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#why. is his hair actually a pain.....???????? like>? it's so simple????? but that's actually so annoying?????
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'The sun is shining on me'
A quick messy silver drawing 'based' on Ferry's 'The world is shining on me', which is suchhh a good song----
(alt(?) vers under read more)
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I messed with the hues, and these were ones I thought looked fun------! which is your favourite >_>?
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steddielations · 4 months
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Steve acts on instinct.
There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.
There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.
They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.
“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.
“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”
Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”
It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”
“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”
Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.
“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.
He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.
It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.
“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”
Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.
“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”
Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.
Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.
“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.
“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.
The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.
He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.
“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”
He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”
“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.
“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”
Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.
“I think I’d definitely remember you.”
Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.
“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”
Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”
“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”
Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”
Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”
“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.
Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.
It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.
That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.
Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.
“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.
“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”
“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.
“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”
“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”
He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.
Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.
He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.
Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.
“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.
Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.
What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.
At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.
Oh.
He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—
Yeah, just. Oh.
Part 2
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ssahotchnerr · 3 months
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GIRL 👏🏻 DAD 👏🏻 AARON 👏🏻 learning how to do his wife’s hair so he can do baby girls hair when she’s grown
uncharted territory
YOU'RE 👏🏻 SO 👏🏻 RIGHT 👏🏻 cw; girl dad!aaron, fem!reader, some small suggestiveness, fluff <3
"can i braid your hair?"
you looked at aaron as your book dropped onto your lap, both a bit bewildered and astonished, "can you what?"
"braid your hair." the expression adorned on his face was almost troubled as he approached you, and rather shyly at that, actually.
"that's what i thought you said." your eyebrow quirked, displaying a caring and soft confusion. "why?"
"jus' something penelope said today, it made me realize that i don't know how to do hair. never had the need to learn with jack." the grumpiness on his face didn't falter, a small huff escaping him. "i know she doesn't have much of it now, but i don't want to be one of those dads who attempt to do their daughter's hair, it's a phenomenal disaster, and it looked better off before i even touched it. i refuse to send her off somewhere someday looking like she went through a windstorm."
"aaron, honey, i don't think you're capable of anything too disastrous." you teased gently, but with full reassurance.
he almost smiled, the ends of his lips tugging upwards, but evidently he wasn't fully convinced. "so can i? i need the practice, desperately."
"of course," you nodded, scooting towards the center of the bed and sitting cross-legged, aaron seated behind you.
once situated, he took your hair gingerly into his hands, "how do i..."
"you're going to want to separate it into three sections," you started, pausing to let him do so. "kinda gather it like a ponytail to get started."
"okay, that i've done before."
"yeah, you're good at that." you rolled your eyes, a faint blush tinting your cheeks and you could easily picture the smirk that was definitely plastered on aaron's face. "you good?"
"i think so."
"take the right side, and cross it over the middle section." you instructed, again giving him a small window of time to weave your hair gently. "then do the same on the left, the right section should have switched places with the middle."
"mhm." aaron hummed gently in confirmation, biting down softly onto his lip in concentration, crossing the left section over the now center.
"and just repeat down, alternating as you just did."
"that's it?"
"that's literally it."
aaron repeated the cycle, braiding with ease. "and i'm not hurting you? am i pulling-"
"no no no, you're completely fine." you reached a bit behind, your hand finding his knee and giving it a comforting squeeze. "keep going."
although it was a simple braid, his fingers nearly got tangled a few times, due to the size of said fingers and the limited, slightly tight space that came along with braiding. he also tugged your head back and forth a small amount, but you followed the direction of his gentle pulls. as he worked silently, your heart could only swell at his genuine concern and want to learn - just for your little girl.
once he reached the end of your braid, you tore off the hair tie that was conveniently around your wrist. "secure with this."
aaron was quick learner in nature; he watched you intently as you pulled your braid over your shoulder to inspect it quickly. it was a bit loose, a tad crooked, but the gist of it was there - almost perfect.
you peered behind at him, thoroughly impressed. "not bad."
"really?" aaron asked surprisingly, but with an utterly pleased expression.
