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tired-biscuit · 2 months

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i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!

he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.

always in a good way when it’s with him.

especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.

but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.

however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.

but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.

he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.

you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.

this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.

because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.

if only you could just—

“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”

“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.

“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.

“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.

it seems like you’re no quitter either.

“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”

you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.

maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.

“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.

unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.

it’s definitely progress.

and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.

#he’s such a cutie pie sweetie honey bebi sweetheart!!!!!!!#i love him soooo much #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuji smut #yuji x reader #itadori smut #biscuit drabbles

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lokisgoodgirl · 3 months

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Be Mine [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)

The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.

For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.

It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.

The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.

“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”

His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’

Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.

The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.

Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.

Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly. “It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”

“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.” “Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”

Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.

“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head. “I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.” “There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.

“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.

“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.

“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.

Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.

Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours. “What?” he snarled. “Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing. An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.

“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted. “Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider. “You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable. “Huh?” “At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”

This time it wasn’t a question. “I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?” “He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?” There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.

“No.” Loki said. “Excuse me?” “No,” he repeated.

You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.

The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.

“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper. Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised. “I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.

“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.

You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.

You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.

His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable. Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?” “I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head. “I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”

He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.

“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.” Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.

The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.

“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?” You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut. “I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”

You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.

Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”

His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.

“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”

The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.

Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.

In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.

“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”

“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.

His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher. “Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow. “More...” he rumbled. “I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”

His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?” You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.

“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.

A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.

Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.

“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.

Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.

Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last. Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.

“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.

Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.

“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants. “Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.

In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest. “Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,” You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.

“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.

You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.

“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.” “Or worse?” “You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.” You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”

Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.” Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.

“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”

Taglist (continued in comments)

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victoryverse · 1 month

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soap and gaz's reaction to you going commando on a celebratory dinner>>

soap:

johnny would be...flabbergasted 😂 eyes would be blown wide and mind going a million miles per minute as he actually takes in the situation in front of him.

theren you are, having vodka shots in your cute little dress, when there' nothing on underneath, and one blow of wind, or something, and yo would be exposed to the entirety of his team.

he would come up behind you, pressing his hard cock to your ass, and you would immediately straighten up, the curve of his bulge fitting perfectly between your cheeks.

he would whisper in your ear, "aye, bonnie. you've got it all naked underneath, ain't it?" in his accent.

you would shiver, nodding, "yeah", a small whisper

"shall i bent y'over and show everyone how desperate ye're for m'cock? hm? " with a subtle press forward, that has your pelvis pressed up against the pool table.

"no--no, johnny" you would mumble, but your wetness pooling between your thighs would tell a completely diff story: wetness dripping out of your pussy, getting uncomfortable and wet.

"bet ye're dripping down there, aren't ya? creaming all over those pretty thighs of yours? hm? bet you want me to fuck you nice and good, so good there's cum dripping out of y'cunt, and you're a mess, all tears on y'face from how good it feels?"

you would audibly moan, eyes widening in surprise as soon as you would realize what happened. no one is looking at you, though. the music is loud enough, and everyone is drunk enough.

"see? they can't hear, wouldn't even notice if I bent you over her and fucked you bloody raw, lass. unless, of course, you make noises for me, yeah? pretty moans and whimpers and mewls, all the while your tiny, tight pussy clenched m'cock like it owns it? hm?"

gaz

gaz is the pretty boy, would get red-cheeked and immediately sober up.

"wh-what? you're-you're wearning nothing underneath? oh m'god-what if someone sees?"

red cheeks with the most innocent look, you would just reply with, "let them, wouldn't you want to show off your pretty girl? hm? fuck me here, kyle, please? put your thick cock in me and fuck me till I can't even speak"

"shh! someone could hear" even though his cock would be struggling in his boxers. he would gulp down, seeing around. no one has their gazes on you, everyone's busy with their own. then,he would get up, grabbing your hand and taking you to the bathroom stalls

would push you in one, getting after you and locking it good.

"oh fuck. thought I would cum right then and there"

you would look down at his crotch, his cock tenting in his pants. his eyes would be droopy, pupils blown out and full of lust.

you would smirk, getting down on your knees in front of him and quickly undoing his pants, pulling his cock out, precum oozing out the tip that you immediately lick off

his hand would slam at the wall beside him, his legs going week as you would take him down your throat.

"feels good? hm?" you would ask, whilst choking around his dick. he would nod, head thrown back and adam's apple bobbing as his mind would go empty with the way you're sucking his cock

you would use your hands to fondle his balls, massaging them while his cock hits the back of your throat, drool and spit all over your mouth as you try to make him cum in record time.

and that he does. 4 minutes and a few more seconds to be exact. his salty release inside your mouth while you gulp it down, and his legs almost give out.

"fuck, goddamn it, jesus, fuck" continuous mumbles of curses, while you pull his pants back up to the way they were.

he would immediately look into your eyes, asking "what about you?" without actually saying it.

"my dress and thighs and pussy are ruined anyways, all sticky and creamy. so you should just take me home and ruin me then."

you would slap his bum while walking out, and the shocked look on his face would be enough to say that he will be giving you back so many of those later.

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katakaluptastrophy · 5 months

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You know how it goes: through some incredible circumstances, God and a young woman living under the shadow of an oppressive empire have a metaphysically unusual baby who grows up to be a general nuisance, won't stay dead, and sports a few additional holes...

It's the third Sunday of Advent and I'm a little concerned Bible studies for weird goth kids might be turning into a series... Let's talk about the Blessed Virgin Mary and Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity.

Wake was probably never described as "gentle", "meek", or "mild", but there are a few similarities: distinctive outfits, snazzy shrines, commitment to putting down the mighty from their seats, and of course babies with great and terrible destinies niftily conceived without sex.

On the topic of conception, let's clear up a common, uh, misconception: the term "immaculate conception" does not refer to Mary becoming pregnant with Jesus. It's Mary's own conception.

Why are we talking about how Mary was conceived and what does this have to do with lesbian necromancers?

To answer that question, we have to go back further still, way before Mary's conception. Back to these guys and their unfortunate snack cravings:

Remember how last time we talked about the concept of being in a state of grace? Well, the Christian read on Adam and Eve is that a state of grace was, as it were, the factory setting for humanity. They were fully in tune with God, there was no sickness or death, there was no sin. Until, that is, the whole unfortunate business with the apple. The first sin. The world is fundamentally altered. Humanity is expelled from paradise, burdened with sin, death, disease, patriarchy, and work. Worse, this sinful human nature turns out to be sexually transmissible: every human being is born tainted by this "original sin" of Adam and Eve.

This is why Catholicism is so big on baptising babies: even if they're many years off being able to commit any sins themselves (a sin has to be something consciously chosen and understood), they're still contaminated by that original sin of Adam and Eve. Baptism is understood to erase original sin, wiping the slate clean.

Bear with me, we'll be back to necromancers soon I promise. Have a picture of Mary beating up the devil while an angel holds baby Jesus:

OK, but what does Adam and Eve's danger snack have to do with Mary's conception?

The "immaculate conception" refers to the idea that unlike every human being between Adam and Jesus, Mary was conceived without the contamination of original sin. The rationale for this is complex, but essentially boils down to something like the saving power of Jesus not being bound by piffling things like time and space and thus saving his mother before her own conception and allowing himself to also be conceived and born sinless.

But the important bit is that something specific about Mary means that she is uniquely able to be pregnant with Jesus.

You may be starting to guess where this is going...

Because while unconventional pregnancy seems to have been the plan from the get-go for Jesus, it was not with the artist formerly known as The Bomb:

“I had the baby,” said Wake. “The baby I’d had to incubate myself for nine long fucking months, when the foetal dummies these two gave me died.”

“Oh, God, it was yours,” said Augustine, in horror. “I thought you’d used in vitro on one of Mercy’s—”

“I said they all died,” said Wake. “The dummies died. The ova died. Only the sample was still active, no idea how considering it was twelve weeks after the fact, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“So you used it on yourself,” said Augustine. “Anything for the revolution, eh, Wake?”

We have to assume the foetal dummies plan was hatched by Mercymorn, a brilliant scientist with a myriad of experience. If the problem encountered by Wake were as simple as Lyctoral infertility, I suspect Mercy would have spotted that long before.

But what do Wake and John have in common that Mercymorn or any of the other ova-having residents of the Mithraeum did not? They are both (to some extent at least) factory setting humans: unlike everyone else in the Dominicus system, they never died and were resurrected, nor are they the descendants people who were. John's abilities, while macabre, are not straightforwardly the necromancy otherwise practiced in the Houses. That necromancy is a direct result of one specific act of taking that resulted in the very nature of the world changing: a thanergetic system, inhabited by human beings who, necromancer or not, are fundamentally tainted by thanergy and by the after effects of that action of John's. You might call it a sin. An indelible sin. He does.

It's not an exact parallel, but necromancy certainly occupies a space not dissimilar to original sin: the result of a single action, tainting every descendant of its progenitors regardless of their actions of abilities.

And then enter Gideon, born in space away from the thanergetic energy of the Dominicus system to a mother lacking the 10,000 year intergenerational burden of the resurrection and necromancy. The child of Jod, born to die.

#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt meta #awake remembrance of these valiant dead #commander wake #gideon nav #john gaius #Sin will not survive the second coming of Jesus so what does that say about necromancy at the end of the series?

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bell4donn4 · 1 month

Text

Like a god - Luke Castellan smut blurb

Tw: masturbation, use of religious imagery, body worship, Luke being lowkey sub

<<take your panties off>> and you did.

You spread your leg open for Luke, who sat inches away from you.

His boxers were down to his knees, cock red and aching for attention.

you touched yourself, immediately moaning at the sensation of your cold fingers on your bare pussy.

He stared at you and every movement you made with a certain hunger in his eyes, like a starved man who’s being denied of a last meal.

He bit his own lip as he watched intently; you looked majestic- divine, almost. Luke assumed that that’s how Eve looked as she bit the apple.

And the feeling he had must have been the same Adam had as he watched his lover sin, moments before following her act.

He palmed himself, restraining from throwing his head back. He needed to see everything. He couldn’t let himself look away, not even for one second. He wanted to print the sinful image inside of his mind, he never wanted to forget.

He would’ve damn himself if he lost one your moans- one of the disperate whispers you made as you pushed two fingers in.

What a turn, for a good boy like him. The Camp’s golden boy sneaking around after curfew to consume his fantasies. You made him give in to his darkest desires.

His hips bucked forward, and in that moments his mind was emptied from thoughts. Finally feeling free from the constant pressure of the role he had, and from the cruelness of his absent Father. Of the God who created him.

If he could, he would’ve made you his God. He would’ve made altars and temples to worship you; A much more deserving creature.

He would’ve dedicated his whole life to you,like people did to Gods.

He would’ve prayed to you ever night.

But in fact, he did. To him, looking at you, touching you, making love to you felt like a rite, like a prayer.

A tail old as time, he liked to imagine the filthy things you did as that; a sacred action.

<<you look so beautiful>> he whispered.

And you nodded, taking in the compliment, speeding up.

He did as well, teasing his own self, torturing his angry tip.

The cabin was full of sounds, of short breaths and mumbled words.

The nonsense filled the silence.

<<you look so good too Luke- so god damn good>> you said, and it filled him with pride, making him almost chock.

He craved you more than anything else in the world, yet, he didn’t dare to touch you. That’s not what he needed in that moment, not what he wanted.

Luke has always wanted to feel seen, to feel safe and loved, and sitting at your feet, like a Christian sits at the feet of the Cross was enough for him to feel exactly that.

You, his God, stared at him like Jesus would stare at his disciples.

<<Y/n- I’m- >>

You nodded frenetically, your own orgasm getting closer and closer by the second.

<<yes! cum for me Luke>> you said, not as a demand, not as a order. You were so good to him, always merciful, always lenient; never mean, never demanding.

He came fast, as soon as you asked.

He complied at all of your requests, like a good follower does. He came, smearing his load in his own hand and on his stomach.

You did the same right after, a lewd moan leaving your mouth.

He still stared at you, chest rising and falling down at a fast pace, waiting patiently.

<<you did so good Luke>> your voice was broken by the fatigue.

<<t-thank you- ah- >>

#luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo series #luke castellan smut #pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #percy jackson smut #pjo smut #pjo tv show #pjo boys #pjo disney+#charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x you

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darlingshane · 4 months

Text

Professor Castle

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank has a weakness and it's named after you. No matter how much he tries to push you away he always returns to the same point.

CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Angst, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Fingering, Making out, Professor/Student relationships, Age Gap, Reader is an undergrad student in her early 20s. [I know this is very problematic. Don't come at me. It's just fiction.]

Word Count: 2.8k // AO3 Link.

A/N: This was inspired by this picture of Jon in Origin. I couldn't write for that character in particular, so I thought Frank was the best choice for it, even if it's a lot OOC.

As you muster the courage to enter and confront Professor Castle, you observe him through the cracked door of his office. He looks as good as ever, freshly shaved, in one of his Bexley plaid shirts in white with blue plaid lines, and a dark tweed blazer on top. His hair has slightly curled from the humid weather. His glasses slip a little over the bridge of his nose when he looks down, and he pushes them back in place before tucking a folder in his leather case. You haven't seen him in a few days. Even when you submitted the form to drop his class you managed to leave it on his desk yesterday after he left home. And just early this morning before getting to campus you got an email from him from his uni account, formally denying your request to drop. You don't give a fuck about failing and having to take another course with a different teacher but after what he told you last weekend, you can't stay in his class any longer. It'd be like torture having to see him and not being able to be with him like you desire to.

Of course, you don't ever want to get him in trouble either, he has a lot more to lose than you. But if he doesn't want to see you anymore, then so don't you. So, after a moment of consideration you just clench your fist as hard as you can, set your jaw straight, and storm into the office without announcing yourself. The door slamming the door behind you is what alerts him of your presence. The loud sound makes his head snap up to look at you, standing as tall as you can.

“You can't force me to stay in your class.” You say firmly without raising your voice.

His brow knits behind the thin frame of his glasses as he processes your intrusion.

“No, I guess I can't force you. But I can't let you drop either. You missed the deadline. Unless you have a good excuse like a serious medical condition or emergency the school is not going to let you withdraw at this point. It's out of my hands.”

“Does dying of heartbreak count as a medical emergency?”

“Jesus Christ, you theater kids are really dramatic.”

“Hey, you're the one who told me to join a club.”

“Yeah, but I meant something else like uh… the debate team, the honor society, the newspaper, or the fucking model UN.”

“Well, I made my choice and so did you. I can't just keep showing up at your class and pretend that nothing happened. Can you just think of something? If I meant anything to you… just give me this, Frank.”

You never said his first name before on school grounds. It sounds like a curse word as it slips out of your mouth.

“There are only two months left. That's nothing. Are you telling me you're willing to throw all of that away for me?”

“Yes, because if I can't have you then I can't see you either.”

You catch when his Adam's apple anxiously goes up and down as you say that.

“This is all my fault. I should've never… I should've put a stop to it when I had the chance.”

“Frank—” You take a step closer to his desk, but he promptly holds a placating palm in the air to push you to a stop.

“Don't. Please. Don't throw away your future for me or for anyone for that matter. You're smart and young and strong enough to endure a few more classes. You'll be getting your bachelor's next year, sweetheart. After that… you won't even remember I was ever part of your life.”

“I won't ever forget. I'm begging you. Just let me go or take me back… but…” your frustration knots in your throat. “Stop pushing me away. I know you love me.”

“It doesn't matter if I do. We both have a lot to lose if they find out.”

“Nobody will. We'll be more careful… We could just start over somewhere else, just you and me.”

“Life is not a movie. It doesn't work like that. I know it feels like a matter of life or death right but when you're older—”

“Don't patronize me. I know what I feel. Just take me out of your class or don't. I won't show up either way.”

You turn around to leave the room at once but Frank quickly shuffles behind you and as you reach to grab the handle, he holds the door closed and secures the lock before your eyes.

“So help me God, you're gonna be the end of me, sweetheart.” His tone changes to an octave graver that sends a chill through your spine.

“What are you doing?” You turn around as he steps so awfully close you can capture the strong scent of his aftershave.

“You're going to stay in my class. Front row. Every Wednesday at 10. Then, you're going to ace your final in May. I don't ever wanna hear you again saying otherwise. Is that clear?” He states as a matter of fact, as if you had no choice but to comply with his demand.

“Why are you so convinced I will?”

You watch him up close as he takes off his glasses and lifts his opposite hand to frame your jaw. With conflicted thoughts he pushes your back against the wall, as his face leans to seize your mouth. Professor Castle slowly spells with his tongue all the secrets kept between you in just one beautiful kiss that leaves you breathless.

“Is that enough?” His head pulls back as he sets his glasses back over his eyes as you smooth the lapels of his blazer.

“I'm not sure,” you draw a breath and let the bookbag hanging on your shoulder fall to the floor. “I think I'm gonna need a bigger incentive.”

“There's never enough for you, huh?” he holds your jaw again and tilts your head to the side as he buries his mouth in the crook of your neck.

His lips hold some sort of spell that enchants your body with just a few nips on your skin. The tip of his tongue is laced with poison that intoxicates each and all of your senses as it juts out to leave a wet trace from your collarbone to the back of your ear before pulling back. His eyes turn darker behind the glass as he locks eyes with you. Your pulse picks up in your chest as he licks his lips and allows lust to take over. He watches his thumb trace the shape of your mouth before fiercely succumbing to the temptation of your lips once more, with feeling.

As your arms curl around his neck, his hands travel beneath the hem of your striped, knitted sweater to bask in the warmth of your skin. The sloppy sounds of your kisses sound like sin in this room. You should stop. He should too. But neither of you have enough strength to push the other away.

One of his hands stays pressed on your spine while the other travels down your denim skirt and slips underneath the hem. Hiking it up, his large palm shamelessly grabs your ass, molds your flesh to the shape of his fingers over your panties. Your skin quickly heats up and your mind swirls along the maddening rhythm of his tongue. He presses himself so hard against you, it feels like he's already fucking you, but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your legs and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.

“Sh, sh…” he breaks the kiss and whispers a millimeter away from your mouth. “Gotta be quiet now, yeah?”

You simply nod, having his eyes gauging your expression changing as his hand viciously massages your pussy.

“Like that?” His lips pull up at the corners, and you mirror his expression as you softly pant.

“Fuck yeah.”

Then, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder, keeping your hands anchored to his arms as your juices stain the fabric of your underwear.

“You're dripping, sweetheart.” His voice echoes in your ear. “Is this what you want?”

He presses harder as your grip on him tightens.

“Yeah.”

For a second you think he's going to finish you right there but all of a sudden he stops.

“C'mere,” he locks your arms around his neck before lifting your ass in his hands without much effort. You tuck your legs around his hips as he takes turns around and walks toward the desk.

Keeping you secured in one arm, Frank blindly moves the stuff in the middle before carefully lowering you down on the wooden surface. While you lay on your back, he sits on his chair and brings your ass close to the edge. Instead of letting your legs dangle, he places your feet on each arm of his chair as he kisses one of your knees.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he mumbles against your skin as he rolls down the fabric of one of your thigh-high stockings to uncover your leg. He does the same with the other stocking before letting his lips get his reward.

The inside of your thigh leads a straight road down to hell. After last weekend, he promised himself he would never cross that line again, but he has a weakness, and it’s named after you. It's taken him through a dangerous path that puts everything he ever believed into question. He could lose his job and his reputation if someone were to cross the door to his office and find you spread like a meal ready to consume. It's lunchtime after all, and he can't think of anything better to feast on other than you. His lips trail that perdition-paved road on your thigh as his fingers softly brush the back of your leg. Your skin sticks out as you pull your knees further apart to make room for his face as it gets closer to your center. The corner of his glasses gently pokes the top of your thigh when he reaches that crucial point. You bite your lip and stare at the broken fixture on the ceiling and try to keep yourself from moaning when he pulls your panties to the side. He stretches the fabric as far as it goes, it makes a tearing sound, but it doesn't break. You couldn't care less if he rips them apart. It wouldn't be the first time either. He’s ruined two pairs already. Professor Castle has a wild side that only comes untamed when he’s with you. But this is different. He's never gone down on you right in his own office on campus like he's about to do. You both know the implications of that, but rules be damned right now. All that worry floats out of your head as his tongue makes first contact with your pussy. He draws a line from your opening up to your clit ever so softly before pulling your outer lips apart and diving in. He has just an ounce of restraint himself from going too hard and making you scream out in pleasure, even though he wants so badly to suck on your clit to hear you pleading for more. To stir out of your voice call out his name and title out of sheer joy. But he holds back. He presses an array of kisses and nibbles all over your folds as you close your eyes to focus on the torturing slow pace of his tongue. Your nipples are hard as a rock under your bra, your legs strain to stay in position when Frank slowly laps around your clit, collecting your arousal as your breathing hollows. He places a palm on your stomach, right under your sweater and catches the effects of his mouth in the way your body reacts. There’s an added edge to doing this right here, it makes his cock throb in his underwear as you mumble his name.

“Frank.” It comes out as a murmur, and he hums against your tender skin before going a little harder. There’s only so much he can do to up the pace and make you come without alerting anyone behind that door of what’s happening inside.

We'll be more careful, you said. He eats out your words straight out of your sex.

To speed up the process uses his other hand to slip two fingers into your opening and press on your g-spot. Your back arches in response. Frank has to press that hand on your abdomen a little harder to keep you from squirming too much. It feels like an eternity until you reach the point of no return, once you're there you can feel that fire burning bright at your core as a mind-numbing chill settles at the back of your head. You've never felt that intense jolt sparking your body like fireworks before. Then again you don't have much to compare him to other than the one and only boyfriend you had when you started college.

You grip at his hair as he cues your orgasm. With a strong flick of his tongue and that adamant pressing of your walls you finally come undone. You bury a moan in your throat as every cell of your body is touched by that wildfire that travels from your center out in every direction. It curls your toes in your shoes, your eyes shut, your knees clench together before he can pull his face away. As the orgasm ebbs he sets himself free from your thighs and watches you descend from cloud nine. He uses a tissue to clean up your cunt and fixes your panties to their former position. Then, Frank settles your legs down as your body goes completely limp, and straightens your skirt over your thighs with such love it almost makes you cry.

“Frank,” your voice comes out watery.

“Sh, it's okay, baby. I know. Come here.” He helps you up and pulls you onto his lap.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He smiles against your hair as he snuggles you against his chest. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”

You clear your throat and stay still for a minute while his hand soothes your back before noticing he’s still hard.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” You fondle his bulge over his pants.

“No, that’s okay. That’s my punishment for hurting you.” He takes your hand away, brings it up to his lip to kiss your knuckles.

“You really have a thing for punishment, huh?” You quip, lifting your head to look at him. It’s then that you notice his messed up hair and send our fingers to fix it.

“Not as much as you do.” His hand pats your ass reminding you of all those times you've begged him to spank you when you were being a brat.

You laugh as you take off his glasses and use the hem of your sweater to clean them.

“Can I come over this weekend?” You ask putting his eyewear back on.

“I have that wedding I told you about. Can't get out of it, I'm the best man.”

“Right. Of course. One of your marine buddies. Florida, right?”

“Yeah.” His stare goes down as he massages your hand thinking that maybe… “You could come with me if you want.”

“I uh… I don't think I'm ready for that.”

“No, you are. Nobody will know you there, and I don't wanna keep lying about you, at least not to my friends. They won't give a fuck, you know? I'm tired of being set up for blind dates and shit.”

“Oh, it must be really hard being you.” You mock.

“Don't laugh. Just think about it. It'll be something casual at the beach. I'll get you a ticket if you're worried about that.”

“I really changed your mind, did I? That's a full 180 from what you said the other day, Frank. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yeah, I was only fooling myself thinking that I could stay away from you. Which I would've if you hadn't shown up here with a fucking attitude. But you're right, we'll have to be more careful from now on.”

“And we can do whatever we want in Florida.”

“Yeah, you wanna come?”

“Only if you really want me there.”

“I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.”

“Then I'll go with you.”

