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specshroom · 25 days

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*°~There are many benefits to being a mage~°*

Includes: Fem reader x male orc, size kink, "human fetish", friends to more?

In which: Orc with a big problem confides in his mage friend who decides to help him out with a useful spell~🪄

You've been in this town for quite a while now, almost 3 years. That wasn't the original plan but It just so happened that this seaside town was more welcoming than many places you've been to on your travels. It sits at the coast of two major trade routes, connecting people of many different walks of life.

The friendliness and diversity you experienced allowed you to make a few friends you might not have otherwise.

Like the one you're sharing breakfast with right now. His name is Grimmok and he's the self-proclaimed, "Best fisherman in this damn town". He's your typical young, burley orc.

The first time you met him was in the local pub, you were intrigued when a crowd formed infront of the huge orc. He was dramatically telling one of his fisherman's tales and the small crowd hung onto his every word. He was a very good story teller and you happened to be very interested in folklore and myths. You made a habit of just walking up to him, if he didn't look busy and asking him to tell you a story. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see you sitting on the docks listening and writing intently as he waxes on about some old wives tale while repairing his nets.

Now you sit in his home, eating breakfast while he grumbles on about having to train a new fishing boy.

"The boy gets distracted by the smallest things, every time someone even resembling female walks past the docks he's panting like a dog." Grimmok bites into his ridiculously large breakfast sandwich signaling the end of his rant.

He did look more grumpy than usual when he opened the door to let you in for your weekly Sunday breakfast. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a hasty half up half down bun and his stubble looked more scruffy than usual. You can only huff in amusement at his troubles.

"Cmon, don't be too harsh on the kid. You did the same thing with Rosie Cotton, remember?"

The orc stills and huffs indignantly, scratching at his neck. This makes you grin.

"Mhm, you'd be telling me a story and then just stop in the middle of a sentence. I'd look up and sure enough there's Miss Rosie walking on by. Fiery hair flowing in the wind, cleavage spilling out her dress, swaying those hips and-"

Grimmok interrupts your overdramatic musing by flicking your pointy hat off your head.

"Hey!"

"You're acting like you didn't like looking at her too." The big guy grumbles almost like a child. He wipes his hands on his plaid pajama pants and picks up his empty plate, heading towards the sink.

You lean down to pick your hat off the floor, dust it off and mumble,

"Yeah, but I never got to bed her."

The dishes in the sink clatter a little too loudly as he tenses up. You hardly try to stifle your laugh.

"We didn't actually...she was...too small... For me to...." The orc struggles out as he wipes his plate clean.

It's quiet for a minute until you ask.

"But she did try, right? I'm pretty sure that counts, Grim."

The orc just grumbles something unintelligible. You want to sympathise with the poor guy but imagining Rosie Cotton, a "short stack" type of woman, trying to fit his massive green cock in her little pussy was pretty erotic.

"I want to feel bad for you mate but you kind of bring this on yourself. You obviously have a bit of a human fetish."

"It's not a-" The orc goes to defend himself but stops and just sighs when he realises it's no use.

"...and a size kink to boot." You mumble with toast in your mouth.

"I can't help it if I think horny humans trying desperately to take my cock is literally the hottest thing to me!" Grimmok finally lets the dam of sexual frustration burst after you've done a sufficient amount of poking at it. You always were good at getting him to actually talk about his problems.

"But the problem comes in when I actually have to fuck them, they can barely take half! How am I supposed to fuck them!? I'm too big! I'd kill them!"

You can't help but choke on your toast as a cackle forces itself from your throat. "Sorry. I'm sorry!" You struggle between snorts. Your big green friend just stands there with a grimace, arms crossed as he waits for you to finish.

You sigh and wipe your watering eyes. "Well, I'm glad you've confided in me because now I can help you." You wipe your hands clean and stand up from the orc sized table.

"You know that cool thing I can do with my hat?" You take your hat off and reach inside of it, the magic pocket space allowing you to reach your whole arm inside of it when you physically shouldn't be able to.

He nods sceptically still leaning against the sink, a bit concerned about where this is going. He thought by "help" you meant like you were going to pep talk him or something.

"We just have to do this but with...." You gesture down to your crotch.

Grim stands there, mouth slightly agape, blinking at you.

"I mean it's not exactly the same obviously." You pull your trusty spell book out of the hat before placing it back on your head while the pages of the spell book fly open to the page you want. "You basically draw this sigil on someone and then they'll be able to take whatever they can push inside no matter how big. Girth might still be an issue though..."

You explain this to him like you've explained many other spells, like you're reading him a recipe, deliberating what ingredients would work best. He doesn't even know how to react honestly.

"You're serious?"

You clap the book shut and adjust your hat on your head, smugly shrugging,

"This is what I do."

The poor guy just stumbles in disbelief.

"Magic. I mean.... magic is what I do." You correct yourself a bit awkwardly and clear your throat, regaining your confidence.

"It's a pretty easy spell so we can try this whenever you want really."

"We?"

"Well yeah, unless you want me to go up to Rosie Cotton and say "Hey love, you mind if I put this sigil on your womb so my friend can finally pound your tight lit-"

"Alright! Alright."

Grimmok rubs his face with his hands, sighing again and looking unsure. You lean against the sink next to him, barely coming up to his pecs.

"Look, it'll just be a one time thing so you can actually see if human pussy's all that and if you like it, I'm sure we can find plenty of humans who would love to try it out."

"...Alright. That sounds good."

You give a slap to his thick bicep and an encouraging "ata boy."

"and if you don't like this one, I'm sure I could find a spell that'll just make you..." He doesn't miss how you glance down at his crotch. "Smaller."

He huffs and pushes your shoulder playfully, he liked how you could always joke away the tension in any given situation. You walk up to the big wooden chair you were sitting at a second ago and pull it away from the table so that it's facing outward, struggling a bit as it's very much orc sized like most things in his house.

"Cmon. Sit."

You pat the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?"

He's really not used to other people being so forward especially not when it's his mate. You shrug at him.

"Why not? I mean we can wait till you're ready, I don't mind. I have literally all day."

You put your hands behind your back and rock on your feet as you both just stand in his kitchen for about a minute...waiting. He eventually huffs and steels himself, fully committing to the idea and walking over to plop himself in the chair. He's going to put his dick inside one of his best friends.

You place your hat on the table so it doesn't get in the way of your activity and step in front of him. You levitate your spell book In front of you, looking down at the page with the sigil that's way more familiar than you're letting on.

"Okay, I'll face this way so it's less....personal." You turn around so your back is facing him. "You do still need to take off your pants though."

He smacks his teeth, "I figured that." He mumbles, pushing his soft pajama pants down to his mid thighs, immediately freeing his cock as he wasn't wearing underwear. He leaves his white long sleeve on, the sleeves folded to his elbows, giving you a perfect tease of his thick strong arms and multiple tattoos. When he looks back at you and sees that you've already disappeared your pants, he quickly looks away.

Sensing his nervousness you ask with a softer voice than before,

"can I sit?"

He clears his throat before grumbling a "Yeah."

You gently lean down and sit your naked ass onto his lap, legs open wide over his own you can see his half hard cock laying between his legs but try not to stare. Obviously Grimmock is a big guy but he's even big by orc standards so of course his cock is massive even when he isn't fully hard.

Grimmock clears his throat and jolts you out of your thoughts. You adjust a bit on top of him feeling his happy trail against your lower back. Your eyes skim the page levitating in front of you, when you finally find the incantation passage you straighten up and start chanting the ancient words in the text. Your eyes glow and the air feels static, Grim has seen magic before but the novelty never truly wears off.

An intricate shape starts to form right above your pubic bone, where your womb would be. The sigil glows brightly on your skin as Grim peers from above your head to look at it. At first glance he thinks it looks a bit demonic but then remembers he doesn't know anything about magic and decides not to mention it. When the sigil is complete you clap the book shut, immediately cutting off the static energy in the room and startling him in the process.

"That should do it."

You place the book on the table and lean back against his clothed chest, feeling the tension in his body not letting up.

"Damn, I can't believe little Miss Rosie took half of this. What a lass."

Your joke lightens the mood once again as Grimmock scoffs at you. Feeling him relax, you bring your hand down to finally touch the wetness that's been growing for awhile now. "We should still do some prep before you put it in. Is that alright?"

He nods and watches your hand disappear between your thighs. You readjust so that your boot clad feet are on either side of the chair rests. Opening yourself up to the air and to him, he can see you've already got two fingers pushing inside. He hesitates before reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke himself under you but it was painfully clear he was holding back.

"I know I'm not as short or.... endowed as Miss Cotton but I could put on a red wig if you'd like."

Grim huffed a laugh at the mental image of that.

"Oh wow~ Grimmie, you're soooo big and strong~"

You say in a high pitched voice (that doesn't sound anything like Rosie Cotton), using her embarrassing pet name while looking up at him and batting your eyelashes dramatically.

Grim scoffs and holds his hand over your mouth "Stop playing around." He tries to sound serious but his smile and the grumble in his chest betrays him. You laugh against his hand holding his wrist. You slowly pull his hand off your mouth and inch it gradually down your body giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn't and you move his hand to rub against your wet pussy ever so gently.

You're both looking into each other's eyes, this was not supposed to be so intimate but it doesn't look like he minds when he takes charge and slowly eases two fingers inside your aching pussy. His thick fingers stretch your pussy so good as you lightly buck into his hand, greedy pussy already hungry for more. The way he's looking down at you with so much need gets you so hot inside. A heat that only increases when he starts pumping his fingers in and out. Grim works you open with one hand and pumps his fat cock with the other.

This entire situation has you pent up and impatient so you pull his hand away and sit up, "I can take it now." He can't help but groan at your words but remains concerned at the perceived lack of prep. Whenever he fools around with humans most of the engagement is spent just doing prep so he's more than a little worried, "Are you sure?"