"but don't get too cocky," you narrowed your eyebrows playfully, swiveling to face him. "this is the easy one to master. there's french braids, dutch, fishtail. one day she'll want one braid, maybe two the next. trust me, it's bound to get way more complicated than this."
the proud gleam in his eyes faded a bit as his face blanched, pulling into a pained expression, deadpanning. "you're kidding."
"but don't worry, we have plenty of time."
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gamermattsgf · 4 months
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Cherry popper // nerd Matt p.2
Warnings: heavy smut / mommy!kink (duh) / doggy style / glasses kink / praise kink / sub!matt x dom reader / back shot / degradation kink… kinda / masturbation / hair pulling
Summary: you and Matt are trying to do one of your homework assignments, until Matt finds himself painfully distracted by thoughts of your body instead of thoughts of the equations on the sheets of paper in front of him.
Author’s notes: GUYS!! I am actually so insanely grateful for all of the love you have given me from the moment I started publishing on here. The fact that so many people have wanted a part 2 for this is unbelievable to me fr. Also the fact that the original has almost 1,000 notes is actually fucking insane wtf?? I always wake up everyday and smile at all of the lovely comments/requests people send to me and I couldn’t be happier that people enjoy my stuff, it just makes me motivated to write more hehe. But anyways, after a long and PAINFUL wait, finally, here is your part 2 of Cherry popper Matt <3
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“You’ve got me nervous to speak… so I just won’t say anything at all” - Nervous, The Neighbourhood
‘Okay so what about the vector analysis in this problem? How do I solve it?’
You get no response in return.
‘Matt?’
You turn your head to look over at him from your position sat on the floor, a pencil twiddling in between your thumb and fore finger. The notepad open in front of you details Matt’s pen marks from where he had written out the equations of your assignment for you to solve before your tutor lesson this afternoon.
It has been a good deal of weeks since your first session, and each time Matt has come to your house you have taught him something new.
Fingering. Head. Mutual masturbation.
Last week you took his virginity. It was simple. Missionary. But ever since then something has changed within Matt. He’s gotten needier, more eager for you. A text message every hour or so, asking about your lessons. You never tell him what you’re planning though, you like to keep it a surprise for him.
Evidently though, the thought of what you do at the end of each one seems to distract him. It keeps him on the edge of his seat and fiddling about until he’s instructed to get on the bed. Which he does now with a fast pace and happy smiles on his lips each time. You really like Matt.
‘Matt? Are you even listening to me?’
He hums questioningly. ‘Oh uh yeah… sorry wha-what did you say?’. His eyes blink in confusion, as if every word of your voice had gone in one ear and out through the other.
You purse your lips, smiling cheekily at him and shaking your head. Matt catches on as soon as you give him a look that you know why he’s distracted, so his cheeks go pink and he shyly flits his eyes to the floor. You raise your eyebrows and he does a double take.
‘I’m sorry… I can’t help it…’ he peeps, before lifting one of his hands to shift them underneath his glasses. He rubs his eyes, as if embarrassed with himself, before dropping his hand back down and bravely glancing up at you. ‘Poor baby… Thinking about my body instead of my assignment. Matt you naughty boy…’ You tease, and Matt whines pitifully.
‘Don’t say that!’ He shakes his head, trying to act as if he feels physically repulsed by you calling him a naughty boy. But you know he loves it. Just last week he was thrusting his cock into you slickly, whining from above you to praise him and call him a good boy as he did so, his mouth hung open with pants and his hands greedily gripping your headboard to help his hips move. Just as you had instructed him to do.
‘Who’s going to help me finish it now?’ You feign sadness. Matt humphs. ‘I am… I’m sorry. Please I won’t get distracted again, please mommy I’ll help you!’ He begs worthlessly, sitting up from his position sprawled out on his side on your carpet. He leans himself up onto his hands and knees, now used to just calling you mommy like second nature. You didn’t even have to ask him.
‘But baby… you’re already hard. How could you possibly help me in that sort of state?’. Matt’s face falls into a frown and he squirms about uncomfortably, the obvious bulge in his jeans now the topic of conversation. ‘I- I can do it!’ He argues back, his voice wobbling but trying to be defiant.
