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lovebugism · 6 months

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eddie fucking you in the back of his van whilst it’s raining😫

hope you like it lovie!! — after a series of ruined date nights, eddie makes up for another failure the only way he knows how (established relationship, smut 18+, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie was gonna take you out, come hell or high water — literally.

It was like the universe was conjuring up ways to keep you apart. He tries to plan a date night with you, and suddenly you have to pick up your coworker’s extra shift and the brakes in his van don’t work anymore.

He takes you to a drive-in to see some black-and-white horror movie, and for the first time in weeks, things are actually looking pretty good. With some candy he brought from home, the two of you settle under the covers in the back of his van, lazing against one another as the projector flickers on.

And then it just starts fucking pouring.

It’s like he blinks and the whole thing gets canceled and the entire parking lot is empty.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he grumbles under his breath, not unlike the black storm clouds rolling overhead.

You giggle at his dramatics. The heavenly sound melts with the wild cadence of rain, tapping rhythmically against the rusted tin roof of the van.

You’re still being a good sport about the whole thing despite the circumstances. You don’t care what you’re doing, really. You’re happy just doing nothing with Eddie.

“They refunded us for next week. We can just come back Saturday.”

“I wanted to do it this Saturday,” he whines, all boyishly angry. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his head back and bares his milky white neck. “This was supposed to be our night together— why does everything have to get so fucked all the time?”

“It’s not like everything’s totally ruined,” you assure him, practically cooing as you smooth out the frown between his brows with your thumb. “At least we’re together. Who cares about the rest of it?”

“I know, but… You were really excited about it. And I was really excited to watch you watch the movie.”

Eddie tries to be serious, but he’s grinning the second he makes you laugh.

“Shut up…”

“I mean it,” he tells you, serious and quiet with it. His cheek squishes against his shoulder when he pouts at you. “I think I might be heartbroken, babe.”

You know what he’s playing at. You lean into it, anyway.

“Yeah?” you hum with narrowed eyes.

He nods.

“Want me to make it better?”

“Please?”

You close the short distance between you to press a kiss to his mouth. It’s the chastest little peck — you’re practically gone the second you’re there. Eddie chases you when you pull away, tasting of nicotine and pink starbursts when he kisses you deeper.

You get lost in him like it’s nothing, sighing when his soft tongue juts gently against your own. He’s sucking softly at your bottom lip one second, and the next, you’re lying on a pile of fuzzy blankets.

His rings and cold knuckles brush your sides when he tugs at the hem of your shirt, a silent plea for its removal. You come to then, pulling back from him with a low click sounding between your kissed mouths.

“Wait…”

“What?” he wonders, lips rosy and swollen. His deep, chocolate eyes dart between both of yours, looking for any sign that something might be wrong.

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“No— Everyone already left.”

He’s breathless from having been kissed so ardently. He leans down for more anyway. His stomach twists with rejection when you press against his shoulders to stop him.

With a sigh, he concedes and rises off of you again. His shirt is wrinkled and skewed around his neck from your passionate touches. Still on his knees, he reaches for the metal handle of the back door and shouts into the roaring rain — “Hello? Anyone out here?”

“Eddie!” you shout, giggling and jerking backward when rogue droplets sprinkle inside.

The van shakes when he slams the door shut again.

“See?” he lilts with a lopsided grin. “No one.”

You shake your head at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“You love me, though,” he mutters as he settles back over you. The weight of his body is warm against your own. With your hands on his sides, you pull him somehow closer.

“Unfortunately…” you gripe, kissing the breath from his lungs a second later.

When he reaches for the hem of your shirt again, you let him take it off.

—————

The thundering rain against the roof almost drowns out your gentle moans. Eddie’s glad you’re breathing them right into his ear, so he can hear everything he’s doing to you.

His thrusts are slow and measured. Almost painfully unrushed. He shushes your begging to go faster — “Just let me make you feel good,” he mutters, slurred and low, “Let me hit that spot.” He pierces you with his cock, tilting his hips to hit deep inside you until you make a pretty noise for him, then he creeps back out again.

He never pulls all the way out, though, ‘cause he might die if he left the warm velvet you are around him. He keeps his pelvis pressed intently against your own, the coarse hair at the base of his cock steady on your pussy. The pressure against your clit is merciless.

“Put your legs around me, baby,” he mumbles against your mouth because he knows the different angle will make it better for you.

He almost smirks when you obey him without thinking, but his mouth parts with an unexpected moan before he can. You pull your knees back and tuck your ankles around his waist, heels pressing gently above his ass.

Your cunt widens and suckles him further in.

Eddie grumbles a hearty, poorly muffled moan into your neck.

“There you go— just like that,” he praises. “Doing so good for me, pretty. Always so good for me.”

You whine again, high and light, like the praise is equally as pleasurable as his cock.

His metal chain glides between your breasts when he pulls back from you. He tucks his ringed fingers into your waist and sits back on his haunches, balls resting warm and wet against your ass. He keeps rocking into you, unhurried.

“What happened to that mouth you had before, huh?” Eddie wonders, still breathless.

He smirks when you moan in response. He knows you don’t have the words to answer him. He knows he’s fucked you far too stupid.

“Thought I was incorrigible, remember? What happened to that?”

Your mouth parts in a silent whimper, back arching and brows pinching when his cock hits deeper than you think he’s ever been. The pleasure feels borderline electric — makes your spine tingle and your legs go numb.

“Yeah… For someone who loves mouthing off—” Eddie continues to tease despite his breathlessness. You clench around him, and he has to remember to exhale. “—You open up so easily for me. Don’t ya, honey?”

You wanna say something. You think you almost do. But his thrusts are as merciless as they are slow. He presses impossibly deep within you and keeps hitting that spot until you tremble. The words get caught in your throat, along with a silent moan.

“That’s okay, honey. Just let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good,” Eddie slurs, mumbling like he’s talking to himself. “Go dumb for me like you always do. So perfect at that— god.”

He tilts his head back to howl a groan. Through fluttering lashes and a blurry vision, you see his clenched jaw and taut neck and heaving chest.

Eddie always talks a big game when he gets you all sweet and pliable underneath him. He loves to be dominant while he tears you apart, but as his own orgasm crawls up his spine, his true colors start to show.

He leans back over you again, caging you beneath his warm weight. He stops hiding his pathetic whines and whimpers and instead buries them into your sweat-slick shoulder. He babbles in your ear, a bunch of garbled nothingness because words are starting to lose meaning.

“Fuck, honey. Oh, fuck— you’re so fucking— shit. You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, you know that? So good for me. So soft, too. Shit. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”

He tucks his face into your neck and tries to kiss you through his whines. His ringed fingers crawl behind your back, holding you like his life depends on it while his measured thrusts grow rapid and sloppy.

Eddie begs you to cum, or rather demands it because he can feel himself about to explode. “Cum— Cum for me— right fucking now.”

You do. You’ve been hanging by a thread the whole time, really. And like you expected, Eddie’s not too far behind you. Your unabashed moans entwine, mixing with the wild cadence of the rain against the tin roof of the rocking van.

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

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charles-leclerizz · 2 months

Text

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ peaches

🏁 Pairings : Lando Norris X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : none! just fluffy times

🏁 Word Count : 4.0k words (4070 words)

🏁 Author's note : This is probably the most chaotic thing i have ever written, so I hope you can make sense of it (hope being the key word) Make sure to lilke and reblog (anything is appreciated, but comments and reblogs fuel this sad little writer). The word dividers this time are also from @plum98!

🏁 Music player : This will be by Natalie Cole

“God he’s hopeless.” Oscar observed his entranced teammate stumble over his words from beneath the shade of the umbrella set up to the side of the filming area. Having finished his own media duties, he was now watching, unimpressed, as his friend attempted to use his remaining two braincells to blubber at you, like a fish out of water.

To be fair, you were also blubbering, your cheeks were red and hands shaking as you sorted through the white, glossy cue cards that had the signature McLaren logo printed on the back. You shuffled the cards mindlessly, humming under your breath after the third question was answered and Lando had maintained eye-contact with you for a minute too long, staring into the depths of your irises when the last syllable had left his lips causing your heart to stutter at a pace that had to be confirmed as medically concerning.

“U-um, right, okay so.” You attempted for the sixth time, your fingers finally finding purchase on a new piece of cardstock that contained the fourth question printed on one side in large, sans-serif font.

“Ehm-“ You cleared your throat, flipping a piece of hair over your shoulder as you looked back up at the driver who sat in front of you, enthralled by the minute movements you made. Like the arch of your brow, the dip of your lip and the curve of your collarbone that lay exposed, thanks to the strapless, silk corset you had opted to wear.

“Right, the fans want to know Lando. Who’s your favourite thing to eat?” You said with. Pseudo-confidence, oblivious to your mistake.

Lando’s eyes widened as a few chuckles bristled around the small crowd of camera technicians and other personnel that filled the McLaren media pen “Excuse me?”

“Huh-“ You blink a few times, “Oh shit- no.” You begin to wave your hands in front of your burning face, “I meant, what. What is your favourite snack, or meal to eat before a race?” You blurt out the correction.

“Oh- oh thank God. I don’t think I would have been able to say that.” Lando chuckles, despite the rogue blush that had spread from his neck to his ears, “Normally, I like to have snickers?” He offers, “Especially before a race, it’s a tradition. My dad used to buy them for me, during my karting days” Lando smiles at you, bracing his elbows on the arm rests of his seat whilst tilting his head boyishly.

You go silent for a few minutes, staring at him as your mouth opens and closes uselessly, your mind was fuzzy, and you could swear that you could hear the blood rushing past your ears.

With a heart beating wildly you plaster on a dazzling smile, “Watch the stock prices shoot up.” You joke, focusing on his shirt instead of his face, to protect yourself from his irresistible gaze, “Well Lando, I wish you the best for the race, here in Singapore later in the week.” You lift your eyes from the very interesting speck of dust on the front of his McLaren jersey to meet his hazel eyes, “On behalf of the entire Sky sports team, of course, not just me, that would be weird-“

He cocks his head at your rambling, huffing out an amused laugh, “Thank you,” he returns, as if your well-wishes were probably the only thing that made him want to participate in the race.

But that’s ridiculous, right?

The media segment had finally ended, having collected enough material for the next week in Singapore and you were thankful for it.

The few hours that you had been interacting with the driving duo was excruciating, not only from the sweltering afternoon that you found yourselves in, but also the fact that Lando was always in your line of sight, laughing at something that Oscar had said or screeching hysterically over the periscope goggles that he was struggling with. He was always there.

Some may say that it was “your job” but frankly you found it insulting. Because he wouldn’t let you do your job, you were either blushing too hard, sweating too much or your heart was about to end your existence with its erratic beating.

“I’m just glad it’s over” You pout to May, your producer. She was sweet and imaginative, always carrying around a leatherbound, flowery notepad to scribble new and creative ideas for interview styles to attempt with the 5-year-old men that you were tasked with interacting with.

“It wasn’t that bad” She comforted you, handing over a chilled water bottle whilst an on-set assistant dabbed at your forehead with a damp towel, “I honestly thought that you were having a heart attack, couldn’t even tell that you liked him.”

“She’s right y’know” A third voice burst into the conversation suddenly, which caused you to jump and clamp your hand down on the half open water bottle, sending the cool jet of water straight up the man’s nose.

“Oscar!” May shouted, holding a hand over her daisy detailed blouse with shock as she signalled to another assistant to grab a towel for the driver, who was currently holding his nostrils and attempting to plunge out the of water that had lodged itself up his nose.

“I’m fine,” He snorted whilst dripping onto the sizzling concrete and dabbing the cloth on his face, “For the record, I was worried for your health halfway through that painting task. But that was before I noticed you drooling over Lando.”

You groaned, running both hands up your face to your hairline before threading your fingers through your scalp and pressing the strands away from your forehead, “It’s not fair,” you whined, “He was distracting me throughout the whole thing. I probably look like a mess on camera,” You press the pads of your fingers against your temples.

The whole ordeal made you want to cry, or vomit perhaps both? It was hellish having to endure him staring into your soul the entire interview segment and endearingly answer all your questions with unnecessary detail.

What a jerk.

“Nah, you looked good.” A fourth voice popped in. And much like Oscar’s intrusion, it made you jump, but instead of squeezing your bottle and waterboarding the person, you shrieked and swung, as hard as you could towards the source. Making impact with the side of their face.

A very familiar face which had whipped around like a grape on a toothpick. A face that emitted a groan whilst a hand came up to soothe the quickly forming bruise.

“Fuck me” You groaned, bending over to help Lando who was still checking for any blood that may be leaking from the side of his face.

“Well, I would be honoured, but I think you did permanent damage,” He joked, standing to his full height whilst you brought your hand up to tap the purple-ish skin with a light, albeit panicked hand.

“Oh Lando,” you hissed when he clenched his teeth as you pressed against his cheek, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered on instinct, continuing to stroke the skin whilst May came up to the two of you, having recovered from the shock of you assaulting Lando and rushed to procure a bruising ointment.

You turned around quickly, thanking your friend as she handed of the white tube into your palm, not noticing that half of your hair had slapped the man in front of you in the face, “Oh come on,” you heard him garble through the clumps of hair that had made its way into his mouth.

“Shit, sorry,” You apologise for the umpteenth time in the few hours that you had spent in the close vicinity of him, “I can’t get it together for some reason.” You offer the dull explanation whilst stepping closer with a thick strip of the ointment spread between your fingers.

“Yeah” He murmured, eyes more focussed on your concentrated expression that was barely millimetres away from him, “I can tell.” His breath tickled your ear as you stood on your tiptoes and rubbed the ointment onto his face, it made you blush and realise how close your faces were. How easily you could turn your neck and graze your lips against his, or bump your noses together like a sweet, long-term couple who were used to your clumsiness.

Fat chance

You stepped back, taking one of the discarded towels from the table to the left of the pair of you, “I’m so sorry again,” you apologised, wiping away the remaining cream from your hand and moved to pick up your purse from the surface next to you.

“You could make it up to me?” He offered, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet.

You cock your head, removing the hand that was rooting around in your purse- searching for your phone and let it hand limp “How?”

“What are you doing today?”

“Nothing much,” you offered, shrugging, “Not my first time in Singapore, I’ve been working with F1 for a year. Just wanted to hit some stores that I didn’t get to last time.”

It was true, last year was your first year and like the dedicated rookie you were, you holed yourself up in your room doing pre-liminary research for the upcoming days on all things related to the Singapore track along with the prestigious millionaire drivers that came attached. This was despite the long list of high-end stores, cute cafes and boutiques that you had made in your apartment back home, before the season began.

Luckily, you had managed to hit one or two of them up before the next race. But there were many remaining which you were desperate to visit.

“Let me take you out then,” His eyes glittered with enthusiasm as he unpocketed one of his hands and reached towards yours, brushing against your soft knuckles and running down the divots of your hand before dropping to his side, “Anywhere you want.” He promised.

“I have a long list Lando, and you have a race, or have you forgotten?” You tease him despite your barely inflated lungs and dry, anticipatory throat.

“Haven’t forgotten,” He argues, “I don’t have to-“ His breathe hitched as he watched you reach out to intertwine your fingers with his, gently as if your movements were a fleeting butterfly and could easily be lost as such, “Don’t have to be training the whole day- just give me your number and text me the places you want to go?”