You don't reply as you gently take his fully hard cock from his hand, holding it up against your stomach to see how far inside you this thing could go. You both groan at the comparison between his ridiculously massive dick and your body, he reaches way past your belly button and into your stomach. Definitely more than a human could safely take. You adjust your legs so that you're almost squatting on his lap, your feet plant on the seat on either side of his hips.

You support yourself with your hand resting on the seat between his legs and lift yourself so you can rub your wetness along the length of his cock. He brings his rough hands to hold your hips gently, not applying pressure but just resting there so he can have something to hold.

You lift yourself up until his tip is in-line with your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your clit. You both groan lightly when the tip pops in and you slowly ease yourself down his cock. He's amazed at how easy your cunt swallows him. You pause half way down to adjust and give a few pumps to the rest of him before your hand leaves his cock to settle next to your other hand on the chair in front of you. He squeezes your hips a little in silent concern and you smile before easing the rest of him in, gently descending until you reach the hilt. Your pubes kiss his and he can't help but let out a weak moan at the sight and feeling of you taking all of him. Finally feeling tight walls grip the entire length of his cock has him reeling. You're overwhelmed as well, It's been a while since you've taken someone this big.

You slowly circle your hips around so that you really feel his cock against your walls deep inside you, you're obviously very pleased with yourself. Grim is seeing stars, eyes shut, head tilted back, trying to regain himself even a little while his literal dreams are coming true.

"Well, we know it works. I guess that's it then." You move to lift yourself off his cock as if your work is done.

"Nononono, Please no. Please."

Comes Grim's hasty but soft displeasure, both his thick arms circle around your waist to keep you in place as he leans against your back, head resting on your shoulder.

"What's the matter big guy?" You lean into his chest, stroke his arm and turn your head to look at him. He huffs, you know exactly what's the matter. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at you.

"I need you."

Your heart jumps in your chest.

"I need you to fuck me...please"

You look up at him, wide eyes, mouth agape as he looks back down at you. The moment is almost sweet until your mouth forms into an evil grin and you snicker softly, a dreadfully familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. Grim closes his eyes and almost regrets all the choices that lead him here.

"Riiight~. I almost forgot, this is probably the first time you've actually been able to fuck someone sooo much smaller than you."

You reach down to gently hold his proportionately massive ballsack, making him suck in a breath and twitch his thighs.

"Poor guy, you must be so pent up, huh?"

All he can do is let out a choked moan of your name which only makes you chuckle.

"I can really play the part for you, if you'd like. Y'know the, "Ah, your so deep!" and "You're filling me up so good!""

You laugh when you feel his dick twitch. Poor Grim can only grip your waist and try to keep his hot face from getting hotter. He looks down at you with pleading eyes and you decide you're not so evil after all. You pat his arms and move them so he's holding your waist. He startles a little when you playfully kiss him on the cheek.

"I've got you big guy."

You lean forward again with your feet under you and start to lift yourself up very slowly until the top of his cock is juuust about to pop out. Your thighs burn as you stay there for a few seconds, teasing Grim and yourself. Grim thinks he might actually cry if you don't move.

Suddenly you grip the edge of the chair and force yourself down hard on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one hard thrust. You both groan very loudly, he downright yelps with the sudden movement. You grip the chair and clench around him so hard he can't help the way he grips your waist tightly. One hand covers his mouth as he tips his head back and tries to not cum immediately. He tries to regain his breathing but you have other plans. You can feel him twitch inside you and a desperate need to be filled engulfs you.

You start thrusting up and down on his dick, moving your whole body up and down his length. It's a good thing he can't see your face because you are enjoying this way too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite your lip, the sensation of being filled to the literal brim is intoxicating. You work yourself and him so diligently, it's no time before your thrusts become more frantic and you're right at the peak. With one final deliberate thrust you cum hard around him, clenching and unclenching like you're trying to milk him dry.

You both moan freely now, though his are more like growls. Your pulsing walls quickly lead him to his own climax, holding you close to his chest and thrusting up into your cunt, spilling hot seed deep inside your womb. You shake and squirm even more with the blissful feeling of your walls being coated with his spend.

After a few moments of you two spasming and twitching you eventually ease up and fall limply against his chest, adjusting your thighs to rest on top of his again. You breathe out a long sigh and bask in the fullness of your cunt, stroking your stomach up and down.

You're blissfully unaware of the knowing smirk that grows on his face. He cards his fingers through his hair, composing himself a little more. His warm hand joins yours in caressing up and down the expanse of your stomach and chest, loving how small you feel in his hold.

"You've done this before." His voice comes out in a low growl that makes you shiver, not expecting it. You crane your head up to see him smirking down at you and all you can do is sit and stare. He chuckles deeply,

"There ain't no way, this is your first time taking a cock this size."

You stumble for words but none come out. His hands caress your thighs and one hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. He leans down really close to your face.

"You're a size queen."

You suck in a breath and your pussy clenches involuntarily around his cock which you only noticed now hasn't gone down at all. Grim laughs louder this time.

"I should've known the second you pulled out that spellbook."

You sit there, quite embarrassed at being caught. You smack his hand away from your waist.

"Shut up, you're the one with the-"

"Yes, we both know about my kinks, you teased me about it enough which is very hypocritical of you."

Grim is just loving the way you fluster and fumble for words right now.

"Oh, so you don't have a thing for inhumanly huge cock?"

He challenges and uses both his hands to bring your naked thighs to your chest, exposing your pussy, leaking with his seed.

"So you don't like the way I stretch and fill this little human pussy?"

You can't help but whine at his dirty words and the position he's binding you into. His cock adjusting inside of you, hitting a new spot.

"If you don't, I guess I could just pull out and-"

"Nonononono... Grim Cmon."

You frantically babble your disagreement, shaking your head. He chuckles again, very pleased with himself at turning the tables on you but thankfully for you he's not as evil as you are and his dick is still painfully hard.

"Alright Darlin, I'll take care of you."

He lifts himself from the chair, leaving a puddle of both of you when he stands. He comforts your whines when he pulls out to set you ass up on the table and just stands at the edge, one hand on his hip and the other leisurely stroking his cock.

You look back at him with confusion, expecting him to just fuck you over the table already.

"If you ask nicely."

He says looking real smug, you sigh in defeat and turn your body so that you're facing him. You disappear the rest of your clothes, leaving you stark naked on the large kitchen table you were just eating breakfast at. That realisation makes him pump his cock harder.

You press your knees as close to your chest as possible and bring your hands down to your puffy, leaking pussy. You spread your folds for him with your fingers and say, as sexily as you can manage.

"Please fuck me Grim."

Grim is so fucking floored, he's cursing himself for not thinking of doing this sooner. He sighs and pumps his cock harder, lining the leaking tip up to your pussy lips. He eases it inside and the new position makes for a new sensation for both of you as different spots are brushed and tension melts away. Once he's balls deep again he gently worms his arm underneath your back to lift you up with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck for support being mindful not to pull his hair. Suddenly you're face to face, looking into his eyes for the first time since you started.

You look into his dark eyes and they relax you, this is your best friend, you trust him. His eyes leave yours to stare at your parted lips. When he sees that familiar quirk on your lips he looks back to your eyes, catching the mischievous glint. You lean closer so that your noses are just brushing against eachother. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet his. He spares no time getting into it and moves his lips against yours. You make out while he adjusts your body in his hold, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist.

He then, without warning, lifts you up and brings you down hard thrusting the whole length of his cock into you in one hearty thrust. You break from the sloppy kiss for a moment to groan out in absolute ecstasy, loving the way he takes the lead from you effortlessly. He brings down your whole body to meet his upwards thrusts. The way he's basically using your entire body like a fleshlight makes you embarrassingly horny.

It feels like it's been years since you were fucked like this, the way your body is reacting, so sensitive you're sure you could cum again any minute. This is exasperated greatly when he brings you closer to his chest with one arm locked around you so that he can worm his other hand in-between you two and rub at your engorged clit.

You grab at his wrist as he frantically works you to your climax, you basically scream when you finally reach that high. Clenching and shaking on his cock while he holds you up with his buff arms. You cling into him so tightly, getting drool on his shirt. You even squirt a little, getting your wetness all over his cock and the floor. Your intense climax once again has him reeling. The sight of you clinging onto him, squirting and losing yourself on his cock makes his balls clench painfully as his frantic thrusts turn faster and sloppier. He reaches his climax as he holds you close, groaning into your neck, pumping another thick load deep into you.

You both stay like that for a while, coming down from your respective highs. Your fingers slowly unclench from his shirt moving down to lazily caress his chest, feeling it move with his breaths as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He slowly manoeuvres your legs so he can sit back down on the chair, holding you to his chest. His hand strokes down your back as you both soak in the warm, tranquil after glow. His breathing evens out to a steady rhythm and your eyes flutter closed.

Knock knock knock

You both jolt awake and stare at each other wide eyed and then at the front door, which is very much visible from the kitchen. You both stay quiet and he holds you closer to hide your fully naked body if the rude intruder somehow manages to break the door down.

Knock knock knock

"Uhh Mr Grimmock Sir?"

The tension in Grim's body sags when he hears who's on the other side of the door. A hand goes to massage his impending migraine.

"BOY! What do you want?!"

You can imagine the way the poor fishing boy cringes at the anger in Grim's voice.

"Sorry Sir, I was wondering if you could give me some extra lessons on the boat?"

Grim growls in frustration, you chuckle in amusement and start kissing up his neck which settles him down a little.

"Tomorrow lad, it's Sunday."

"But I was-"

"Tomorrow."

The finality in his tone seems to get through to the young man as he mutters an "Alright Sir, see you then." Before walking off, his steps getting lighter and lighter.

"He doesn't want to work all week but suddenly he wants to work on Sunday?!"

Grim's irritation is clear as he gestures to the door incredulously. You can't help but laugh at the orcs misfortune. You settle your arms around his broad shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as his hand begins to stroke down your back again.

"Thank you for...helping out"

He says, quite genuinely.