‘No you can’t Matt.’ You patronise him in response, knowing that there is no way he’s going to be able to sit through any more of this tutor session without feeling uncomfortable and groaning lowly after every time the harsh seam of his jean’s zipper rubs against his sensitive cock. You know how prone to pleasure he is.
‘If we get rid of your problem will you promise to concentrate and help me afterwards puppy?’.
Sighing and getting up, your eyes keep trained on Matt whilst his head snaps up to now fully bask in your attention, the slightest mention of you touching his cock and him getting fed with more sexual pleasure rilling him up. You walk over slowly, before you stop right in front of him.
He finds it strange really, that now he gets more excited about your touch than teasing out a good math equation. He perks up with a curling smile on his face, his eyes dreamy and sparkling. Nodding his head as quickly as he can he bumbles an awkward ‘yes- yes of course… please’.
You smirk and tip your chin down at the way Matt lies on his knees before you. Reaching up one of your hands, you push it into his hair, combing it back and folding it into the rest of his crashing brown waves. He moans happily in content at the feeling of your nails scratching against his scalp, tipping his chin up and looking at you like a baby doe who’s just learnt to walk.
‘Well, you know what I’m gonna say then…’ you laugh through your smile at his inexperienced, soft nature. ‘Yes mommy…’ he obediently nods and coos up to you in a mumbled voice, before leaning up so that he can stand to his full height. He waddles with his padding feet over to your bed, a place where he’s now left a permanent imprint every Sunday, when only the two of you are in the house and left to your own devices.
‘Hmm… think it may be a little too early to use any of my…’. You struggle to find the words for all of the miscellaneous items hidden within your wardrobe. ‘…toys’. Matt sits on the bed and waits patiently for his next command whilst listening in to your debate between yourself. ‘And I’m not in the mood to do all of the work today… so seeing as you’re the one who interrupted our tutor session because you just couldn’t wait, then I suppose it should be you doing the work’.
Matt winces at your scolding nature, before shuffling up the mattress a little further. He smiles guiltily and nods. ‘I guess that’s only fair’. You hum, looking at Matt’s fluffed hair and the glasses that slide sweetly off of his nose. Every time he has to push them back up to the bridge of it in class you have to squeeze your thighs together, because you know how much of a little slut he really is. The glasses are just a front in your opinion, it doesn’t matter how innocent they make him look, he’s still always pussy drunk for you at the end of the day and it fills you with such power.
‘Why don’t we step it up from missionary a little then?’ You finally decide, crawling onto the bed yourself and slithering over to a Matt that gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing and practically asking you to make a meal out of his exposed neck. He already has the sheets gripped within his fists, how adorable.
‘Step it up?’ He asks confusedly, his eyebrows furrowing. But you ignore him, and instead swing your legs so that you can straddle his lap, his stiff cock already pressing thickly up into your clothed core. You clutch his jaw and tilt his neck upwards, his breathing thick and laboured with anticipation.
‘Kisses for mommy?’ You mumble and tilt your head with a questioning sensuality that almost has Matt drooling within a trance. He nods, his eyes looking a little spaced out but your lips soon coming to mesh together. It reminds you of the first time you both made out, and similarly, you slowly begin to rock your hips. He pants at the friction, and knuckles tentatively at the bottom of your t-shirt.
‘I like mommy kisses…’ he mumbles delicately in between the brush of your lips, his tongue feathering out to lick into your mouth as you continuously comb back his hair, gripping and pulling on it playfully. You break away from him to rub your thumb against his cheek. He looks up at you and blinks, his mouth dropped and his lips juicy like swollen cherries after being sucked on.
‘More please’ he whimpers, and lurches forward to reconnect your lips. At this point, you decide to lean forward, making Matt’s back fall onto the mattress.
Lying all of your weight on top of him, he sneaks his hands down to squeeze around your hipbones, his fingers nervously travelling to your ass next so that he can keep you grinding above him as you kiss. But you open your eyes through the kiss when feeling the sensation of his digits.
‘Did I say you could touch that puppy?’ You chide him, and Matt’s hands freeze their descent. He snaps his eyes open and pulls himself away with a pout, your breaths mingling and your noses almost brushing.