“Okay,” You settled, keeping your pinkie fingers locked together as you stepped impossibly closer to him and handed him your card, a small glossy cardstock with the sky sports logo printed on one side whilst on the other had your name, number and “Formula 1 presenter and interviewer” centre-aligned in black font.

“Cute,” He flipped the card over in his free hand before looking up from the paper and into your eyes, bouncing his pupils over your entire face as though he was memorising each feature up close and personal, “I’ll see you later.”

You nod, biting your lip as your stand on your toes again and press your glossy lips against the scruff of his cheek, “I hope so.”

You had handed off your contact details to Lando on Tuesday. Throughout the passing days, you both had texted each other constantly, any free treasured minutes in your schedule would be spent chatting with the other. It was now Thursday and still he had not brought up the date.

The “not-date”

Thankfully, you had managed to check off nearly half of your destinations on your list and the bags in your hotel room were evidence of such. Odd, thick shopping bags that were brightly coloured and bent in ways that could merely hint at their high-fashion origins, had taken over the bedroom, slowly pilling up by the dozen.

You stumbled out of the sleek, metallic elevator and winced with each step you took through the 20th floor foyer and down the corridor, each light-wood slab of the miscellaneous rooms had been allotted a cluster of numbers that morphed together in your tired eyes. It had been nearly four hours of running around, collecting information and small video snippets from all the teams as the entire PR team was rushing to put out the last round of pre-race content.

Your stiletto heels clicked to a stop when you finally reached your door, the electronic card reader waiting patiently for you to tap the key on its matte black surface. You rooted around in your purse, holding it open with one hand as you searched for the damn card, fearing that you may need to bother the sweet receptionist for another duplicate key.

Whilst looking around in your seemingly endless bag, your phone vibrated once...twice...thrice.

You unsheathed the device and clicked on the notification that popped up on your lock screen. Lando. He had left a small string of messages that made your heart flutter as though cupid had just struck you.

You looked pretty today.

Not that I was stalking you- I saw you when you came to garage.

I’m free for the rest of the day, can I take you out?

On a date. If you want.

You smiled to yourself, reading the messages repeatedly, imprinting them in your mind as you felt your blood swim through your arteries and blossom a deep red blush across your cheeks.

“Is it possible for someone to be this beautiful?” A familiar British accent sneaked up behind you, caressing the skin behind your ears as a minty fresh breath followed suit.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask yourself.” You teased, turning on your heel to rest your back against the door, to face the handsome man that was currently grinning down at you. You clutched your phone to your chest, soothing the fluttering butterflies that escaped your stomach to scuttle throughout your body, suddenly, you weren’t very tired anymore.

“I would rather ask you,” He smirked, reaching to tuck away a rogue piece of hair that had escaped from your ponytail, his finger lingered on your nape, allowing his entire hand to cup the back of your neck and ghost the pads of his fingers across the expanse of your skin.

“Hi Lando,” You smile at him, leaning into his touch.

“Hey.” He whispered, more focused on analysing the tantalising swoop of your eyelashes and sleek slant of your nose. As one does.

“You ready to go?” he tilted his head at you.

“Well, I have an idea about where I want to go with you, I just need to change and re-do my makeup.”

“Okay, you want me to wait out here?” He offered, watching you as you brought your purse between your bodies, flitting through the mess within to finally, triumphantly present the room key. He giggled at the victorious squeal that escaped your lips as you brushed the card against the reader and skipped into the room.

“No, it’s fine. You can come in, just don’t judge the amount of shopping.” You warned him, already cautiously stepping over the French boutique bags that greeted you.

“It would be hard to fit my judgement into the room, there’s so much stuff,” He commented beginning to pick up various bags and place them onto any free surface as an attempt to clear the walkway.

“Ha Ha,” You laughed sarcastically, twisting your neck to stick your tongue out at him, “Let me find something to wear,” You bent down, searching through the few bags that sat on the bay window sofa.

“Do you have the directions to the place?” Lando inquired, watching you with interest as you held a small, teal bag over your head and went over to the other side of the room to search for shoes.

“Yeah, it’s a frozen yoghurt cafe, 0 sugar and vegan, I figured it will be good for you. Since you’re on a strict diet.” You shrugged, unaware of his touched expression. He was enamoured with you from the first time that you had sat down in front of him, stuttering over your questions despite your once cool, calm demeanour with his teammate. But the fact that you had considered his diet requirements was like the cherry on top.

“Oh- you didn’t have to. I could always break away from the diet.” He half expected you to jump at the opportunity to go someplace else.

“No no, it’s fine. I heard such great things about this cafe. I’m excited. Plus, I would’ve gone with or without you,” You snickered, walking towards his place, perched on the edge of your freshly made bed. Apparently, room service had conveniently avoided your shopping but had happily tackled the other features of the area.

“If you say so,” He relented bundling the soft comforter in his fists to stop himself from looping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. Luckily, you rested your arms on his shoulders and intertwined your fingers together at the start of his spine, burying them in his hair and twisting the curly strands with one digit.

“I do say so,” You nodded your head sharply, before retracting your arms and began to walk towards the bathroom, “Be right back,” you promised, slinking through the washroom door.

You pushed the sliding slab shut and flicked on the warm yellow light before pulling out the compact package of tissue paper, held together with a white, cream silk bow.

The paper crinkled loudly as you undid the ribbon to reveal the milky white dress that lay nestled within the packaging. A long, floor length number that contained embroidered butterflies on the final organza layer, layered on top of a chiffon slip with a middle veneer of muslin. The empress waist had folded over fabric that sinched in the silhouette along with emphasising the carmen neckline that sat sultry with the help of thin, pearly straps.

You slipped on the elegant dress, smoothing over the divoted attire whilst pulling and pushing at the material until you were satisfied. Your hair flowed freely along your back as you leaned forward towards the mirror, touching up your concealer and swiping generous amounts of your glossy, lip balm before slipping on a pair of black, matte kitten heels.

Finally, you were ready.

The door squeaked open as you stepped out, short heels clicking on the marble floor as you stopped around the bend of the wall, calling out for him, “Lando?”

He turns towards your voice curiously, floppy brown hair bouncing with his movements, “Yeah?” He answers, standing up and pocketing his phone.

“I’m ready,” You reveal yourself to his gaze, smiling happily when his mouth pops open and eyes widen substantially.

“Wow, you look amazing.” His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your outfit, biting his lip whilst walking towards you, “Glad I asked you out when I did, otherwise I would be in trouble.”

“Yes, you are quite lucky,” You agree, patting his chest as you adjust the collar of his shirt, “Let’s go?” You offer, hooking your arm with his by the elbow.

He looks down momentarily before smiling toothily, “Let’s” He nods and opens the door.

Lando held the large cup of frozen yogurt in his palm, itching to dig the small plastic spoon into the tall peak of cold, white cream that was covered in melted dark chocolate, “You got the photo?”

“Yes, sorry,“ You tuck your phone back into the inefficiently small purse that hung from your shoulder, “You taste it first, I feel like you’ll burst if you don’t” you chuckle at his expression as he fills the spoon with the cold dessert and places it in his mouth, he groans pleasurably as his eyes roll back.

“Holy shit that’s good.” He compliments, holding out the paper cup to you.

“I would hope so, looks like you just orgasmed,” You take your own plastic spoon and taste the treat, “Never mind, your reaction is valid, it’s so good.” You hum.

“I know right?” He continues to eat, keeping his right hand steady as he shuffles around you from your left to the other side, so that his free hand could intertwine with yours.

“I could’ve just moved?” You giggle, swinging your hands up and down as you lean to take another bite.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He shrugged, licking his spoon free of the remaining frozen yogurt as you continued down the street and across the street towards Pearl Hill Park.

You both continued to chat animatedly, taking bites of the sweet yogurt between the two of you as you enter the park and walk down the foot path, admiring the large canopying trees and delicate flower’s that littered the shrubbery which lined the walkway.

“You’ve never had a boyfriend?” Lando clarifies, his eyes bugging out with shock.

“I mean, guys have liked me, and I’ve had crushes. But boyfriend? Never had anyone that serious,” You confirm, unbothered with his reaction.

“How?”

“I don’t know! I never asked and I never have got asked,” You defend your single status.

Lando nods, squeezing your hand in his as he kicks a small pebble beneath his feet, “But you’re so beautiful.” He murmurs penultimately beneath his breath.

“What?”

“What?” He looks at you, surprised that you heard him.

“Nothing,” You dismiss, your chest warming with the compliment, the sensation made you giggle to yourself and press your lips together.

The skin of your lips seemed dry against one another, causing you to stop walking, pausing the lazy travel around the man-made lake that you both were taking and remove a tube of flavoured lip balm from your purse. Lando pauses, watching you press the tube of the glossy moisturiser and lay a generous amount on your lips before twisting the top back on and dropping it back in your bag.

“What flavour is that? It’s so bright.” He snorts at the light pink coating that covers your mouth.

“Oh, is it too much?” You go to remove your compact mirror before you feel Lando hold your wrists gently, stopping you.

“No, you look perfect,” He assures you, softly laying his thumb beneath the swell of your lip and pulling the skin down slowly, “I was just curious of the flavour.” He muses, supressing a grin at your dazed expression as you fight away the feeling of your eyelashes fluttering closed in anticipation for his lips on yours.

“Um..I think it’s peach?” You offer.

“Really?” He snorts, moving his face closer to yours, analysing your face for inhibitions towards his actions, only to be met with your rouge ears and innocent doe eyes looking at him, “Let me try,” He whispers, finally bringing his face closer to yours, allowing his breath to fan over your slightly parted lips. You finally connect your mouth together, one of your hands loops around his neck whilst the other hold his wrist as you savour the sweet taste of his lips against yours.

It was as though the blossoms that surrounded the two of you had begun to bloom within your mind, bursting with new life and innocence as the water rippled in the summer sun, casting glowing streaks against your faces like crystalline diamonds shimmering beneath a spotlight. This moment seemed to paint itself on the canvas of your mind, permanently memorised to never be forgotten.

Lando pulls away all too soon, resting his forehead against yours, “I can agree-“ He pants, “That it tastes like peach” he pulls away minutely to grin at you.

You grin back, licking your lips slowly, “Yeah, I guess it does.” You agree, pressing your mouths together again, desperate for the sacred dopamine that he filled you with. He smiled against your lips before you became conscience of your surrounds and broke apart. His eyebrows furrowed but nevertheless he caressed your cheek, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin beneath his finger.

Lando stepped back, taking your hand in his again to resume the slow, lazy steps around the lake, “You’ll watch that race then? From the garage?” He asked hopefully, looking down at you from your position on his shoulder.

“Peach?” He called out.

Your heart grew three times bigger at the nickname as you lifted your head from his body and looked at him earnestly, “Of course, I’ll be there in the orange.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion unavailable...over

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littlejuicebox · 5 months

Text

Drunken nights.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: You've just arrived in BG; this follows the standard romance plot for Astarion after the Shadowlands. Rating/Warnings: PG / all fluff / very mild in game spoilers Word Count: 1600+ Notes: Shadowheart gives me major bi panic. Tried to keep this GN but please let me know if you see something! I loved the ending to @leighsartworks216 post here and I uno-reversed it. :)

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You are dancing atop a table. Well, really, you are grinding atop a table. You hold a mug of beer in one hand and the curve of Shadowheart’s hip in the other as the two of you move your bodies in a drunken haze to some drum-heavy tune the band is playing. Everything is fuzzy — your vision, your tongue, the fur on the edges of your jacket as it brushes into the cleric while you two dance to the beat. The bar is in an inebriated riot; several members of your blurry audience are shouting in a cacophony you can barely understand over the music.

“Come on, kiss already!”

“Take your clothes off!”

For a moment you consider ripping your shirt over your head and exposing your chest to the feral crowd. But then Astarion is at the edge of the table, gently grasping the wrists of both you and your dance partner. He gives each of you a little tug, beckoning you both off the table, catalyzing an uproar of boos and jeering. An apple is thrown at the vampire’s head, which he deftly dodges before turning to glare daggers at the offender. Halsin stood from the bar and made his way towards the rogue after that, hoping to avoid further violence. The looming threat of the druid’s large frame caused the crowd’s rage to fizzle out; the tavern’s patrons quickly turned to look for other forms of entertainment.

“Well, would you just look at the time? I do believe the free show is over and you’re both thoroughly drunk. You two had better be off to bed.”

Shadowheart is a flurry of giggles as she steps off the table, practically crumpling to the floor. Halsin narrowly catches her by the back of her shirt, steadying her with one hand. “What, Astarion? You jealous? Didn’t want me to kiss your lover and steal them away from you for the night?”

Your face is tucked into his neck as you drunkenly cling to the rogue, the stability of his frame the only thing keeping you from nearly melting into a pile of bones like the cleric had moments ago. Your breath is tickling against the elf’s ear, causing the pink flush of the pointed pinna to rise.

Astarion chuckles good-naturedly, “Far be it from me to keep my lover from their appetites, Shadowheart. And I’m sure you’re more Tav’s type now, what with the new hair color you have going on, but I’m quite certain neither of you would actually be interested in putting on such a show for the entire tavern… if either of you could be trusted with your current judgment, that is. Let’s circle back tomorrow morning, when everyone is sober.”

Shadowheart takes a step toward Astarion, fully intending to goad him with another quip, but she loses her balance once more and slides to the ground. Halsin is forced to scoop her over his shoulder. A slew of garbled protests comes out of the cleric’s mouth, and the mountain man’s brow crinkles in confusion as he tries to interpret the gibberish. Finally, the druid shakes his head and sighs, turning to the silver-haired elf before gesturing with an open palm. “Lead the way, my friend.”

Astarion grabs you by the waist to guide your clumsy footing as all four of you head upstairs and to the rooms located above the tavern. The vampire rapidly knocks on the first door, which swings open to reveal an irritated Lae’zel.

“Here’s a present for you, darling.” Astarion greets in a sarcastic sing-song voice as Halsin enters the room and plops Shadowheart onto the bed. Lae’zel hisses a “tch” as she slams the door shut upon the druid’s exit. You see Karlach lounging on the floor and greet her with a drunken wave as the entryway shuts. All of you hear something clatter to the ground, followed by Karlach’s muffled laughter and Lae’zel’s complaints on the other side of the wall.

“You’re welcome!” Your lover calls through the closed door before Halsin bids you both a good night in the hallway with a small chuckle. The wild man looks like he wants to say something more while staring at the two of you, but he blinks the thought away before meandering down to the fair end of the hall towards the room he’s sharing with Gale.

Your room is next door to the three female fighters. You and Astarion made the decision to sleep in separate rooms for now, after your talk at Moonrise Towers. Everyone had been so happy to make it out of the Shadowlands and into the city that day; you’d even successfully charmed the inn owner into offering you a heavy discount on the only private room left available for the night.

Earlier, you’d taken a delicious soak in the well-appointed bedchamber’s clawfoot tub while Astarion read beside you. You’d invited him to join the luxurious bath — there was plenty of room for two — but he’d gently refused the offer, opting instead for a quick shower in the room he’d shared with Wyll while you dressed.

Now, Astarion looks through your pockets, patting you down to find anything you’ve stowed away on your person. All he discovers is a few gold coins and your trusty dagger. “Darling, where on earth is your room key?”