"Anytime."

You throw him a thumbs up and he has to laugh and shake his head at the award winning nonchalance. When the amusement fades though he leans forward in the chair and brings his hands lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Anytime?"

You can feel his soft cock gradually hardening inside your pussy and you look up at him in utter disbelief.

"Unbelievable."

You shake your head and chastise him but the smile that breaks on your face rats you put. He grins and lifts you up, walking out of the kitchen. His mouth marks up your neck and his stubble tickles, dull tusks dig into the sensitive skin.

"Just unbelievable."

You mutter to yourself again as your legs hug around his waist tighter and you feel his cum dripping out of your hole, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom.

#monsterfucker #I'm thinking of making this mage character a recurring character where I basically write about her smutty monster adventures 👀👀👀#monster x human #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster x reader #monster writing #orc x reader #orc x human #nsft writing #terato #teratophillia

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fantastic-nonsense · 4 months

Note

I wouldn't mind the heavy focus on warrior Amazons so much if they were allowed to be competent instead of just being used as red shirt cannon fodder. But it seems DC only hypes up the Amazons as deadly fighters so other characters can look more impressive when they take them down.

Oh and Happy New Year.

Happy New Year! Forgive me if I use your ask to talk about a piece of the Wonder Woman mythos I've wanted to discuss for some time, because your complaints offered me the perfect segue to write a nice, in-depth meta on it and I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Honestly, I think a lot of people (both creatives and readers) either don't know, forget, or fundamentally misunderstand the nature of the Amazons' warrior status. So they often get reduced to "deadly warriors who strike first," "supposedly deadly but generally incompetent warriors when outside of their own books," or "militant man-haters" by a lot of people. None of which are true.

The Amazons are incredibly competent warriors and have been since Marston's first portrayal of them in the 1940s, so I don't inherently mind them being shown as such. However, where people get bogged down is insisting that they be shown as deadly and trigger-happy offensive fighters who are happy to strike first and hard, which fundamentally goes against the philosophy and thematic messaging built into Amazonian lore.

DC's Amazonia, lore-wise, is traditionally framed as an Aphrodite vs. Ares "peace and love vs. violence and war" story. In Marston's original rendition of the Amazon's backstory Aphrodite is not only their patron goddess but also their sole creator; it was only after Crisis on Infinite Earths and George Perez's long-overdue lore expansions that the rest of the goddesses became co-creators and co-patrons of the Amazons. Regardless, Ares and his domain are consistently invoked as what the Amazons don't want to be like or engage in. That behavior is the antithesis of what Amazons are supposed to be. This lore informs literally everything about how the Amazons view both their combat abilities and their duty to the goddesses.

The contemporary Amazons are, for the most part, women who died in terrible and traumatic ways at the hands of men (usually through domestic violence, murder, or as conquests of war). When the goddesses created the Amazons by reincarnating these women via the Well of Souls, they specifically charged them to become their champions. And what did these goddesses want? They explicitly wanted justice and protection for women in a violently patriarchial world. The Amazons being warriors is thus specifically tied to an understanding of necessary self-defense and protection (both of themselves and other women), not offense.

Which of course is what lands the Amazons on Themyscira in the first place: invoking the goddesses' ire by not obeying these commands after their rebellion against their enslavement by Heracles and his men crosses the line from the necessary battle to achieve their liberation into wanton violence and revenge:

"The battered Hippolyta prayed to her goddesses and found the courage and inspiration to free herself. Athena had reminded Hippolyta of the Amazons' purpose and mission—but not all of the Amazons remembered. Or cared. They yearned for vengeance. For retribution against those who violated them...and under Antiope, many found it." -Wonder Woman: Our Worlds at War (2001)

And as Hippolyta and Menalippe tell Antiope:

"No, Antiope. Never vengeance; never again!" /// "That is Ares' way, Antiope. We achieve no glory by embracing the Dark God's power!" -Wonder Woman (1987) #1

The Amazon way is promoting a society based on love, equality, truth, and peaceful conflict resolution, not vengeance and violent combat. It's a philosophy that defines Diana's mission in Man's World as an ambassador, teacher, and living example of her peoples' way of life:

Enraptured, they listen to her dissertation on equality between the sexes, tolerance, peaceful coexistence. Social Philosophy 101, Amazon Style. -Wonder Woman (1987) #170

Diana's gods-given mission was to spread the Amazonian ideals of conciliation—to give those living in the World of Man the proper tools to peacefully coexist with each other. It was her life's purpose to teach the possibilities of respect and love by being a living example of an upbringing founded in those ideals.

Truth-seeking, diplomacy, and peace are the Amazonian way of dealing with conflict, not violence. And when you are forced to engage in combat (and you should be prepared for that eventuality because sometimes it will happen), your goal should be self-defense and de-escalation, not offense and prolonging the conflict longer than necessary.

This is also, as an aside, why Diana (and specifically Diana in her capacity as Wonder Woman) does not usually carry offensive weapons like a sword and why her primary "weapons" are the Lasso of Truth and protective bracelets. She's the official representative of her peoples' culture and personally deeply believes in that cultural philosophy. Other Amazons have different views on the matter, including her mother, but Diana grew up completely separated from the World of Man and fully immersed in that belief system, which deeply informs how she views her mission as Wonder Woman.

Personally, I think many (but not all) of the problems re: depicting the Amazons in the modern era come from various writers attempting to solve contradictions that don't exist. They see "kickass trained warriors living peacefully on an island" and see that as a contradiction they have to solve: why do they train if they're pacifists? Why do they fight if they're peaceful? In reality, it's not a contradiction: their status as warriors and champions is specifically tied to self-defense and protection (both of themselves and others), but given the choice they don't want to have to take up arms to protect people because that goes against their fundamental cultural philosophy. Outsiders and meddlesome gods are the ones who force them to do that! What they want is for everyone to be treated with love, respect, and understanding so they don't have to!

And there's a lot of problematic elements built into the concept's execution, but this is the core thesis behind the split between Hippolyta's Themyscirans and Antiope's Bana-Mighdall. The Themysciran Amazons have had their fill of violence and war; they just want to live in peace. But a) they were specifically tasked with guarding Doom's Doorway when they were taken to the island, a duty which necessitates perfect combat readiness, and b) their history is littered with examples of people refusing to leave them alone. So they train, in case someone decides to take shots at them, but otherwise live in peaceful isolation. Meanwhile, the Banas looked at that same shared history and went "we need to take the fight to the outside world. Offense is the best defense, and the only way to protect ourselves and the other women of the world is to actively seek vengeance for the violence women face." So they chose to actively intervene in Man's World, fighting constant battles and exacting revenge for any women mistreated at the hands of men.

...which is also why Artemis was such a necessary and interesting addition to the Wonder Woman mythos (even if she's often handled...poorly), because she and Diana represent two diametrically opposed views of how to protect and represent both their cultures and the women of Man's World, but that's a rant for a different time.

Anyway, the Themysciran Amazons' martial pacifism as a cultural value isn't a contradiction; it's one way of looking at a history filled with violence and victimization and saying "no more." And it's a pretty subversive way of doing so, which (well-written) comics tend to note!

So yes, the "Amazons are warriors" mentality has always been there and has been solidly emphasized at various points throughout Wonder Woman's history, and it should be acknowledged and shown that they're all incredibly competent in battle when they're forced to engage in it. But the way in which it gets emphasized is what defines whether a writer has a solid understanding of the history and baggage that comes with depicting the Amazonian struggle and the socio-political issues embedded in their lore. And unfortunately...many writers just don't seem to get it.

#sorry for just ranting about this but I HAVE to correct the narrative every time this comes up. it's not a want. it's a need.#someone hire me to write a political history of Amazonia #I could do SO MUCH with the recurring themes of isolationism vs. interventionalism as a method of self-defense #dc comics #wonder woman #wonder woman meta #diana of themiscyra #artemis of bana mighdall #queen hippolyta #dc amazons #dc meta #long post #asks

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fuckingwhateverdude · 4 months

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1.7.24

#blah blah blah #my writing #my writing tag #poetry #original poem #dreams #dream writing #recurring dream #vent writing #mental illness #list #list poem #poetryblr #spilled ink

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suspiciouslackofclowns · 1 year

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I really like the idea of Billy and Steve settling into a neighborhood populated mostly by older folks. Billy is the guy that gets called when simple home repairs like clogged drains and busted flower beds need tending to, and most of the time he doesn’t charge, but he winds up being paid anyway. Even if money has to get shoved at him.

Regardless of whether or not it’s realistic considering the time period, I love to think about how both boys are admired so much within their little community that they become the boys. Billy and Steve. Steve and Billy. A matching set. Never one without the other, and if there is just one for some odd reason, his presence is sorely missed.

If Billy’s outside mowing the lawn, Steve brings him iced tea, and it’s not unusual for the brunet to stand a little too close. To put his hand on Billy’s lower back and fix fond eyes on him.

Sometimes they go on walks in the evenings or in the early mornings, shoulders bumping together. Sometimes they hold hands, and it doesn’t stop Mr. Taylor on the corner from inviting them to a cookout that weekend. Sometimes Billy will kiss Steve goodbye on their porch before he heads to work and Mrs. Adley from across the street later tells them that they remind her of her and her late husband — something that Billy cries about after the fact because I just realized I’m gonna get to grow old with you, Stevie.

Whatever prejudices still exist at the time, probably in the mid to late nineties, they’re outliers to it. Of course, they still tend to keep it subtle when they’re in town.

Maybe when someone gets offended at the fact that Billy kisses Steve’s cheek, they have an angry elderly woman swatting the person away with her cane. Leave the boys be, is what she yells, and it warms Steve’s heart until she then promises to haunt the person when she dies.

