watched as you wrapped your arms around yourself and slowly lifted your red Christmas hoodie. His eyes glazed over when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra and that your nipples were already peaked and ready for Eddie’s attention.

You let out a squeak when you felt something cold and wet touch your chest. Eddie had squeezed the sugary substance onto your chest.

“Eddie!”

You watched as Eddie licked his lips before he tilted his head down and wrapped his mouth over your nipple, coated in the sweet, sugary goodness.

“Mmmmmmm” you let the weight of your head take over as you moaned with pleasure. With your neck exposed, Eddie took the chance to squeeze more icing into your supple skin.

“Oh-ohhh, that’s nice,” you stutter as the goosebumps spread across your skin.

“You taste so good… just like Sugar”

“I guess the nickname is fitting,” you sigh.

“Yes, it is, my sweet girl.” Eddie’s hands found your waist and pulled you in closer to him. He squeezed the icing into your lips and tossed the bag onto the kitchen table before kissing you sensually.

It was literally the sweetest kiss the two of you shared. The taste of ginger, vanilla icing, candy cane and Eddie swirled around in your tongue. You deepened the kiss; you wanted more, needed more. Eddie was intoxicating. Everything about him made you need more.

“What are you trying to start here, baby?” He asked playfully.

“Me? You got me half naked in our kitchen,” you mumbled into his mouth.

“Yes, just how I like you.” He bit your lower lip.

“I thought that was fully naked?” You slip your hands under the waistband of his plaid flannel pyjamas.

“You cheeky little thing. You trying to take advantage of me, Sugarplum?”

“Can’t a girl just love on her man?” You ran your hand lower to cup his hardening cock.

“You can do whatever you want,” his breath hitched.

“Got any of that icing left?” You slid his pants down his thighs.

“Oh, you cheeky little thing.” Eddie bit his lip and handed you back the bag.

You strategically squirted some in the tip right where a bead of precum lay. You begin to kitten lick the tip, collecting to set and salty taste of vanilla mixed with Eddie. You hummed at the taste and piped more icing all the way from the tip to the shaft, avoiding the soft, curly hair at the base.

“Oh you are a little tease”

“Just gotta get my fix,” you winked before licking him from top to bottom, following the line of sugary goodness you had placed down moments before. The fallen gingerbread house was long forgotten as you enveloped Eddie’s shaft in your mouth. Eddie’s eyes rolled back with suffering lashes as your warm mouth worked his shaft. The mix of saliva, icing and precum was a delicious lubricant on Eddie’s hard cock.

“Fuck you’re so good at this.” Eddie’s knees buckled as he leaned into the kitchen table for support.

“Better than gingerbread house making?”

“Shut up” his cock slipped off your lips with a loud *pop* and continued to work his cock with your hand.

“You know we’re out of icing, but I can think of something else white and sticky to help hold that house together.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed.

“Wh-aa what?” Eddie stuttered but cut you cut him off as you took just the tip back into your mouth and gently sucking on the head.

“You like that baby? You like having my cock in your mouth?”

You hummed in agreement. The vibration of your mouth was too much. Eddie needed to pull you off before he blew his load.

“I need to fuck you, Sugar” he helped you up and bent you over the kitchen table.

Your pussy was already dripping from the foreplay. It didn’t take much to get you ready for your man to finally stick it in you. You felt his hands spread your pussy lips before slowly plunging in two fingers.

“Ohhhhh,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his strong fingers massaged your inner walls.

“Yes baby get loud for me.”

“Mmmmmmfph”

“You ready for me sweetness?”

“Yes.”

You leaned into Eddie’s body as he stretched you out. The feeling of him filling you made you cry out in pleasure once again.

“Fuck, your pussy was made for me” Eddie gripped your hips with each hand and started to speed up his pace.

“It’s all yours,” you sigh.

Your mind went blank; the feeling of Eddie's cock brushing your walls was the only thing you could focus on. A blot of lighting struck through your body as Eddie wrapped his arm around you to give your clit the attention it desperately needed.

“You fuck me so good, baby!” You moaned as Eddie’s hips snapped against your ass. The sound of smacking skin filled the empty kitchen.

One of Eddie’s hands moved up from your hip to your hair. He gave your scalp a small tug to bring you up so you were flush with his chest. His other hand continued on your swollen bundle of nerves.