“I ‘unno. Had it downstairs… prolly lost it.” You murmur, now practically hugging the wall to keep yourself up. You can’t help but think how cute the vampire is when he’s flustered.

“You can’t be serious, Tav.” He deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose. The rogue heaves a frustrated sigh as you stare at him with glassy eyes and nod.

“As a heart attack… hey, you can’t actually have one of those can you?”

“Sit.” He commands, ignoring your tangent and forcing you into the plush chaise bench pressed along the wall across from your bedroom door.

“Yes, sir.” You respond with an uncoordinated salute, half sitting, half laying on the chaise. Your fingers dance across the velvet, the texture of the fabric absolutely mesmerizing you.

Astarion pulls out his lockpicking tools and sets to work, opening the door with a few rattles of the lock and flicks of the wrist. He quickly hoists you out of the chaise and pulls you into the room, where he begins to strip off your clothing, careful to avoid grazing his hands against your skin. “If you’re potentially going to vomit, my sweet, best to make sure you don’t end up doing it on the nicest things you currently own.”

The vampire unceremoniously tosses your clothes into the armchair nestled in the corner of the room and then pulls back the covers of the queen bed, shoving your unbalanced frame onto the mattress. “Now get some rest.”

“Will you tuck me in?” You’re on your back, limbs starfished out. You think Astarion looks so pretty in the moonlight; you love the way it’s dappling the side of his face and shooting shiny streaks through his silver hair.

The elf stares at you; his white eyebrows furrow as he scrunches his nose. You can tell the rogue is annoyed, but you don’t care. All you can think about is how pretty he is, even when he’s annoyed. You adore the little crinkle between his eyebrows.

“Seriously, Tav?”

You nod slowly. A smile creeps across your face, and the dopey-eyed expression you can’t think to conceal in your drunken state wins him over.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, darling.” The rogue huffs, rolling his eyes in performed annoyance. But truthfully, he was just as enamored by you and the way your beautiful eyes glimmered in the moonlight as you stared at him with unabashed adoration. He’d almost kissed you right there, but he didn’t trust himself to perform such an act while in a potentially triggering situation. He’d spent far too many nights in far too many taverns with far too many drunks for him to feel truly at ease here. Instead, the vampire deftly tucks the blankets around you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. “There. Happy?”

“Mhmm.” You agree with a nod, already feeling yourself drifting toward sleep as Astarion situates himself on the other side of you. You’d been wrapped in the large, fluffy comforter provided by the inn; the vampire covered himself in your lighter, personal blanket before rolling on his side to stare at you.

“You’re not going to your room?” You ask with a yawn, sneaking your hand out from the cocoon to find the elf’s fingers and coil yours around his.

“And leave you here alone, absolutely sloshed and unable to adequately defend yourself, in a private room, with a key that is probably lost somewhere in the same tavern full of patrons that were asking you to take your clothes off minutes ago? I think not.”

“Mm… my knight in shining armor.”

“More like… rogue with glinting dagger.”

“Mm… my rogue…”

You yawn again. Your eyelids are so heavy, but you want to keep them open to admire the vampire for just a while longer. You try to fight off the pull of sleep, but you’re too inebriated and so so tired. The journey to get here took all day on foot and everything felt unbelievably warm and cozy; the bed seemed like a cloud in comparison to the hard earth you’d been resting on for weeks. You are unable to finish the rest of the phrase as your lids flutter closed for the final time that night, stitched shut by the long curls of your interlaced lashes.

“Your rogue.” Astarion agrees in a soft murmur, lifting the hand that you’d snaked out of the blanket toward his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your callused knuckles. The elf watches you for a few minutes longer, a small, adoring smile crossing his face. He knew then, in the quiet of that random tavern, with your angelic face covered in the beautiful glow of moonlight, that he loved you. If only he had the courage to say it.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #slow burn #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 9 months

Text

❝ Burn for you ❞

post-s6!Stiles Stilinski x werewolf!male!reader | nsfw, smut | sub.bttm. reader (AMAB) | not proofread | wc: 4k

warnings: omegaverse dynamics (r!), praise kink, biting, scratching, spanking

req: can I ask for a stiles fic, like reader(m) is a werewolf n went into heat and the only person he actually trusts from the pack is stiles so he just bursts into his room in the middle of the night all hot and sweaty and stiles is just dumbfounded until he realised what was wrong and he helps him all night 😋😋 anyway and like end it with some cuddles n stuff if you can, oh and like a shit ton of praise just like mass amounts, plus like biting, scratching maybe a few smacks here and there and that's it! (bottom amab reader pls)

"This is insane," by all accounts he was right. Stupid, cunning, frantic and witty Stiles Stilinski was right. This was insane. "Stiles," but here you are — countering his factual statement. "Stiles, please..." The hands in his hair stop and he looks at the state you're in. Actually looks. His eyes take in the wildness in your eyes that, once upon a time, would've made him flinch as they glow in the dim lighting of his dorm room. Yet at this moment, they're anything but frightening, instead they're desperate.

There's a startling realization that the werewolf before him was desperate for him that makes Stiles choke on his own spit. The hands in his hair travel down to cover his mouth but you know it's still in that annoyingly slacked-jaw pose. Why were you sneaking into his dormitory room through a window!? "Stiles!" You land on your feet and now Stiles has a werewolf in his dormitory room. The carpet silences the thudding your shoes make as you reach for the collar of his shirt. It's new. Sheriff Stilinski probably bought some new clothes for Stiles for Christmas —that's not the point. The point is, his shirt is new and you're stretching the round collar wider at the front, claws teasing the fabric as you grit your teeth together to stop your fangs from making an appearance. "Hey, easy, easy!" His palms rest on your face. Stiles squeezes your cheeks together when he feels fur attempting to sprout. He shushes, twisting his head on a swivel around his tiny room. His roommate said he'd be out but the lights from underneath Stiles door is on and he sees shadows moving. He can handle a werewolf in distress but handling that whilst keeping the secret of the supernatural away is a juggling act he'd rather not attempt. He's had his fill from his high school days. He'd rather not repeat it again in college.

What were you even doing here? Last time you two called you'd been in Beacon Hills, California helping his father out with some rogue werewolves. What the hell were you doing in Quantico, Virginia!? "(Y/N)," his eyes are set in a determined squint. Yours are furrowed, eyebrows meeting in the centre that makes a slideshow of memories appear behind Stiles eyes with every blink. The second time he says your name it's softer. As if he recalls who you are and you squeeze your eyes shut at the warmth in his voice. Shoulders sagging and grip loosening, you lean forward to bury your face in the crook of Stile's neck.

Everything is fuzzy. There's someone else nearby — two someone's, to be exact, but everything beyond Stiles' door is irrelevant.

Everything beyond Stiles is irrelevant.

Stiles wraps his arms around you. You swear you can feel every scar on his palms and finger pads despite the jacket you wore. It's mindboggling how amplified Stiles is right now.

He eyes the shadows from his door. They pause and Stiles grip on you tightens. It elicits a gasp from you as you clutch the front of his shirt again. Stiles ignores how hot his ears feel as your lips brush against his skin and how he can feel the tips of your teeth (not fangs, thankfully) whisper along the thickest junction between his neck and shoulder — or he tries to. His pulse quickens and you're so close too him you can feel it, see it, hear it. Your hands are flat against his sternum. With your eyes aglow you tilt your head down to spread your fingers across his chest. "Shh, shh, my roommates asleep," Stiles would thank Tom (his roommate) for being considerate but a few giggles escape the girl he's brought over and Tom is pushed against the door. The sound is decidedly too loud for an already sensitive werewolf so you lips curl in distaste. Your growl only cut short by Stiles hands smacking itself over your mouth so hard your head tilts back.

"Stiles — !" "(Y/N)" his whisper is sharper than you're used to. The frown etched onto his face is so familiar but so...grown. It had only been a year since graduation. Since that mess with the Wild Hunt and everything in between. Stiles looks so adult now. Oh, there's still mischief written all over his face but everything that was soft-edged was sharper and there was this hint of a stubble along his jaw and chin. The bags under his eyes were probably because of wild nights roaming Beacon Hills woods for dead bodies but it seemed college exacerbated it tenfold. It reminded you of the Nogitsune when it had Stiles but he wasn't pale and he was still familiar. You're staring. You realize that you are but Stiles just looks so handsome and the memories are flooding in faster than you can stop them. His hands smell like energy drinks, spilled pen ink, dusty cold-case files Stiles definitely had no authority to be snooping through and home. Stiles flinches, chest concaving away from you when you whimper and tug at his shirt.

No, not whimper.

Moan.

"...Your roommate has company too," Tom's girl whispers barely reach his ears through the door. Their shadows stumble away with a few 'hushed' giggles but Stiles only tears his eyes away when he hears his roommates door shut.

"What the - Are you hurt? (Y/N), it's 2 am — You-You're supposed to be in Beacon Hills!"

Why is he so far away from you? He's pacing again, combing through his hair again and he's rambling again.

"Stiles," he doesn't pause as you call for him. He's too frantic to see the way you're panting or the way your cheeks are heated. "You know you're supposed to call me first when things happen!" He gasps and spins to looks at you. "Is it an emergency? Does Peter have another kid running around or something? Hunters? Are you —"

You're breathing too hard. He inches closer again. It feels like he's teasing you. Moving to-and-fro like a sly fox teasing a wolf.

"You're hurt?" "Stiles," the whine is high in your throat. A keening almost. It makes Stiles hands hover over your shoulders when he'd been gripping you so tightly minutes before. "Stiles, I need you"

"Need? Need...Need me to - For what exactly?" Your jacket is shrugged off. He can see the way your shirt is sticking to your skin. To his relief he sees no wounds, no blackened veins bulging and spreading across your skin because a hunter gave you a dose of Wolfsbane poisoning. It leaves him more confused. More flustered. "Somethings happening to me," you take steps forward. Stiles lets you. "What's wrong, (Y/N)?" He wants to turn on the lights in his room. Moonlight looks wonderful on you and the table lamp is less headache inducing to work in during these times but he's frozen with concern.

What if you were cut by a tiny blade covered in Yellow Wolfsbane? Or some other type of poison — a Kanima maybe? No, you weren't paralyzed. You weren't dying, if you were dying he' be sure you'd be more panicky but goddammit what if you were and you didn't realize it!?

"Derek...Derek said it happens to werewolves wuh-when we've...matured," Stiles wasn't there to witness the chaos the pack went through with the other wolves. Blissfully unaware of the embarrassment that lasted for days and it wasn't as though Scott was going to tell Stiles about the time he was so painfully horny after his 18th birthday that Malia and him effectively traumatized Melissa. "Matured...?" "Stiles, my birthday just passed," you don't want to say it. It kills you every time you even think about it so why would you want to say it out loud? "Happy...birthday?" But Stiles wasn't catching on. Derek had advised you about holing up somewhere. Said something about finding someone to partner up with. Preferably a pack mate and not some stranger in a bar. The notion was far too embarrassing. Scott was like an older brother to you and he was dating Malia who you think would probably not mind if you decided to spend your heat with the two of them. You minded though. So, no. Derek was a definitive no. Too much angst, too broody and too old for you and Lydia didn't deserve to be subjected to anymore werewolf biology nonsense then she already had. There were more pack mates but they were all a no but, Stiles...? He made you feel so safe. His brilliance was blinding (sarcastic quips included) and his valor in deathly situations were enough to make you swoon. Such kindness despite the torments life had thrown his way. Even now, he's showing it. He's holding you, tender and sweet, and his eyes are scanning you for injuries. "Stiles..." Your eyes meet. His brow furrows and his hand is cupping your cheek again. "Stiles, I'm...I'm in heat." His mouth opens then closes then opens before closing. Stiles is doing that thing where his brows are moving on their own and his eyes are blinking rapidly which means he's thinking. "Whaaat does that mean? Just - just as a clarification ya' know" You groan. The pants you're wearing has been achingly tight and you can't stand it anymore. "Dammit, Stiles! I need you to fuck me! I'm in heat, I feel - I feel like my skin is on fire and I - I just, fuck, please, Stiles, please" There's tears in your eyes. Embarrassment be damned, it's too much. It felt like your senses were fucking with you, it's been like this for days, symptoms of oversensitivity steadily raising until it reached its boiling point that caused you to drive all the way to here. But all of it washes away when Stiles is holding you. All your focus is on him and it relieves you of so much pain why the fuck isn't he holding you now? "Please, I need you, I need you so badly."

Stiles catches you when you trip over your own feet, faceplanting into his chest where he can feel your open-mouthed breathing. Your hands cling to his shoulders, his wrap themselves around your middle as you cry. "It hurts, Stiles. I can't, I can't think I just — Mmf, you smell so fuckin' good," your gaze lifts up and Stiles groans into your mouth when you surge forward to kiss him. It's a shitty kiss. Sloppy, messy, and there's a clear lack of coordination but fuck it was hot. His tongue brushing against yours along with his lips.

You feel the dry patches he has — clearly college has triumphed his basic needs so you fix it by wetting his lips with your tongue. His grip tightens as you push him back, back and back until the back of his knees knock onto his bed. He falls. You fall too. It's not the first time he's had a werewolf over him but it is the first time he's had a werewolf in heat on top of him. He prefers this compared to the other instances. The window of his room, where moonlight floods in, cast you in this blue hue. It contrasts with the warm hued light of his desk and the colours look so fucking good on your skin. Your lashes are dark with tears. Stiles is certain he's tasted a few of them while kissing you. He reaches up and wipes the evidence of their path away. You turn your nose into his palm like a puppy and Stile's plaid patterned pajama pants feels a little tight. A tear slips and Stiles uses both hands to hold you. Those pretty eyes flutter open and Stiles gulps. You were (Y/N) (L/N), a longtime friend. One of the first guys that made him realize he was bisexual. A cherished friend, someone he could imagine one day meeting up for drinks even after decades have passed. Here you were, on his lap. "Why, why me...?" It was a fair inquiry. He lived miles away and he hadn't been available as of late too. You? You were a looker. So handsome and kind it made Stiles feel guilty every time he jerked off and your face appeared in his thoughts. You could have anyone you wanted. If the werewolf thing was stopping you from getting with anyone...well, it wasn't as if there were a shortage of werewolves in Beacon Hills. The sounds of your breathing muffles the beat of silence. Then, you're leaning down and Stiles places a hand on your chest to stop you. "You...You don't want me?" He feels your muscles tensing. Ready to dart if he nods but he doesn't. "I...I really want you, (Y/N)" You lean again and again he stops you. "Stiles, please —" "Why me, (Y/N)?" He knows you're thinking. You have this tell on your face when you do and since you're just inches away from him he'd be blind not to see it. "Because I...I trust you, Stiles. Muh...More than anyone else. I don't just need you, Stiles, I...I want you" It's his turn to talk but he's quiet. You're whimpering again, hips twitching as you try so very hard not to act on impulse despite the way your body is on fire. There was this annoyingly loud voice in your head just chanting Stiles name and it's killing you that he is so, so, close but not fucking you. When Stiles kisses you it takes you aback, teeth clacking and all but neither of you care. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and he's gripping the back of your neck as he all but devours you. Your hands slide up his shirt. He flinches, pulling away from the kiss and squeezing your neck. "I bruise easily," you're confused. He motions to your hand with his eyes and your eyes widen when you see your claws fully extended. "Shit, Stiles, I'm sorry —" He cuts you off with his mouth. Your eyes are rolling back and he swallows every pathetic noise as he grabs your hips, ass, then your thighs. The yelp you let out when he twists you surprises you both. He's between your legs now, above you and grinning boyishly. "That's — That's new," he nods before diving in to mottle your neck. Your fingers are curled into fists as you arch your back into him. "Learned some self-defense moves, came in handy, huh?" Your laughter dies when you feel Stiles teeth playfully bite into your flesh. "I mean, it works against werewolves" Both of you glance at the wall behind you when you hear repetitive thuds, followed by a squeal of pleasure. Stiles wants you to scream on his dick like that too. You gasp, whispering out his name when Stiles undoes the annoying obstacles that is your pants. Your boxers have a wet patch on them and you nearly kick Stiles off when he presses a kiss on it. He's hastily tugging your pants away from your legs but you're not cold at all. Everywhere he touches you feels like he's setting you on fire.