Which, yeah. These folks have definitely been spending too much time around Billy.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #like it may not be ‘normal’ yet but it’s normal for them #I even have a recurring oc that I use in fics constantly #Mrs. Adley is so dear to me and she’s not even canon lmao #just #old people being Harringrove stans #you get it #my writing #rambles

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avvail-whumps · 2 months

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Royal Bought: Sampling #5

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content warnings: vampire whump, defiant whumpee, human auction house, captivity, manhandling, minor blood

The vampire’s grasp was unrelenting, but that was to be expected when Luke had done something as stupid as spit in his face.

He could still taste the sticky glob of blood between his teeth, pooling from his split lip, a numbing, throbbing sensation having replaced the aching pain by now. The tip of his boots clipped against the edge of the stairs as he was unceromiously hoisted up, his eyes watering.

Luke heard the clang of the door being pushed open, revealing a more modern interior as he was led — or better yet, dragged — down the corridor. It was buzzing with workers passing by, mostly vampires, but even then, Luke caught a glimpse of some of the blank faced humans working obediently.

It sent a shiver down his spine.

No one really paid attention to them, all except the occasional glance, no doubt due to Luke’s bloodied face and the way he was being manhandled down the corridor. Was it uncommon for humans to fight back? He didn’t think it was that, so much. They were merely glancing at him as if he was this wild, untamed dog with no manners.

The vampire eventually came to a stop in front of a door, pushing Luke inside the room with a hard shove. He staggered, the grip on his hair having been released, a cry of relief coming from his sore scalp. The door was shut behind him, and even though Luke wanted to wrench his head around and send a deadly glare towards the creature, he was more taken aback by one sat on a comfortable looking couch in front of him.

This vampire looked older, his lips pulled into a calming smile.

The room was strange to Luke. He had grown up in a camp in the middle of the wilderness, making use of anything they could around them to live. There were things in here that he had never seen before - more namely, the light source of the room. There were no windows here, and yet, the place was not shrouded in darkness.

Luke’s eyes wandered around in confusion.

“Welcome,” the older vampire hummed kindly, gesturing to the space in front of him. “Please, take a seat.”

There was a table with rectangular sheets of paper and what seemed to be some sort of small kit of tools. Luke’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, throwing a subtle glance over his shoulder. The previous creature had closed the door behind him, remaining in the room. He was looking at Luke with disdain etched into those hardened features.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the older vampire lulled, drawing Luke’s attention back to him like a magnet. He swallowed uneasily at the pleasant aura the vampire was exuding. His voice was soothing and calm. Why? Wasn’t he here to be sold off? “I know this all might be a little new and confusing for you. Let me introduce myself: my name is Silvan. And you must be Luke.”

Luke shifted uncomfortably at the knowledge of his name, uttered with such confidence. Silvan must have been quite an old vampire, considering the skin on his pale face was slightly weathered, and there were hundreds of years lingering in his eyes. He was wearing a tailored suit, black on dark raspberry sorbet, contrasted against his greying hair.

Silvan’s eyes were intense, even when Luke wasn’t looking at them, and it was like they were stripping every personal detail from him with ease. His voice was like smooth velvet when he spoke, low, dulcet tones coming from his tongue.

“You lived beyond the Collared Forest, am I correct?”

The first vampire moved silently behind him, as if his feet didn’t even touch the ground. When Luke glanced at him again, he had retreated from the door, boxing him in. Unlike Silvan, this was a clear warning to sit down and do as he was told.

Luke’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the taste of copper still fresh on his tongue. Against his better judgement, his legs managed to gain some of their strength back, and he begrudgingly circled around the plush couch, sitting opposite the older vampire. The material was incredibly soft, and Luke wondered what it was made from, how it was shaped in such a peculiar way, and if everything here was this comfortable.

“Why do you care?” Luke gritted out, his narrowed eyes watching the older vampire like a hawk as he reached for some soft tissues out of a box, holding them out for him to take. He didn’t.

“Ah, I’ll take that as a yes then, I suppose,” he mused, brow cocked in amusement. His pointed eyes flitted over to the other vampire with a hum. “His blood?”

“He was misbehaving,” he sniffed codly, nose turned up. “He’s ill mannered and has a ridiculous temperment.”

Luke was almost offended. They were talking about him as if he couldn’t hear them.

“The scent will spread fast, Silas,” the older vampire sighed deeply, his head tilted and hands back in his lap. He didn’t look like he was even considering Luke’s blatant rudeness for ignoring the tissues handed to him.

“So do rumours,” Silas spoke smoothly. “It won’t matter in the end.”

Luke’s fingers twisted into his thighs. The older vampire’s gaze had almost softened for a brief moment when his eyes wandered back over to him, as if remembering that Luke was here and they had a job to do. Judging by the kit on the table and the way the other boy had informed him that humans were hoarded off for “sampling”, he figured this was exactly that. A sampling of his blood to determine if he was expensive produce, he didn’t doubt.

“The process can be pleasant if you just behave,” Silvan smiled warmly, speaking to him as though he would be inclined to take him up on that advice. “You’re very important to us. We don’t want to have to hurt you to keep you in line.”

He found that hilarious; vampires weren’t exactly a beacon of truth. The sticky blood on his face and the numbness of his lip was a reminder that they had no issue hurting their livestock if it meant keeping them in line.

“Bullshit,” Luke hissed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. “Important? You’re selling us off like cattle.”

“Cattle?” The older vampire mused. “You’re not cattle. We pride ourselves on taking care of our merchandise. We make sure you’re all healthy, fed well, given the proper care and attention when you need it.”

“You sell us,” Luke breathed, his voice almost breathless from even having to utter such horrifying words.

“What happens when you’re bought has nothing to do with us,” Silvan informed firmly, as if that justified the crowd of humans they had awaiting their horrible fate down below. “But here, Luke, you’re safe. If you don’t behave, then we, unfortuantly, have to take the necessary precautions to keep you in line.”

Luke licked his lip. The flesh flared with a raging intensity for a brief moment, and he could map out the distinct tear. Almost to make a point. Silvan noticed it, but he didn’t comment, head tilted in curiosity.

“Physical violence will, of course, be enforced if you don’t cooperate,” the older vampire hummed. “But as I’m sure you know, we have much better, and much tamer, methods. They can feel good.”

He made sure he wasn’t looking at Silvan’s eyes. He felt himself shivering at the memories of Justinian’s compulsion, not wanting his own bodily autonomy to be stripped away from him like that so easily.

“Feel good?” He echoed bitterly.

“Of course,” Silvan smiled. “Some things can be quite euphoric. Compulsion can relax the mind and the body. Even a feeding, if handled properly, can feel good for you, too.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Many humans quite enjoy it,” the older vampire chuckled softly. “They offer themselves up willingly. That’s the price of cooperation in this place. As a human who grew up beyond the Collared Forest, I don’t expect you to understand fully just yet.”

Luke’s chest bubbled with an irritated scoff. His leg was bouncing anxiously at a continuous pace.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He growled slowly, not missing the way Silvan gestured to Silas for a brief moment, who stepped around the table to collect the tissues the older vampire handed to him. Luke suddenly went tense on the couch when Silas turned to face him again.

“You are somewhat of delicacy,” Silvan hummed, treading carefully as if he was pondering on the words as he said them. “It’s rare for there to be humans who lived so far from our territory here. You’ll cause quite a stir in the markets once word spreads around. Especially if the scent of your blood is anything to go off.”

His fingers twitched, itching to reach for his necklace and squeeze it tight for any sort of stability. His heart began racing even faster than before, throwing him for a loop. His adrenaline surged as Silas stepped closer.

“Am I supposed to appreciate that? That I’m good money for you?” He hissed coldly, leaning away from the vampire as prowled closer. “Stay away from me.”

His demands were ignored.

“You want to sample this blood?” Silas asked, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of Luke’s face. A hand closed around his forearm, yanking him back across the couch with a force that gave his shoulder an ache and his skull a wobble.

“No,” Silvan hummed, rising from the seat himself, and leaning down to collect something sharp from the tool kit in front of him. “I’d like it fresh from the vein. But, please. Wipe his face - and let him struggle.”

Maybe it was a cruel demonstration of how no matter how hard Luke fought against this, there was nothing he could do against them. No matter how many times he thrashed, ignored the throbbing pain from the tight holds, or retaliated with his own kicks and smacks, there was nothing he could do.

Silas had him easily pinned down on his back, one single hand locking his wrists together above his head. The vampire’s knee crushed into his ribs, pressing down uncomfortably onto his lungs, careless of Luke’s comfort as he wiped the blood from his face. Luke’s legs kicked out, breathing heavily between clenched teeth, screaming muffled curses and insults against the hand clamped over his mouth, tissues soaking up any fresh blood from his wound.

Silvan was hovering over him now, and Silas easily wrenched his head to the side, exposing the flesh of his neck. Goosebumps exploded across the expanse of skin, and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“It’ll sting only for a moment,” Silvan warned him calmly, the feeling of cold hands prodding against his neck making him squeal. He felt a sharp prick, his body seizing against his own will. The older vampire pressed something cold against the area, gave it a couple swipes, and then drew away. Silas’ disgruntled expression darkened for a second, letting Luke stew in the position for a moment, before finally letting go of him.

He slapped a hand to his neck, sitting up so fast he’d almost gone dizzy.

“What did you do?” He snapped, his voice still trembling from the hysterics he’d built himself up to. His heart was pounding hard against his ribs. Silvan pinched the small, blood coated needle with his fingers, opting to ignore Luke for a moment. He swiped the needle swiftly against his tongue, giving himself a moment to taste the blood. Silvan then hummed, folded the needle between a white napkin, and placed it down on the table.

“Interesting,” he merely commented, and Luke awkwardly rubbed the side of his neck. “Though, I am not suprised. It’s guaranteed his blood will attract many well-off vampires.”

Silas dumped the bloody tissues in the bin. He didn’t look pleased by the situation at all, his eyes darkened and his expression grim. He wasn’t fatigued by Luke’s struggle at all, having not even broken a sweat, it seemed, or put in hardly enough effort to even quicken his breathing compared to him, who was still trying to catch his breath.