He looks as if he’s about to cry at getting into trouble, and swallows thickly before feeding his bottom lip into his bitten teeth. He tries to embarrassedly suppress a moan, thinking that it’s not the right time to release one at the rub of your cunt against him. You smirk when his back arches in helplessness, his cheeks red as he stutters ‘sorry… I didn’t mean to… I couldn’t help it’.
Shaking your head in amusement, you listen to the way his breath hitches when you slip your hands up his shirt, tickling your cold fingertips up his stomach so that you can circulate his sensitive nipples.
‘That’s okay baby boy, I know you’re frustrated. Shall we get these clothes off?’ Matt nods frantically, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes closed whilst he focusses on his breathing.
Both of your clothes come off at lighting pace, Matt practically ripping to get to the supple skin of your body. After he does, his hands are babyishly squeezing anywhere, himself now comfortable enough in his sexual ability to be brave. Both of you lie sprawled out majestically on your bed, groping at each other like feverish teenagers in heat whilst the exchange of tongues between the two of you is messy and sloppy.
Matt cannot get enough of kissing you, he throbs at the feeling of your tongue twisting with his, his naked lower half now grinding subconsciously into your bedcovers. You slap his arm at this though and he hissed slightly, pulling away and looking at you offensively.
‘Puppy don’t do that, you’ll make a mess of my sheets with how much you’re leaking’. He looks down shamefully, whining because he knows he can’t help it. ‘M’sorry! I just really need you- I-‘ he starts to apologise but you shush him quietly by pressing your pointer finger into his lips. ‘I know you do baby boy… I want you to do some revision first though’.
He blinks and nods hesitantly, yourself shuffling up to the end of the bed so that you can spread your legs in front of him, still only in your underwear. After teasing him out of all of his clothes and leaving him feeling vulnerable and bare, you had decided to keep your panties on. It drives him insane when you do that, to know that he is in more of a submissive position than you.
‘How wet do you think you can get me baby?’ You drawl, and watch as Matt’s shoulders heave after crawling up to you with his cock red and stiff. ‘Dripping?’ You add on, and Matt nods his head confidently.
He reaches out his knuckles to graze them gently against your clothed heat and you hiss at the faintest of his caresses. ‘I’d do anything to get you off…’ he breathes, before pressing his thumb into your clit, rubbing it like how you showed him. Your breath hitches as you feel your centre pool hungrily, you folds dampening and getting hotter the more pressure he adds.
Your back arches. How could someone look so innocent and naive whilst performing something so unholy?
‘Can I- can I see your tits please mommy?’ Matt shyly asks whilst playing with your clit over your clothed sensitivity. You nod. ‘Of course you can sweet boy. Well done for asking so nicely baby’. Matt smiles in achievement at this, loving the praise freely gifted to him for the most simplest of tasks.
He struggles to not moan at the sight of you unclipping your lacy set to let your tits rest on your chest freely, your nipples hardened and mouthwatering. You watch the way his eyes hypnotically flick from one to the other and you smirk. ‘Like that baby? You wanna make me feel good now? Make mommy happy?’.
He lurches forward to kiss you once again, dipping his tongue leisurely into your mouth to taste you as he pleasures your clit with the pad of his finger. This makes your legs spread even further.
‘Please- I’m ready to make you feel full now’ he eagerly states through a bite of your lips, and you hum in satisfaction. ‘It’s time for your next lesson then’. You press your hands onto Matt’s pecs and push his mouth away from yours so that you can fully look him in the eyes. ‘Ever thought about doggy style before?’.
Matt furrows his eyes in confusion. ‘Well um… no, not really’.
‘Well that’s what we’re doing today, let’s get you on top of me, real nice and easy’.
You push him backwards and he falls onto his behind. You then swing forwards and spit directly onto his cock. He lets out a strangled pant at this and watches as you wrap your hand around the very base of his throbbing prick. ‘F-fuck’ his voice rags out and he closes his eyes with his head rolling back.
‘I’m going to get on my hands and knees, and then you’re going to come up behind me alright?’ You start to instruct him whilst pumping him slowly. He finds it difficult to focus at times because your hand feels so good, but he gets the rough picture of what you want him to do in his head.