But it's good. Not like "before Stiles", not like "without Stiles" burning that makes you feverish and turns your skin unbearably lonely. Stiles touches spreads this delicious burn across your skin. Your shirt is next. Stiles doesn't help you with, just watches as you take it off and toss it to the side. He's over you again, kissing you again and you're so overwhelmed you can't help the noises you're making. His fingers ghost along your navel but you've no time for foreplay. You grab his wrist and guide it down to your crotch, bucking your hips up from his ghost-like touches. "Fuck, you're pent-up," You're nodding in agreement, balls tightening as he finally, finally, slips a hand into your underwear. Your torso twists to the side, moaning like a whore as he holds your cock in his hands. "Really pent-up" Stiles jerks his wrist and you're biting your hand to keep the noises down. "Don't, not like they're holding back" Stiles reminds as the headboard banging grew more incessant. He pulls your hand away, pinning it down as he watches your face. His fingers are so good, palm warm and your precum is excessively leaking down. Probably a side-effect of the whole "in heat" thing. His thumb digs into your slit and he's groaning at your wanton moans. Curious, he slides his hand down. "Stiles," you feel him touch your balls but he slips further down to your perineum then to your twitching entrance. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "You're wet" Stiles astute observation makes you dig your heels into the mattress. "You're wet"

"Stiles!" You can't handle this. You need him inside you not have a QNA session. "You've fought werewolves, a Kanima, hunters, the Wild Hunt, the Nogitsune, fuck — You survived holding Derek Hale up in a pool full of water while he was paralyzed for hours, stranger things have happened than my ass being self-lubricating!" You spread your legs, holding your thigh open as you try to catch your breath. He watches, entranced, as your fingers slip into yourself. It slides in with ease and familiarity. You're pumping one finger then two and then three. The way your rim stretches and clenches — Stiles sees it all. Stiles towers over the foot of his bed, over you, and you're relieved as you spot his hands replacing yours. His fingers are longer than yours and it has you melting as he pumps into you. "Shit, you're so warm" "All for you, baby, just for you," his ears are burning again. You look so blissed out but Stiles knows this isn't what you want. His shirt is the first to go and after stepping out from the puddle of checkered patterns Stiles is naked too. His cock is just as pretty as he is. There's moles on it, veins decorating the underside of it. It's long, more girthy near the base. "You manscape...?" You ask. "Shut up," Stiles replies. Stiles splits your legs apart, they're cushioned on the top of his thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck. The tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips catching yours again. He only pulls away when you feels his head catch on your rim. Stiles watches your face as the pressure gives and he's inside of you. He's biting his lower lip, wanting to only hear you (Tom isn't helping but that's not in his control). "Oh fuuuck, Stiles, Stiles your — " Stiles nods, pulling his hips away a bit before inching more inside. It has you whining. The delicious drag of his dick makes you clench and he hisses. "You feel so fucking good," he whispers against your Adam's apple, grinning as it bobs when you gulp thickly. Your claws are out again but he's electing to ignore it as it leaves kitten scratches across his shoulders. "God, (Y/N), you're so tight, so warm — Jesus fucking Christ, I —"

His words are making you squirm. It feels like an eternity but once he's fully sheathed inside of you it feels like all those days of overstimulation hell was worth it. The both of you moan and Stiles relishes in your velvety walls as they welcome him. "Like you were made for me," You whimper out his name. He notices your eyes are wet with tears and so he braces himself on his elbows, pushing you further up his bed. The jostling makes his dick pump into you and you mewl sweetly. "Don't have to cry, pretty boy, I've got you," he cradles the back of your head and places his forehead on yours. "Stiles..." Your eyes widen as he thrusts into you. He's watching closely. Your face scrunched up in ecstasy as he moves in and out of you. "You're so beautiful, fuck, (Y/N)" He hisses again when you clamp down at him. Only looking away to see your cock twitching in a tell-tale sign of an oncoming orgasm. Stiles chuckles as he grips at the base making you groan, shaking your head. "Hey, shh, relax, I'm helping you out. I'm not an asshole," he does that thing with his wrist again and your back arches. You see white and he slows his thrusts down, his back stinging but it's not the worst thing he's been through.

Stiles kisses down your throat and chest. He rubs soothing circles in your hips but he's still so painfully hard inside of you. The very feeling has your cock filling up again. He wraps his lips around your nipple, twirling his tongue around it and letting his teeth catch it as he pulls away. The entire thing has you shuddering. Stiles grabs a handful of your ass then maneuvers you onto your stomach, slipping out of you smoothly before positioning himself behind you. "FBI training?" You pant out as you look at him from over your shoulder. It makes Stiles laugh. "No, uh, just good ole' experience and porn" You roll your eyes at him and he grunts as he grips your hips. "Oh, I'll give you a reason to roll those pretty eyes," His pulls almost all the way out then slides back home. You moan out his name, clutching onto his bedsheets so hard there's a distinctive ripping sound. None of that matters though. The position you're in makes Stiles go in so deep it feels like you're in heaven. Your back is bowed and your face is in the sheets. Stiles sucks his teeth as he watches the way your ass ripples and bounces with every thrust in. You're writhing on the bed, moaning out his name as he plows into you. Stiles can't help himself. He lifts his hand and you squeal at the impact of his hand against you ass. "That feel good?" With the way you're backing up on him, he assumes that means yes. He squeezes your ass in his hands, watching the flesh blush because of his hands. Every spank makes you tighten around him and he groans as he soothes the stinging with his kneading hands. "So good for me, fuck, (Y/N), that's it just — Ah shit, shit, shit, your ass feels so good" Your cock is hanging heavy between your legs. Stiles grip on your hips is almost bruising. Your sweat slicked skin under moonlight has Stiles approaching his orgasm quicker than he anticipated. "I'm going to — " "Yes, yes, yes! Inside me, inside me, Stiles"

His thrusts become more and more erratic and you feel your second orgasm coming at you like a freight train. He's so beautifully loud the closer and closer he gets to his orgasm, you're whimpering as he ruts into you. His hands slide up your hips and he curls his arms around your shoulders to pull you up. Your back flushed against his chest. Stiles kisses you, messy and hot, and you only pull away to moan out his name as you come all over the bed sheets. He's not far behind, he fills the inside of your ass with thick ropes of cum and every involuntary twitch of his hips makes you let out whiny moans. His thighs twitch but Stiles makes sure you don't fall in your own cum. He lays you down next to it, slipping out of you with a groan before he bunches up his blanket to toss it to the pile of dirty laundry. You cling the second he lays next to you and he does not object. He pulls you closer, catching his breath as he kisses the top of your head. "That felt good?" You nod, asking him the same question with a scratchy voice. "Fuck yeah it did, holy shit," You grin as you grasp at his chin to give him a rewarding peck. "You're so...You're so hot, you know that?" "Stiles," you bashfully glance away (an odd time to be bashful but that can't be helped) and Stiles squeezes you closer. "I'm serious! I'm not saying it because of the post-sex glow or whatever — which, by the way, you are glowing" Your guffaw, hiding your face with your hands as he continues look oh-so-proud of himself. "I slept with (Y/N), I spanked his ass — He wanted me" "You're talking to yourself," you murmur, ear twitching as you hear Tom and his girl also coming down from their romp. How nice. Orgasms for all it seems. "And it's wants not wanted" He feels something twitch against his hip. Stiles peeks down and laughs in disbelief. "I still want you, Stiles..." Your eyes glow again. The way you're nosing his neck makes his dick raise to attention. "Stiles," you call. "I've got you, (Y/N)," he answers.

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #gay reader #male reader #male reader insert #male!reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x yn #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x male!reader #stiles stilinksi x male reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x yn #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x you #teen wolf x male reader

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some-pers0n · 4 months

Text

Memoir of an Albatross

Chapter 2 - Blood in the Water

[1] [2] [3]

(Art by Loquatic)

Chapter Description: Albatross, a lonely and ostracized dragonet, finds himself on the Sunset Beach. To entertain himself, he chases a seagull, only to then be interrupted by his two sisters.

[CW: Blood, gore, derealization, verbal abuse, bullying]

Albatross was the type of dragon you wouldn't want to be seen around. He was a dragon that others would make up wild rumours about to explain their natural repulsion to him. The kind of dragon that they would whisper about behind his back, yet put on a face of false kindness to try and hide their disdain. There was something fundamentally different about Albatross. Something that made him undesirable.

He understood this from the moment he hatched. He had vague memories of that day. Distant, fuzzy recollections of the looks given to him by the surrounding dragons. How could there not be some discussion? The newest prince of the SeaWings turning out in such a repugnant way? Why did this happen? Was this the result of some secret affair that the queen had with an IceWing? From his unnaturally pale scales and nearly pitch-black eyes, that wouldn't be such a far-fetched assumption. Maybe a curse had been placed on this egg by a rogue IceWing animus, or perhaps it was some genetic mutation.

Whatever the cause may be, Albatross was not seen as the same in the eyes of many. His sisters, Sapphire and Lagoon, were perfect examples of what a SeaWing should be. Rich, royal blue scales with gorgeous wing patterns. They were naturally gifted with those looks. They were the sorts of dragons that artists in the future would look back on, painting their lavish features and gushing about them and their beauty.

Comparatively? Albatross was a freakshow. His scales were a ghastly grey, looking almost entirely snow-white in certain lighting. His eyes were a deep, dark blue that one could easily mistake for being entirely black. His neck was too long and his wings were too big for his body. His snout was hooked and his teeth seemed far too small, even for his relatively young age. His tail was pointy and whip-like. He smelt vaguely of rotting fish no matter what he tried. Not exactly a great sight for the eyes.

Because of his outward appearance, the others judged him. Something beyond his control or will made him into a circus act for others to gawk at. They look at him and either laugh at his features or worse, pity. Show condescending compassion. Say "I'm so sorry for you" or apologize for something he was hatched with.

He wasn't a tragedy. He didn't want to be remembered as a dragon to pity or be seen as some lost cause. He wanted to be seen for who he was. He would do great things one day. He doesn't want his looks or how others treat him to get in the way of that perception. He wanted to be known as Prince Albatross, a SeaWing who did...something. What that would be was still unclear, but he wanted it to be grand. Important. He wanted to be remembered for years to come for what he did during his life.

For now though? He was alone. Better to be ignored and out of sight from the others than to be acknowledged and seen.

It was peaceful at the Sunset Beach. The Island Palace was a quiet place he liked going to whenever he felt stressed or wanted some time to himself. It was only ever used for visiting diplomats to stay, so it was empty most days. The Sunset Beach was a large stretch of pearl-white sand right next to the beautiful ocean. The waves were foamy and the water was crystal blue. Dotted around were small pavilions covered in decorative lanterns.

Albatross found himself sitting on the sand, just a fair bit away from the waves. He had been digging around in the sand, entertained by playing around with the driftwood and whatever else floated onto the shore. Alone with nothing more than himself and the gentle, yet nevertheless powerful calmness of the ocean.

Until...a seagull came down. From a nearby palm tree. It swooped from on high, landing gracefully onto the shores. It stood there, beak digging around for whatever fish or creature the ocean had spat onto the beach. Albatross watched it intently. He was content with simply seeing it pick the grains and scavenge for remains. Yet, as he did so, he couldn't help but feel a small thought worm its way into him.

Chase it.

He didn't know why he wanted to do it. It simply felt right. He had seen Lagoon and Sapphire do the same with their prey. Albatross could never swim fast enough to catch his own food. Too slow. Too weak. Perhaps now would be his time. He could sneak up on the seagull. Grasp it. Feel it writhe and struggle to break free. Feel the fear course through its body as it tries desperately to live on. Feel some semblance of control and power.

The thought disturbed him though. The other dragons seemed just fine with it. They would tear into sharks, whales; for moon's sake, his fellow peers would cheer and holler in joy upon seeing a prisoner of war be gutted. Was there something odd about him? Perhaps others simply never talked about that part. Kept it under a rug. It was shameful. Some sort of animalistic desire for violence and bloodshed. For dominance. To be a dragon.

They were civilized. They had palaces and kingdoms. Complicated societies and systems put in place to keep a gentle balance. A semblance that they were above the likes of wolf packs. Albatross wasn't an animal. He was a prince of the SeaWings.

...but maybe, for just a moment, he could live a little.

He dug his claws into the sand and pounced. He dove where the seagull was, only to be met with a cloud of dust and debris. It flew away.

"No, come back!" Albatross yelled, spitting out all the sand in his mouth. "Please?"

Miraculously, the seagull seemed to listen. It turned back to him. Eventually, it landed back on the beach. It was entertaining him.

He smiled back. He was about to fling himself at the seagull once more, when he felt something brush against his claws. It was a clamshell. Big one. One of the halves was as big as his talons. It was a dusty white colour, blending in with the rest of the beach.

He grabbed it. "I'm gonna eat you!" he giggled, pointing the shell at the seagull. He imagined it as though it was a dragon's mouth. That it could open up and snap at the bird just like any other set of razor-sharp fangs.

The two continued their dance. Albatross wanted to get it, but at this point, he had more fun playing around. He would leap towards it, the seagull hopping away right in time, and once both parties recovered they'd go again. It was fun. Simple, extraordinary fun. Much better than boring lessons or whatever else his tutors had in store for him. He didn't want it to end.

But, of course, things had to take a turn for the worse, didn't they?

After a couple minutes, Albatross became aware of something. A shift in the air. It wasn't sudden, but it was certainly different. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was most definitely another being present. Watching him. Judging him.

He looked to the ocean. Under the waves were two pairs of glistening blue eyes, glaring at him.

He felt a drop in his stomach as the two dragons rose out of the water, their laughter an ear-splintering chorus of noise. What was once a peaceful and tranquil afternoon on the beach became a playground for them. His sisters.

"Finally! I thought you'd gone blind or something," Sapphire giggled. "I was wondering when you would look over and see us."

"Really? I was enjoying watching him. I didn't think you were actually capable of running." Lagoon teased.

"Why are you here?" Albatross asked. "I thought you both had queen lessons."

"We finished early. Apparently, something happened with Mother, needing to call over all of her advisors. Thank the moons for that. So boring having to learn how to be a queen and to, well, rule over everyone," Lagoon said, passively looking at her claws.

His sisters weren't exactly the greatest of dragons, especially towards Albatross. They made it clear that they didn't like him. He was their weird brother who came out wrong. Who was a blemish on the otherwise perfect royal family. A pathetic good-for-nothing blob that should've been strangled the moment he crawled out of his egg.