"Gotta fuck my girl right, can't have her running off," he spoke into the side of your neck before assaulting it with his mouth. You knew you would have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow. Thank god it's winter...

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whispered. The combination of him inside and on you was getting you close to your breaking point. “Can’t hold it anymore.”

“Let go for me, Sweetness”

You were cumming in an instant. Your shaking legs somehow held you up as your orgasm spread throughout your body.

“Good girl, let go for me,” he huffed. He baby you back down, and with one last stroke of his cock, he pulled out and let his release spurt out onto your ass and lower back.

“Why did you pull out?” You asked after you came back to earth moments later.

“ 'cuz I thought we could use more icing for the house…”

"Eddie!"

Santa sluts tag list: @slutty-thevampireslayer @reidsbtch @onegirlmanytales @chrrymunson @taintedcigs @xxhellfirebunnyxx

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson concept

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nohoney · 6 months

Note

hi sweetness I hope you’ve been well mwah :3 I’ve been going through a really bad bkg brainrot lately 🤤.

Anyway I’m sending you lots of love and kissies mwah

hello my love! i’ve been doing well and i hope you have been too! i feel you on the bakugou brainrot so here’s a lil something since we been missing him ♡( ◡‿◡ )

“you gonna cum for me, yeah baby?” bakugou huffs as he pounds your cunt, his movements making the bed shake and the air is thick with the smell of sex. he’s got your legs over his shoulders as he’s hunched over you, his fat cock fucking deep and harder into you and making an absolute wreck of your guts. “gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

your voice trembles with a small yes and slurring out that you’re a good girl for him.

bakugou presses himself balls deep into you and the way your pussy clenched around him so tightly almost makes him cum on the spot. he’s gonna flood that sweet pussy of yours. fill you to the brim full of him and make it overflow into a mess onto the bedsheets below. he delights in the idea of fucking you until you can’t take anymore.

ah fuck, you just came on his cock again and he loves it.

“good girl.” he mumbles as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

“want y’er cum! please cum in me!” you whimper pathetically. he feels your hands cup his face, holding him tenderly and making him look down at you. you’re absolutely dick drunk and high from the pleasure, so delectable and too goddamn cute that he can’t deny your request. “katsuki please?”

“i will baby, i will.” he assures you, slowing down the pace just a little with more firm and deep strokes. he takes both your hands off his face and pins them to the bed. he’s got your left wrist pinned but he laces his fingers together with your right hand. “say you love me first.”

it’s so sweet how your voice carries to his ears and how your pussy is pulsing around his dick, “i love you katsuki.”

“love you too.” he returns the sentiment, feeling gooey soft and tender for you. he revels in it for just a moment before he firmly plants his hands on your hips and pulls back his own. bakugou peers down as he leaves just the tip in, rocking his hips to tease you and hear you whine at him.

“katsuki no! no teasing!”

“okay sweetheart.” he croons.

he rams his hips forward and bakugou is in utter bliss when you cum again. he fucks you into a blubbering mess, your pussy gushing wet every time he goes in. your soft little pants fill the air and he adores how your hands clench into fists on the pillow your head lays on.

he listens to your praises and drinks them in, his heart swooning when you say again that you love him. bakugou fucks the words out of you and he chases the high, the veins in his hands popping as he grips your hips harder. “gonna cum baby, fucking—fuck!” he grunts as his head falls back, almost gasping as he cums. “god i love you.”

you hum sweetly in acknowledgment of his words, gently patting your chest and telling him softly, “c’mere.”

“need to clean you up first, sweetheart.” bakugou points out as he pulls out of you. yet he finds himself leaning down towards you, resting his head on your chest and allowing himself to be held by you. he can’t help but sigh happily as your hands run through his blond hair, your fingers massaging at his scalp in just the right way that he likes.

“gonna marry you someday,” bakugou mumbles against your skin as he gradually becomes more relaxed, “i swear it baby.”

and you smile at him, massaging at his shoulders next and you coo to him, “someday katsuki…”

#sending you my love and kisses bb mwah mwah #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut

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leviheichouwu · 5 months

Text

think of me fondly (levi x reader)

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Gender-neutral!Reader Summary: Levi's having trouble adjusting to his missing fingers for a certain task. You offer him a hand. (Literally.)