‘O-okay’ he whimpers. You stop touching him and then crawl onto your hands and knees in front of him. ‘Go and take off my panties then puppy’ you tease him, making fun of the way he’s so hesitant to do anything. You then feel Matt’s fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he timidly slides them from off of the curves of your asscheeks. They fall to the mattress around your knees and you clench when you feel the weight of Matt behind you.
The bedsheets crinkle underneath his knees and his warm stomach soon presses against your back. You feel his chest up your spine as he lies over you whilst his bigger hands come to splay down at the outer edges of yours. You look at his popping veins and tendons hungrily before taking in a shaky breath. It’s nice to ache at the feeling of his dominant position, because his heavy masculine difference makes you so fucking horny.
‘Good boy.’
You feel Matt’s stomach clench in approval at the nickname. ‘What now?’ He questions innocently, and you have to smirk once again at just how adorably clueless he is. ‘Now, you fuck me.’ You bluntly muse. Matt falters for a second. ‘Oh right-’ he laughs nervously.
‘Go on baby boy, give me your cock’ you encourage him. At this sudden permission, Matt thrusts his hips forward. You feel him shuffle around before his throbbing tip is pressed into your slickness. He moans throatily after pushing up into you, stretching you out and stuffing your walls full of him. Your breaths are equally as laboured when you feel him throbbing into you, his shaky torso wobbling and trying to keep himself steady above you.
‘That’s it baby’ you coo.
He starts to fuck his hips into you at a slowed and lazy pace. You feel his hot breaths on the shell of your ear as he pants, the bed squeaking below you two erotically at the motion of your bodies.
‘A-am I doing a good job mommy?’ He peeps, wanting to eke out as much praise from you as he possibly can. ‘Yes. Very very good Matt, well done’ you respond back, almost choking on your breath from how good it feels. You feel him right in your gut, just the perfect sort of length to drive you fucking insane.
He whines petulantly.
‘Please! Please call me a good boy, please, m’desperate’. Your legs spread further to let him in more whilst his hips slap against your ass roughly. Your stomach clenches as you groan slightly when his prick presses into exactly the right spot. With your elbows buckling, your head falls into the mattress, Matt keeping a hold of you by possessively grappling onto your waist with his calloused hands.
‘You are a good boy Matt… treating me so well, treating me like a fucking princess’. He smiles happily through his aggressive whimpers, speeding up his hips. ‘Touch my clit baby… I want my orgasm’ you then demand, stabilising yourself onto just one of your elbows so that your other hand can reach back to grab his and pull it forward.
You slip his fingers in between your dripping folds and begin to help him circulate your clit before you deem him competent enough to do it himself.
‘Ugh my glasses…’ Matt moans ‘they’re- they’re gonna fall off’. His glasses slip down his nose and then off the hooks of his ears. His rosy cheeks blush when they patter to the mattress right in front of both of your hands. He feels embarrassed that he’d railed you into the bed so hard that his glasses had fallen off, but you only grinned at this.
Snatching up the glasses yourself, you do exactly the thing that you know will drive Matt crazy. You slip them onto your own nose and push them up to the bridge.
At this, Matt throbs and your walls suck around him. Your orgasm comes so fast after this that you barely have any time to think about announcing it.
You press your face into the mattress and moan as Matt helps you ride your waves of pleasure out, your thighs quivering and your mouth hung wide open. ‘Can I cum inside of you please mommy?! Y’feel- you feel so fucking good’.
But you don’t let him. Instead, you shake your head and move forwards, falling out of him and flopping directly onto your stomach. ‘Be my good boy and finish on my back instead’. Matt whines but obeys, knowing that if he doesn’t he’ll be punished. He wraps his fist around his wet thickness and begins to stroke himself quickly. His hot skin slips over his hand easily and he whimpers and pants when his cum creams out of his tip. It leaks and splatters all over your back and you smile in exhaustion after he finishes completely, his own exhausted breaths wracking his own body.
Flopping onto the bed next to you, he calms, his spent length satisfied and both of your orgasms soothing over your sexual frustration.
His baby blue eyes softly scan over your face, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smile in adoration at the way you look with his squint glasses resting on your face. You look so gentle and so kind, and he almost wants you to keep the glasses for yourself just so that he can see you with them on every day. If only he didn’t need them for reading.