Sapphire, despite being the middle dragonet, bossed around everyone. She was next in line for the throne. Even though that'd be years away from now, she acted as though she was on top of the world. Queen of everything. Most of their antics against him were her ideas, with Lagoon tagging along just because she found it funny.

Of course, right when he was having a bit of fun by himself, they'd have to ruin it all.

"So you came over to annoy me?" he asked.

"Annoy you? Why would you think we would do that?" Sapphire gasped. "No, no, we were very interested in talking with you. Seeing what our precious brother is up to! We were so worried about you. We thought you ran off."

Her words were sickening to hear. That fake sympathy and compassion that made his stomach churn. "I was doing just fine before you got here." He swiped at the sand.

"You don't like us?" Lagoon crooned. "I thought you cared about us. Aren't we your sisters? I mean, we could always treat you worse." They walked up onto the shore. They were far bigger than him, perhaps another head taller. "I don't think you'd like that. You're already so weak."

"I am not weak!" he snapped back.

Sapphire let out a squawk of a laugh. "You couldn't even catch a seagull! You just kept jumping around it. Great reefs, that's sad to see."

Albatross turned around and tried to get away, only to trip and fall. His tail was caught under their talons. His chin hit the sand with a distinct thump.

"Where are you going?" They both said in an eerie harmony. "We just got here!"

"Just leave me alone..." Albatross grabbed at his ears, pulling them down to try and block their words out. But, to no avail.

"What? Can't handle a little light teasing? Moons above, that's so sad." Sapphire walked in front of him, looking him up and down. Her eyes landed on the seashell clutched to his chest.

A wicked grin cracked across her snout as she said, "ooh, what's that you've got there?" Her voice was grating, like claws against metal.

"It's mine!" he yelled back. He tried to sound intimidating, but it came out as a mere squak.

"Give it." Sapphire grabbed at it, tugging the shell.

"No! Please, Sapphire..." He held onto it tighter, pulling it back.

"Why do you care so much about this stupid thing?" she laughed. "Do you really not have anything else to care about."

Albatross tried to speak, but the words never found their footing. He stammered and stuttered, choking back tears. Yet, he kept holding on. He couldn't let them take another thing from him. Even if it was as small as a shell, he wanted something to call his own.

"What, are you going to cry?" Sapphire mocked. "Boo hoo, my mean ol' sister took my stupid shell." She whacked him in the stomach with her tail.

He recoiled, letting go. The pain shot through his system, taking the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath as he looked up to her.

She stood there, absently inspecting the shell. "Stupid shell," she said, "I can't believe you fought so much over it. Besides, it'll be mine anyway. Everything here will be mine. I'm the eldest daughter, right? So, obviously, I'll be queen. And when I'm queen, I own everything. You're just a prince."

She tilted her head to the side, mocking his mannerisms. "But, nobody will care. Nobody loves you. We just have to put up with you and your weird, ugly self."

Albatross dug into the sand. Tears welled in his eyes. "That's...not true." He mumbled.

"What's that?" Lagoon asked. "What did you say? Say it again!" She grabbed him by the neck.

"I said it's not true!"

The both of them cackled like a flock of seagulls. "What?! Of course it is! Who even likes you?" Sapphire flicked her tail at him. "You could die right here and nobody would cry. Nobody would care."

Then, a shift in Sapphire's eyes. "You know, that won't be the worst thing in the world. Mother wouldn't even be upset. Princes are only meant to be married off, but who could even stand to be with you." She raised her talons, claws still on the shell. "Wouldn't you like that, brother?"

Albatross's stomach dropped. "No...no, no, no please, Sapphire, no..."

"Sapphire?" Lagoon said, "I'm not...I don't think that's a good idea." She sounded genuine.

"Why not? What has he ever done to us? For anybody? He just makes everything worse." She brandished her claws. "It'd be better for everyone."

Fear took hold of his body. He flailed in all directions, yet he could not free himself from Lagoon's hold. The only free thing was his mouth.

He looked up. He saw the shell. Then, as though instinct itself was speaking through him, he screamed. He could barely comprehend it before the words left his mouth.

"BITE HER!" he yelled, crying louder than he ever had before. "TEAR HER CLAWS OFF!"

The next moment was painted in scarlet. A splatter of ruby liquid on the sand. It pooled and grew larger, dripping down from above.

Albatross didn't feel like himself. There was a loud, piercing ring in his ears that drowned the world out. His body felt cold and numb. His brain was full of fog and he could barely think. He felt detached from reality, like an observer of the chaos.

The pressure that was on him– Lagoon, definitely– released. He pushed himself upwards, staggering to his talons. He looked blankly ahead.

She was thrashing. Her mouth was unhinged as though she was screaming, but Albatross couldn't hear a thing through the ring. Her wails and cries, while inaudible, were full of agony. Her face was painted with horror.

Lagoon was by her side, similarly in shock. She was trying to stop Sapphire, keep her still. Eventually, she tore something from Sapphire's claws. It landed by Albatross's talons, splashing in the puddle of blood. It splattered onto him, his talons, everything.

It was the clamshell. Its jaws held bits and pieces of flesh and gore in them.

He looked back at Sapphire. She held her talons up. Where her claws should have been were fountains of viscera. They were both screaming. Lagoon turned to him, yet he couldn't hear a word. He felt hollow. Absent. There should have been emotion, but instead, everything was muted.

This...couldn't be real. Why was this happening? He didn't mean to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. Whatever it was, he knew it was his fault.

He looked at his talons, and for the first time in his life, he became aware of the slight burning sensation within his claws.

Rapidly, he gained feeling all over his body, as if suddenly pulled back into reality. His knees gave way and he fell to the ground. He shook, trying desperately to make so much as a squeak, yet nothing came out. His eyes were wide with fear.

The screams. By the tides the screaming. It was unlike anything he could properly fathom. A shrill shriek that made his blood run cold. He couldn't properly think of what else to compare it to. He had never heard somebody in so much pain before.

Lagoon quivered, tears rolling down her face. She looked back at Albatross, her expression shifting to one of hatred and anger. "YOU KILLED HER!" she snapped. "How could you do this?! You- you monster!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"You did! You killed her! She's going to die!"

Albatross tried choking out another response, but he couldn't. He backed away. The sands were stained with Sapphire's blood. Everywhere he stepped his talons became soaked in it.

It was his fault. Everything. He's to blame. Sapphire is dying. All that happened was a little squabble. She probably didn't mean it when she said she was going to kill him.

But how? How could he do this? He was just a SeaWing. A normal, typical dragon.

He felt sick to stand there. Slimy and disgusting. A passive observer while watching her sister bleed out and die. She didn't deserve this.

He stared at Sapphire's stubby talons. They gushed blood. He held out his claws, pointing to it. He didn't know why. It felt right. That same instinct rushed through him. This deep-rooted knowledge that he never knew he had.

"Stop bleeding!" he cried out. The words were loud and clear, as if he was ordering Sapphire.

Then, stillness. Sapphire held up her claws. The three stood in silence as the scales began to heal. They did not regrow the talons but left them as is. They were healed.

Sapphire stared blankly at her talons, eyes wide and transfixed on them. Then, she promptly fainted. Not dead, but simply overwhelmed. She wasn't going to die. He saved her.

"It's...healed?" Albatross muttered. "How? Why? There can't be any-"

"Magic."

A pang in his heart. He turned back to Lagoon. "What?"

"Animus magic." She looked at him, her eyes piercing his very soul. "That was magic. You're an animus."

#wof #wings of fire #sp-writing #albatross wof #wings of fire fanfic #wof fanfic

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wh0refornikolailantsov · 11 months

Note

Prompt: “I dunno… kiss the nightmare better?”

for Jesper x reader please!! <3

Don't Like Sleep, But We Like Sleeping In - Jesper Fahey

Content Warnings: Suggestive Content. Mentions Of Relationship Insecurities. No Beta/Proof Reading.

Short little fluffy fluff.

The gentle shaking, and then slightly less gentle shaking of your shoulder rouses you from your sleep. "Jesper?" You mumble, voice laced with the heaviness of your dream.

"Did I wake you?" He asks, wrapping an arm around you.

"Yes," you tell him, blinking the sleep away, "and I can tell you meant to."

"I had a bad dream," he admits. That wakes you up. Jesper doesn't get bad dreams often, that's more your territory, and even more so he wouldn't normally admit something was bothering him so casually, not this late at night. He would usually just try to joke it away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You ask leaning against his chest for better support.

"Not really," he admits.

"Okay, then what can I do for you?" You ask, giving him a sleepy smile.

"I dunno... kiss the nightmare better?" This suggestion gets a gentle chuckle from you.

"If that'll help," you lean up to kiss him and he softens with the affection. Your hand is flush against his heart and you can feel the rhythm of his beats.

"Yeah, you're so in love with me," he whispers against your lips.

"Was that ever in doubt?" You ask, pulling back to look him in his eyes, searching for any traces that he might truly have uncertainty about it. He shakes his head but you can see it in his face. "You woke me to check that I'm still in love with you, didn't you?"

"Is there a way to play this off as charming and rogue ish?" He asks. You laugh and rest your face in the crook of his neck, planting a gentle kiss.

"Jesper Fahey, every time you as much as look at me I fall in love with you all over again," you tell him.

"Kiss me again," he says, placing a hand h dear your chin to guide you to him, "and please, do not stop this time."

Your brain is fuzzy by the time the knock occurs against the door. You both ignore it the first time. The second time Nina's voice accompanies the knocking. "I know you guys are awake," she hums.

"Then you know we are busy, come back in," Jesper is punctuating each word with a kiss against your lips, "a while."

"Not a chance, be dressed in five or I am sending Kaz in."

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #six of crows #jesper fahey my man you are so ridiculously sexy i wish i could be you #jesper x reader #jesper fahey fanfiction #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey

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estro-gem · 5 months

Text

Zooble x Gangle: Wind beneath Wings

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's note:

I want more content about these two! This is mostly fluffy Gangle-centric shenanigans, but I have a nice little Zooble-centric fic planned next.

For now, it's just our lil' bean being a lil' bean.

And also being a lil' minx. I want Gangle unhinged and set loose.

I want it so bad!

Warnings: Eh... nothing really worth calling out...

Awkward comments that may or may not count as flirting? Objectifying.

Misunderstandings.

Non-cis couple struggles/panic.

Nothing really triggering, I think (I hope).

SUMMARY:

Gangle and Zooble hangs out in the main room, the day after Pomni's arrival. The situation ends up with Gangle awkwardly trying to comfort the jester.

Things get worse as Pomni oversteps her boundaries, chasing Gangle back into Zooble's arms for comfort. Fluff and gossip ensues. That's about it.

Oh, Jax and Ragatha is there too!

All characters belong to Gooseworx.

WIND BENEATH WINGS

“Oi… newbie is NOT doing ok…”

Zooble’s words were mumbled to themself more than to their partner, who was currently wrapped and twisted around their torso and arms. Gangle’s comedy mask was dangling over their right shoulder, hanging upside down. Looked like Gangle was in a goofy mood today, if not strangely more clingy than usual. The Zolo-being couldn’t help but wonder if the new arrival from the day before had their partner feeling particularly protective. The thought alone left Zooble with a rush of fuzzy heat.

It's not like Zooble’s face gave anything away.

Pomni had just crept into the main area of the tent, fidgeting her hands together by tugging at the gloves fitted around their fingers. She didn’t notice them lounging idly on the colourful props that was collectively shoved to the side. Zooble figured that the only reason why they weren’t spotted yet, was because their body seamlessly blended in with the surroundings – even Gangle looked like a discarded Christmas decoration draped around them.

“You’re telling me things I already know, Zooble.” She dismissed, only swinging her head from side to side as she spoke with a hushed voice, “I noticed.”

“You always do, Smiley.” Zooble also replied in a soft tone to mirror her partner.

“Yes, I do.”

When did Gangle become so smug? She’d give Jax a run for his money if she kept it up…

Although it was not uncommon for the couple to break character when alone, there was something about Gangle’s mannerisms that had Zooble concerned. She was fixated on Pomni’s uncertain movements despite the light sway of her head. Every time Pomni would sweep to layout of the area with their eyes, the ribbonoid would tense up for the second that the jester’s eyes fall over their position, only to just miss them.

It wasn’t until Gangle snickered when Zooble realized that she wasn’t unnerved, but rather anticipating.

Waiting.

The sentient Zolo-sculpture huffed in amusement, “You hunting, little owl?”

“I can’t help but feel the unbearable urge to mess with her.” Gangle spoke almost numbly.

“Oh? Isn’t that Jax’s job?” Zooble quipped amused, “You have me believe that he has a bad influence on you.”

“Oh hush! I know you feel it too…” Gangle laughed, “You probably want to get back at everything that happened to you when you were still new here.”

“Nah, don’t care much for it anymore” they sighed. They couldn’t care enough about ruining someone else’s day while they had to focus on getting through their own.

Just drifting along peacefully, with their beloved Gangle.

Gangle stopped swinging her upside-down head, to stiffen her neck into looking at the triangular-faced abomination she cared for so dearly. Zooble’s heart almost jumped out of their chest when they felt the ribbons faintly constrict around their body, just to fall slack within the next moment.

“What if I care for it?” Gangle asked innocently. Her feral smile was not so innocent.

“Ay, ay!” Zooble mocked a stern tone, “Don’t go rogue now, you need to be nice-and-quiet-little-Gangle. What are you trying to be? A barer of chaos or something?”

“It’s so…” Gangle, once again distracted by Pomni’s shaking form, turned her head to fixate on the little jester again, “…tempting.”

“Oh, so I’m not tempting enough anymore, huh?” Zooble teasingly asked. Gangle wouldn’t stop eyeing Pomni, testing Zooble’s patience more than they were willing to admit.

“Hmmm…” Gangle mused, apparently in deep thought, “I think I prefer my meat a bit… fresher.”

That did it.

“That’s not what you said last night, YOU LITTLE #$@%&!!!” Zooble bellowed, digging their digits into the ribbons wrapped around their torso.

Gangle couldn’t stifle the abrupt squealing laughter that broke from her mouth. She spasmed as she desperately tried to break free from the Zolo-being, but to no avail. Her blasted ribbons got tangled and she didn’t possess the coordination to unravel herself when Zooble was responsible for her spasmic jerking. Her partner could be relentless when it came to tickle-fights.

She always lost.

“OkAY! Okay! Uncle! UNCLE!” Gangle practically screamed between her hysterics. It was music the Zooble’s ears, so they had no intent to stop just yet.

“Uncle? Who’s she? Don’t know her.” Despite Zooble’s enthusiastic motions, their voice appeared bored and uninterested.

“ZOOB, I can’t breATHE!”

“That’s ok, we can’t die here anyway…”

CRASH

In a flash, Zooble stopped and jumped at least 5 feet away from the source of the noise that interrupted their antics. Gangle was tightly wrapped around them, so to shield her, they grabbed her mask and nearly crushed it against their torso.

Their eyes land on Pomni, now alarmingly close, with a broken flowerpot at their feet and frazzled look on her face that never seemed to go away – it just varied in intensity. Gangle squirmed for Zooble to release her mask so she could turn her face to see, but the Zolo-being didn’t budge until the initial shock was gone and their mood was killed.