“He’s rabid,” Silas sneered. “Doesn’t matter how attractive his blood is. No one will take him with such an imputent temperament. None that could match the price, certainly.”

Silvan took a seat once more, throwing one leg over the other languidly as he observed Luke with those gleaming eyes, as if calculating exactly what he had in store for him. He clenched his jaw, trying not to let any slither of fear pass over his face. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction if his fight caused them this much trouble. Luke wasn’t going to make himself easy to sell.

“We have plenty of time to prepare before the auction,” Silvan informed, though he seemed to be talking to Luke as well. He refused to catch his eye. “We’ll give you an opportunity to settle into your circumstances, Luke. I understand this is difficult for you, but there is no denying the inevitable.”

Bitter resentment, as well as this cold, crackling helplessness cut through him like a knife. His voice had almost lost its strength. “Fuck you…”

Silvan only smiled warmly.

“I’ll be sending you to Ileana, now,” he explained, his hands interlocked on his lap casually. “She will take care of everything from there. She’s be your handler, and believe me, our aim here is to take very good care of you. You’ll be provided quality food, clothes, and a room to stay.”

Luke bristled. “Lucky me, huh?”

Silas’ eyes narrowed an inch. “She will also be teaching you how to best accommodate your master, or mistress. It won’t be good for you to misbehave, Luke. We’re giving you the benefit of the doubt because of your…” He gave him a subtle once over. “...unique upbringing, but push your luck, and we will, unfortunately, have to risk completely stripping your mind.”

He remembered the humans he’d seen down the corridor. Lifeless eyes, blank faces, mindlessly following their orders. An empty shell to be used. A horrible shiver rolled down his spine at the thought, and he was sure Silvan caught on to the way his heartbeat quickened.

“You don’t want that, do you, Luke?”

“I don’t want any of this,” he croaked.

“Well,” Silvan hummed, unsympathetic. “That is something you will have to come to terms with.”

The older vampire suddenly straightened, glancing at a unique looking contraption on his wrist. Luke eyed it wearily.

“We need to press on and sample the rest of the humans,” Silvan smiled, his gaze flickering over to Silas with a beaming smile. “Please take him to Ileana and bring me the next one.”

Luke’s expression soured when Silas grasped his arm tightly, yanking him onto his feet. He gave a firm tug, but he wasn’t going to shake the vampire’s grip from him, not without a miracle. He could feel Silvan watching him go intently, his voice rising when he got to the door.

“Good luck, Luke,” the older vampire grinned, flashing his fangs. His voice went right through him, making his stomach twist. “Have a pleasant stay.”

tag list – @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @obsessednerd505 @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires

#royal bought #whump #whump writing #whump fic #whump series #whump snippet #whump scenario #whumpblr #whump community #vampire whump #human whumpees #non human whumper #whumper #whumpee #writing #my writing #avvail whumps #i can't wait for the collection of recurring instances where luke gets really confused by modern things #because imagine him using a functioning toilet for the first time 💀

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 2 months

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Ok so I had this thing bubbling in my head today. FIRST A DISCLAIMER: I 100% acknowledge that Taylor’s music is written from her perspective, from her gaze, about her own experiences and feelings. Just getting that out of the way.

But after thinking about the New Year’s Day/Peace medley from last night, it kind of hit me that there are several references in her discography to her making a commitment (to Joe), but there aren’t any of him reciprocating, or a mutual future being built.

(Again: I know that this is Taylor’s music, not Joe’s, so obviously she’s going to speak about her side of things.)

Even as early as reputation, we start getting references that this is the Big One for her, e.g. New Year’s Day’s “I want your midnights,” “you and me forevermore.” We continue to see more of these sprinkled throughout her subsequent discography, e.g. on Lover with Lover (“can we be this close forever and ever?” “I’ve loved you three summers now honey but I want them all,” the entire bridge being like wedding vows), Paper Rings (“I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings”), All of the Girls (“I want to teach you how forever feels”), folklore’s invisible string (“one single thread of gold tied me to you”) and peace (“give you my wild give you my child” along with, like, the entire rest of the song), evermore’s Cowboy Like Me (“that was before I locked it down,” “forever is the sweetest con,” “I’m never gonna love again”).

Midnights obviously has its share of references too, though interestingly maybe less overt than the other albums? Sweet Nothing implies a shared home she’s running home to, as does Hits Different (…). The Great War is probably the most obvious with, “I vowed I would always be yours ‘cause we survived the Great War.” There’s also “I wanna brainwash you into loving me forever,” in Paris and “I’m fastening myself to you with a stitch,” in Glitch.

The most obvious reference to her commitment that we hear is on You’re Losing Me, with “I wouldn’t marry me either” implying that it was something that was discussed and a point of contention given the way she spits it out in the bridge and there are also the references to their shared home (“remember looking at this room, we loved it cause of the light,” “every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes,” “do I throw out everything we built or keep it?” Etc.).

Yet throughout these songs, where she’s saying she wants to be with this person forever, she wants to show him how forever feels, she wants to marry him, etc., in retrospect they’re kind of one-sided. AGAIN I UNDERSTAND THAT THAT’S BECAUSE THESE ARE TAYLOR’S SONGS. But it’s interesting that when she does sprinkle in references to his side of things, they’re directed at her (e.g. “You said I had to trust more freely,” “You say ‘I don’t understand’ and I say ‘I know you don’t,’” “You say ‘what a mind’,” and so on). It’s like she captures his reaction to her actions, but not that he’s in this with her.

I repeat: I know that this is because this is Taylor’s music, not Joe’s, and she’s writing about her experience of these situations. But in retrospect, and with everything we’re finding out now, it’s just really interesting that the way she wrote about commitment/marriage/family in her music about this period in her life was about what she wanted, what she brought to the table, what she hoped for the future, etc. But she didn’t write about how her partner made her feel about those same commitments. She vowed to always be his, but we don’t know if he vowed to be hers after the war. She fastened herself to him, but did he rip the seam? She wanted to marry him with paper rings, but YLM indicates the feeling may not have been reciprocated after all at the end of the day. Etc. In her music at least, looking back it’s like there isn’t as much reassurance on the other person’s end that this is what they wanted after all, especially by Midnights.

I know this is a jumble of thoughts and by no means a literary analysis of her discography, but it’s just kind of hit me out of the blue today in ways that I think were completely unintentional, but with the imminent release of TTPD, the secret songs on tour and the general ~vibes~ of what we’re all picking up these days, I think we’re in for some more emotional damage by this next album.

#Writing letters addressed to the fire #me thinking too hard about Taylor lyrics #Taylor swift #i guess i should also tag this with #the tortured poets department #Because i have a feeling the theme may recur lol

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wreckedandpolemic · 9 months

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instruction - george daniel & matty healy

(mdni) and she returns!!! hope this is worth the wait lol This is v much out of my comfort zone but i think its quite lovely

warnings: 18+, threesome, light dom/sub, praise, overstimulation, orgasm delay, cumplay if you squint

“You guys gonna show me how it’s done?” you grin, but George and Matty don’t laugh.

It’s a joke, until it’s not. You’re laughing over your wine, until you realise how intense their expressions have turned. Matty wets his lips, his thoughts flickering across his face like a film reel. You look everywhere but their eyes, your gaze flickering between George’s hands, the chain dangling between his collarbones, Matty’s fucking tongue, a thousand filthy thoughts spiralling through your head.

George grins when your nervous gaze finally lands back on him. “Is that what you want, love? Want us to fuck you properly? Show you how good it should really feel?”

Your thighs clench, searching desperately for a hint of humour before you nod shakily. “Yeah– yeah. Please,” you mumble, identical smirks crossing their faces and sending shocks of tense excitement down your spine. George reaches for your glass, sliding it across the table away from you, a sudden air of authority emanating from him.

George stands, suddenly towering over you, broad and imposing and so, so gentle. “Come on, love,” he coaxes, cupping your jaw with one hand and beckoning Matty with the other. Your skin burns where he touches you, thrill racing in your blood, heat already pooling between your thighs. “Let us make you feel good.” Standing on suddenly shaky legs, you let George lead you into the bedroom, Matty trailing just after you.

The air is thick with tension, unsaid words hanging between the three of you as you stand in the centre of the room, the weight of their gazes heavy and hot against your skin. From behind, George wraps his arms around your waist and kisses wetly at your neck, running his fingers up your chest and darting them teasingly over your nipple, smiling into your skin as you jolt. Your shirt drifts to the ground and you grind your hips against George as he takes two greedy handfuls of your tits. “Matty…” you murmur, imploring him with sweet, wide eyes.

“Yeah, darling?” he replies, stepping closer until he can grip your hips, kissing you softly. Caught between them, you let them walk you to the edge of the bed, your lips not leaving Matty’s as the pair of them manoeuvre your body, so in sync that it might as well be rehearsed.

The heat at your back fades as George moves away from you and slips out of his clothes, settling on the bed; Matty distracts you with a clever tongue claiming your mouth and cleverer fingers diving to unzip your skirt. “Come sit, baby,” George instructs, and you turn, cunt throbbing at the gorgeous sight of him — sculpted chest bare, legs spread wide and cock hard, straining against the thin fabric of his tiny, tight boxers. A pathetic moan slips from your lips, and he grins widely. “C’mon,” he croons, and you climb into his lap, grinding yourself against his dick, bursts of pleasure rolling over you as the friction builds at your clit.

Laughing, George takes your hips in his big, calloused hands, your body melting and dripping out over his palms. “So needy,” Matty says fondly from behind you, watching your display eagerly, pupils blown wide and dark with desire. “Isn’t she so fucking gorgeous?” He throws the question over your head sending a shiver running down your spine, the praise and dismissal mingling together deliciously.

“Fucking perfect,” George agrees against your neck, palming your ass with one hand and rolling his hips up against you. “How do you want this, baby?”