‘So… time for homework?’ You mumble.
Matt giggles with a toothy grin.
‘Time for homework’.
Author’s notes p.2: @lovingmattysposts … you don’t have to hold your breath anymore gf, I gotchu. I definitely felt the pressure with writing this one that’s for sure, bc so many people have wanted a part 2, so hopefully I’ve done nerd Matt justice. Also I am SO sorry if I accidentally missed out anyone who wanted to be on the tag list, there were quite a few names and I don’t have the best of memories lol. Thank you so much for giving me and my writing the time of day. It literally means the whole world to me :) P.S. Aww? Such a cutie pie little moment at the end wtf??
Taglist: @lovingmattysposts @strniohoeee @asturniolos @thesturniolos @nickdevora @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @chr1sgirl4life @kvtie444 @ellie-luvsfics @reidsween @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniolololover @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo
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agirlsguidetolove · 8 months
Text
OBSESSED
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pairings: draco malfoy x fem!gryffindor!reader, platonic!golden trio x reader.
word count: .9k
summary: Draco Malfoy was your least favorite person in the world, and you thought the feeling was mutual. What happens when you realize he’s actually obsessed with you?
part 1
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Hogsmeade was your all time favorite place, especially in winter. Dressed in your favorite patterned scarf, big black jacket, long tights, and black boots, you felt warm and cozy. You and Hermione have your arms draped around each other’s shoulders as the two of you exit the Three Broomsticks, the taste of Butterbeer still on your tongue.
The two of you giggle at who knows what, stumbling from how hard you’re laughing. The slight falling of snowflakes doesn’t effect your mood, you watch as one lands on your nose as you and Hermione come down from your fit of giggles, choosing to focus on what you guys came here for; Christmas shopping for the boys.
Harry and Ron were a pain in your arse, but that didn’t mean they two weren’t simple. They wanted quidditch gear for when the season starts up again in spring. Easy as pie for you and your seemingly infinite money.
You and Hermione’s feet leave footprints in the snow, it crunching beneath your boots as you walk to Spintwitches Quidditch Supplies. Your smile seems untouchable as you walk with a pep in your step, staring down at your shoes. When you look up your smile falters, a frown threatening your lips at the sight of him.
White blond hair, a tight hoodie and a jacket thrown over that. Malfoy stands with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott on either of his sides. He leans against the wall of Honeydukes that leads you down into an alley. He nods along to whatever Nott was saying, clearly not paying attention. His eyes drift from his friends to yours.
Draco Malfoy is, simply put, your least favorite person in the entire world. There are no words to describe the absolutely anger the boy causes you. His arrogance and disrespect towards you and your friends is a mood sourer, and he was ruining your amazing day with just one look at you. His effect on you was irritating, and you could feel your own heart race and hear your breathe hitch when his blue eyes met yours. Fuck.
Your warm eyes turn cold in an instant as you watch Malfoy smirk. He reaches a hand up to ruffle his already messy hair as he starts to walk over to you and Hermione.
Too busy glaring at Malfoy as he saunters over, you miss the knowing look Nott and Zabini share with Hermione.
“Just ignore him,” Hermione urges. You give her a look, a pout plastered on your lips. She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.
Easier said then done.
“Well, well,” Malfoy taunts. He’s grinning over at you, hands tucked into his pockets as he tilts his head at you, not even bothering to glance at Hermione. “Look who escaped the clutches of her boyfriend,” he spit, the words directed toward Harry, even though he wasn’t your boyfriend. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
Your eye roll is immediate. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Malfoy?” you sneer, before sarcastically saying, “Surely a man like yourself has much better matters to attend to then bothering some Gryffindors.”
Malfoy’s smirk deepens as his eyes flicker down your body for a moment. “Don’t cut yourself short. I prefer it here.”
“Can’t we go, Y/N. Please.” Hermione tugs on your arm, already dragging you up the hill, away from the boy who seemed to never be capable of staying away from you.
“Yes, please,” you groaned, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes as you linked yours and Hermione’s arm together.