No fun today, it seemed.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Pomni frantically apologized, “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I knocked into this block, and it knocked over-”

“Yeah, whatever, don’t care.” Zooble dismissed, rolling their eyes, “It pays to have situational awareness, by the way.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

“Well, you did. Deal with it and move on.”

“But I-”

“Shut it and move on, jester!” Zooble cut Poni off, cringing uncomfortably as they turned on their heels and took long strides to walk away. They don’t let Gangle, now unraveling herself off them, slow them in the slightest. Zooble sauntered their way over to Jax, who just walked out into the main area himself, seemingly amused by whatever expression the Zolo-creature sported. Gangle only glanced back to her partner before turning around – her eyes now fixed on Pomni, suddenly wearing her tragedy mask.

When did she switch out her masks?

“They meant it literally, Pomni.” Gangle suddenly piped up with a gentle, but now raspy tone, “They accepted your apology and gave you good advice; around here, it’s best not to dwell on things. It will make you abstract faster.”

Pomni’s frown was replaced by a perplexed expression upon hearing the ribbonoid’s explanation.

“They looked so… bothered.” Pomni eyed the tears on Gangle’s face, “And you look miserable. You were laughing just now.”

“They are bothered, but not exactly by you, don’t worry.” Gangle didn’t bother trying to muster up a sad smile – it was too much effort for someone she didn’t trust yet, “I figured a happy face is the last thing you would want to be comforted by.”

“Actually, for a second, it made things seem more… normal?” Pomni chuckled awkwardly, stepping closer. “You actually have a cute laugh – I wouldn’t mind hearing it again some time.”

“Zooble loves my laugh too, they just won’t admit it – so don’t tell anyone!”

Pomni laughed a bit. Gangle was bombarded with the feeling of 2 mismatched eyes burning into her back, but didn’t turn to look just yet. That would give her partner mixed signals…

“Yeah, I’m not surprised!” Pomni took another step forward, tugging at her hair strand that was framing her face, “It’s a shame to see you cry, though… you’re smile lights up the room…”

This was getting interesting, in an uncomfortable way.

As soon as Pomni took a step forward, Gangle took a step back. Too close. The jester was getting just a little too close and saying things that were just a little too comfortable. She couldn’t tell what Pomni’s intentions were – just that she was new, scared and desperate for support – which was expected! But just how desperate Pomni was, was yet to be determined.

Despite the prior fantasies of Gangle toying with Pomni, that was all they were. Fantasies. It was never something that Gangle would ever act upon. She was a firm believer in the roles they each had – and judging by how quickly Zooble jumped back into character upon Pomni’s arrival, she was very sure that they shared the sentiment. When the couple was alone, they could be whatever they wanted and where-ever they wanted. Gangle had the knack of taking Zooble far away from the Circus, into their own little fantasies, flying above the clouds while riding on their wind.

Zooble was the turbulent to bring Gangle back down to the desert ground, before Gangle’s wings burnt out. The Zolo-being was very dynamic in her role; capable of passing by as a gentle breeze or lifting the earth to create a sandstorm to pin everyone down. They kept them grounded by living and acting in the moment.

The wind – careless, free and ever-present – never bothered by the matters of anyone else, moving as it pleases despite anyone who may enjoy or dread it. It hits you with heat and sand, biting at your skin to remind everyone that they are still trapped in the desert and that it’s best to find shelter within the hellscape of dunes – pushing those who stray away back – back to the oasis.

The wind always blew towards the oasis. The burrowing owl was happy to fly with it, back to her burrow, where it’s safest.

But as Pomni pushes back into Gangle’s space, despite her gentle prompts, Gangle did not feel so safe anymore.

“Zooble a great partner, we have a good thing going.” Gangle said almost abruptly, “Their rough around the edges, but also just easily misunderstood.”

“Partners, huh…? You two have a circus act together or something?” Pomni asked, genuinely intrigued, her voice shifting into an unknown tone, “I can only imagine what you are capable of! Your body is so weird…”

Gangle internally cringed at the unfortunate misunderstanding, wishing for a way out of the conversation. The whole interaction was draining her in a way that she wasn’t quite used to – having grown close to only a handful of characters over the course of their long stay together.

She didn’t like being ogled at like a zoo animal.

“We all do acts together, depending on what Caine has in store for us.” Gangle said, decisively looking back to Zooble, who was now choking Jax while he clawed at their arm. It was only a moment until Zooble and Jax noticed her gaze, causing them to share a swift glace with each other in their frozen positions, before Zooble loudly called out.

“Hey Gangle, help me kill this guy real quick?” Zooble refused to let Jax go, who managed to choke out something along the lines of ‘save me’.

Gangle’s hero in shining armer.

Gangle glanced at Pomni, “I’ll stop them from doing anything reckless.” She walked towards her friends in a hurry, “I’ll see you around!”

She didn’t wait for Pomni to answer.

When Gangle made it over to her partner and her friend, Zooble dropped Jax to flop onto the floor, almost limp with how he was previously robbed of air.

“All good?” Zooble asked, looking over the ribbonoid.

“Just peachy!” came Jax’s hoarse voice from below, “Thanks for asking!”

The abomination responded in kind by kicking the bunny in the side, who heaved and coughed dramatically. Zooble only rolled their eyes and waited for her partner to answer. Instead of a verbal answer, Gangle responded by lifting her arms towards her partner and waited patiently.

“Gangle wants uppies?” Zooble jested, but swiftly moved to hoist her up, allowing Gangle to wrap and twist her ribbons around her significant other’s torso in no time. It was easy for Zooble to endure. If the masked ribbon didn’t know and better, she wouldn’t have seen the look of mild concern briefly flash over Jax’s face before he dramatically gagged to express his disapproval of the couple’s PDA.

This is what she was comfortable with. This was her people – her home. She could be herself here. Not with some outsider.

Gangle giggle, “As if you and Raggs don’t suck each other’s faces off.”

Jax scrunched his face in disgust, “That’s disgusting… we don’t do that, by the way! I’m not even sweet on her. We’re not even friends.”

“Yeah, you’re right, you definitely aren’t friends.” Zooble piped in, before winking at Jax. They all knew about Jax’s boundaries about touching. They all knew about the deal between the bunny and the ragdoll, even when said bunny and ragdoll didn’t know themselves. Although Jax didn’t seem to pay Zooble’s quiet reassurance any mind, he was noticeably more at ease when he stood up again.

Damn bunny and his micro-expressions.

Zooble diverted their attention back to Gangle upon feeling her cling tighter than usual, “Did something happen?”

“Just hold onto me.” Gangle sighed, gaining the concern of the two surrounding her. No one expressed it, though. Their faces were trained and fixed as they usually were – Jax and his lazy grin, along with Zooble’s careless neutralism.

“What did she do to you?” the Zolo-creature asked casually, effectively hiding how their blood was starting to boil.

“Nothing!” Gangle whined, before whispering something that also resebled a whimper, “…Boundaries.”

“Pushing boundaries?” Zooble asked, quirking an eyebrow as their voice dropped down to its depths.

Gangle only looked ahead, catching the eyes of Jax, who was very intrigued by Gangle’s current state. The eye contact was unintentional, but it was enough for Jax to read something that spawned a sinister smile that could rattle anyone with how icy it appeared.

Spasmic, he abruptly turned his head to directly stare down the jester from across the room.

The snake was hungry again.

“You guys are disgusting. I’m leaving.” Jax exclaimed, stomping off, “Pomni!? Where are ya? I need your stupidity to reset my brain from seeing these lovebirds swapping spit!”

As always, Jax seemed to hit the nail where it hurt the most – for Pomni in this case. There was no way she could misunderstand the relationship between Gangle and Zooble now. When Gangle saw the shock and dread on the little jester’s face, whether it was due to Jax making his way over to her, or if it was due to realizing that Gangle had a significant other, the ribbonoid physically deflated with relief.

Zooble noticed.

“I’ll ask again, what did she do to you – exactly?”

“Probably not something really worth sending her into Jax’s coils, but at the time, she just made me uncomfortable.” Gangle said, sounding too ashamed for Zooble’s liking.

“Yeah? How? Spit it out.”

“She just… I don’t know, maybe I read too much into it?”

“Gangle.” Zooble took her face in hand to force the masked ribbon to face her. “Spit. It. Out.”

“She seemed flirty at the time!” Gangle babbled out upon request, “Pushy even. She didn’t understand that we… you know…?”

“That you are mine?” So straightforward, as Zooble always were, but it earned a nod from the tear-streaked girl, now a blushing mess.

The abomination huffed, clearly disapproving of the jester’s antics. They were so annoyed when Jax teased them about her ‘smooching up to Gangle,’ but they never thought that there was a hidden truth to the bunny’s words. Maybe they could get him to cough it out by choking it out of him harder next time. Still, the jester had no business making Gangle feel threatened in any way – Zooble’s blood had reason to boil after all.

Zooble wouldn’t show it, though. They calmed themselves with the fact that her girl came running into her arms as soon as she could.

Such a good little minx!

“Mmmkay, I get why Jax hates her now.” Zooble mused as they slowly started to walk to a more secluded area, “I think I’ll hop onto the hate-train too.”

“Don’t bother, she still new.” Gangle whined, not wanting to start or deal with any unnecessary drama, “She’ll learn as time goes by – I was just sensitive. It happens when I have my tragedy mask on-”

“I’m not having this.” Zooble cut in, “You are human, and you have boundaries. She needs to respect that – new or not… And until she learns that; my arms are always open. Anytime. Anywhere. Understood?”

Gangle’s heart wanted to burst, evident by the fresh flow of tears flowing down her face. She nodded, earning a small Zooble-version of a smile as they nuzzle their forehead against Gangle. They couldn’t kiss, but this was as close as they could get it and Gangle wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Now that that’s dealt with, I’d like to watch Pomni get her @$$ kicked by Jax.” Zooble said as they watched Gangle swap out her masks to smile up at them again, “Did you know that he basically hates her?”

Zooble currently lounged near the table, with Gangle wrapped around them, as she should.

“I didn’t know it ran that deep.” Gangle said, squeezing Zooble for a view seconds, watching and giggling as their face darkened with a blush, “I heard that Pomni left Raggs for dead with Kaufmo when he abstracted, so I guess I should’ve figured that one out by now. Oops, I guess.”

“Well, I heard that she shoved Raggs into Kaufmo to save herself.”

Gangle gasped, “No!”

“Yes! Jax didn’t say that specifically, but you know him. You can never get a straight word out of him.”

The couple’s attention got dragged back to Jax, who was currently dangling Pomni in the air by the two pom-poms of her hat, holding her up to flash her his most animalistic, predatory smile Zooble had seen him give. Pomni was curled into herself as best she could, eyes wild with dread.

“I bet he’s going to lose it and bite her head off.” Gangle challenged, earning a chuckle from her partner.

“Nah, I bet he’s gonna punt her across the room.”

Gangle huffed, “Not with those skinny legs.”

Zooble shot her with an incredulous look, “He’s a giant rabbit, have you ever even seen rabbit legs?”

“No, but apparently you saw his legs…?” the ribbonoid jested with a feral grin of her own, “Is there something I should know? Do you swing to both sides of the fence?”

“Don’t start with me, you little-”

“JAX, YOU PUT HER DOWN RIGHT NOW!” they got cut off by the hysterical cry of their beloved ragdoll, jumping into her roll again. While it was good to see her up and about after nearly dying the previous day, they collectively deflated upon the realization that they would not see the who would’ve won their little bet.

Well, there could always be a next time.

And there would, no doubt, be a next time.

For now, the couple was happy to just watch a bunny melt into a puddle at the sight of a ragdoll – something they had trained to spot after years of exposure to Jax’s micro-expressions. The sucker was in so deep for Ragatha, they couldn’t help but silently cheer them on. It was almost too bad that those two kept their affection for each other so silent. It was as if everyone knew that they were a couple, except the two that the couple consisted of.

It was almost tragic…

But it made up for everything by providing one hell of a show.

Some silly fanart/sketches of this fic: (CLICK HERE TO SEE)

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

Text

The Way Back Home

Logan Howlett x plus size reader

After months of being apart from each other, he’s finally back in your arms

Warnings: smuuuuuuuut, protected sex, slight housewife kink, possessive Logan

WC: 1.4k

Minors DNI

Logan was coming home today. After months of being away, dealing with rogue mutants, he was finally making his way back to his secluded cabin in the Canadian wilderness. He called you this morning, letting you know that he would be there by sundown and to say you were excited was a complete understatement.

You were practically vibrating as you danced around the two room home, cleaning up the various messes you had left, constantly looking over your shoulder at the heavy door, waiting for your mountain of a man to walk through. You missed him so much, missed the way he kissed your head every time you got close enough for him to snatch up, missed how close he held you during the night, hell, you even missed the way he would grumble incoherently when he was annoyed.

You needed to feel his touch again, to hear his voice untainted by the static of the shitty phone lines. As the sun began its descent towards the horizon, you quickly threw some frozen chicken wings in the oven, not bothering to actually turn it on since it would just burn in his rush to get you into bed, and skipped to the small bedroom at the back.

The silvery blue silk clung perfectly to your generous curves in a way that you knew would drive Logan wild. Your hair was done to perfection, light makeup only enhancing your features plus a little highlighter on the fat of your breast exposed by the skimpy lingerie. Turning away from the mirror, you picked up the last piece of your outfit from the side table.

The old metal clinked together as you lovingly pulled it over your head and let the cold material sit on your exposed collarbones. Just as you double checked your appearance in the full length mirror opposite your bed, the tell-tale rumble of your partner’s truck emerged from the quiet woods. Your heart pounded in your ears as it got closer, heat pooling at the apex of your thick thighs.

You scrambled from the room as the engine finally cut out. With each heavy footstep, your breathing became more laboured, your eyes darkened with lust.

“Sweetheart?” A moan shamefully slipped from your lips at the meer sound of his voice, the deep timbre shaking you to your core. The front door swung open and revealed the almost feral man. His brown eyes were almost black as they fell upon you, his barrel chest heaving beneath the already unbuttoned flannel, his dark jeans strained to contain his heavy erection.

“Welcome home.” You cooed and reached out for the larger man. Logan immediately dropped his duffle bag and took you into his arms for the first time in forever. He tasted like cigars and dark chocolate as his lips finally met yours. Never one for patience, his large hands fell to your ass, giving a firm squeeze as he pulled you closer to him.

His hips pushed into your soft stomach, trying to relieve the borderline painful ache of his cock. Your nails dug into his back, your mind going fuzzy with desire. Just as your vision began to swim with lack of air, Logan’s lips moved to your jaw, nipping the delicate skin as he worked his way down to your throat. “Missed ya.” He growled. “Missed ya cunt.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers curled into your cheeks, kneading the soft flesh. “I missed you too.” You shuddered, tilting your head back so more of your neck was exposed to his onslaught. Logan purred in appreciation, his sharp canines scraping against your pulse point. You gasped when he bit down, a wave of pleasured pain shooting directly to your pussy.

Logan’s nostrils flared with the smell of your arousal, the beast inside him screaming to be let out, to finally ravage you properly after being denied your perfect body for so long. The cold chain around your neck was a shock to the mutant. He pulled away, prompting a whine to slip from your parted lips, and looked down at you.

“Are those my dog tags?” You smiled shyly but the way your eyes sparkled was truly devious. “Why don’t you tell me Captain?” “Say goodbye to your pussy sweetheart cause she’s not going to make it out of this.”