Also posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51864445

Levi’s apartment is completely dark when you let yourself in. You can’t hear anything from his bedroom and no light is peeking out from under the door, but Levi doesn’t nap often, so you knock gently before opening the door and stepping in. “Levi?”

Levi, eyes squeezed tightly shut and hand moving quickly under his blankets, doesn’t notice your quiet voice or entry.

Holy shit.

A mouthwatering flush has spread down his neck to his bare chest, and some of his dark hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. Though you look away after a few frozen seconds, the image is seared into your brain. Warmth coils low in your belly.

What do you do? If you shut the door and knock louder, you won’t be able to pretend you hadn’t seen anything once you make eye contact with him. You’re a terrible actor. But that would be better than him seeing you standing there like a pervert, face averted but blushing furiously.

With the arousal slowing your thought process, you decide too late. Levi’s eyes flicker open, and in your periphery, his whole body freezes.

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air for a few heartbeats.

Your tongue feels abnormally clumsy as you rush to apologize. “Levi, I’m so sorry, I was careless and didn’t wait before opening the door and I can just go, I’ve been intruding so often—”

“Oi.”

You peek up from under your lashes at him. He’s glaring at his hands.

“Don’t you dare disappear on me. I can’t—I knew you were coming, but I lost track of time. Can’t get off with these shitty injuries.”

“Oh.” That hadn’t occurred to you. Though you’re plenty open with each other, the two of you don’t talk about sex or romance; he doesn’t seem like the type to be interested in anyone, so you’ve always avoided the topic in fear of heartbreak.

You mean to tease him to restore your usual dynamic as friends, but what comes out of your mouth instead is mortifying. “Would you want any help with that?”

What the absolute fuck was that?

He gapes at you. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No,” you grimace. You definitely don’t want to make your feelings known, but he’s in an incredibly vulnerable position, and you prioritize his feelings over your own pride, so: “I’m being serious. I like you a lot.”

Levi’s quiet for a moment, then smiles faintly. “Come here, then.”

Giddy disbelief bubbles up in you, and you can’t dispel the huge grin on your face as you hop onto the bed. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly reach up to cradle his jaw and lean in. Your eyes flutter shut, and your lips meet so gently it makes your heart ache.

“Does this mean you like me too?” you murmur.

Levi nods solemnly.

In response, you kiss him again. You tentatively run the tip of your tongue against his bottom lip, and he releases a quiet, breathy moan. It emboldens you to lick in further, past his soft lips to touch his tongue. The two of you sigh simultaneously, and you shift closer to him. His body heat is delicious, as is his mouth. You can’t get enough. Desperation smolders in your chest, and Levi must feel similarly, because he caresses your hip, then grasps it to pull you closer. Your hand lands on his chest to balance yourself, so you can feel his heart slam against his ribcage. It fills you with a gooey warmth, and you smile against his lips.

At the feeling of your smile, Levi whines and thrusts his hips up minutely. You rest your weight against Levi, sliding your hand down his perfect chest and flat stomach before hovering your fingers over his cock.

Levi tilts his head back and pants, eyes heavy-lidded. “Touch me,” he pleads.

You shove down the covers and look down both your bodies to watch your fingers gently wrap around his shaft. He gasps and arches up.

You squeeze, and he groans. You drag a finger through his slit, gathering up pre-come, and watch him as you slip your finger into your mouth to taste. Levi makes a small noise at the back of his throat and impatiently tugs at your wrist.

Obligingly, you lick your palm and move your hand back down. You spread the pre-come that’s been steadily leaking from his slit to lubricate a firm stroke from base to tip, and he moans lowly at the contact. You begin to pick up your pace, relishing the silky feel of him. An unbearable heat is gathering in your core as you pant into each other’s mouths.

It feels like only a minute has passed when he tenses up and pushes you back.

“Wait,” he says, voice strained. “I’m already close.”

You press your thighs together. “God, that's hot,” you breathe. “Can I…?” You move down the bed. From here you notice Levi’s chest rise and fall more rapidly. His pupils are blown as you hold his cock to your lips, the steel blue of his irises barely visible.

“God, yes.”

You circle your fingers around the base of his cock and lave at the head, admiring how it glistens in the dim light coming from the window.

“Fuck,” Levi moans.