You press your lips sweetly against his and let them bounce together for a moment before getting back to reality. You pull up your stockings all the way up and fix up your clothes before collecting your bag from the floor. But Professor Castle can't help but stall for a bit longer to kiss you once more until you have no choice but to run to your next class.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fanfiction #frank castle smut #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #angst #smut #darlingwrites

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stevenose · 5 months

Text

adidas (18+)

a continuation of this blurb from july.

contains: steve x reader; shy reader; no gender descriptors for reader, word ‘hole’ is used; car sex! my fave; oral (steve receiving); heavy petting; make outs

hope u likey 🫶🏻

=====

“steve?”

he jumps when you talk to him. like he wasn’t expecting it. his face flushes a bit, matches the maroon of his shirt. “uh-huh?”

you’ve been working yourself up for this for a week. well, actually, for the last three months. since he’d parked his car in that abandoned lot and sent you home a changed person. “eddie can’t take me home tonight.”

because the plan of steve starting to pick you go and take you home fell flat on its face. robin didn’t want to ride with anyone else, which was fair. and you both weren’t exactly keen on everyone knowing. what you both wanted eventually fizzled out, and instead manifested itself in longing looks and some occasional, “accidental” touching.

the bastard still hasn’t given you your underwear back.

steve blinks once. twice. his adam’s apple bobs. he runs a hand through his hair, flustered much more than you’ve ever seen him. “good thing i know where you live, huh?”

it really has been the most aggravatingly long three months of your life. nothing has been the same and yet nothing has changed. steve still treats you like always - a friend on the very outskirts of his circle. you still stare down at his adidas when he’s a little too close to you, talking to you and someone else about work or a new movie. and eddie has been at every. single. hangout. picks you up and takes you home and you never once tell him (or robin, for that matter) to fuck off so you can get laid again.

but tonight, eddie has a gig, and no one passed the motion to reschedule.

“when?” steve asks, moving closer. “jesus, never thought you’d ask.”

your breath shakes when you inhale, looking up from the neck of his shirt to stare at his big brown eyes. you wonder what the look he gives you means. “couple minutes? up to you.”

“do you - want to?” he asks as his head tilts.

“yeah,” you whisper. your face turns hot. “want proof?”

there’s no one else in this corner of nancy’s kitchen. steve nods, almost imperceptibly so, and you gently take his wrist before guiding it towards the core of you. he takes a sharp inhale and looks around, his hair bobbing. you don’t know if you want to laugh or scream. he looks back at you and licks his lips. “now? we go now?”

“rob,” you’re saying two minutes later, “i’ve got a hell of a headache - steve’s gonna take me home. can you get a ride from nance?”

maybe you’re paranoid, but the smile she gives you is a little irritating. you’re relieved when she doesn’t argue. “hope you feel better.”

it’s quiet and tense when steve gets the passenger side door for you. you slip into the soft leather of the seat and open your mouth to say thank you, but steve’s lips are suddenly on yours. it shocks your brain - in fact, you feel a little sick, want and need rushing through you.

you shouldn’t be kissing a guy like him. and he shouldn’t be kissing you, you think. but his soft hands cup your heated cheeks, pink tongue caressing your bottom lip. he pulls away quickly, swipes his thumb across your cheekbone and nods with a little smile.

“sorry,” he whispers, eyes wandering your face. “had to.”

“that - that’s okay.”

steve jogs to his side of the door and slides in quickly. turns the key so fast the engine stalls for a second before purring to life. he giggles and reaches towards you, letting his hand fall on your thigh. again. it’s burning your skin.

you have to roll down the window.

you’re both silent. overthinking, certainly. steve bites his cheek while you stare out the window, and for a minute you think this will go nowhere. but then he speaks, his thumb rubbing circles on your leg.

“i missed you. y’know how hard it was watching you? i didn’t - i, uh, i didn’t know if you’d want to do this again. do you want to?” he asks again.

“please?”

he grins. “well, when you ask so sweet… you like the car? i can take you to a proper place, if you want.”

the car sort of invigorates you. it’s a little dirty and perverted. you aren’t either of those things - it makes you feel like a whole new person. “i kind of liked the view last time….”

steve snorts. “you’re funny.”

“so’re you.”

“hmm. how about you take a compliment without giving one back?”

it makes your skin crawl and you don’t really think before you say, “what else should i take?”

steve groans. it’s music to your ears. you’ve dreamed of it, tried to remember it at night - hell, during the afternoon, the early morning when the thought of him won’t let you sleep. you’re addicted. you’d say the sluttiest things imaginable if it kept getting that reaction.

you knew exactly what you wanted to do for him. got your lips all soft and red with cherry lip salve. you know how much he loves cherries. you’ve watched, hungry, while he bit off the flesh of one from a stem, covered in whipped cream. watched him add it to his coca cola. smelled it on his skin.

yes, indeed. you’re tasting him tonight.

his car veers off to the usual spot. at least, you’d like to call it that. the usual spot. you want to utter it to him when those tight levis break your imagination. when his big hands distract you as they slide into a bowling ball.

you’re desperate for courage when he parks, though steve feeds it to you. “can i kiss you?” and a second later, his soft lips are back on yours. he’s so good at it it makes you dizzy.

“such a pretty thing,” he whispers. “is that cherry?”

you nod, hands grabbing his shirt. as if he’d stop you from floating into space. you can’t even open your eyes. the sight of him might kill you.

“did you know i love cherries?”

“i know a lot about you.”

steve’s big hand slides up your thigh, playing with the sensitive skin on the inside. “oh, yeah?” his lips press against yours but he still talks. “like what?”

your face is so hot it’s embarrassing. you’re not even aware that you’re grinding against the seat below you. so goddamn needy for him. you speak between kisses. “like - you - suck - at - pool.”

“that - a - deal - breaker - for - you?”

you giggle. you can’t help it. “least you - can kiss.”

steve surges towards you, his chest pressed i’m against yours. you’re on fire. you might suffocate. it’s delightful. you want to feel this claustrophobic because of him all the time. your hands tangle in his hair and you pull him towards you while his fingers finally find you needy between the thighs again.

“you been thinkin’ of me like i’ve been thinkin’ of you?” he asks, pulling away. his lips are tinted red now, too. he looks a little pathetic when he asks it, excited, eager, but ready for rejection.

“of course i have,” you breathe. “every night, every morning.”

“what a romantic,” steve teases. he applies a little bit more pressure to your sensitivity. “y’know how much i’ve been thinkin’ about you? jerked myself sore after every hangout. but i’m starting to forget the taste of you.”

you’re so wildly out of your depth here. he talks about this like it’s second nature. “that’s too bad.” you’re perpetually out of breath. “i….”

steve raises his brows and inclines his head towards you, a teasing smile tugging his lips. “you….?”

you’re dizzy. “i don’t even know what you taste like.”

“huh?” he genuinely did not hear you. you’re mumbling, scared to say the wrong thing. it really riles him up, though.

you don’t want to repeat yourself, so you instead reach across the console to rub his erection with your hand. he gasps and bites his lip while his puppy dog eyes squeeze shut. “oh!”

“can i taste?” you whisper.

steve’s eyes snap open and he looks truly surprised. “oh,” he says, less slutty. “i - uh - i - are you -?”

you nod. “want to feel you in my mouth.”

it sounds so lame when it comes out but steve groans, head falling back against the window. “don’t say shit like that,” he moans, rutting up against your palm.

okay, now you’re on fire in a very different way. “like what?” you don’t really have to make yourself sound innocent. “like, i wanna feel how heavy your cock is on my tongue?”

“oh my god,” he groans. “baby - jesus christ. christ. shit. where have you been?”

“waiting,” you answer. “will you help me?”

steve gets his pants down his hips in record time. he blushes heavily, waiting for your reaction. which - your face is probably blank to him, because conceptualizing the size of him is a difficult task. he’s thick, long, the tip gently slapping against his tummy. your pipe dream of getting him in your throat is out the window. for now, you’ll have to start small.

which, he is not.

“is it okay?” steve asks.

“what?” your head snaps up to see his disheveled face and messy hair. “its - yeah. i - i might not be able to -“

“of course!” he says quickly, shaking his head. “you don’t have to do anything - kissin’ you’s more than enough - and - and you know i love tasting y-“

you lean forward and it shuts him up. he shifts so he’s facing you, so he’s closer. your hand reaches out experimentally to feel him. steve sighs when your fingers wrap around the velvet length. he’s so much warmer and harder than you ever imagined.

“and you’ve never…?” he asks hoarsely.

you look up at him through your lashes and he almost combusts. “no.”

steve shivers. his hands gently scrape through your hair, pushing it out of your pretty face. “go slow, okay? you want to stop, we stop.”

it’s almost annoying. “steve, be quiet.”

“i’m not known for th-aaaaaaaah!”

his head falls back against the window again just from you licking the tip of his cock. the salt of his precum makes your mouth water. his nails scratch gingerly at your scalp in the same way your fingers try to find purchase in his shirt when he kisses you.

you feel powerful. really, truly.

he’s saying nonsense above you when you really start your work, taking him further and further into your mouth. he’s so heavy on your tongue. tastes clean and inoffensive. you adore the way his shaft tenses up when you run your tongue over a vein or focus on the head.

“you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he slurs, watching you with hooded eyes. “so good at that, honey, y’sure y’never did this?”

you pop off of him and use your hand to leisurely jerk him off. it’s much different from his ferocity when he ate you out. “why? you jealous?”

steve’s chest heaves and he tries to find words. “sometimes when eddie’d take you home i - i’d get - thinking about him touching you -“

“please don’t mention him right now,” you beg, though you’d be lying if the idea of him getting pissed over you and someone else didn’t do it for you.

he changes the subject quickly. “touch yourself.”

you pause. “i - might be hard -“

“ugh, right,” he moans. “wish - wish you - had more room. could finger that - that pretty little hole while you suck me off.”

you moan now, and lean back forward to suck him off again. you’re messy with it, letting yourself drool on him to account for what you couldn’t take. you wish he’d make you take it, his fingers bullying into you while his hips buck up. you want it so bad it has you drooling harder, your core aching. it hurts.

“miss it,” he continues, voice strained. “miss how t-tight y’were on my tongue, shit! oh, honey, we - we - should s-sixty-nine, that’d be so hot.”

you moan and, against your better judgement, take him a little deeper. you gag when he hits the back of your throat but the mini freak-out steve has when you do is so worth it. he gasps and thrashes, a long, guttural groan filling the car. “yes, fuck! fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck i’m close so close-“

and you don’t really know what to do with your hand, so it reaches down to fondle his balls, which feels dirty and makes your heart beat fast and hard. steve’s pulling you off of him so quickly you get whiplash, and then he’s cumming in thick spurts, gasping and arching and whining. you reach for him to help him finish, his big hand finding yours and helping you jerk him off. his mouth open in an “o”, his eyes staring at you with adoration, brows furrowed.

your pristine hand is covered in his cum. it’s pretty, pearlescent in the moonlight. you want to taste it but you’re not sure if that would make things awkward. your fever has vanished and you’re thinking a bit more clearly now. anxiety creeps in - but steve’s lips quickly quell it, soothing you as they move against yours.

“sorry,” he whispers. he’s very giggly. “got y’messy.”

“you’re prone to doing that.”

he laughs louder. “cute and funny?”

“and good at head?”

“that’s not a requirement.”

“an added bonus, certainly?”

steve pulls you towards him again. “you want my dirty underwear this time?”

you feel lightheaded when you say yes.

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader

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weird-an · 4 months

Text

The door bell rings. It's the new gardener, Steve's mom informed him a week ago and fucked off to New York. Like she'd be around to watch the roses bloom this year.

This has to be a joke, Steve thinks numbly, when he opens the door.

"Hey, Harrington." Billy Hargrove grins at him, a toothpick between his lips. He's wearing a black overall - and nothing underneath.

Steve stares at the tanned skin and wonders if saving the town from monsters and a whole ass apocalypse isn't enough and he's being punished instead.

"Hey!" Billy snaps his fingers. "I'm talkin' to you, pretty boy."

"Oh." Steve blinks. He knows his attention span is fucked, but Jesus. To be honest, Billy is in good shape. Steve can almost see him lifting weights and wiping the sweat off his face -

"For the third time. Where are your mother's fucking roses, Steve?"

Steve absently points behind himself. "In the garden."

"No shit." Billy laughs. "Show me, then."

Steve does show him. Billy makes a face.

He mutters something that vaguely sounds like "what a dump", but Steve is too busy to stare at his ass when he's kneeling in front of the first flower bed.

Billy actually works. His golden hair up in a bun, chewing on the toothpick. His chest is shining from sweat and Steve watches his biceps curl. His left nipple is peeking out of the overall. Fuck.

Billy also yells. At the plants. Calls his mother's favourite hibiscus a stupid motherfucker and flips off the oak tree.

Steve is watching him, torn between annoyance and the tightness of his jeans. Billy's hands are dirty from the earth and he's panting when he digs through a flower bed no one has cared for in an eternity.