——————

The couch creaked dangerously underneath you, shaking violently with each upward thrust. Your hips rolled against Logan every time his thighs slapped your ass. He had stopped speaking an hour ago, only feral growls rumbled through his hairy chest as you bounced on his fat cock.

Clothes and used condoms were thrown about the room, the small coffee table he had built for you lay in pieces from where he had pushed you onto it and taken you from behind. Your body was littered with bites and bruises, the scratches from your nails on his back and chest already healed.

One hand was planted firmly on your wide hip, his fingers digging painfully into you, certainly leaving dark bruises, while the other was wrapped around his dog tags, keeping your face lowered. Your thighs trembled with the effort of riding him, but the way he looked up at you, his handsome face covered in a deep blush, his brown eyes shimmering with so much love it made you ache, but you kept going.

“L-Logan.” You moaned, slowing down to a lazy grind, your throbbing clit rubbing deliciously against the thick patch of hair at the base of his dick. With a sharp tug to the chain, your lips smashed together, his tongue diving into your mouth. Your shaking hands pulled at his dark hair.

Arching your back, you pressed your soft body tightly against him, your hips unconsciously circling on top of him. He nipped at your bottom lip and you couldn’t help but smile as he moaned into your mouth. You could feel his abs tense below you, his end drawing closer.

Logan released his dog tags in favour of gripping your plump waist, guiding your movements. The metal tags bounced against your heavy chest, swinging in front of his face. “Fuck, you look owned like this.” The knot in your stomach tightened and your hips stuttered. The mutant’s lips turned up in a stupidly handsome smirk. “You like that don’t you? You like me telling you how you’re mine, wearing my dog tags, waiting for me like a good little housewife.”

“I need- mhmf- need a ring to be a housewife.” You sassed, punctuating your statement by lifting almost entirely off his cock and then slamming back down. You whined, feeling him twitch violently inside you, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot. Sweat dripped down your brow as your hands moved to his pecs, getting more leverage to rock down onto him.

The knot in your stomach wound tighter and tighter as you watched your lover struggle to keep his control, not wanting to cum before you. “Ring or no, yer mine.” He growled, thumb fitting against your clit and flicking it harshly. He bucked up into you, thrusting furiously into the sensitive ball of nerves deep inside you. “My girl.” The couch wobbled dangerously on its legs. “My wife.” White spots dotted your vision. “My pussy.” Your jaw dropped open in a silent scream. “Mine.”

You exploded at the same time, collapsing onto your lover as the pleasure washed over you. Logan howled as he came inside the condom, hands keeping you pinned to him, your orgasms tapering off. The cabin was silent for a few moments before, Crash! The old sofa gave way, sending you both tumbling to the floor.

Logan tucked you into his chest and rolled, taking the brunt of the fall, while somehow, still remaining inside you. He groaned as his back met the hardwood floor, his head bouncing painfully off the ground. “Logan! Are you ok!” You fussed, cupping his jaw to search for any injuries.

The older man chuckled and pushed your hands away in favour of sitting up against the ruined furniture. “I’m fine honey. Takes a lot more than some shit couch to hurt me.” You sent him a playful glare. “Yeah but you’re becoming an old man, James.” Logan, too used to your teasing, simply rolled his eyes.

“But you love this old man so that’s on you.” “Yeah I do.” You breathed, placing a quick peck to his lips. “You hungry? I’ve got chicken wings and beer.” “You know just the way to my heart woman.” He set you back on your feet with a sharp slap to your ass. You giggled and sent him a wink, wobbling over to the kitchenette, dog tags still swinging around your neck, missing Logan’s loving gaze.

If only you knew about the ring he had bought on his way home back to you.

“Oh by the way.” You called out over your shoulder, “You owe me a new couch.”

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spideystevie · 1 year

Note

hi honey! could i request #1 from the “little things” prompt list for steve pls?? ty 🫶

hi honey!! thanks for your request, i hope you like it <3 (0.7k)

“massaging their shoulders when they clearly had a long day” [request a little things prompt]

You’re ready for bed when Steve trudges through the door that night. A yawn escapes you right as the sound of his keys dropping in the bowl by the front door reaches your ears. A rush of excitement coats your veins hearing his footsteps pad into the living room where you’re up waiting for him.

He’s exhausted, that much is clear. His eyes are all drowsy, hair a tousled mess, and his shoulders droop. The corners of your lips melt down into a frown.

“Hey baby,” you say, gentle and quiet. Steve’s eyes light up at the sight of you curled up on the couch, illuminated by the faint yellow light of the lamp you’d picked out together for the space. There’s an empty mug on the coffee table in front of you.

“Hi,” his voice is just as quiet though a little more frail than yours. He leans against the wall near the entryway of the room, body sagging with the weight of the day. You get up from the couch, joints a little creaky. His eyes track you all the way from where you were sitting to where you stand directly in front of him.

“Long day?” you ask, though you already know the answer. He’d picked up a few courses at the community college this semester on top of work. You’d hardly seen him today aside from a quick good morning kiss goodbye on his way out the door to get to class. He’d worked a late shift at the video store after, the day weighing on him.

Steve instinctively reaches his hand out to brush across your cheeks, tucking a rogue piece of hair behind your ear. It slides down your neck and shoulder, resting down by your wrist. He leaves a trail of fire in his wake.

“Just a bit,” he tries to joke but the smile he sports doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You tsk softly, maneuvering your hand so it can grab his. Your fingers fold together like they were designed to.

Steve lets you drag him down the hall to your shared bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. You sit him down on the closed toilet seat and move towards the tub.

“Bath or shower?” you ask over your shoulder. Steve blinks at you with a world of fondness in his eyes, heart expanding in his ribcage because you’re taking care of him. He mumbles about a shower being fine and you twist the handle, water spraying out of the shower head.

You walk back over to him, bending slightly to grab the hem of his shirt. You look at him and wait for his nod before helping tug it over his head. It drops near your feet. Steve wraps a hand around your wrist and tugs you down to him.

“Thank you,” he whispers, chest feeling fuzzy. You smile at him, tender and sweet and press a kiss to his forehead and then his lips when he pouts. You leave him to finish undressing and shower, heading back out into the living room to turn off the lamp.

Steve steps out of the bathroom almost twenty minutes later in the pajama pants you’d set out for him and towel drying his hair. His chest is bare, a rogue drop of water falling from the ends of his hair and rolling down his chest.

You’re sitting up in bed, looking a little eager as you wait for him to join you. When he finishes drying his hair the best he can, wet strands falling onto his forehead, you shuffle into the center of the bed and pat the spot in front of you. Steve raises his eyebrows.

“Sit,” you say and he does. He’s a little confused and doesn’t see you shift up onto your knees behind him. Your hands are a little cold against his shoulders but Steve relaxes almost immediately at your touch. His eyes fall shut, head lulling back slightly as your hands work at the tension in his shoulders.

He melts like butter in your hands, delicate, pleased hums escaping him. You smile a little, happy to be able to help him on long days like he helps you. Steve thinks his heart might burst with how much he loves you, with how loved he feels in this moment.

You massage his shoulders until his breathing starts to even out and his head droops to the sides. You press a slow trail of kisses against his shoulder and up his neck to his jaw. Steve can’t help the way his lips curl into a smile.

“That was nice,” he says. I love you, he means. He can feel the curve of your smile when you kiss his cheek.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #📝: a writes!#feel like my endings r so ..... bleh lately idk i just cannot figure out how to end things smoothly for the life of me

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merge-conflict · 26 days

Text

sketch: !==

(cw: drug use + some dissociation, body horror/identity crisis. ~1k.)

There’s always something about four am that makes a bleak outlook bleaker, and Johnny is glad he’s too stoned to really feel it. It follows him around, black dog– or maybe just some black cat. A whole bunch of bad omens, on repeat. He can’t seem to relax, no matter what he does. V is dozing in his lap, gonked out of her mind, twitching and shivering in a high he couldn’t reach. If he could, he’d dive in with her. She’s so out of it she doesn’t even seem to notice when he moves her out of the way so he can get up to take a piss.

Habit leads him back to Kerry’s room. He’s still asleep where Johnny left him, curled up next to the empty space he’s left behind. He pads quietly across the hard floor, swinging the door most of the way closed behind him without making the noise of latching it.

When he’s finished he lingers in front of the mirror instead of returning. Today is not one of those days where his face makes him sick; it’s only the reflection of a dead man looking back at him. This isn’t his body. His body is moldering several feet underground. His body is ash and worms. His body is still lying back on that couch.

She’d tried to slither away when he wasn’t watching. Crawling on her belly back to the viper pit. For what? The man who’d gotten her soul split in two and had been too proud to touch her.

“Hey.” Kerry catches him by surprise, crossing the cold tile and putting his hands around Johnny’s hips, familiar calluses skating across his skin. His voice is low, graveled by fatigue. “Can’t sleep?”

“V’s up,” he says. He turns on the faucet and brings a handful of water to his mouth to wash out some of the fuzziness. That just makes him aware of how thirsty he is, so he bends and drinks straight from the stream until it makes him start to feel sick.

Kerry’s hand is running up and down his spine. “She okay?”

“She’s fine.”

Kerry’s silent for a while, but Johnny’s not in a hurry to rush him so long as he’s combing his fingers through the hair plastered to the back of his neck. “You okay?”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer, watching the face in the mirror. It’s all wrong. He should have gone to Kerry sooner, should have let Alt pack him away until they could grow him a clone body. It’s V’s fault he rushed things, and now he’s stuck like this, in this body. He should have killed that old dog when he had the chance. He should kill him now.

“Johnny,” Kerry says, turning him around so his back is to the sink. “Hey,” he says, a little quieter, cupping Johnny’s face. Fifty years he’s been dead, and Kerry still wants him. Fifty years and all his bullshit, and Kerry is cradling his face like he’s someone who had been worth waiting for. “You still with me?”

“What kind of question is that?” Johnny asks, and the words come out an accusation. He exhales, gripping the counter so his knuckles go white and numb.

Kerry’s staring at him with that look on his face that makes him old. Rogue has it too, sometimes, when she’s looking at him. Like there’s something they know that he doesn’t, just because they sold out. Like they pity him because he’s got the guts to do what they won’t.

“You’re high, Johnny.”

“So what?” He brushes off Kerry’s hold because he can’t feel those hands right now without thinking of V at his back, her breath on his neck while she watches. It’s all a fucking lie, and he’s clinging too tightly to something he never deserved, like a ghost that can’t move on. “What the hell do you care?”

Something flips like a switch in Kerry. He shoves Johnny back, crowding him so the stone of the countertop is digging uncomfortably into his thighs. “I don’t know, Johnny, why the hell do I care? Is it just some giant fucking mystery to you? Are you that stupid?”

This time instead of waiting for an answer, Kerry yanks him down by the dogtags into a kiss. Johnny falls apart, sliced and portioned into raw hunger. The kiss turns bloody, but Kerry doesn’t complain like he usually does when he breaks skin. His grip on Johnny’s shoulders is so tight it’s painful, but it feels good to be needed. It settles the itch in his skin, makes his hands strong and sure.

He picks Kerry up by the hips and turns to set him down on the counter, following the driving bass line he’s setting down, the foundation over which he can spark and soar. His mind slips away while he’s still chasing Kerry’s mouth, flickering back when he sees his face in the mirror, arched while Kerry scrapes his teeth over his neck.

It's just some stranger. A dead man. Frankenstein, hollowed out by his own monster.

“Johnny,” Kerry is saying, insistently. His eyes are so blue, even in the dim light. He still smells the same, still tastes the same, but he’s not the same.

Johnny leans in to kiss him again, softly this time. He closes his eyes. Kerry’s hand is running up and down his spine. “Yeah. I’m with you.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fic #my fic #sketch fic #johnny silverhand #kerry eurodyne #silverdyne #johnny (lying): looking in the mirror makes me feel great. it's fine. not a problem #calling this a sketch because I don't feel like writing all the context around it but it still kinda holds up #starting to understand how fucking around in alternate timelines is useful for exploring a dynamic #there's a reflection/introspection joke in here too for all y'all duck typers

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andy-clutterbuck · 1 month

Text

The Ones Who Live | 1x03 - Bye

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lesetoilesfous · 1 year

Note

Happy Friday! How about 'nudging the other one' for Nanders? (or any Anders pairing really)

Thank you so much for the prompt!

If you want a Dragon Age fic, send me a prompt from here!

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Nanders

Characters: Anders, Nathaniel Howe

Tags: idiots, fluff, pre-relationship

Rating: Mature

It had seemed innocuous at first. Anders had been sitting in the canteen - at the very end of the table, closest spot to the door - when Nathaniel had climbed onto the bench next to him and bumped his soldier. Anders had thrown some joke about the rogue minding his reflexes, and Nathaniel had laughed it off. That was that. Or so it seemed. Except that the next meal time Nate had done the same thing, and the one after. And then he'd graduated from shoulder bumps to elbows, and even, occasionally, knees touching under the table. When they'd graduated from above the waist to below it, Anders had made some lewd comment, expecting Nate to rejoinder in all his soldiering glory. But he'd just shrugged and grinned into his stew, as if the idea of fucking Anders wasn't all that objectionable after all. (And wasn't that a thought that kept him up at night, after).

It wasn't just at meal times, either. They'd be on a mission with the Commander, and Nate would slope into Anders with all the grace of a drunk Bronco, bumping him almost off the path. Anders would flounder and Nate would laugh at him before offering him a hand, that turned into a warm arm around his shoulders and Nate murmuring in his ear, hot breath warm on his neck.

It just continued. When Varel was doing something particularly Seneschal-y, Nathaniel would put a hand on Anders' thigh as he leaned in, ostensibly to explain something vague about Amaranthine's local politics. Anders was fuzzy on the details because Nathaniel's hand was on his thigh, but he's pretty sure he learned something.

On reflection, it takes him an almost embarrassingly long time to realise that all this Means something. They're drinking, and Nathaniel is nudging Anders with his elbow for the third time that night, this time in a way that has become almost a language between the two of them, as he chucks his chin at where Oghren is trying to balance three hazelnuts on his nose, red beard covered in white pearls of beer foam.

Anders snorts and leans into Nate, and Nate accepts him easily, looping one long strong arm around his shoulders. His black hair tickles Anders' chin when Anders tilts his head back to look up at him. "Why d'you do that? Nudge me all the time."

Nate flushes red to the tips of his ears, slowly, and tries and fails to hide it in his battered wooden flagon. Several things make sense at once. Anders sits up, adrenaline breaking through the hazy fog of alcohol. "Nate, Nate, Nate," Nathaniel ignores him, so Anders pokes his chest until he looks back at him with a beleaguered expression.

"What, Anders?"

"Do you like me?"

"Maker preserve me."

Anders crows, "That's not a no!"

Then he plunges forward, and smacks a clumsy, beer-flavoured kiss against Nate's stubbled chin. Nathaniel squawks, reeling back, and Anders mostly expects that to be the end of it. Except then Nathaniel's strong arms are embracing him, and he's leaning forward, and suddenly all that Anders can taste or breathe is the warm, leather and oil and sweat smell of him.