You take him into your mouth until he touches your throat, bob your head once, twice, and—

“Shit! Wait!”

You look up at him and suck, not slowing down.

“Oi!” Levi tugs at your hair desperately. “I’m going to—”

Before he can finish his sentence, he releases a guttural groan and curls into himself. His cock pulses against your tongue and bitter warmth spills into your mouth. Levi shakes and gasps as he comes apart, gripping your hair. You watch the pleasure contort those beautiful features before his face smooths out and he falls back onto the bed, breathing heavily.

Once he catches his breath and looks down at you, you swallow. He flops his head back and groans, hiding his red face in his arm. Then, something seems to occur to him, and he sits up to glare at you.

“Don’t make fun of me for how fast that was. It’s been a while.”

“It was hot!” you protest.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to come in your mouth. Disgusting,” he says.

It certainly doesn’t look like he’s disgusted. In fact, he looks rather pleased.

You lie down next to him, replacing the covers, and kiss his cheek. It turns a lovely pink at the affection. Levi turns his back to you and shuffles backward and, following his cue, you turn onto your side as well and wrap an arm around him. You press your face into the junction between his neck and shoulder and inhale. Contentment settles in your bones.

“That actually was kind of embarrassing for you. Also, you couldn’t have used your other hand or something?”

“You think I haven’t tried? Just shut up and cuddle me, asshole.”

#levi ackerman #levi x gn!reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi #gender neutral reader #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk smut #aot smut #reader insert #mine

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kunigmis · 6 months

Text

to strike again

bachira meguru x female!reader

synopsis: here’s to second times being the charm! after your messy “mishap” with bachira in a changing room at victoria’s secret, you’re a bit nervous around him… it’s only due time when you realize he’s a friend with a nasty little secret.

content warnings: minors do not interact! all characters are in their 20s, mentions of stalking(?) once, usage of the petname baby and pretty, name calling (he calls you slut), fingering, cum eating, oral (female!receiving), obsessive behavior, unprotected sex, non-con recording, hint at “sharing pussy” (he suggests isagi would like a turn), panty thief!bachira strikes again…

notes: this is a continuation of my previous bachira story, gross and grimy!! and a response to this anon <33 i’m sorry to say i didn’t end up writing it in the changing room, and that it’s in a different setting, but i hope it was still tasty… ૮ › ༝ ‹ ྀིა

AFTER YOU GOT DOWN and dirty with bachira in a changing room at victoria’s secret, you’d become a bit nervous around him. it’s not that you were upset with him or anything, no, you were guilty of not stopping him or pushing him away. so, you didn’t really have the right to be upset. you were just overwhelmed with the new emotions.

why did he have to go and do that? you were fine with the way the two of you were before! he was your friend, your best friend, and you’re sure you could’ve gone without knowing how his dick felt; all hard and hot inside—wait, that’s not the point! the point is, bachira meguru was your best friend. you didn’t want to cross that line with him.

well, it’s a bit too late for that now.

so, you went on and tried to act as if it didn’t happen; you tried to act as if he hadn’t seen your naked body, skin on full display; you tried to act as if he didn’t fuck you against the mirror in a victoria secret’s changing room; and, you really tried to act as if you didn’t want to do it again.

the thought plagued you. it was sickening how often you thought about it, and how often you got off to the thought of it: a hand tucked between your legs, fingers spreading your slick all over your pussy before thrusting a vibrator into your pussy. you arched at the feeling, full yet not full enough—not as full as bachira made you. you tried to imagine it was his dick and not a hot pink toy moving in and out of you, having your clit ache at the need for stimulation—oh, how would his mouth feel? would he suck your clit like he meant it? dip his tongue into your cunt and eat you out like he was starved? makeout with your pussy and shove two fingers into you and scissor you until you cried? fuck, you really needed to stop thinking so much.

you were sick and nasty, and wondered how you’d face him day after day. how did you do that before? did you talk with a smile and a light chuckle to your tone? did you stand a hands-length away or right on his arm? God! you couldn’t remember with how gooey your brain was at the thought of him.

you almost accomplished going on like nothing happened, too. you were going strong in keeping yourself calm, hands tucked neatly in your lap as you crossed your legs and sat across from bachira at lunch. doing that to keep yourself from getting the seat wet, right? bachira sat across from you, all smiles and laughs, joking about something isagi did during practice the other day. he was so info his own world that he didn’t even notice how just being near him had you feeling knots.

or so you thought.