You can hear Malfoy’s footsteps behind you as he hurries to catch up to you, desperate for whatever he gains from annoying you. “Running away so soon? I knew you were a coward,” he exclaims.
That makes you pause, turning around, eyebrows scrunched in aggravation. “Excuse me?” you scoff, releasing Hermione’s hand and rushing to where the boy stood. “I’ll punch you in the face just like I did third year, don’t doubt that.”
His eyes sparkle as he looks down at you, your threat bouncing off of him. “Believe me, I don’t doubt you. Never have.”
What in the bloody hell was he on about?
”Mate,” Nott called from behind him, deep voiced annoyed with his friend. He raises his brows at Malfoy. “Let’s go.”
He shrugs at his friends, sticking his hands into his pocket. He smirks at you, tongue coming to press into his cheeks. His cheeks are red from the cold (or, maybe, from his raging crush on you).
“I’ll see you around, L/N.”
“Screw you, Malfoy,” you sneer, hair whipping as you trudge up the hill to meet Hermione where she stands, looking at the pair of you with an unimpressed expression.
When you make it to her, you link your arms together again. You smile at her. “Shall we?”
Hermione rolls her eyes, but nods.
When the two of you begin to walking, you stick your tongue out over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Malfoy still standing where he last stood, watching you.
Draco doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile.
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not proofread 🥰
xx, lovey🫀
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lost-and-ephemeral · 1 month
Note
helloooo, can i req cuddling with love and deepspace boys? :))
Imagine: Loving Embrace (ft. main trio)
Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)
Tags: pure fluff
A/N: i'm still feeling pretty bad mentally because too many things happened and i'm no longer taking antidepressants, but this little cute request was hard to resist ♡ I decided to focus on different situations instead of writing simple hcs for cuddles
-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 
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Rafayel: Cuddles for Inspiration
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"Come here, I can't find my inspiration without you."
At least that's what Rafayel always says when he can't find the right balance between painting and wanting to spend time with you. So why not combine both!
Yes, he's covered in paint and, yes, its smell completely soaked his clothes, but you never say no to him. How could anyone resist his cute pouty face when he's asking for something like this?
The moment Rafayel pulls you by the waist and sits you on his lap, be prepared to spend a very, very long time like this. Especially if he's really inspired by your closeness.
And he just can't let go of his muse in the middle of the creative process, right?
Rafayel holds you firmly but gently by your waist while his chin rests on your shoulder. His eyes are either closed as he thinks about something or focused on the canvas.
Sometimes his fingers draw invisible abstract shapes on your waist. He does it instinctively, without thinking. Or he plays with your own fingers while he draws details with his other hand.
"See? Without you, this painting wouldn't be complete."
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Zayne: Cuddles for Productivity
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"I need some cuddles to promote the production of oxytocin."
Zayne… Always remains Zayne, covering up his own desire to be closer to you with various medical terms and researches. It is cute in it's own way, actually.
He loves it when you hold him in your arms and he can completely relax for a while, resting his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat. He'll definetely call it a way to check your heath too.
Zayne loves to cuddle before or after work most of the time, but he won't refuse to be there for you during his break at work.
He needs to find the energy to keep working, after all.
He probably prefers to keep quiet during yor cuddling session, but if you want to tell him something, go ahead, Zayne won't say a word against it.
In fact, he even enjoys hearing your stories. Just make sure they don't contain things about your work that might alarm him. Otherwise, he might go back into strict doctor mode. But it's still only because of his love and care for you.
"Have you heard that hugs or any other show of affection can have health benefits, including reducing fear, stress, and pain? So it is good for both of us."
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Xavier: Cuddles for Sleep
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"My internal battery is completely drained."
And with these words Xavier will make himself comfortable in your arms while you're lying on the couch or bed and scrolling on social media.
And that's not even a joke, he's actually completely exhausted after spending the last couple days on missions without proper rest. You know Xavier, he either works non-stop or goes into hibernation after that. It'll take some time to change his habits.
In this state, he's more like a big plush toy, and you can do whatever you want with him. But the best idea is to play with his hair. This action always relaxes him.
After all, only in your hands he can find such a desired comfort.
Xavier will tell you about how his last mission went while you cuddle. Well, he will try to do it before sleep finally consumes him. And you'll be able to hear perfectly how his voice grows quieter and quieter with each word.