Nathaniel tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and Anders makes a sound he's sure he'll be embarassed about when he's sober, but it makes Nate's hand tighten in his hair, pulling at his scalp just so, and Anders licks into the warmth of Nate's kiss with a hunger he hasn't felt since -

Strong hands pull the two of them apart, and Anders looks up abruptly into the face of death. Sigrun grins, "Alright you two, hot and heavy makeouts in your rooms please, no one paid for dinner and a show."

Anders looks from Sigrun's bright, laughing brown eyes to Nathaniel's. Nate looks...hopeful, and pink with a blush that Anders has never seen on him. He's holding out his hand.

Anders waves a salute at Sigrun, and a bow as he wobbles uneasily to his feet. "Your wish is my command!"

Nathaniel laughs, getting up too. He takes Anders' hand, and his palm is rough and scratchy with callouses, but warm all the same. He squeezes his fingers and steps closer, bumping their shoulders together. When he looks up at Anders, his dark eyes are almost shy. "Are you sure about this?"

Anders giggles. "I've never been sure about anything in my life, and I have no intention of starting now."

Nathaniel grins, and nudges his elbow. "Well then. Let us away."

#nathaniel howe #anders da2 #nanders #da2 #pinkfadespirit

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wooyoungmybelovedhusband · 1 year

Text

Our Destiny Baby | JWY X F!reader (Werewolf AU) (1/?)

Pairing : Jung Wooyoung x F!reader

Genre : Werewolf and fantasy themes angst but fluff later. Oh.. Suggestive themes

Summary : How would people react when they find out the weakest heir of the Lee Clan is the mate of the true blooded Alpha of Jung Clan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n stood in front of the mirror, her head paining from all the comments that were passed on to her when she attended the pack meeting. The whispers technically not whispers as people questioned why she attended the meeting when they had her brother present there.

According to the public, she was just a pretty mannequin for the Lee pack. Just a jewel, cold hard useless ornament. It wasn't her mistake she was the result of the her father's affair with a weak omega. She was 1 week old when her birth mother left her on the steps of the palace with a letter saying that she is her father's responsibility.

Mrs.Lee, never discriminated between her kids. She loved her to the fullest. Her brother cared for her more than anyone. And no one knew anything about the reality of Lee Y/n's birth. But everyone saw her weakness and saw that she was just a pretty ornament for the Lee clan.

She tried to push away all th comments to not hurt her healthy family but she couldn't help wanting nothing but to disappear. So the closest thing she could, running away to the borders. Her comfort place was darkness and alone time. Sneaking out of the palace, she slowly and painfully turned to her wolf form, her wolf was underdeveloped. And she was insecure about it. Because of no proper care from her birth mother she was too weak and fragile.

Mrs.Lee tried a lot to fill that place and make her strong but it didn't help. And now she couldn't fight unlike many girls who contest against men. She ran through the woods, usually she would stop to the middle of the forest but now her wolf took her further, her mind was fuzzy not caring about anything or anywhere she's going.

Once she was tired, she curled up on the grass as she hugged herself for comfort. Her snow coloured white tail looping itself as a sign of comfort. What she didn't notice is the lurking eyes of the five big rogue wolves which were ready to attack her any minute.

She slowly opened her eyes to find the wolves circling her fragile figure. She let out a whimper as she crouched down giving in to her fate.

Wooyoung was annoyed by his father opposing him being the alpha without a mate. He never understood why he needed a mate to guide him through anything, he was capable of making his damn decisions. Currently He was on his run to the border between the Lee clan and the Jung clan. They were neither enemies nor allies.

He had heard the news of a pack of rogues on their run to attack the borders and wanted to check near the border. He definitely didn't expect a big brown wolf hovering over a another wolf which looked somewhat very underdeveloped.

The second her sweet lavender scent hit his nose, his eyes glowed red and red hot flames arose from his black fur. He lounged towards the male as he hovered over him and placed his sharp claws on his neck, slashing it. Seeing this the other four soon ran away. Wooyoung was comparatively very big, because he was born true blooded Alpha.

Wooyoung turned to see the small white wolf, on the ground as blood oozed out from her paw. His wolf approached her softly, his claws no where sharp enough to hurt her. His wolf slowly leaned down to her level, his paw slowly caressing the fur of her neck. With all difficulty he picked her up on his back as he ran towards his palace.

When he reached the palace, he slowly and carefully set her down and transformed back to his human form. He picked her up as if she was the most softest thing in the world. He slowly made his way to his room. He set her down on his bed and got everything to treat her wound.

As he bandaged her wound and was about to get up to get her something to eat, he heard a low whimper coming from the white wolf on his bed. Her eyes slowly opened as he found her eyes filled with tears, and her whimpers got louder. He anger build up in him as his eyes flamed red, but he controlled his anger as he bent down to caress her soft fur and before he knew it she had transformed back to her human form.

Finally he understood why she was whimpering as he once heard from his parents that underdeveloped wolves feel a lot of pain when they transform.

Y/n looked around her surroundings to find herself in a unfamiliar place until her eyes met the eyes of a male looking down at her concerned. And his hand came down to hold her hand but as soon as their fingers met, they felt a sudden shock as golden flame arose from the connection between their hands. Her wolf whimpered inside of her as it screamed atop it's lungs....

"MATE"

Her eyes widened as she swiftly pulled her hands back and looked at him. "Who-who are you?" Her voice barely audible to him but he soon replied, "Jung Wooyoung" At this point her eyeballs were about to fall off from the way they bulged out. "Aren't you Lee Y/n?" Wooyoung asked as he could identify her now as during most of the official meetings she used to catch his eyes. "Y-yes" She uttered out as she couldn't belive that her mate was supposedly so strong.

His eyes finally lost the red tint and got the blue colour back. There was awkward silence in the air until it was broken from her sniffles. He looked at her as he saw tears rolling down her cheeks. He quickly cupped her cheeks, "Hey why are you crying? Come here." Without thinking he pulled her head towards his chest as he patted her back.

"I'm sorry you have to be my mate." He looked down at that statement making eye contact with her as he looked offended, "I don't what in it is that you have to be sorry princess." "I'm an underdeveloped wolf if you don't already know."

Without asking he pulled her small figure on his lap, "You don't have to be sorry, in fact your wolf is literally the cutest I've seen." She looked up at him with doe eyes with tears about escape the corners of her eyes, "Thank you but can you put me down my leg hurts."

He soon placed her on the bed and he cleared his throat from embarrassment, "Well you can sleep now, and I'll take you back to your palace tomorrow morning." "Thank you so much" "Y-yeah I'll leave now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My new mini series.... Hoping I will be able to finish it unlike my Hongjoong mini series 🥲

-Jeong Aera

#ateez #wooyoung oneshot #ateez wooyoung #ateez wooyoung oneshot #ateez werewolf au #wooyoung werewolf oneshot #wooyoung werewolf au #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader

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diazsdimples · 4 months

Note

Hey James ☺️

Happy positive asks week!

Popping into your asks with a fun little thing I thought of:

Have you ever heard of a rainbow walk? Its a thing you do for meditation/mindfulness where you go through each color of the rainbow and come up with/ imagine an experience/something associated with each color that makes you happy/relaxed.

So, let's go for a rainbow walk!

Describe to me something that's

Red

Orange

Yellow

Green

Blue

Purple

And when you write them try to imagine each thing using your senses and immerse yourself in the experience!

-❤️🪐

Hi Saturn!!! Sorry it took me so long to respond to this!!

Happy positive asks week to you too!! This is such a sweet ask and also super helpful cause I'm a little burnt out at the moment!

Red - The curtains in front of me are red, and they're a little velvety and fuzzy too so I'm a big fan of them. They also make the office so nice and dark and cozy

Orange - I have a little Pop Vinyl of Goose from Captain Marvel on my bookshelf (he's between Nick Fury and Pikachu) and he's orange!!! Love Goose so much

Yellow - The planets (Saturn, actually!) on the blanket I made for Eddie's bed are yellow! I went and got him some fluffy fabrics and made him a blanket cause he stole my favourite hoodie as his but the blanket isn't good enough for him apparently LMAO

Green - My dice box for my DND dice is green! My friend made it for me in his garage and it has a rogue related symbol on the front in black and gold too. The best part about the box is the fact that it's massive and holds so much dice potential haha, I'm a fuckin nerd

Blue - My favourite colour 💙 my stethoscope case is blue, with an orange cross in the middle. I very rarely actually use the case bc it's kinda clunky and I'm one of those medical professionals that swans around with my stethoscope around my neck

Purple - Somehow I really struggled with this but then I saw the box that's got my Elder Wand in it! Bought it at platform 9 and 3/4 when I was in London when I was a kid (back before JKR was a vocal TERF🙃) but it's got nostalgic factors for me which is why it's stayed

Thank you so much for the ask!! It was very nice to take a step back and get out of my head for a second 💙

#positive asks week #ask games #james answers things #saturn you're too nice

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bluegamercatlady · 1 year

Text

Bouncing Blue Baby- chapter twelve

Chapter twelve

Here comes trouble

Since Sonic had started to walk the day before, he quickly perfected it and began toddling around the house. And by quickly, I mean QUICKLY! He was already running. Miles was absolutely flabbergasted at how fast Sonic is. It was only the next day but he didn’t need the sofa and chairs to support himself. He could stand up on his own now.

Vector, Espio and Charmy were in for a surprise when they arrive later on. However, it’s still early and Sonic hadn’t had his breakfast and bath yet.

Miles got to work preparing his bottle of formula, switching on the sterilizer and putting the bottles in the bulky contraption. Sonic sat inside a play pen in the living room, rattling toys and stacking foam bricks. Miles could hear him from the other room as he started cooking his own breakfast.

The fox listened contently to the babble and sound of rattling around the pen. Occasionally hearing him fuss or grip the pen walls, seeking attention.

He prodded at the sizzling meal in the pan with his specula. Bacon, fried eggs and toast. It smelt delicious and Miles definitely was looking forward to eating it. He stuck his food on a plate and popped it in the oven on a low heat to keep it from going cold while he sorted the little hedgehog.

The sterilizer finished cleaning the bottles and Miles prepped the formula, carefully measuring the powder and checking the temperature before heading into the living room to feed Sonic, turning and closing the door behind him as he went through.

The yellow fox froze in the doorway… Sonic wasn’t in his pen! HE WASN’T IN HIS PEN!!! WHERE WAS HE!?

Miles frantically searched the living room, throwing cushions, blankets, toys and anything that could obscure his view of where his baby was. He had only left the room for a few minutes!!! He shouldn’t have gotten into trouble in such a short span of time.

Miles racked his brain, attempting to come to a conclusion.

Did he not close the pen door properly? Was it broken? Had Sonic got out?! Had someone somehow gotten in and taken him?!

His heart palpitated in his chest and a cold sweat burned his neck and face. His hands violently shook, an awful foreboding pit settled in his stomach, twisting painfully as anxiety took hold of his whole body.

Poor Miles had always been a nervous and anxious kid, and now even worse as an adult. He didn’t have anyone to look out for or reassure him. Had he failed Sonic already?!

“He he he! Bah!”

Abruptly, Miles was pulled from his thoughts by Sonic’s giggles and gurgling. The two tailed fox swung his head around, scanning the room frantically for the source of the sound. Then, slowly he looked up at the top of the cupboard where a prickly ball of fuzz stared down with a gummy smile. Sonic perched at the top of the case, clutching the edge, seemingly bemused with his father’s shock and bewilderment.

“S-S-Sonic! H-How…? How d-did you get up there? Er, never mind. Let’s just get you down first, then we’ll figure it out. Okay?”

Sonic giggled again as the yellow fox stood under the cupboard, gazing around the room for a ladder or something that Sonic could have used to get up there. That’s most likely how he got up there, right?

On the other hand, Miles wouldn’t have left something the little blue hedgehog could climb up on and possibly injure himself with just lying around the room. So, there had to be another way he got up there…

Sonic couldn’t possibly have flown up there…

Miles glanced up at Sonic with his rigid spines, thin fuzzy arms and stubby tail. Definitely not!

Miles twisted his tails around one another and unspun them to lift himself up, flying to the top of the bookcase with ease.

Sonic chuckled and crawled towards Miles, curious to how his father could suddenly grow tall enough to reach his muzzle over the bookcase rim. The hoglet paused, then almost smirked. Then he leapt! Miles juggled the air, jolting forward to catch the rogue baby hedgehog, arms outstretched.

Miles tumbled backwards as Sonic landed square on his chest, knocking him backwards and out of the air. They landed flat on the ground with flailing limbs. The yellow fox hyperventilated, his heart pounding out of his chest once again and felt nigh on a heart attack, with the blue hedgehog laughing hysterically as he sat on Miles’ diaphragm, clutching his long fur. Sonic was clearly very entertained.

Definitely be a thrill seeker.

Sonic clambered off Miles’ chest and ran across the room like the little speed demon he was, leaving poor Miles to flounder as he tried to stand, tripping on his own tails. Fortunately, the fox was uninjured but wondering what exactly had happened just then. He didn’t have to wait to long to discover how his baby got up there, though.

Sonic sprinted around the room, crouched and leapt up onto the dining table with utter ease. He spun around on his heels and began to dance and bounce on the spot, seeking acknowledgement and praise from his astonished father.

Miles was right when he said Sonic would be an athlete, he just didn’t realise how soon that would be.

Sonic launched himself into the air again, soaring across the room in a full bound, the fox diving to grab him. Sonic flew straight over Miles’ head and plopped down onto the sofa with a soft thud, while Miles crashed into the table with a thundering crash, bang, wallop.

The little blue hedgehog sprinted off again, Miles in hot pursuit, reaching for the blue menace.

They both ran back and forth in the small living room, sonic just a short distance from Miles. He couldn’t quite keep up despite the difference in age and leg length. Sonic could outpace Miles tenfold. At least… On foot.

The adult fox paused, bent over and huffing from the physical exertion. He hadn’t run like that in years. When he was a kid escaping bullies, yes, he could run swiftly and fly when he needed to. He relied more on his gadgets and technology nowadays.

Sonic obviously was gonna change that. Miles would need to keep pace with this kid to ensure Sonic felt confident enough to explore and be himself unabashedly. And Miles intended on just that. Sonic was counting on him. He can’t afford to mess up!

Sonic was sitting on the cabinet, looking rather pleased with himself. He enjoyed playing games and this game of tag was great fun.

Miles twirled his tails again to hover in the air, just inches from the ground. He moved onward toward Sonic, more confident in his flying ability than his running.

Sonic paused and stared in awe. He didn’t see how Miles reached him on top of the bookcase. He was absolutely mesmerised by this new found fact that his father could easily fly with his butt.

Sonic squealed with delight, making grabby hands out for Miles, wriggling on the spot, almost vibrating with excitement actually. Miles picked the little hoglet up and held him up in the air above his head, smiling and laughing as Sonic squawked happily, tugging on his ears.

Sonic’s eyes sparkled joyously at being held and touching his dad’s soft ears. He felt thrilled to bits with all the fun he’s had and learning something new. Sonic kicked and swung his legs in the air, loving the sensation of wind rushing past his short legs.

Miles’ little Sonic was already a little trouble maker.

Start

#my writing #bouncing blue baby #bouncing blue baby au #baby sonic #baby sonic the hedgehog #baby sonic au #sonic au #sonic the hedgehog au #miles tails prower #tails the fox #tails miles prower #chaos ensues #my fanfic writing #i'm a bit out of practice so please be nice #adult tails miles prower #my sonic fanfics #my sonic writing

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