“you look a little flushed, baby,” you jump at the petname, head whipping around to see if anyone heard, but freeze when thick fingers cup your jaw and give your cheeks a squeeze once you’re facing bachira. “i might get the wrong idea.”

fuck, he noticed. bachira had always been witty, maybe not too smart, but he was able to catch an emotion with just the look of an eye. he could read people better than he could books, he much preferred them over the assortment of words on paper. you happened to be one of his favorite reads, and he was reading you all too easily right now. you didn’t even notice him tilting his head until you were at a loss for air, “or is that what you want me to get?”

and, you don’t know what takes you over, but the look on bachira’s face is so smug and hot that it has your pussy crying to be filled and you letting out a moan rather carelessly for where you two are.

not a word is said after that, just the boundless chatter of the people at other tables. your head was hung by the time you finished your small display of arousal, not daring to look up and meet bachira’s eyes or the few that had heard your naughty noise. you’re so embarrassed you could cry, and you’re sure you will when in the safety of your home and warm bed.

“oh.” bachira’s voice is deep, has you clenching your legs together, and so strained you’re worried he’ll burst. “i definitely got it now.”

bachira had dragged you back to your apartment faster than he’d ever run on the field after that. you were stumbling behind him to his car, and you do it now when getting to your apartment. he doesn’t stop to ask for your keys, just peels up the “happy holidays!” sign hung from your door to snatch the spear key and hurriedly unlocks your door.

he’s ushering you in, quickly pocketing the key and locking the door behind the two of you. you’re about ready to muster up an apology, something to clear the air, when big hands are on your tits and groping harshly through your shirt.

you squeal at the sudden force and stumble into the wall behind you, hands coming to grip bachira’s wrists weakly. “h-hey—!”

“that was fucking sexy as hell,” his gravely tone shoots straight to your cunt as it’s spoken against your neck, a hot tongue meeting the point of your pulse before teeth come to scrape your skin fleetingly. you’re gasping into bachira’s hair as he sucks bruises into your flushed skin, glossy eyes watching as his fingers come and playfully unbutton your shirt.

he’s moving far too slow for the type of man he is, but you don’t dare to complain and show your neediness. you’re sure bachira is already aware of your desperation, with the slutty moan you let out at the table, and how your grip on his wrists loosens with each kiss and suckle he leaves.

“here i was thinking you’d gone and forgotten our little escapade,” if you hadn’t known better, you would’ve sworn bachira to be a lady killer; with his tongue like honey and words like sugared syrup, you’re sure he could have anyone he wanted. you’re surprised he brought it up, with how he’d acted just as you did, all dumb and like you two were just as chummy as before. he hadn’t mentioned anything about your hookup, but maybe that was because you hadn’t either. despite knowing how bachira was, it was too bad you didn’t know him to be a liar.

you go to speak, but find your tongue heavy in your mouth when bachira removes himself from your neck and begins a slow backward walk toward your couch. you pant, frown, and begin to follow him; he’s grinning with an inward chuckle, she really is like a puppy.

bachira lets himself fall when the back of his knees touch your couch cushions, bouncing with the force before he’s patting his lap. his fingers trace his thighs, silently teasing you. come sit, pretty, it’s your throne.

you’re swallowing whatever worries you had and clumsily shifting foot to foot, not daring to move until you’re given some other sort of sign. you’re not sure what it’ll be, but something just doesn’t feel right.

bachira smiles, a wide and wicked one, at your “predicament”, and holds a hand out for you to take. that’s the sign, you think, his fingers so long and eagerly curling in the manner of coaxing you. he seems to be taking his time getting you there, slowly, as if he’s toying with letting you believe he’ll do things as you’d like.

but, you can’t deny the ache between your legs. he’s just so pretty, eyes honeyed and looking at you so longingly, so sickeningly sweet, that you taste their honey on your tongue. you savor the taste.

even so, you’re hesitant, fingers twitching at your side before you’re wordlessly sliding them along the pads of bachira’s own. he’s delighted to see you give in, lips pursed in thought yet prepared for what he has to come. you’re nervous, he can tell, but you’re not pulling away.