Your head swirls with need, body hazy and decentered, battling to find an answer that doesn’t come. Matty makes a soft noise of sympathy. “Oh, she’s so sweet,” he breathes, coming up behind you and kissing the back of your neck, working his way down and unhooking your bra. You hiss as George rolls a bare nipple between his fingers. “I wanna fuck her,” he addresses the plea to George and you smile at the submissive note in Matty’s voice.

“You want that, love?” George grins at you. “Want me to tell him exactly how to fuck you?” You nod, frantic, panting into George’s mouth as he slips a hand into your underwear, running a finger over your soaked cunt, stopping just shy of where you need him to touch you. Whimpering against his lips, you let him turn you around so your back is against his chest. Matty slides your panties down your legs and you whine, desperate desire boiling over.

“Fuck, do something, touch me, please!” you cry, bucking your hips as George runs a hand slowly down your body. George rubs slow circles on your clit and you whimper, tossing your head left and right against his chest. Liquid ecstasy blooms under your skin at the brief touch, and you grind down against his fingers as much as you can. Abruptly, he takes his hand away from your cunt and lifts it to your mouth, tapping his wet fingers against your lips and prompting you. You open up dutifully and suck your arousal off his fingers, revelling in the taste of you smearing across your tongue.

“She’s so fucking wet,” Matty breathes, awed, eyes trained on your soaked cunt. His gaze trails, prickling, up your body to where George’s fingers fill your mouth. The excitement on his face breaks through his perpetual air of nonchalance, and he breaks into a shit-eating grin as he drags two fingers through your cunt. You gasp when he barely brushes your clit, hips jumping to chase the sensation. You watch Matty intently as he licks his fingers, that delicate pink tongue teasing you, devouring your taste with an exaggerated moan.

George takes hold of your jaw and turns your head towards him, smiling at how pliant you are already. “You ready for this, love?” You nod frantically, a string of whimpers that vaguely sound like yes and George and Matty and please falling from your lips, muffled by George’s fingers still in your mouth. “Look at him,” George grins, tilting your head and letting you take in Matty’s dishevelled appearance, skin flushed red, curls raked through and messy, cock hard and dripping between his thighs. He kneels between your legs, obedient, waiting for George’s instruction. “He wants you so badly,” George murmurs low in your ear. “What do you say? Want him to fuck you?”

“God, yes,” you whimper, desperate desire clawing at your spine, burning your lungs. Matty grips your thighs with trembling hands, black-painted nails digging five sharp points of pleasure-pain into your skin. The sensation is shockingly grounding, reminding you that you’re a girl with a heart and hands and a body, caught between two beautiful boys waiting to unravel you with their bare hands. “Please,” you beg. “Please, I’m ready.”

You let them manhandle you into position, luxuriating in being thoughtless and letting them take control. Matty’s lips are millimetres from yours, shaky breaths ghosting over your skin as he lines up the head of his cock with your entrance. You both moan as he enters you and you feel George growing impossibly harder at your back. “That’s it,” George murmurs soothingly, stroking a thumb over your pebbled nipple. “Take her nice and slow. She’s doing so well for us, huh?”

The praise makes your head spin, the stretch and burn between your thighs euphoric and dizzying. Matty bottoms out with a grunt, leaning down to connect your lips, his kiss hungry and devouring. He waits, unmoving but for his hands trembling at your waist. “She’s so good,” Matty gasps, “Feels so good– fucking pulsing around me. Isn’t she fucking perfect?” he moans, squeezing your hips with the effort of holding himself back.

George chuckles, something gorgeously dark and overpowering in his tone. “Yeah. Yeah, she is. Whenever you’re ready, baby,” he murmurs in your ear, the fire under your skin leaping higher and burning your brain into a hollow shell.

“God, fuck me, please!” you cry, and Matty wastes no time, fucking into you desperately. Your vision whites out, heat spreading from everywhere your skin touches theirs. You’re dizzy with it, desperate to please, grinding back against George’s cock and clenching eagerly around Matty.

A sharp spark of pleasure-pain ripples through your body as Matty bites your lower lip and George pinches your nipple harshly in perfect tandem, and you pant into Matty’s mouth. You writhe, gloriously trapped and yet so safe, your mind falling into that free, thoughtless place again. “Say thank you, baby,” George instructs, and you blink dazedly, your mind too soupy already to process his words. He nudges you again and some of the fog in your brain lifts.

“Thank you, thank you, thank– fuck!” you gasp as Matty hits that spot inside of you, shockwaves of molten euphoria coursing through you.

George’s hand trails down your stomach, holding you protectively. “Good girl. You feeling good? How is he?”

“Feels unbelievable,” you slur, turning your head to press open-mouthed kisses over George’s chest, tasting salt on his skin. Matty fucks into you, whimpering softly, trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

Hips rolling of their own accord, you moan, bliss unlike anything you’ve ever known wracking your body. You teeter on the edge, torturously, divinely close as Matty rocks into you over and over. Matty’s close, too, you can feel from the way his thrusts get more and more desperate, his own need swallowing him as he begins to use you for his own pleasure. “Matty,” George says, voice low and edged with warning. “Fucking control yourself. This isn’t about you,” he snaps, harsh voice a stark contrast to his gentle hand petting your hair. He drops his head to kiss your neck, teeth scraping and tongue brushing soothingly over the red soreness. “I’m sorry, baby. He just can’t control himself. Apologise, Matty.” he orders, his tone flipping from gentle reverence to controlling hardness as he addresses Matty.

Leaning forward, Matty murmurs apologies against your lips between sweet kisses. His pace slows back into that gorgeous, perfect rhythm and you whimper, incoherent pleas tumbling from your lips. George’s hand falls to your cunt and rubs at your clit, your body convulsing as ecstasy rolls over you and pulls you impossibly closer to your peak. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna–” you gasp, electricity sizzling through every nerve in your body.

“Come for us, sweetheart,” George murmurs in your ear, and that’s all it takes. A scream tears its way out of your throat and your body shakes, cunt fluttering around Matty’s cock. Ecstasy boils in your veins, replacing your blood as your heart hammers in your chest. George presses wet kisses against your neck and Matty leans forward to bite at your breasts, trapping you between inescapable sensation. Euphoria rolls over you in waves, rendering you helpless against skin and hands and lips and cock, drool pooling in your mouth as Matty fucks you through your orgasm.

You drift back into your body, chest heaving. Matty smiles up at you, eyes pleading, aborted thrusts making your sensitive cunt clench around him. “Please, baby, can I cum? You feel so fucking good, driving me insane, just wanna cum,” he babbles, clutching your waist like a lifeline. Aftershocks ripple through you, mind melting, your body still hungry for more.

George nudges you, kissing your jaw as you stretch towards him. “He asked you a question, baby.”

Desperate pleas tumble from Matty’s lips, tears spilling down his cheeks. He looks gorgeous like this, vulnerable and begging. It might be a little selfish, but you want to keep him like this just a while longer. You pout, and the way his face falls is unbelievably endearing. “Can you make me come again first?”

Matty whimpers, nodding shakily. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever you want,” he gasps. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he promises, fucking you slow and deep.

You brush the tears from his face with a soft smile, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you can reach. George rubs at your clit, oversensitive nerves firing rapidly and sending you tumbling back to the edge at breakneck speeds. Matty sobs, shaking with effort as he rocks his hips, pleasure racing through you. Your cunt is fucking soaked, slick sounds mingling with your moans and rattling off the walls.

George pinches your clit, the responding spark of pleasure-pain that ricochets through you sending you spiralling again. Dramatic, intense bliss saturates you, and you writhe against George’s chest, your body wracked with sensation. You cry out, babbling unintelligibly as you lose yourself in their bodies, fire coiling under your skin everywhere they touch you.

You hear Matty’s voice as you stir back into consciousness, indecipherable through the haze in your mind. “Fuck, can I cum? Wanna cum so bad, so fucking close, you feel so good,” he whimpers. You can barely register his words, tortured pleas falling on near-deaf ears. “Please, darling, it hurts.” Tears flow down his face and the adorably pathetic expression he wears tempts you to deny him completely, just to watch him fall apart completely.

You won’t, though, because you want to see him give in to the ecstasy he’s fighting back with every muscle in his body. You smile, benevolent in your sated body. “You did so well, Matty,” you murmur. “You can cum.” His reaction is instantaneous, a sound that’s part moan, part scream of your name tearing from his throat as he comes. It’s visceral, his whole body tensing, hands gripping your hips as his cock pulses over and over inside you.

“Thank you, thank you, god, fuck!” he cries, his body stilling. Your cunt flutters as he pulls out of you, chest heaving. His gaze drifts over your head to search for approval in George’s face. He must find it, a dopey, blissful smile sliding onto his face as he trails two fingers through your oversensitive cunt, the mess of the pair of you dripping over his hand. Eyes fluttering shut, he sucks the cum off his fingers. George follows suit and you gasp as he brushes over your sore clit, hips jolting against the sharp sensation rippling through you. Entranced, your eyes track his hand as he brings it to his mouth, moaning as your taste fills his mouth.

You grip George’s neck to kiss him, the salty taste of Matty and the tang of you sliding across your tongue. Moaning into his mouth, you lose yourself in the kiss, gasping softly when Matty’s curious fingers find your aching cunt, seemingly transfixed by the way his cum drips out of you. Weakly, you push his fingers away, sore and sensitive. “No more,” you mumble, burying your face in George’s neck.

Twisting in his lap, you turn to face him and wander a hand down his body, savouring the way his muscles tense under your palm. “Can I get you off?” you ask, eager as he takes your hand and slips it into his boxers, cock twitching under your touch. You free his cock, flushed red and drooling against his stomach. You work your hand over him, savouring the way he gasps and rocks his hips. He’s close already, fucking your fist with abandon as Matty comes up behind you, taking hold of your waist and kissing wetly at your neck. George groans, hips rolling faster and faster until he’s coming in your fist with a long, low moan.