"Does your bush need trimming, too?" Billy asks, raising a brow and waving the clipper at him. There's a leaf stuck in his tousled bun.

Steve's face glows and it's not because of the heat.

"Uh..Do you want... some water?" Steve asks mechanically. That's something he should have asked two hours ago. Instead he was busy... staring.

"Yeah, thanks, pretty boy." Billy grins, teeth shining bright. He's got dimples and his face is sprinkled with freckles. Shit, shit, shit.

Steve watches Billy down a glass of water, Adam's apple bobbing. He's so fucked. He hides in the kitchen until Billy comes in to wash his hands.

"Done for the day. Can be 'round tomorrow. This shit show of a garden will take some time to get finished."

Steve imagines his mother hearing her garden called a shit show and literally clutching her pearls.

"Alright." He doesn't try to sound too eager.

When Billy is gone, he inspects the garden. He can't believe that Billy fucking Hargrove is his gardener. That he's actually doing his job.

The roses look okay. So does the rest of the garden. From what Steve can tell. The bush next to the pool... is shaped like a dick. Great.

Steve gets himself a beer. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He's half hard in his jeans. He hates himself, because he's about to jerk off to Billy Hargrove.

There's a note on the table. It's a phone number.

"You're so fucking obvious," Steve reads. "Luckily you're hot."

Well. It's a win, Steve guesses.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #gardener billy #not only crowley deserves to yell at plants #anger management at its best #i love the distracted by billy's hotness steve trope tbh

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occamstfs · 21 days

Text

Ramadan Recitations

Here's a Arab/Muslim Cultural TF, figured I may as well throw it up for Eid! May not be for everyone, but may those who enjoy have at it! Happy Eid! -Occam

It’s the end of March and Allen’s roommate has been listening to the Quran out loud for the length of Ramadan. He’s out of town for the weekend and Allen is uncomfortable sitting alone in the silence of their apartment. Now that he hasn’t heard the consistent background melodies of a recitation in a couple days he realizes what delight they brought him. He goes to find the playlist that Mo had been using. Suddenly feeling the golden cross that hangs from his neck everyday he briefly reconsiders before deciding to put on the recitation anyway. Jesus is in the Quran right? It’s not like there’s any harm to appreciating someone else’s culture.

Assuming Mo wouldn’t mind Allen using his speakers he throws on the Tilawa, Mo would be playing it now himself anyway. Allen starts to work as the reciter begins his melodic reading. He almost tunes it out as he starts reading and responding to emails in their shared living room. His body sits at ease as the rhythm of the man’s speaking reverberates through him.

Allen doesn’t speak a word of Arabic, but as he continues to type up droll responses to even duller emails he finds himself paying more attention to the verses than work that he needs to get done. As his distraction rises he tabs away from work and decides to take a break and see what exactly the verses that he’s so fond of are saying. He scans a translation but his eyes glaze over as he remembers Mohammad telling him that to really understand the words of the prophet one must read in his tongue.

Instead Allen just decides to just close his eyes and listen to the deep melodies of the mother tongue. The patterns and unfamiliar tonality provide him a comfort he doesn’t understand. He listens and the song only grows sweeter to his ears, he lies back against the couch as he begins to hum along uncertainly to the music. Allen harmonizes better by the second as he feels some sense of understanding over the distinctively not western scales, however he doesn’t notice as the chain of his necklace breaks, falling to the floor. He doesn’t hear the cross hit the floor instead remaining focused on his serene enjoyment of the man singing scripture to him.

Continuing to hum along, Allen notices that despite trying to keep a steady note, his tone seems to be getting deeper. He clears his throat and finds it’s not only his humming but his voice entire that has lowered in pitch. He rises from his serene reverie to go and find some medicine worried now that he is coming down with the flu. Standing he also notices that the temperature seems as if it’s rising in the apartment as well. Allen goes to grab some medicine, under his breath saying “inshallah I’m not sick eh?” Mo had been teaching him Arabic for some time now, but he always avoiding using it, Inshallah in particular since so many kids who certainly don’t appreciate Arabic culture are throwing it around. At this moment though Allen says it as if it’s an instinct, as if he has been using the language for some time.

Walking to a medicine cabinet Allen doesn’t notice as the volume increases on the speakers to still reach his ears. Words continue to steadily flow into his mind, standing in front of the cabinet he finds alongside the still increasing warmth there is a soreness starting to appear through the whole of his body. He groans in his deeper voice, feeling his Adam’s apple rest strangely on his throat as he tries to stretch out his soreness. It’s like he hit the gym this morning, though he certainly has not. He takes deep slow breaths as he bends down to work out the pain in his legs and torso, unaware as his body begins to lengthen in height. He feels the aircon blow up his shirt as his midriff is now exposed, he pulls it down in vain before reaching to grab medicine, accidentally overshooting thanks to his added height.

Allen makes his way back to the living room, dry swallowing his flu medicine before sitting back down to enjoy his repose. This time not only does he have an instinctual understanding of the melody and rhythm, but he finds himself knowing what words are to come next in the verses. Surely he hasn’t heard recitations that much right? He doesn’t even speak the language how could he possibly, nevertheless he starts whispering under his breath the words he feels should be next and finds himself right on the money. His whispering slowly grows in volume as he finds himself beginning to sing along with the tapes, “Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim…” he continues on with the verse, singing as if classically trained.

He shoves his hand over his mouth in shock and finds another surprise awaiting him on his face. He is perpetually clean-shaven for work and yet all of a sudden there is stubble growing on his face. Allen rushes to the restroom to inspect his face and finally finds something impossible happening to him. He sees the roots of his hair growing darker, pushing thicker out from his head. Not only has he suddenly grown stubble but the scruff on his face is rapidly approaching a full beard. As he clutches at his hair and beard in inspection he finds that the changes are not isolated to his face.

He sees his arms stretch further from his shirt than they did this morning and feels the awkward gaps on his waist and ankles, and feels the air blow against the dark hairs beginning to spread up his stomach and legs. He sees hair thicker than his pubes begin to grow on his wrists spreading indeterminably up his arms. The reciter’s voice grows stronger as Allen inspects himself, his eyes racing from one part of his body to another seeking any sign of normality. He feels an itch in his pits and on his chest as the song rises in pitch and volume. There is a drive in his chest to continue singing along but as he makes eye-contact with himself in the mirror, seeing the blue eyes he’s always loved swiftly staining themselves the color of coffee before darkening even further he knows that there can be no explanation for this other than that man’s voice.

He clenches his jaw to keep himself quiet as he races through the living room to shut off the speakers. His longer legs trip over themselves as each frantic breath he takes begins to expand his chest. Beyond the physical changes to his body he feels a change begin to take root in his mind. Allin feels he must be big, he must be strong. It is as Allah wills it. He stumbles in front of the speakers as he finds himself torn on what to do. He sees his arms darken under the still growing forest of hair on his arms, his biceps tearing his sleeves as they tan. Growing chest hair tickling his shirt he feels muscle surge from his chest as he raises his hand to yank the speakers from the wall.

The voice of the man singing grows to a din as it is joined by a chorus of other voices within Alin’s head. Thousands of recitations, of songs, the Quran and countless Hadith surge into his mind in a horrible cacophony. He yanks the power cord from the wall and the dissonant symphony within his mind vacates. And Alin is once more left alone with himself, his ears ringing and his vision blotchy. Slowly recovering and laying on the floor he begins to hear himself groan through the tinnitus. Even his moaning sounds changed as the man begins to lose his English vocabulary to learn the only tongue that shall truly matter to him now, that of the sacred book.

He whines to himself switching between eloquent Arabic vulgarities and English more accented by the second, he sees a cross necklace next to him, calling out quite loudly, “Madha? What is this?” Must be a prank from Mo, ach he needs to work on his material eh. Sitting alone in the living room Alin tries to think of what to do to distract himself, both from the silence surrounding him and from the flood of information storming in his head. Suddenly everything becomes simpler when he decides to just do what he always does, turning to the East Alin sees Mo’s prayer rug, always lying out for convenience’s sake. Alin grimaces and briefly considers phoning Mo for his lack of dedication, but upon seeing the skintight outfit he is wearing to pray he reconsiders. He should focus on correcting himself before fretting over even his friend.

Alin closes his eyes once more, languishing in the quiet for one moment before he begins his own, his deep voice ringing out as he sings verse in praise, “Ah, Allahu Akbar.” His chest growing to hold more breath and his pecs begin to surge large enough to honor Allah with his body. He hugs his stomach as he continues “Subhanakal-lahumma wabihamdika-” He feels his biceps pull against his massive chest and almost smirks as he thinks about them, he feels an urge, a desire to flex the them before clicking his tongue at himself to stay on task.

“Subhanna rabbeeyal adheem-” he bends down, feeling his thighs and ass push out behind him, ripping large tears into his pants At the same time Alin sees the bulge in his pants grow larger, popping his zipper and escaping from his pants. He sharply inhales as he feels everything is suddenly more intense. He feels his body grow beyond the limits of his clothes. He feels his already larger cock begin to grow erect and Alin, continues to sing “Rabbana walakal hamd-”

Finally he prepares to do his favorite part of Rakats, he gets to his knees before fully prostrating himself. Continuing the prayer as he feels his beard grow heavier on his face. His forehead touches the floor and he smiles, feeling a warm itch in his crotch as his briefs strain to contain him, pubes spilling out every way, “Subhanna rabbeeyal ‘alaa”

He rises back to seating, the motion creating an intense pang of pleasure throughout his body as he struggles to maintain control of his senses. He ekes out, “Rabbigh-fir lee…” becores cumming in his briefs. He finishes the Rakat in his solid pants before promptly leaving to regain his dignity and change into actual prayer appropriate attire, changing into a thobe and doing two Rak’a ending with a Tashahhud as one is to do.

Ali smiles as he sits in reflection having finally quieted the chaos within his mind. He feels his strong body hidden under the thobe and comforted in his time spent worshiping. His final thoughts before he decides to do another round of Rak’a is a conviction to thank Mo for sending him that playlist of Quranic Recitations. He does not know who he would be without it. Inshallah he shall get the chance to bring his light to others. He rubs his hands down his powerful body as he stands. Wallah, they don't know what they’re missing.

#male tf #mental change #cultural change #racial change #masculinization #muscle tf #race change

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Text

Slumber Party - Steve Harrington x Reader x Eddie Munson | part I | part II | part III | part IV

WC: 4.2K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Following Steve's hairbrained scheme, he and Eddie get you to crash at the Harrington House for a slumber party, changing your relationship forever

Contents/Warnings: reader wears steve's shirt and eddie's jacket, confessions, requited love, fluff, cheeky eddie and steve, lots of teasing

A/N: if you're under 18, this is the last part of this series! if you're over 18, there will be one more, pretty much completely smut, that takes place just after this :) you can expect that sometime soon!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

The trash bag in your hand rustles as you shake air into it. There’s a surprising amount of garbage to clean up after a friends-only pool party, but you suspect some has been there for longer than just tonight.

Like the crushed, stained red solo cup that peeks out from underneath one corner of Steve’s couch.

It crunches under your fingers and you realize it’s sticky, your face scrunching into a grimace, “Steve, when’s the last time you cleaned in here?”

He looks over from where he’s scraping half-dried pizza cheese off of a couch cushion, “Jesus, I think that’s from freshman year.”

“Not even my place is that bad,” Eddie brags, though it hardly works as one.

“I found a chocolate bar cemented into the floor under your bed,” Steve stands tall, an eyebrow raised accusingly at Eddie, “We both have our problems.”

You snicker at their lighthearted banter, “Gross, guys.”

Then they’re whirling on you, and you wish you’d kept your mouth shut.

“Oh,” Eddie gushes, a hand over his heart in a dramatic display, “You never leave empty milkshake cups in my van. You’re soooo clean!”

“Dude,” Steve lets out an incredulous laugh, punching Eddie theatrically in the shoulder, “She leaves ‘em in my car too! I swear there’s like twelve in the backseat, and she doesn’t even sit there.”

“Guys!” You flush, shoulders slouching as they tease you, “You’re both so mean.”

You don’t expect either of the things that happen next. You don’t expect them to share a glance, meaningful in the slight nod that they offer to each other and the raise of their eyebrows. And you definitely don’t expect them to start forward, rushing around you for a tight group hug.

“We’re sorry, honey.” Steve croons, his slightly toned arms winding tight around your waist from behind, his voice soft and sympathetic, “We’re just teasing.”