“‘s too bad we had to take that one pair of panties back,” the black and yellow-haired male refers to the white ones from back then; the ones you had slid on in the changing room right before bachira and you made a mess of them. the employee who had gone to check the two of you out was madly red, and most likely disgusted at the indications of your events, and told you to leave before any purchases were made. you blush at the memory, “they were cute.”

you shudder when his other hand slides along the span of your thigh, toying with the hem of your skirt. drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you eagerly watch as his long fingers dip below the fabric and make their way toward your inner thigh. bachira watches with eyes all too wide and all too knowing, as if he was looking through you and into the depths of your deepest parts. you want me, they scream, and yours give away that you do.

“w-we can always go get a n-new pair…” you don’t know why you stutter, with him having done nothing yet, but you still feel your cunt pooling with wetness. maybe you’ll need to get a new pair of the ones you wear now, too.

bachira raises a brow and smirks, cocking his head to the side as he frees his hand from your grasp to curl it around your back. he draws circles overtop your shirt, right over the clasp of your bra, “oh? is that you insinuating you want a repeat of last time's events?” he’s partially coy in the way he sounds, but lets his tongue loll out to lick a stripe up your jaw.

you jolt at the feeling, hands coming to fist his shirt at the shoulders. you want it off him, but you don’t think he’s going to let you strip him before he does you, “n-no, that’s not what i meant…” yet, you wonder if it was? with the way you lower yourself to his thigh and shift for some friction, creating more of a mess within your panties, you think you may just want that.

“‘mm, you’re a bad liar, baby,” bachira practically moans when he has the clasp of your bra snapping below your shirt, fingers skilled and itching to cop a feel. you wouldn’t resist—even if you wanted to, even if you began to realize you couldn’t go back to being just friends now—you wouldn’t. “give in, know you want t’…”

and, god, you do. so, you do, you give and give and give, and bachira takes; he takes your breath with a single move, tongue slipping between your teeth to eagerly swallow your being. you moan, close your eyes, and claw at bachira’s shirt once more. you hope he gets the message; you want his skin on yours; you want to be unbearable close to the point you feel like you’ll burn at the proximity.

the two of you break only to have clothes fly, bachira’s bare chest pressed to yours. he relishes in the way your nipples pebble against his skin, moans at the feeling, and drags you against his groin feverishly. “you’re so pretty, can’t wait t’ fuck you again…” the male sounds so love drunk, so out of it with the way his words slur, but he couldn’t be any further from that. he’s plotting, waiting for you to turn to putty, before he strikes.

a hand travels to your chest, index finger and thumb toying with one of your nipples. you arch into his palm, feel the heat of it against your tit. it causes your brains to turn to goo as you go mad. “meguru, please, i-i need you…” you’re too embarrassed to say more, but you hope he takes your request as is.

and, bachira sure does, mouthing at your neck and collarbone before his teeth come and take your nipple into his mouth. he sucks hard, tongue coming to swivel around the bud in a teasing dance. your eyes droop and watch his mouth makeout with your tit, hands running over his shoulders like a fascination. bachira’s right hand comes to toy with your panties below your skirt once more, two thick fingers drawing tight circles overtop your clothed clit.

you wobble at the sudden pressure, hips humping into his hand as bachira continues his ministrations. his eyes roll at your soft skin, mouth not letting up as he slides your panties to the side and dips his fingers within the wet heap between your thighs. “fuck, s’ wet for me. s’ hot…”

before you can mumble a response, you’re lurching when two fingers quickly enter you. there’s no warning, just a stretch and sudden fullness. you have tears at your lashline, lips wobbling with soft gasps as bachira thrusts his fingers in and out of you, agonizingly slow. he scissors his fingers, curls them, and presses them into your gummy walls. he’s mapping you out, ticking each little cranny within your pussy so that he’d be able to go at it with his eyes closed. he’s having too much fun just toying with you, but you’re too choked up to ask for more.