Teasingly, you lap at the cum sticking on your skin and George grins. “Little minx,” he teases. “You feeling good?” he adds, gentle concern in his tone.

“So good,” you smile beatifically up at him. “ Sore, though. Tired.” You yawn, slumping forward against him. A quiet whimper escapes you as he climbs off the bed, missing the pressure of his skin against yours.

You shuffle forward and fall against the pillows, cuddling against Matty as George pads into the bathroom. Slinging a leg over him, you press your warm, sweat-slick skin against him, listening to his heartbeat ticking in his chest. George returns with two damp cloths, running one over your sticky thighs, crooning sympathetically when you whine at the scratch on your sensitive skin. “This might hurt a bit, baby, I’m sorry.” You whimper as he drags the cloth over your sore cunt, Matty catching your lips in a gentle, distracting kiss. You’re a little surprised by the care George takes as he moves onto Matty, though you suppose you shouldn’t be, knowing how much they mean to each other.

George leaves again, your mind too soupy to process his movements, all object permanence faded from your mind. Your lips are warm, faintly bruised as you kiss Matty languidly, the linear passage of time escaping you; after what could have been seconds or hours, George returns, sitting you up and pulling one of his shirts over your head. It’s soft and it smells like him, and it swallows you as you slide it down your body, comforting. “This is mine, now,” you murmur sleepily as George tugs your hair out of the neck of your shirt.

“‘Course, love,” he grins, running a brush through your tangled mess of hair. Preening under his affection, you lean towards his touch, one hand stroking through Matty’s soft curls. A sweet, happy noise slips from his lips and you smile. He’s so pretty like this, gentle and docile in a way you’ve never seen him. “You did so well, Matty,” George says, running his fingers through your hair. Matty shines under the praise, beaming up at you as you pet his hair.

“You’re so good, Matty. Made me feel so good, lasted so long. Our good boy, yeah?” you assure him. George murmurs an agreement, deft fingers braiding your hair loosely and kissing the top of your head. You slide under the covers, turning so that you’re spooning Matty and slinging an arm over his waist and savouring the satisfied mumble that falls from his lips, voice thick with sleep. George settles behind you, chest rising and falling rhythmically as you relax into the warmth of their bodies. The last thing you feel as sleep pulls you in is George’s lips, soft at your neck.

#george daniel x reader #matty healy x reader #george daniel #matty healy #george daniel smut #matty healy smut #george daniel imagine #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #this is just like. wrongendofurcigarette smut bingo think i hit Every one of my recurring themes

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skyward-floored · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 19: Psychological

I’ve been meaning to do something like this to Legend in particular for a while now, I finally had an excuse with today’s prompt (though all of them were a little weird...). I’ve also been getting Legend a lot I realized... oops.

Warnings: not too much. themes of loss/grief, heavy on the hurt/comfort

Read on ao3

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It was the perfect kind of day for lazing around.

Warm and sunny, with a cool breeze that rustled against the palm trees and stopped the sunshine from being too hot. The ocean waves rolling in the background, and the occasional cry of a seagull lending to the sleepy atmosphere.

Legend sighed happily, and rested his head on Marin’s where they were flopped together in the grass.

“You’re being so clingy, Link,” she teased as he nestled in, and he held on a little tighter, making her squeak in surprise.

“I only just got you back, I’m going to enjoy every second,” he said determinedly, and she laughed, the sound musical and warm.

Goddesses he’d missed her.

He’d had a quiet hope during all of the time he’d been traveling through portals with the other heroes that maybe... somehow... he’d find Marin again. They were traveling through time, right? Anything was possible... maybe she was alive and well somewhere.

He hadn’t dared to hope too loud, but then the most recent portal they’d gone through had left them on a beach by the ocean. His only warning had been a shocked gasp before he’d turned around and found himself being hugged by the girl he thought he’d never see again.

Marin.

He sighed in happiness, and he knew Marin was smiling at him, her hair tickling his chin.

“I really missed you,” he admitted quietly, voice still thick from his earlier tears, and Marin hummed, nestling into his arms.

“Me too, Link.”

The shouts of the others as they messed around in the water drifted by on the wind, and Legend closed his eyes, content to stay exactly where he was. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in ages, not since they’d last been able to rest at the ranch, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Something flickered in his mind then, and the noise of the others momentarily grew.

Legend opened his eyes, something cold suddenly trickling through his chest, and he sat up, taking his head off of Marin’s.

“Link?” she asked, and Legend looked at her, studying her features. Brown eyes, red hair, freckles dusted across her nose... just like he remembered.

She sat up as well, and he put a hand on her cheek, feeling her skin under his palm, warm from the sunshine. Legend carefully rubbed a thumb under her eye as he looked at her, her eyebrows raised. She looked exactly like he remembered. Exactly the same, but why...

“Link, what’s wrong?” she asked again, and Legend looked at their surroundings, then back at her, trying to focus on her face again.

He couldn’t quite do it.

The cold feeling grew, settling deep into his chest, and the world faded around the edges, just a bit. Dread began to overtake him, and Legend took Marin’s hands in his, feeling at her skin with shaking fingers.

She felt real. She felt real and looked real and sounded real, and earlier when she’d suddenly kissed him she’d tasted real, but—

But—

“This is a dream,” he choked out, and Marin looked at him, her brown eyes brimming with sadness.

“It is,” she said quietly.

Legend held on to her still, almost desperately, but the world was fading the more he tried to cling to it, the ocean slipping away, Marin’s brown eyes fading the longer he looked at them.

“I’m sorry Link,” she said gently, then disappeared with everything else.

Legend woke up alone.

He opened his eyes, staring dully at the ceiling, and swallowed, closing them again with a shaking sigh. That dream. Again.

His fists clenched as he tried to get his emotions under control and not think about it. Anger and grief and a swirl of all sorts of other awful feelings raced through him without his permission, and he clutched at his blanket, shaking slightly.

He hated that dream. He hated it.

He’d had it multiple times since he’d come on this stupid quest, and every time was worse. Every time he desperately let himself believe that it was real, that they had gone through a portal and he had found Marin, but every single time he woke up.

Legend swallowed thickly, scrubbing his arm over his face, and only feeling more angry when the sleeve got damp. Great. He’d been crying in his sleep.

And the worst thing was, it had been tears of joy.

“Legend?”

He flinched, and wiped his face again before glancing beside him, seeing Wind and Hyrule both awake and looking at him, some of the others stirring.

“Are you okay?” Wind asked in concern, and Legend turned away, his shoulders hitching up.

“Fine,” he choked out, then threw his blanket off and left the room they’d all been sleeping in.

All of them except for Time of course, who was sleeping in his own bed with his red-haired wife who’d probably triggered his stupid dream because he only ever had it when they were here—

Legend forced himself not to stomp down the stairs or slam the door as he went outside, despite how sorely he was tempted. He’d let the others get some sleep at least.

He certainly wasn’t going to get any more.

Legend sat down with an angry huff on the steps of the porch of the farmhouse, his elbows on his knees. Resting his chin on his hands, he glared out at the mostly-darkened fields as his breath shook, lit only by a thin sliver of moon. A cricket was chirping somewhere, and Legend listened to it, struggling to calm down.

He wasn’t going to cry. It had just been a dream. It hadn’t been real, so there was no reason to cry about it.

An owl hooted, and he tensed up, hunching over and burying his head in his hands.

He wasn’t.

The door behind him creaked, and Legend snapped his head up, prepared to send one of the others back upstairs with a sharp word, but the words died in his throat as Malon stepped through the doorway, her red hair almost brown in the shadows.

Great. It was the last person he wanted to see right now.

“Sorry if I woke you,” Legend muttered as Malon crossed the porch over to him, wrapped in a shawl against the chill.

“Oh you didn’t,” she said, looking back at the house. “Wind and Hyrule were whispering right outside my door, and they woke me up.”

Legend huffed out a small laugh, and looked out at the darkened fields again. “Sounds about right.”

“...May I sit?” Malon asked, gesturing to the steps.

Legend shrugged, not looking at her. It wasn’t like he could stop her, they were her steps.

Malon hummed, and settled herself down next to him, Legend relaxing slightly at the distance she left between them. At least she was giving him space.

A bit of her hair caught the moonlight, and Legend swallowed, looking at his feet.

He wasn’t thinking about it. Nope.

��I’m sorry to pry hon, but... I’ve noticed you don’t seem to sleep well when you’re here,” Malon suddenly spoke up, her voice gentle. Legend stiffened. “Is there any way we can make things more comfortable for you? I know it’s stuffy being crammed in that room with seven other boys.”

“No, it’s plenty comfortable,” Legend muttered, not looking at her. “It’s not... it’s not that.”

Malon was silent for a minute, and Legend slightly curled in on himself, wishing he’d taken his blanket with him. It was kind of cold out here, and he hadn’t even put on socks or anything.

A part of him was relieved it wasn’t warm though. It made it easier to keep the memory of his balmy dream away.

“You know, I’ve sat on this porch in the middle of the night many a time,” Malon said softly, looking up at the moon. “When I was a little girl now and then, but mostly right after me and Link were married. He’d try not to wake me, but his adventures left a lot behind. He rarely slept through the night. Still doesn’t, sometimes.”

She breathed in, and let out a deep sigh, looking over at Legend with a sad look in her eyes.

“I hate to think you’ve been through even half as much as him,” she said softly, and Legend hated the sting that started up in his eyes. “And I know a few kind words aren’t going to fix any of that. Especially from me, I know you don’t prefer my company.”

“...What?” Legend startled, and looked at her.

“Well, I assumed you weren’t too fond of me since you always avoid me when you boys end up here,” she said in surprise, and Legend stared at her, then shook his head, just stopping himself from letting out a bitter laugh.

Of course. Of course he’d pushed her away and made her think he hated her.

He was awfully good at that, wasn’t he?

“No, no Malon, you’re not...” he tried to explain, but his voice caught in his throat, a sudden lump making it impossible to speak. He swallowed thickly, and Malon waited patiently for him to finish, remaining silent as he tried to gather himself, not pushing.