Eddie’s ringed fingers come to rest on your cheeks, tugging your face inches from his own as he kisses the soft skin of your forehead.

“You can leave allll the trash y’want in the van as long as you keep gettin’ in it, baby.” Eddie promises, his voice a hair raspy

Your head is spinning. Your knees threaten to give out, and you swear that Steve’s hands pull your hips back dangerously close to his clothed cock on purpose. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted all at once, which means that you can’t process any of it at all.

Eddie’s lips linger against your forehead, which means that your view is his neck. There’s a smear of what you think is food coloring from the cookies that you made earlier, staining a spot just below his Adam’s apple. What you don’t see with this view is the glance that Steve and Eddie shoot each other over your head, sly smirks on the both of their faces as you grew more and more flushed under their touch.

“Our little baby,” Eddie glances down, cooing sweetly at you, as his lips hover inches away from your own, “Can’t tease you at all, huh?”

“‘Gets you all uptight…” Steve adds, his voice husky over your shoulder while his hands squeeze at your hips, “You’ve gotta learn to loosen up, honey.”

That does it.

Your knees go weak, and you pull away from them. You slip out from their grasps, the chill that ran up your spine the moment they embraced you now spreading throughout your whole being as your skin hit the air.

“I- I’m gonna go take out the trash,” You hold up the barely-filled trash bag in your hand, brandishing it at them as a half-assed explanation, “Bye!”

How are you supposed to go back in there? Steve had practically dry humped you, Eddie was inches away from kissing you. They’d called you their baby, told you to loosen up. It felt like the beginning of a porno, and yet frustration strikes you as you remind yourself it meant nothing at all.

Steve is the natural boyfriend type. He’s all lovesick smiles, acts of service, and gentle touches. Eddie is outgoing, chock-full of affection that he expresses in less-than-conventional ways. You’re no stranger to cheek kisses from the pair, to late nights in their beds with their shirts on your back, to hands-on-thighs that drift higher than they should.

But god, how much more of this are you able to take? How many more nights can you spend in their beds, tucked into their chests like a real couple? How many more times can Steve’s fingers brush your inner thigh, or Eddie’s hand drift down south during a hug before it’s too much? Before you actually start believing it, before it’s more than just a friendship to you?

Not much more, that’s for sure. Your heart pounds in your chest as you recall their hands on you, and you make your decision. You need to leave, now, before you give yourself away.

“Mission accomplished.” Steve’s grin grows lazily over his face, his hands hanging off of his hips, “She almost fell over.”

“I would’a felt bad,” Eddie admits, remembering the heat radiating off of your cheeks as he cupped them, “I just can’t believe she tricked us for so long.”

“I.. I guess it was hard for her, or something.” Steve’s voice loses some of its cocky luster, “She really fought hard to keep it a secret.”

“Yeah,” Is all that Eddie can murmur as you slip back through the sliding door. The two boys turn to you expectantly, confident grins on their faces that they try to mask as casual.

“Soooo,” Eddie draws out the word, “Harrington and I were thinking it would be kinda fun to have a movie night. You in, sweetheart?”

Steve doesn’t bother letting you answer before he lays it on thicker, “No one made that popcorn we bought for today, so we can have it now, and I’ve still got tapes from the last sleepover we had.”

They wait expectantly, self-assuredness practically oozing from them. But you gnaw the inside of your cheek while they talk, shrinking in on yourself slightly when the offer is proposed.

“Actually, no. Not tonight, guys, I..” You pause, mouth open but devoid of words. You rub a tired hand down your face, “I’m sorry. Just.. not tonight.”

Their faces drop.

For a harrowing moment, they believe they have it wrong. That your blushing was out of embarrassment, not out of longing. That your tensing was because of discomfort and not anticipation. That maybe, just maybe, you don’t like them at all.

“Why not?” Steve gets himself together first, his voice now cautious and soft.

“I don’t feel like it.” You mumble, but both know you’re lying.

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?” Eddie feels strange not using a pet name, but with the guarded look in your eyes, he’s not sure it’s a good idea to go with baby.

“I’m tired from swimming,” You weakly attempt to fool them, but you realize now that the closeness you’re trying to evade is the reason you can’t. They know you inside and out, and you can’t lie to them.

“Me too,” Eddie snickers, “We’ll just crash here tonight.”

“It’ll be a sleepover,” Steve adds, one eyebrow raised hopefully at you, “You sleep here all the time, honey. C’mon, please?”

You need to say no. You need to politely decline, excuse yourself, go home, and face-plant into your pillow. You need to scream, you need to kick your feet, you need to giggle, you need to squeal, you need to call your friends while laying on your stomach on the bed. You need to twirl the cord of the phone around your finger while your legs bounce back and forth in the air behind you. You need to freak out.

“We can watch Grease,” Steve presents his final offer, the one he knows you won’t be able to say no to, holding the vhs up tantalizingly before you.

You take a moment of silence for the willpower you’ve just lost, mourning the end of your sanity and the victory of your delusions, “Okay, I’ll stay.”

The grins on their faces lit up the dark little spot in your brain. The one that told you you aren’t good enough for either of them, let alone both like you fantasize about.

Eddie shoots towards you like a rocket, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tackles you back onto the couch. It rips an incredulous laugh from your throat, one that warms Eddie’s chest and prompts him to kiss your forehead.

“Knew you’d come around, pretty girl,” He coos at you, pinning you to the sofa cushions. His words reignite that flutter in your belly, as does the chill of his jewelry on your bare skin.

“Jesus Eddie,” Steve gripes, his face popping into your view as Eddie hovers over you, “Don’t crush her before the movie even starts.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, an expression that leaves you giggling, and pushes himself up off of you.

“What I’m hearing, Harrington, is that I can crush her after the movie starts.” It seems like both a threat and a promise, and Steve scoffs at Eddie’s cheeky grin.

“Y/N,” Steve peers around Eddie who’s still crowding you against the couch, “You need a change of clothes?”

You glance down at your coverup, the sheer fabric revealing your still-damp bathing suit beneath.

“Yes please,” You really don’t know if you can handle one of Steve’s hoodies that you normally take, nor do you think you’ll be able to slip into a pair of his boxers without losing your mind. Apparently Steve doesn’t have that in mind, though, because he reaches for the hem of his own shirt, yanking it off of his head without a second thought.

His chest is exposed, bare and smattered with hair. The air escapes your lungs and you suck more in, your strangled gasp catching both boys’ attention.

“You okay?” Steve holds the shirt out to you, his chest bared, “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

You are about to collapse. You swear that the shirt hanging limply from Steve’s hand has some sort of forcefield around it; an aura. It makes your knees buckle and Steve has to throw it over your shoulder for it to be in your possession.

You see Eddie opening his mouth, no doubt about to put the pieces together of your little crush, one of them at least, so you scurry off, the shirt nearly falling from your shoulder as you do.

“I’m gonna go change!” It comes out squeaky, higher-pitched than you want it too, but you’re too overwhelmed to care. You rush to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you so hard it nearly breaks the hinges.

“Shit,” Eddie snickers incredulously as the bathroom door shuts behind you, “Good thinking, man. Y’had her frozen.”

“I didn’t think she’d take it,” Steve admits sheepishly, cupping the back of his neck and letting his clean-cut fingernails dig into the skin there, “‘Thought maybe it was going too far.”

“This is going too far,” Eddie urges, plopping down onto the couch with an unceremonious thump, “That’s the point. She’s not gonna do shit on her own, so we gotta-”

“Do you have any pants I could borrow?”

Both men turn to the bathroom with wide eyes, catching your head stuck out of the doorway. The rest of your body is shielded by the door, and each man mourns their own loss of the visual.

“Uh, no clean pairs.” Steve bluffs, scratching his nails over his chest, itching at nothing in particular to draw your eyes to the action, “Sorry, haven’t done laundry in forever.”

“It’s fine.” You come out of the bathroom now, offering him a sweet smile so that he knows you’re not mad at him, “‘S just a little short, that’s all.”

You’re right. When you step out of the bathroom, the shirt shifts over your legs with every step you take. It rides up your thighs, exposing bare skin that neither Steve nor Eddie ever dreamed they’d see of you. Eddie’s the one who pulls out of his trance first, hovering a hand over his waist.

“If you really want me to, I can pull a Harrington and slip outta my boxers. That’s what you normally wear at mine.” He grins cheekily at you, his thumb hooked into the hem of his pants, “Sound good?”

“No!” You shriek indignantly, giggling at the image, “Then you’d be pantsless!”

“And would that really be terrible?” He groans, tipping his head back against the sofa cushions and displaying his throat. The skin stretches thin over his adam’s apple and your eyes trace the bulge in his throat as it bobs, “I think we’d all enjoy that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steve grumbles, chucking the VHS case for Grease at him, “If your dick ever touches my couch you’re buying me a new one.”

“Oh please,” Eddie starts, fiery and revved up, “Like you wouldn’t be-”

“Guys!” You throw up your hands, looking between the two of them with mock annoyance, “Shut up, the movie’s gonna play!”

And it does. Grainy footage springs to life over the VCR, displaying the opening sequence of Grease that you eagerly paid attention to. You tugged Steve down beside you, sinking into the cushions near Eddie. The latter wriggled closer to you, matching Steve’s distance, which was to say there was no distance between any of you anymore.

Eddie’s thigh presses flat against your bare one, the joggers that he’d used after getting out of the pool baggy and loose against his leg. Steve’s got jeans on, the rough denim flush to your other thigh, as the two sneak their arms around your shoulders.

“Smooth,” You tease them, and Steve even throws you a fake yawn, the classic first date move. You can’t deny the butterflies that stampede through your stomach at the playful flirting, and you wriggle into your seat, getting comfy between them.

One of your hands rests on Steve’s upper thigh, your fingers curled into the loose denim as you watch. Eddie’s head rests on your shoulder, his hair tickling your face as he makes cracks here and there about the film. Both are fun to watch movies with. Eddie jokes the whole time, picking apart terrible production choices and whistling whenever someone looks good on screen. But Steve watches, laughing when he should and biting back a smile when he shouldn’t.

You can’t help but feel, sandwiched between your two best friends, unfortunate crushes brewing for both of them, that this is only the beginning, your beginning. It’s a concept that tugs at your heartstrings, that ignites hope in your chest, because maybe if they’re holding you like this, maybe if they’re loving you like this, they could do it like you want them to. They could hold you more, differently. They could love you more, differently. Everything you have is perfect, and somehow you’re still wanting more, something different.

You aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to get enough of either of the boys beside you. Steve, all soft smiles and sarcastic insults, and Eddie, lively and playful. Each one brings something new to your life, something invigorating that seeps into your brain and gets you hooked like an addict. You’re absolutely certain that your life would never be the same without them, which is what makes you so hesitant to confess.

But here, snuggled up to the both of them with Grease playing on the Harrington’s television in the low light of the living room, you feel safe. You don’t need to confess, you don’t need to pull away to keep yourself safe, you don't need to do anything at all. All you can do is enjoy this, enjoy them.

You hope they feel the same way. You’re always quick to doubt yourself, write off flirty banter as a joke, or assume they’re like that with everyone. But they’re not, you're special and you know it. It’s a fantastic feeling, being special, even more fantastic when you’re special to those that you find special. You decide you quite like the feeling, burrowing back into their embraces to soak in it some more.

“‘Gonna lose you in the couch if you keep that up,” Eddie quips, “Must be pretty cozy.”

“I am,” You admit without hesitation. Perhaps its the exhaustion from swimming, or the haziness seeping into your brain from their warm embraces, but you don’t feel much like hiding anymore, “‘Love you guys.”

Eddie freezes against your shoulder, and Steve tenses. All at once it comes crashing down, their miniscule reactions clearing away your giddiness and confidence in a split second.

You stay silent, your eyes locked onto the screen, your cheeks burning. It’s not the first time you’ve said it to either of them, but it’s the first time you’ve said it now, wrapped up intimately in their embraces. It’s different, and everyone knows it.

“Yeah?” Steve prompts you, “We love you too, honey.”

“Lots.” Eddie adds, shifting his face so that it’s buried in your neck instead of facing the television, “Probably a little too much.”

He punctuates his sentence with a smattering of soft kisses to the soft skin of your neck, ones that run a shiver up your spine.

“Eddie,” You breathe, and he stops hesitantly.

“You want me to stop?”