“look at you! what a slut!” bachira moves from your tit for a second to laugh, teeth grazing your skin teasingly to watch you jump, “once wasn’t enough, huh? you want to be fucked dumb, don’t you?” you’re not sure whether he really wants a response or not; and, besides, you’re sure he’d do just that no matter your answer. “i’ll give it to you. i will, i will… just want to savor this…”

a sudden movement happens and you’re on your back, head resting against a pillow of your couch as bachira situates his face between your legs. you stutter, hands shakily reaching to try and push him away. “w-wait, no—“

you’re feeble attempts make the dual hair colored male laugh, and you feel pathetic under his gaze. his eyes eat away at your being; he’s eating whatever doubt or shame or strength you have left to resist him left, he’s not going to let you get away from this. bachira had waited far too long for your one-time fuck to be your two’s only fuck.

bachira is nosing at your panties by the time he has your hands resting on his head. your skirt sits between the feel of his hair and the palm of your hands, hiding his devious actions from your line of sight. you’re glad for that, because you’re not sure you’d be able to last long with the naughty actions he was about to commit.

your nails scratch at bachira’s head through your skirt, causing him to shudder along your skin. his hands come to quickly tug at your panties, skillfully sliding them from below your skirt and off your legs. this time, you catch him pocket the cloth, and suddenly your stomach twists at a small thought: why’d he do that?

there’s no room for you to collect yourself and ask, though, as bachira is licking a long strip up your pussy the second your panties are off. he does so again, moaning into your cunt at just the first taste of you; you’re fisting at your skirt, meat of your thighs pressing into the sides of bachira’s head. he’s met with a sudden rush of heat, moving a hand to palm himself as his slurps and kisses your pussy like he’s in love with it.

“aah, p-please,” whether you’re going to ask him to stop or for more is a long-lost thought when his tongue wiggles its way into your cunt, the feeling is strange and searingly hot. you tug at your skirt, revealing bachira’s flushed and out-of-it face. you didn’t expect him to be so into it, but he’s making you feel all sorts of things.

“s’ good,” his eyes roll when he smacks his lips against your pussy. he’s not afraid to get messy with how he eats you out. one hand tugging his pants and boxers down to palm at his dick, the other kneading the meat of your thigh. his tongue lays flat against you, licking long and slow over and over again, having you twitching. it’s so good, but your clit aches and pulses, wanting the stimulation bachira’s mouth gives your opening.

so, you softly press at his head, angling his nose to brush your clit softly. you whine, lips slick with spit as you call out, “h-here, too.”

bachira is quick to nose your clit again, tongue not relenting it’s assault on your lips below. your head is fuzzy and full of nothing, so heavy that you lay it to the side and your eyes droop; you still maintain your gaze on his face, though, and pant when he moves his hand to slide two fingers into you. “want you t’ cum, please. please, baby, cum.”

his fingers curl into all the right places, thick and long and bringing you to places so high you fear you’ll fall. with his mouth sucking at your clit, tongue lapping you like a dog, and his fingers delving into your pussy with such harsh thrusts, you’re crying out his name and spilling on to his fingers in minutes.

there’s an audible gasp from bachira once he takes his mouth from you, fingers easing you from your high before he pulls them out. he watches your cum push from your pussy, moving it around with his fingers before he’s sucking the digits clean. bachira moans as he does so, eyes never leaving your face, even after he’s done and dipping down to eat the cum that leaks out of you.

“stop! f-fuck,” you squirm at the overstimulation, thighs trying to press together in an attempt at bringing him off you. but, he only does so when he’s finished, coming up to hover over you with a chin covered in spit and cum.

“as good as i remember, pretty,” he’s grinning as he speaks, big hands smoothing over your sides as you smile softly. your eyes move down, widening when you spot bachira’s cock sticking tall against his stomach. he’s big. despite having fucked before, you didn’t get an actual look at it last time due to your position. but, fuck, that was in you? “stare as you’d like. it’s all yours, baby.”

all yours. if you weren’t blushing before, now you are. bachira had just admitted to being yours—or, admitted his dick was yours. either way, something about the statement had you shamelessly reaching a hand out to stroke his reddening tip. “…mine?” you meekly look up at him, batting your lashes as you bring your bottom lip between your teeth. the male is panting, not at just your actions, but the way you look up at him. fuck, you really got to him.