Legend swallowed again, and looked over at her.

“You look... like someone I lost,” Legend said thickly, and closed his eyes against the tears gathering in his eyes. “I-I wasn’t trying...”

His voice broke, and he harshly cleared his throat, nearly shaking with the effort not to cry. A hand cautiously settled over his own, and Legend looked down at it, his lip quivering.

He couldn’t cry, he wouldn’t cry, he refused—

“Oh hon, I’m so sorry,” Malon said in a gentle, grieved voice, and Legend couldn’t stop the sob that hiccuped out of him.

Malon immediately scooted closer, and Legend didn’t resist when she gathered him into her arms, shaking as he entirely broke down. It was like a dam had burst, and Legend sobbed into Malon’s arms, equally hating himself for crying and feeling utterly overwhelmed at the emotions that were rushing past his defenses.

He’d only let himself cry for Marin and Koholint once before. But now all the grief and guilt were pouring out, with him unable to stop them one bit, and he choked on another sob, tears pouring down his cheeks.

He hated crying.

Malon held him the whole time while he sobbed, gently rocking him, running a hand through his hair. Her arms were warm and tight, and Legend wondered distantly if his mother would have held him like this if she’d still been alive.

It could have been a couple minutes or an hour later, but Legend’s tears finally slowed, and he sighed, feeling entirely rung out.

Malon ran a hand over his head, and Legend felt heat rise in his cheeks, embarrassment hitting him almost as hard as the sudden surge of emotion had earlier. He’d just spent the last however long it had been crying onto a woman he’d only met a handful of times, and his tear-stained cheeks felt hot.

He quickly raised his head and wiped his eyes, and Malon gave him a gentle smile.

“Better?” she asked, and Legend gave her an awkward nod, sniffling a little. He did feel better, come to think of it.

“Sorry I—” he began to apologize, but Malon stopped him, squeezing his shoulder.

“No trouble at all, hon.”

Legend stared at her, then nodded, ducking his head down. He still felt wrung out and embarrassed, and the ache was still there if he thought too hard about the dream that had woken him, but... he also felt warm.

Like everything would be okay.

...He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that.

Legend exhaled, and when Malon tucked her shawl over him, he found himself leaning into it.

Neither of them said anything else, and they sat together on the porch for a long time, Malon occasionally running a hand over Legend’s hair, until the sky began to change from navy to pink, stars winking out.

And after that night, whenever Legend found himself at the ranch, he slept the entire night through.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu legend #lu malon #lu marin #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #day 19 #hurt/comfort #writing from the floor #somewhat based off me #I was in an awful mental place when my cat of many many years died #and I had a recurring dream that she actually wasn’t dead and had come back!#like a ridiculous number of times #it sucked #but the premise fit awfully well with legend (sorry bud)

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recurringwriter · 2 months

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The Shadow of Every Spark

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rufus Blaiddyd/Original Character(s), Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius/Felicity Eirian Gloucester, Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd/Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius' Mother/Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, Royalty, Letters, Dancing, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Alcohol, Explicit Sexual Content, Weddings, Drug Use, Abusive Parents, Unhealthy Relationships, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Torture, Infidelity, Pregnancy, Assassination Attempt(s), Faerghan Bastardry Laws, Jealousy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Polyamory, Rufus is an oc in this Summary:

Faerghus, 1157: Their Majesties arrange the engagement of their son Rufus to the daughter of Count Gloucester of the Alliance. So that he does not sabotage this match the way he has their previous attempts, the King has made an ultimatum--marry Lady Felicity, or be stripped of his Royal Status and name.

Felicity Gloucester, studying at the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery, receives the news of her engagement and realizes what a pawn she is in her family's ambition to spread their influence beyond Leicester's borders.

#recurring writings #rodrigue achille fraldarius #rufus blaiddyd #rufus but oc #oc: felicity gloucester

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

Take it, baby, it’s okay.

Eddie lets out a small whimper, his fingers tightening on Steve’s skin, and he presses his face into Steve’s neck.

Steve runs his fingers through his curls again, tugs at the roots and scratches at his scalp, closing his eyes and inhaling as Eddie’s hands slide across his scars. He plays with his hair for a while. Until the fire burns away, leaving glowing embers and the occasional soft snap.

“Have an idea,” Steve says softly, tilting his head so he’s murmuring right in Eddie’s ear, twisting the ends of his curls around his finger. “Can you wait here for a minute?”

Eddie sighs softly, nodding.

“I guess.”

Steve smiles, pressing a kiss to his temple before he gently detaches them and tugs the blanket tighter around Eddie. He kisses his forehead.

Upstairs, he flicks on lights to find his parents’ room, his eyes skimming past their untouched bed and furniture to their bathroom. They have the best bathtub, wide and deep and surrounded by pale pink tiles. Steve sits on the edge of it while he holds his hand under the running water. When it’s hot enough he plugs the bath and finds a towel.

“Hey,” he says softly when he gets back to the living room. Eddie’s eyes flutter open and he looks up as as Steve kneels in front of him, gazing up at him. “Come with me.”

“Okay.”

He stumbles slightly when he stands, clutching Steve’s hand, his other hand holding the blanket tightly as Steve leads him to the bathroom.

“I thought— I thought it would help you warm up.

Eddie drops the blanket wordlessly, squeezing his hand, and Steve exhales, smiling at him.

“You want help?”

Eddie nods. Steve smiles brighter, stepping in front of him and gently, tenderly, pulling the hem of his hoodie up, but it comes up with the sweaters, and they get tangled as Steve tries to pull them off. He can hear Eddie’s muffled giggling under the layers of fabric, and he laughs, carefully untangling him. When he appears, his nose is scrunched and his eyes are squeezed shut, his hair messy.

“There you are,” Steve says softly, tossing the clothes onto the counter. “Alright?”

“Cold.” He shivers. Steve rubs his arms before he reaches for the drawstring of his sweatpants. Eddie’s hands find Steve’s shoulders as he pushes them down with his boxers, as Eddie toes his socks off. Steve holds his hand to help him step into the water, and Eddie lets out a soft groan that Steve can feel under his skin. He kneels by the tub, running a hand through Eddie’s hair again.

“Feel good?”

“Christ. Yeah.” Eddie’s eyes are glassy.

“I’m gonna put your clothes in the dryer,” Steve says softly, his fingers gracing Eddie’s cheek. He has a scar there, rough and mangled from the teeth of demobats. “So it’s all nice and warm for you.”

“Come back,” Eddie whispers, tilting his head.

“Always.”

It takes him a moment in the laundry room to pull apart the sweaters and hoodie, the fabric stuck with static, but as soon as the dryer is running, he’s headed back to Eddie, who’s leaned against the back of the tub and slid down until his chin is in the water.

“Hey,” Steve says, kneeling by the tub and touching his face again. “How do you feel?”

“I’d feel better if you were in here with me,” Eddie says quietly.

Steve blinks, raising his eyebrows, his hand pausing on Eddie’s cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“Please, Steve,” Eddie breathes. “Need you closer.”

Steve pauses for a moment, his chest aching, before he says a soft Okay and stands, tugging his shirt off. Eddie’s eyes trail over his chest. Over the scars that cover his sides, his upper arms, his neck. Steve doesn’t even want to hide.

When he’s naked he steps into the bath, the water sloshing in the silent room, distorting their bodies. Eddie reaches out to him, his hand sliding over his arm.

“Come here.”

Steve moves closer.

Their legs wrap around each other again, and Steve closes his eyes, sighing.

“I missed you so much,” Steve breathes.

“Yeah?” Eddie says quietly. Steve can hear his smile. “You cry for me, Harrington?”

“Only every night.”

Eddie is quiet, and Steve finally opens his eyes to find him staring. His eyes are shining like he might cry, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I cried too.”

Steve nods, swallowing thickly.

“Can you touch me, please?” Eddie asks weakly, and Steve reaches out, sliding his hands over his arms, his shoulders, over his chest and waist and stomach and back. The water is warm, and Eddie’s eyes are closed, and he’s swaying with the way Steve’s hands are pushing him around gently, and he lets out a soft, broken noise that’s almost a moan.

“You feel so good,” Eddie says softly, his hands finding Steve’s legs under the water, sliding over his skin slowly.

“Yeah?” Steve breathes, sliding a hand to the front of Eddie’s neck, his palm to his throat. Eddie hums, whimpering, his expression shifting into an almost-frown, like he’s going to cry.

“Steve,” he chokes. “Say it again.”

Steve squeezes his throat gently, watching Eddie’s lips part as he gasps. He leans closer, until their noses are almost brushing.

“Baby,” he breathes. He smiles when Eddie’s lip trembles and his cheeks flush pink. “Is that what you want?” he whispers. Eddie’s breaths are echoing around the room with the quiet slosh of the water as Eddie’s hands slide up Steve’s sides, over his scars. “You wanna be my baby?”

Eddie nods, his lip trembling again.

“I want that too,” Steve whispers. “Want you to be mine.”

Eddie takes a soft gasping breath, and a tear escapes his eye as he nods again. Steve smiles, wiping it away, but he just makes his cheek more wet with the bath water.

“Yes,” Eddie says softly, crying. “Yes, please.”

Steve kisses him.

It’s a short kiss, hard and lingering, and Steve’s fingers tighten on his neck. Eddie gasps when they part, his eyes opening, glassy and tear-filled, and Steve smiles at him, nodding. Eddie stares for a moment, his lips spreading into a slow smile, and he lets out a tearful laugh.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, laughing softly. “Holy shit.”

#me? writing sub eddie?#what a world #anyway this was not supposed to happen but i suddenly needed to write intimacy and physical contact god bless #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #you will find that water is becoming a recurring theme for them #as is like?? bathing???#how do isay that without it being weird #anyway there will (most likely) not be another part to this i rly need to work on my wips #love u guys

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