Everything in you screams no, but you say yes.

You shift away from him, consequently into Steve, and turn to face him. He looks timid, anxiety brewing in his pretty brown eyes.

“What are we?”

It’s a vague question, but it’s thick with meaning. Steve contemplates how to answer, not sure if he wants to lead in with a joke (‘teenagers’), or blurt out his feelings, (‘soulmates’). Eddie does it for him.

“You want us to be together,” Eddie’s voice is soft and meek, nearly scared, “Right?”

“Together…?”

“Together,” Steve finally finds his voice, strong and low in his chest, “Like, for real, Y/N. We know.”

They know. They know. They know.

It runs rampant in your head, a mantra of your humiliation as you sit frozen between them. You’d rather be literally anywhere else, the upside down for fuck’s sake.

“We want it too.” Eddie promises, tentatively reaching out a hand to rest it in your lap, “Shit, I- I thought I was gonna decapitate this Chili guy for getting too close to you.”

“Pineapple was on my shit list.” Steve admits, “Can’t believe it was Munson.”

“Oh, likewise.” Eddie cranes his neck to peer around your head at Steve, “I mean, red hot? I guess in those stupid little scoops shorts…”

“Eddie,” Steve glares sharply at the boy, reaching around the back of your head to smack Eddie upside his, “Focus.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Eddie grins at you, mirth in his eyes, “But that’s.. That’s what you want, right sweetheart?”

You look at them. You look at Eddie, doe eyes wide and hopeful, hands braced eagerly on your thigh. You look at Steve, uncertainty clouding his gaze, his arm tightening its grip on your shoulders. You look at them, lucky in love, and nod.

“I do, I- I really really want this.”

The admission clears a weight off of your shoulders that’s been there for years, leaving you lighter than air. Your smile grows effortlessly, a soft giggle escaping your mouth as they both surge forwards.

They knock heads, their expressions scrunching from grins to grimaces, and you take each of them by the jaw.

You press a kiss to the side of Steve’s head, where it had run into Eddie’s, then one to his lips. He’s clearly shocked by the gesture, because his eyes widen and he can’t seem to shut them for the entirety of the kiss. You pull back, another giggle escaping you at his incredulous expression.

“Fuck,” He breathes, “I didn’t- I didn’t think you would do that.”

“Well now you’d better do it to me,” Eddie wastes no time in baring his head, tucking his chin to his chest to give you better access to his life-threatening injury, “Kiss!”

You comply as butterflies ravage your tummy, flitting this way and that, their pretty wings brushing the walls of your stomach. You swear there must be thousands as you pop a kiss to Eddie’s messy hair, then let him tug your face to hover in front of his. He practically lunges for you, lips tasting like popcorn you’re sure he snuck while you were in the bathroom.

He’s not as polite as you were with Steve, going back for more each time you think of pulling away. Finally you have to murmur at him, your words muffled by the kiss, “Eddie… Eddie? Eddie!”

“Jesus,” Steve yanks Eddie away by the collar of his shirt, a blush still redenning his cheeks from when you’d kissed him, “Let her breathe, dude.”

Then he seems to realize his loss, scrunching his face up, “His was longer than mine.”

“You went first!” Eddie insists adamantly.

“Not the same,” Steve is the one to pull you in this time, fitting his lips perfectly against your own. As if two kisses hadn’t been enough to turn your stomach inside out, the third had you melting, your hands falling from each of their jaws.

Steve’s just barely pulling away when you feel Eddie’s lips on your cheek, turning to face him and bumping noses. He takes the opportunity to peck your lips once more, and you realize you’re about to be smothered if you don’t take action now.

“Okay,” You giggle giddily, wriggling out from where you’ve sunk into their embrace, “Okay, so, we’re together now?”

“Yes,” Steve nods, his teeth on display as he grins, “That feels nice to hear.”

Eddie nods vigorously, “Even better when you consider we’re alone here for the weekend.”

“Eddie,” You chide, swatting bashfully at him, “So pervy!”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie laughs incredulously, “I mean, it’s not a bad idea!”

“It’s not,” You sigh resentfully, wishing you had the willpower to deny him, “But I wanna finish the movie first!”

“Okay!” Eddie mimics the pattern of your voice, pinching you teasingly in the side, “I can already tell it’s gonna be hard saying no to you.”

“He already doesn’t say no to me.” You gesture to Steve, then press an apologetic kiss to his rosy cheek when he grumbles about it, “Lets me get away with whatever I want, huh Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gripes, “It’s not my fault you’re too cute to say no to.”

His sappy admission makes you squeal, and it puts a smile on Steve’s face. You catapult onto his chest from across the couch, snuggling your head into his neck while your legs wind around his waist, “You’re so good to me, Steve.”

“‘Course I am,” He puffs up proudly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t?”

Boyfriend. The word, although foreign, feels familiar, something you’ve known for all of your time with him. It describes Eddie perfectly too, who’s scooting across the couch to kiss your nose as your cheek presses against Steve’s chest.

“Alright you two,” Eddie groans, but smiles sweetly at the both of you, a harmless tease, “Let’s actually finish the movie? You can hold her for now, Steve, but I swear to god the second we put another tape in, she’s mine.”

“You’re gonna have to take her from me,” Steve threatens, his arms tightening around your waist as you play along, clinging to him, “I’ve waited for too long not to enjoy this.”

“You can enjoy it until Grease is done.” Eddie warns again, narrowing his eyes at you when you stick your tongue out teasingly at him, “Then you can be the sad, lonely one.”

The words ‘sad’ and ‘lonely’ tug your brows down, and you crane up off of Steve’s chest to pucker your lips at Eddie. He surges forward with a bright smile, kissing you sweetly this time letting you go within a reasonable time.

“Sweet girl,” Eddie coos at you, watching as you snuggle yourself back into Steve’s nack. He leans down himself, bracing his back against the cushions behind him as he tentatively rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, just beside your own, “Are you even watching the movie?”

You can’t see it anymore, now facing away from the tv. But you are facing Eddie, and that’s more than enough to keep you occupied. Steve’s hand brushes slowly, soothingly over your back and your lashes flutter dreamily, Eddie’s grin inches from your own.

“No,” You shake your head slightly, the movement burrowing you further into Steve, “I’d much rather watch you.”

Steve lets out a teasing scoff at your cheesiness, pinching you lightly in the side, “You’re a sap.”

“Shut it, Harrington.” You take on Eddie’s nickname for the man, pushing yourself up onto his chest to glower threateningly at him, “Don’t make me cut your turn short.”

“I’m sorry!” Steve dramatically apologizes, clutching you tight, “I’m sorry, don’t go, I love you.”

The familiar phrase warms your heart, and you settle back onto his chest with a content sigh.

“I love you too,” You respond to Steve while looking at Eddie, both men feeling the overwhelming affection oozing off of you, “More than anything.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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ironbatpaperturtle · 24 days

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I love time travel, soo lets do this (btw this is what I interpret is what happened in Eden)

PT 1: Time travel AU

Adam died and wakes back to Eden, only this time it wasn't at the very start. No. It was the time wherein Lilith and Lucifer started getting to know each other.

Secretly meeting up, Lilith avoiding Adam, and Lucifer distracting Adam by appointing duties.

If this was the Adam before, before the whole apple free-well, before the 900 years of trying to stay alive on Earth with his wife Eve, before a millenia or so of living in Heaven witnessing the horrors of Earth and killing his own decendants then he'd feel betrayed, hurt.

But he can't, because this time, oh this time. Adam has a plan. Everyone seems to assume that Adam can't think of plans, but Adams had years of experience and a hoard of brutal bad bitches to respect him, for a reason.

A little out of pocket and unappropriate comments doesn't change that.

Since this Lucifer isn't violent compared to the Lucifer Adam knew in the future then it won't matter how disrespectful he'd be to him.

Now here comes the plan. All Adam had to do was simple really. Nothing. Well not nothing. Specifically he'll act like he still has the hots for Lilith, let them get together and once he gets Eve, teach Eve about snakes.

If Even still eats the apple then Adam won't be fooled. The only reason Adam ate that damned apple was because he didn't want to lose Eve.

But eternal paradise vs a wife he forcefully won't love, bitch it aint rocket science. Besides, even without humanity Adam already knows shit, shit thats relevant like who tf wants jazz? From now on the only songs Adam will sing would be rock. Speaking of rock.

Adam misses his guitar.

He needs to ask an angel to poof him one or something. Making one takes time, not to mention he'd have to make the materials to make one.

Other than Lucifer, the only ones who actually visit would be Michael, rare, and Sera even rarer.

Adam paced in circles, unaware of the baby ducks following behind.

"ADAM!"

"Jesu-- Jezz!" Adam snapped his gaze to the figure in front of him and glared at the Angel.

"Sorry . . . Its just . . . Are you okay?" Lucifers wings shifted unused to the glare presented to him. Adams never looked at him like that before. It was . . . unnerving.

Adam eased his glare, relaxing his shoulders just a tad bit before presenting a wide grin.

"Lucifer!" Adam raised both his arms walking towards Lucifer to engulf him in a hug. Eugh. "I had a . . . dream? Yes I'll call it a dream. I had a dream of playing an instrument of sorts, one that has multiple vines attached to it, I think? And whenever I pull these vines I can create sounds, not just any sounds, but sounds that have melody"

Lucifer brightned up, dreams! Adams having dreams. This could only mean that Adam would soon seek and eat the forbiden fruit. Now he didn't have to keep pressuring Adam, now all three of them would explore what's around Earth, find free will, and create unimaginable ideas.

Granted he has to figure out how to make Lilith and Adam become civil with each other. But he can work on that after the apple.

Adam shifted both of his arms ontop the angels shoulder waiting for his response. C'mon fucker answer.

"Well those could be the instrument harp Sera's always been fond of" Lucifer laughed out, wrapping his arms around the first mans waist.

Tsk

"Ah really? But these are held different"

Lucifer in his current happy mood, didn't register the implications of Adams words. Instead he laughed again "How else would you hold a string instrument, unless we're talking about the fiddle I own"

Shit

Adam bit his lip, the guitar was invented by humans. The only musical instruments Angels know are the Harp, Piano, Fiddle, Flute, Organ and the Viola.

"Ohh" guess Adam would have to make it himself. Fucking weak. "Well I have to go"

Adam pushed himself out of Lucifers grip, turning around and gracefully side stepping the baby ducks that were following him.

"Where will you be going?"

"I'm trying to find my wife, Lilith" with Adams back to Lucifer, Lucifer didn't see how Adams eyes shifted into a glare. And Adam didn't need to look to know how Lucifer became anxious at the mention of her name.

Keep her you filthy wife stealer.

"I see . . . Well you should give her space she's probably doing her chores"

"I would like to invite her to rest with me then, she's probably tired from all those chores, afterall, I haven't seen her in a long time" regardless of how Adam sounded so innocent, a grin couldn't stop itself from forming on his face. He knows how possesive Lucifer is.

"Lilith takes her chores seriously, with precision might I add" Lucifers nervousness was replaced with a stern tone.

Just like Sera. Ugh, boring

"I see, well she can stop to rest with her husband. After all she's mine, is she not?"

Adam quickly wiped the grin off his face, turning back to face Lucifer and present a toothy grin. Finding amusement in Lucifers stern yet scrunched face.

"Would you like to help me?" Adam tilted his head, batting his lashes like how he did when he was mocking Liliths brat.

"Sadly I cannot" Lucifer masked his irritation with a tight-lipped smile. Fake ass "But I hope you will find her"

With that Lucifer vanished in a puff of angelic smoke.

----

"Just yesterday he was yelling at me, telling me about my purpose as his wife" Lilith nervously claimed, her head settled on the angels lap. They sat ontop a large boulder that overlooks the barrier between Eden and whats outside. What could be more.

Lilith closed her eyes, usually Adam wasn't like this, sure he could be a bit overwhelming but this felt . . . different. He would instruct Lilith but he'd do it with a certain tone and body language. This one is like a new different version of Adam. Has something happened?

Days progressed like that, Lilith mushing to Lucifer about how Adams been far more controllive, telling her what and what not to do. He'd even say words that she doesn't know exist. What's a pocket pussy?

Lucifer at this point felt dejected, he didn't think that his first friend would act like this. To his partner of all things. He also thought that when Adam dreamed he'd have a chance of more likely eating the apple but so far nothing.

Lucifer sighed, petting the head of the first woman. A woman so independent, fierce, caring, beatiful and so much more.