“‘mm, ‘mm, all yours, yours,” his words are so airy and soft, voice tickling your ear when he comes to kiss it. “do what you want with it. what you want with me, pretty, i’m yours.”

there was something sweet about his words. the way he sounded might’ve helped, but the genuine emotion embedded in them had your eyes welling with tears. but, it almost felt like they were a binding spell of sorts. he spoke them, so sweet and softly, but they began to stick to your skin like an enchantment. i’m yours and you are mine.

a hand presses to the arm of the couch your head lays on, following it to the golden-eyed male above you. his eyes have this crazed look in them, one you recognized from when he’d play on the field. the look appeared when he’d sprint forward and snatch the ball after the whistle blew, he’d juggle and trick his way through his opponents without the ball even touching other cleats aside from his own, moving with him like it was teleporting across the field. it was a wild look that had slick pooling at your entrance before it gushed and made a mess, and bachira noticed it with a raise of his brow and a wicked grin.

“excited, huh?” he giggles and uses his other hand to angle his dick near your pussy. he tapped his fat tip against your clit a few times, grin only growing as he watched you jump and gasp with each pap, pap, pap, and practically purred deep within his chest. he ran it through your folds and gathered your slick, lubing himself up for a smooth entry. “me too, baby.”

in a fluid motion, he’s bottomed out into your pussy. his pelvis meets your clit and you mewl and throw your head back. your mouth hangs open in a long, silent moan as bachira begins a rhythm. he humps into your pussy, both hands now on your hips to bring you into him. you bounce with his thrusts, the slap of your ass and his balls like a melody of sin.

“fuck, missed this pussy,” bachira groans as his head falls forward to watch his dick pound into your gummy walls. your pussy flutters with his words, your stomach twisting and dancing in all sorts of emotional butterflies. you can’t decide if it’s the pleasure of his dick going in and out, or his admittance to missing your pussy that has you reacting in such a way. you assume it’s a mix of both, though. “y’take me so well, pretty.”

you cry when his thrusts speed up, pressing a hand to his abdomen to feel the clench of his abs. your nails draw across his skin, silly and sloppy little drawings, some are hearts, others are circles, and others are jumbled motions from the continuous bounce of your body. bachira’s nails dig into your hips, making a drawing of his own in the shape of crescent moons.

the pleasure is so good, bachira is so good, that you close your eyes as your head lolls back. you moan and mewl and pant as bachira keeps a steady rhythm, dick angled to hit the sweet spot deep within your pussy. it has you shaking, convulsing with pleasure as you taste your impending release on the tip of your tongue.

your hands move to steady yourself on the couch, bachira having begun to thrust into you with more vigor. you bounce more harshly, fear of falling from the couch beginning to weigh on your mind. you grasp the cushion below you and squeak when a hand pushes you into a higher arch, the angle now having you slightly bounce on his cock. your eyes cross below their lids and your lips wobble, the pleasure so good it’s brought you to tears. you cry out, bachira’s name slipping from your tongue so easily that it stirs your insides just right and causes you to realize your newfound infatuation for the male and his dick.

“s’good, fuck me s’good, pretty…” bachira slurs his words, eyes honed in on the bounce of your tits. his grin is still as wide as before, a heavy pool of saliva building in his mouth from the desire to feast on your being and your pleasure. you smile at his words and giggle a moan, thighs twitching as you begin to feel the metaphorical dam chip and patch away. “fuck, going to cum? yeah, cum, cum for me baby, want you to…”

his words have you cumming in waves and a loud moan, hands laid flat against bachira’s abdomen as he continues to thrust. his hips stutter and his cock twitches, it burns as it mushes your insides up. your pussy pulses and tingles, and you mumble a plea for him to stop, the overstimulation having your toes curl into the dips of his back. but, bachira moans and lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth to where his cock enters and exits you, thrusts so sloppy and short and sharp that his balls stick to your ass due to your release and sweat.

“baby, baby, fuck! cumming—! inside? inside, fuck yeah,” he’s talking to himself now, babbling in his fit of blinding pleasure as his cum spurts inside your pussy. you holt at the warmth and whine as he fucks his cum into you. you open blurry eyes to see bachira grinning like a madman, cheeks red and covered in sweat with his hair sticking to his forehead. you give a shaky smile and go to speak, but your words get swallowed right back down when you notice his phone pointed toward you with a light on. your stomach drops.

“fuck, you looked so hot baby. can’t wait to show this to isagi! bet he’d love a turn, yeah?”

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ ── nine #blue lock smut #blue lock #bllk smut #bllk #bachira meguru smut #bachira meguru #bachira meguru x reader #bachira x reader #bachira smut #bachira strikes again!! harder and hotter than before :lipbite:

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