"Lucifer" Lilith rose her head, her lips mere inches apart from Lucifers. And suddenly they knew.

----

Just between a tree was Adam watching sll this happen with a grin. I win.

Adam turned around, he'd come back after there little sex sesh. Right now he has questions.

Why is he still in Eden if he has free will?

Shouldn't it be that he gets thrown away from Eden once he learns what free will is. This body of his didn't eat the apple. But his body before? future? Whatever, did.

He can say as much as curse words, knows shame and the good and bad. His not as pure minded as he was when he was in Eden. So why wasn't he thrown out?

Total banger but creepy as shit.

Adam gazed at the forbidden fruits. Carefully he reached out and plucked one out. He can see the reflection of his face.

If he eats this, what would happen. What if it turns him back to being someone without free will? What if it'll kill him? What if the sersphims find out and he'd be thrown out of Eden just like last time? Then that would mean all those acting would be for nothing.

But the temptation was raw, ever since Adam unlocked his free will he'd become more implusive and temptation was easy to succumb to. A total opposite of what he was before.

Adam held onto the apple, clutching it with his hand and procceded to bury it underneath the tree. Dirt caked between his fingertips. He wiped the sweat of his head, stood and spun. Turning back to where Lilith and Lucifer lay and where he would soon get rid of weeds.

----

"Lucifer . . ." Lilith mumbled chest heaving from exhaustion, she gazed the eyes of he angel above her, she'd never felt pleasure like this before.

"Lili--"

"Lilith!" Adam cried out eyes brimming with tears, fists shaking.

Lucifer and Lilith drew closer to each other, watching as the first mans eyes darted from his first wife to his first friend.

Lucifer was the first one to get his bearings "Adam listen--"

"No!" Adam cried out this time tears were freely falling from his face, he glared, teeth bared "How could you".

Both Lilith and Lucifer flinced from the snarl full of hatred. Oops dial it back.

"You were supposed to be my wife! Mine!" Adam yelled giving off the illusion of desperation, just like when it happened the first time. Just like when he was about to be stabbed.

At that Lucifers wings expanded covering Lilith and him in a cocoon, a sign of comfort for Lilith and a visible threat to Adam. Really? Gonna threaten someone who has no idea about the prospect of death?

A ball of light suddenly appeared, causing Lilith and Adam to cover their eyes and causing Lucifer to feel sick.

"Brother what have you done" it wasn't a question

----

Adam loves Michael, well as much as he can love a guy, no homo.

The guy always been the better guardian angel. And even when he died and went to Heaven Michael was the one to teach him everything. Before, when he wasnt so . . .yeah. Him and Michael would find a way to talk to eachother for hours. He was calm, attentive, can take Adams out of pocket jokes and humanity. Sometimes, Adam would stop thinking whenever his with Michael. The guys just that good.

But ever since the exterminations, increase of heavens winners and of course Michael being a high ranking angel, they haven't been able to talk as much. Or at all.

Man, Adam forgot how cool Michael was. Second to him of course. But he was very cool, he watches as Michael stands infront of him. Trying to shield him out of the first ever case of cheating.

If it was ever anyone who did that to him in his current self he'd feel offended. He can take a heartbreak, tf. But since it was Michael he feels giddy, oh he cannot wait to see what happens. He never saw what happened because he ran away immedietly when he found out.

----

Lucifer and Lilith stood at the edge of Eden, a portal behind them, the portal to Earth. Both of them were glaring at Michael who didn't look disturbed, only quirking an eye awaiting for a challenge. As if that bitch Lucifer can win against Michael.

Adam grinned.

Lucifer shifted his gaze to someone just behind Michael, Adam, they were eye-to-eye. The betrayal in Adams eyes were replaced with smugness, somethings wrong, this isn't Adam. Lucifers perplexed expression was replaced with shock as Adam cocked his hip, wiggled his fingers in a mock wave and mouth out a 'bye bitch'.

With a wave Michael cast Lucifer and Lilith out, discarded. ====

#hazbin hotel adam #adamsapple #lucifer morningstar #lilith hazbin hotel #GOIS DOES THIS MAKE SENSE??#AGHH DONT MASH ME UWU #THIS IS ADAMSAPPLE JUST IF IT HAD MORE CHAPTERS OR SMTH #GOTTA GET THAT SLOWBURN AM I RIGHT FOLKS?!!#also am I the only one who wants to see more Michael x Adam #or siblings rivalry of Lucifer and Michael fighting for Adam 🗣🔥#I might continue this MIGHTT #I'll also continue the other thing #the one where Adam was 'fixed' since I gained followers OOF #Adams such a fake bitch #Isnt he just so perfect #Adam's Time travel era

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mumatsi · 6 months

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TADC Christianity metaphor theory!!

So, I'm pretty sure everyone already knows the Caine & Abel theory along with the Last supper reference at the end of the pilot, but there are some other stuff nobody mentions.

Firstly, Pomni might be a reference/metaphor for Jesus not only because of "The Last Supper" reference in the pilot but because some official bloopers constantly show crosses and a model of pomni literally getting crucified

Jesus was born into a world where he tried to convince others into disobeying the ones in authority but nobody took him seriously at first. Perhaps Pomni is there to convince the circus members to disobey Caine and keep looking for an exit? Or maybe go into the void and find out what is REALLY out there?

Not to mention Bubble sounds like a wordplay for Abel. Yknow, like Bu-bel?? This one might be a reach but im not quite sure.

This theory, ive never seen anyone make

Kinger is supposedly the one that was there the longest. And he had a wife who's name is canonically Queenie. Queenie is already abstracted so this could be a reference to Adam and Eve. Where Eve eats the apple, or in this case, Queenie abstracts. My theory is that they were both the first two people to come to the digital circus. And if Kinger has been there for that long, seeing everyone he met die it could explain why he is so insane too.

Thanks for listening to my ramblings, remember these arent canon this was just for fun!

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #digital circus #amazing digital circus #tadc theory #theory tadc #theory #theory tag #caine #pomni #christianity #cain and abel #jax #zooble #kinger #queenie #kinger x queener #tadc bubble #bubble tadc

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epicbuddieficrecs · 9 days

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Weekly Recap | April 15th-21st 2024

Warning you now that there won't be a recap next week because I'm gonna be on a birthday trip! (hello don't mind me I'm turning 30 this week 🙈). ((now that I think about it I could always post the recap on saturday. oh well. we'll see 😆))

Enjoy!

Complete

i'll fit you inside my future by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S7E5, BuckTommy | <1K | General): "Why'd you choose that abomination of a coffee for me?" And Buck groans just to hear Tommy laugh. "Really? What even was that?" "Black coffee four sugars," Buck mumbles, kicking a stone across the sidewalk sheepishly. "Jesus, Evan." Tommy's laugh is something special, loud and unrestrained and the sound of sunshine maybe. "Why?"

wild again, beguiled again by Maira/ @mairaiscarrierofthepaperclips (Post-S7E4, BuckTommy | 1K | General): The kiss had taken him out at the knees, a rush of lips and heat and just the barest hint of teeth, the graze of stubble not his own thrilling him in a way like nothing had before. Which was ridiculous, because the kiss hadn’t even been that long. He’d had longer kisses, hotter kisses. Kisses where Buck had very nearly forgotten his own name by the time they’d ended. And yet, this one kiss still had him smiling like a fool. ... or, the one after the kiss.

I gotta get that feeling by elless (Post-S7E5 | 1K | General): Buck watches his mouth as he speaks and the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, and reminds himself to pay attention, because all of this is important. He wants to know everything. OR: what happens at the cafe after Buck's an eager beaver and asks Tommy to be his date at the madney wedding.

The New Normal by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Buck/Tommy/Eddie | 1,7K | General): While he had had a few drinks at the bar, Eddie hadn’t even been tipsy when Buck had blurted out those words: I think I’ve been dating both of you. That statement had settled in the middle of Eddie’s chest and burrowed into its new home, feeling so incredibly right in a way he’d never experienced before. (Part 3 of Buck's Boyfriends)

a good ally by thewolvesof1998/ @thewolvesof1998 (BuckTommy, PWP | 2K | Explicit): Tommy figures out Buck's humiliation kink by accident during sex and they explore it a bit.

everything’s growing in our garden by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S7E5, Pre-Buddie | 2K | Teen): eddie’s growing a garden. buck might be the most firmly planted thing in it.

every part of you (simple as that) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (BuckTommy, Madney Wedding | 2,8K | General): OR: buck comes out to chris, talks to tommy about the future, has realisations about the past and finds a little peace at the wedding

Lactose Intolerance by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Drunken Confessions | 4K | Teen): After last night's tequila shots at the karaoke bar, Buck had just gone home and rolled into his too-big, too-comfortable, too-empty bed in his too-quiet loft, and he’d— Texted Eddie. He thinks. The memory is kind of vague.

Tell Me Anything by AnnaNSmith/ @annansmith (Near Death Experience, Love Confession | 5K | Teen): Or, how Buck shattered Eddie's entire world one night by confessing his love to him.

we don't know where this is going now (don't be afraid of heights, let me open your heart wide) by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (Post-S7E5, Tommy POV | 5K | General): Tommy cuts their first date short, but to his surprise he gets a call from Evan just a few days later.

Despite it all, I'm Happy by InsaneJuliann/ @marvelingjules (Established Buddie, Post-S4, Secret Relationship | 6K | Teen): Something's up with Buck, but he's not telling. No one else even seems to notice all the faked smiles and laughter, not like Eddie does. But he's afraid of pushing too hard. He's happier, lately. Chris, his family, the team - and especially Buck - make him happier than he's been in a long time. Eddie doesn't want to put that all at risk. Not now, while it still feels so new. (Part 12 of The Evolution of Buddie)

Be Yours if You'd be Mine by InsaneJuliann/ @marvelingjules (Established Buddie, Post-S4 | 5K | Mature): Things with Buck are good. Sure, Eddie's pretty sure that some days Buck is still hiding something from him, and sure, their relationship is still a secret to their friends. But there are moments where Eddie can only feel how right it is, Buck in his life, with his family and with Chris. And Eddie may not be able to put a word to the feeling he's been having lately, but he knows that his relationship with Buck isn't going anywhere. At least, Eddie was sure of that until he potentially fucked things up. Now, he's not sure where they stand, precisely. He's not sure if he's what Buck really wants, or if Buck's second guessing. They need to talk. The thing is, talking and vulnerability has never been Eddie's strong suit. (Part 13 of The Evolution of Buddie)

somebody i can kiss by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Christmas, Getting Together, Post-S5 | 7K | Explicit): Buck might be a little touch-starved. And he knew that, but he was not prepared to deal with how the knowledge would interact with his newfound awareness of his crush on—no, realistically, his undying love for Eddie. Because now, whenever he sees Eddie, Buck just wants to shuffle close, bury his face in Eddie’s neck, and hold him. Every second he spends with his best friend, he’s either picturing that, or he’s imagining Eddie’s mouth on his dick, Eddie’s hands on his skin, Eddie’s fingers in his mouth— Anyway. The point is, he should not spend Christmas on a fucking sleepover with Eddie. But he’s gonna.

A Brief Interruption by Leslie_Knope (S7E5 Spec, BuckTommy but Buddie Endgame | 8K | Teen): The restaurant door squeaks again, which Buck ignores, but it’s accompanied by a little noise, just a hitch paired with a small intake of breath, which would be completely unremarkable if not for the fact that Buck has heard that sound a thousand times and would recognize it anywhere. He turns his head, abruptly enough that Tommy’s mouth briefly mashes against his cheek. “Eddie,” Buck says, his voice squeaky and weird. His brain is just pure static, partly from the kiss and partly because Eddie is standing six feet away, eyes wide, staring like he’s never seen him before.

Take These Little Pebbles One by One by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7E5, Endgame Buddie | 9K | Teen): Eddie tells Buck nothing will change between the two of them, except it does. He feels Buck quickly slipping away so he starts to steal pieces of him back. Literally. Or, the one where Eddie has a couple of come to Jesus moments courtesy of Christopher and Tommy, a bit of an emotional breakdown, and a lot of feelings about Evan Buckley’s dentist appointments and where his socks belong.

all I want (your eyes on mine) by bigfootsmom/ @bigfootsmom (Buck/Tommy/Eddie, PWP | 10K | Explicit): Buck is lying there, Eddie instantly recognizes the head of honey blond curls resting on the arm of the couch. But the head of short brown curls between Buck’s shaking thighs takes a second longer to place. But then they look up, blue eyes going comically wide as they lock onto Eddie. Tommy Kinard is on Buck’s couch. He’s on Buck’s couch between Buck’s thighs with his lips wrapped around Buck’s cock. The one where Eddie yearns, Buck pines, and Tommy just wants to have a good time.

🔥 give your heart and soul to charity by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S7E5, Sexuality Crisis | 12K | Teen): “It’s been a while since you asked for an emergency session,” Frank says, voice even as always. “Can I ask what brought this on?” “I think I just dumped god,” Eddie says and then he bursts out laughing. He can’t control it, he knows he sounds manic, like he’s somewhere between laughter and a breakdown, edging closer to the breakdown. “Holy shit I did dump god.” “I’m going to need just a little more than that,” Frank says and his face looks torn between concern and amusement. OR Eddie dumps God, gets some more therapy, accepts parts of himself he was taught to hate, loves his best friend, and loves himself.

Buck up, Buttercup by etlagiapet/ @etlagiapet (Canon Divergent, ~S5 | 14K | Mature): “God, you’d probably make a good writer for an advice column. You’re so earnest and optimistic, and you want to help people literally all the time.” Buck blinks at her, frozen with his beer halfway to his lips. His stomach does this thing, an excited little lurch that happens when he gets ahead of himself, but he can’t help it. He clears his throat and manages to ask, “Uh, really?”

Breaking news: LA firefighters in love by AnnaNSmith/ @annansmith (Taylor POV, ~S5, Getting Together | 19K | General): “In an incredible turn of events firefighter Buckley is alive and mostly unharmed. What could have ended in a devastating tragedy finds its happy ending after all. What an absolute relief that firefighter Buckley made it out alive and that we now see-” Taylor turns around, only to come to a stuttering stop at witnessing the spectacle in front of her “-my boyfriend kissing his best friend.” Or, Taylor gets a second shot at accompanying the 118 for another segment and notices that her boyfriend is a lot closer to his best friend than she remembers.

🔥 drink the river dry by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Post Shooting, Getting Together | 32K | Explicit): It wasn’t until they were discussing his discharge paperwork and painkiller schedules that it really sunk in for Eddie that Buck would be staying with him and Christopher. That he would be around 24/7 except for his shifts at work. That he’ll sleep on the couch, where he’s been sleeping for days now to look after Christopher. The worst part is that it’s necessary—Eddie isn’t going to be able to do a damn thing for himself for the next couple of weeks. He’s lucky if he can put a shirt on by himself a month from now. Yeah, that’s going to be a problem. Or: Eddie gets shot, breaks up with his girlfriend, and pines like there’s no tomorrow.

🔥 The Heart Opening Sequence by Leslie_Knope (Post-S3, Getting Together | 34K | Mature): Eddie’s handsome, that’s obvious, Buck clocked that the second he met him. Part of him still can’t really believe that the guy he was so threatened by at first ended up as his closest friend, which is why these weird twinges are so unsettling. Buck isn’t sure if they’re real, for one, these odd flashes of what it would be like to lean over and kiss Eddie while they’re watching a movie or brush a hand over his back while they’re in the kitchen. And for two, it’s so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s barely worth thinking about.

🔥 everything (nothing) has changed by bizarrestars (Post-S4, Love Confessions | 48K | Explicit): After Eddie gets shot, Buck confesses his love. From there, things get a little out of hand.

🔥 let it pour out of your soul series by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Magical Realism AU, Witch Eddie | 3 works | 71K | Complete):

collectively unconsciously composed (S4E6: Jinx | 46K | Explicit): Or: in which the author re-watched Buck Begins and Jinx and thought: what if this was gayer and had actual magic?

that systematic drug (PWP | 5K | Explicit): Eddie’s mouth goes dry when he opens the door and sees Buck. He’s clean-shaven and with his hair carefully styled back, smiling at Eddie sweetly and a little teasingly. Buck is wearing his dark jeans and his light blue v-neck polo shirt, the one that’s tight enough that it shows off the bulge of his biceps and the definition of his pecs and abs. Eddie knows this shirt. Buck's favourite, because he knows he looks good in it.

something binding us together (Established Buddie | 20K | Teen): Or: Eddie plans a long-avoided visit to his parents, discovers some things about his magic, and begins to build his family a home in LA's witching community.

Podfic

🔥 [podfic] tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by Matriaya // fic by @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 5-6h | Mature): "Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin. "Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug." (OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

🔥 my certainty is wild, weaving [Podfic] by blackglass/ @blackestglitter for tuckergreeen/ @henwilsonmd (Post-S5A, Hurt Buck | 45-60min | Teen): “Eddie,” Carla says softly. “You could have called. We would’ve met you at the hospital.” He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t—uh. I didn’t go to the hospital.” He feels the way Carla’s hand goes still. “Eddie.” It’s not nearly as soft-spoken this time. “You didn’t go see him? Or Chim? Your team?” “They’re not my team,” Eddie says, almost without thinking. He winces as soon as the words are out. Or: Buck is hurt, Eddie is worried, and everything is broken.

[podfic] i was supposed to sweat you out (i think there's been a glitch) by half_bakedboy/@half-bakedboy // fic by @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Fire Academy | 45-60min | Explicit): "What's your problem, man?" "You. You're my fucking problem, Diaz." There were a lot of problems with Eddie Diaz, if you ask Buck. The guy is obnoxiously good at everything without even trying, he's too perfect, too confident. And the biggest problem of them all: Eddie's an attractive asshole that features more often than not in Buck's filthiest dreams. or; The Buck and Eddie meet at the fire academy, rivals to lovers fic.

🔥 Like Any Unloved Thing [Podfic] by ReformedTsunderePodfics/ @film-in-my-soul // fic by @hmslusitania (Urban Fantasy/Noir AU, PI Eddie, Ghost Buck | 1.5-2h | Mature): After the war, Eddie Diaz opened his own private investigation business here in LA and usually he does alright for himself. But this case, the one with the Buckley siblings, is going to crawl under his skin and stay there. It's going to change his life. He has no idea how.

[Podfic] If I Risk It All (Could You Break My Fall?) by liketherestofla, MistMarauder/@gracieryder for Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (James Bond AU | 4.5-5h | Explicit): “This is Buck,” Bobby said when Buck’s tongue refused to unstick from the top of his mouth. “Your new quartermaster.” Eddie’s eyes— brown with just a glint of green if you caught them in the right light— widened before he scanned Buck with another sweeping assessment. “You’re—” Buck had heard it all before. “Not all of us nerds are the skinny kids that used to get picked on in high school.”

🔥 Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314 // fic by @ebjameston (Canon Divergent, S2, Ghost Buck, Witch Eddie | 5-6h | Teen): Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

WIP

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @dangerpronebuddie (Prompt collection | 30/? | 19K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

30. 70. what if i told you none of it was accidental: An accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment passes before you crash your lips back against each other's

What’s Your Order? by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7E5, BuckTommy | 3/6 | 6K | Teen): 5 Times Buck Guessed Tommy’s Coffee Order + 1 Time He Didn’t Have To

🔥 Cowboy With a One Track Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergence, Not A Firefighter Buck | 2/4 | 11K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 7 (Land): Grieving and tortured, Evan Buckley has been living alone in Montana in a remote cabin for nearly a decade. After an incident that leaves him missing six months of his life, and suddenly in connection with a group of strangers from Los Angeles, Evan must decide whether to remain in his self-imposed exile, or take a chance at life again.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 9/18 | 49K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic rec #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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bestie. babe. light of my days. i’m absolutely in love with your “Pretty Boy” fic and just the whole concept of a reader that is more cocky than Steve and gets him flustered and shit. it’s chef’s kiss. and while I’m glad when you write literally anything, I would looooove reading more from this dynamic. but regardless you deserve all the forehead kisses the world has to offer. ❤️🌚

18+

“You look so pretty,” you hummed, pleased and greedy with your gaze, staring down at the boy beneath you.

Steve smiled, bashful, cheeks a rosy pink, eyes a little glassy. You palmed at his chest, happy to touch all the bare skin he had on show for you. You loved him like this, a little desperate, pliable and greedy for you, eager to please and do as he was told. It made your chest rise and fall a little faster, lips bitten and hips rolling over his.

Your underwear was damp, slick and sticking to you, the rest of your body bare. Steve was in the same state, cock straining against his boxers, leaking at the tip as he nudged at your cunt, the hard length of him sitting sweet against your clothed slit.

“The prettiest boy, you know that?” You whispered, fingertip drawing a line over his clenched jaw, the stubble there. “Could just spend all day looking at you like this.”

Steve groaned, eyes fluttering shut, the flush on his cheeks deepening, hips bucking upwards. His hands - that had been lying pliant on your spread thighs - sought more skin upwards, fingers tucking into the sides of your underwear and grabbing the bare skin underneath.

“Baby, c’mon, I can’t— I can’t…” Steve was murmuring, voice hoarse, tongue licking over his bottom lip and you suddenly wanted to spend another hour making out with him, letting him strip you as you pulled at his clothes too. “I’m going fucking crazy, here.”

You grinned and leaned down, breath hitching when Steve took the opportunity to grab at your ass. He looked flustered as you bent to him, tits crushed to his chest, like he hadn’t had you like this a hundred times before. Decades could pass and Steve would still look at you like you were the best thing he’d ever fucking seen.

“You are?” You taunted, lips ghosting over his own, a barely there kiss that had him squirming under you. “Poor baby. What do you want?”

“You,” Steve answered on a breath, desperate. “Wanna make you feel good- can I? Please baby.”

You pouted, nose brushing against Steve’s as you lifted your hips from his, loving the way he groaned at the loss of contact, missing the weight of you on his cock instantly. “Yeah? Wanna make me come?”

Steve nodded, swallowing hard and his Adam’s apple bobbed, eyes fixed on you as you moved. You smiled down at him, pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before shifting up his body. Steve swore under his breath, fingers pushing into the dough of your ass, dragging over your skin as you made you up his chest.

“Oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck yes,” the boy groaned in relief, in excitement, as you settled your knees on the mattress either side of his head. “You’re a dream, Jesus Christ, baby, god yeah, lemme just—”

Steve tilted his chin up, pressed his nose to the top of your cunt, nudging until he found your clit and made you keen. His tongue followed, kitten licking a slow stripe over your underwear, making the damp spot there even wetter. You cried out, unable to help yourself as you grabbed at the headboard and Steve grabbed at your thighs, coaxing you down on him.

“Stevie,” you praised breathily, hiccuping a soft laugh when he groaned into you in reply. You felt his hips kick up behind you, bucking into the air as he tried to gain some release. “Fuck, handsome, that’s it, you’re so good to me, you know that?”

Steve nipped at your thigh, a hand running the length of your spine, up and down until he landed on your ass, gripping tight and making you rock yourself over his mouth. His mouth was made for this, lips pink and soft, plush and ready for you as they kissed over your centre, licking at the seam of skin where your thigh met your cunt.

“Get them out of the way for me, honey, c’mon.”

You could tell Steve was desperate when he got bold like that, voice a dirty rasp, pupils blown wide and lost in you.

You smiled, one hand flirting with the lace edge of your underwear, fingers tucking into the side, ready to pull it out of the way for Steve and his mouth. “Say please, pretty boy.”

Steve whined, a strangled sound that made your cunt clench around nothing. But almost immediately: “please baby, fuck - please, please, show me, yeah? Wanna see how wet you are for me.”

And how could you say no to that? How could you ever even think you could deny the boy anything?

So you hooked two fingers into the lace, pulling it aside and biting down on the inside of your cheek when Steve groaned loudly, looking at your like a man starved. He waited until you could dropped yourself down onto him a little more, his tongue out and flat for you to rock yourself on. His hands curled around the soft skin behind your bent knees, thumbs rubbing encouragingly, and you whined for him.

A sigh escaped his lips, warm air fluttering over you as he dragged his tongue through your folds, pushing the tip of it over your clit, pressing sweet kisses there as you whispered garbled praises and soft terms of endearment.

That’s all he really wanted - hearing you fall to bits for him, coming apart on his tongue. But when you reached back and tugged at his cock, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to behave, if he had it in him to not flip you onto your back and take you the way he wanted to.

No - he waited, patient and glassy eyed until you had him groaning and thrashing under you, only manhandling you back into his lap when you said he was allowed to.

…..

…

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve baby blurb

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