He's so cute when he's sleepy, isn't he? You can even tell him that to get a quiet chuckle in return. Xavier doesn't mind your little teasing.
"It's so warm in your arms, I swear I… I can't stay awake anymore…"
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sleighhethereal · 3 months
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• so like
• the little ones around the mountain would get groomed by Wukong atleast once a month.
• it's just, the sight of it getting into their eyes really bothers the shit outta him.
• because we all know Wukong takes care of himself, such as; shaving his eyebrows, managing his fur, probably does skincare like cucumbers over his eyes and putting vaseline over his lips.
• so he'd make schedules for each little monkey and groom them.
• but
• the little guys hate it, they hate it so much.
• Wukong would struggle so much cutting their long fur, since the little ones would squirm really hard and he had to buy a little muzzle so they wouldn't bite him.
"Just a little— hey, heY! No biting, be grateful! You hafta look up just to see a goddamn flower!"
• Wukong always feels bad doing it because the little ones would whine like they were crying, but like— he barely touched them, so he doesn't know what to feel.
• here comes you, saving the day, because he asked you for help— promising to just fetch you via cloud.
• the plan was simple, you'd hold them while he snips at their long hairs.
• you once asked him why couldn't he just summon like ten of his monkey clones to assist him, but he'd always make up some excuse like..
"I mean, you're already here and my head hurts, ya know? Using my power just drains me, you don't want to see me in pain, do you?"
• gives you the sparkly-eyes like a wet dog
• he just wants to spend time with you but he'd never say it seriously.
• it was actually funny seeing him scold the monkeys for moving too much, or threatening to bite him.
• you'd hum the little ones silly little Disney songs or random lullabies to distract them from the razor's buzzing, since that seemed to stress them out, causing them to struggle.
• it was fun, just the two of you hanging out.
• when you guys were done after a few days, Wukong would build up courage to ask you out on a few outings... dates, if you wanna call them that.
• all perfect until Macaque decided to join for no damn reason.
• i mean, there is a reason, Macaque wants you too.
• Macaque would accidentally push Wukong into one of his shadow portals and offer his help to you.
"OH MY GODS, MACAQUE!"
"What? He's fine, he's many times immortal. He needs exercise every now and then. Enough about him, did you miss me?"
• he'd say it so sweetly as Wukong would zip back to his mountain, wet and angry because Macaque just dumped his ass into the ocean.
• that piece of shit. Macaque knows what he's doing.
• he never knew why but the little ones are always much more calmer with Macaque.
• they'd barely move and sometimes they'd fucking fall asleep.
• you didn't even need to do anything.
"Just sit still and look pretty. Now tell me, baby, how was your day?"
• fuming Wukong
• Wukong would just pout and grumble as he watched you and Macaque converse, hearing Macaque's little hidden insults about him- but you didn't know.
• they'd fist-fight when you leave, yelling and throwing insult here and there. they'd never fight in front of you, atleast not physically.
• would pinch and poke each others sides while you weren't looking, lightning struck inbetween their eyes as they fought for your attention.
• at the end of the day, they'd definitely work together to make you happy— but that doesn't magically make them get along, no.
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kaizynofsickness · 3 months
Text
Choso x reader... Breathe, Just breathe
Choso x reader~Breathe, just breathe~
Synopsis: Basically virgin experience. You have been dating Choso for 6 months and the topic about sex has been in the air for a while, so now it comes to action and he's... Huge.
WARNINGS: Really gentle sex, big dick Choso (7.2 painful inches and he is thick), pet names (sweetheart, baby, princess, love), popped cherry and some blood on dick, natural virginity loss themes, tears of pleasure, Choso's insanely hard and it's mentioned a lot, foreplay, slight size kink I guess, unprotected sex, mentions of toys (none used), mentions if touching yourself (in the past, none happened), 'rubbing', Reader squirts but she never has before, praising, soft Dom! Choso, sweet talk, pillow talk.
Songs that match: Streets (Silhouette Remix) by Dojo Cat
Angels in Tibet by Amaarae
You've been dating Choso for a few months now, 6 months to be exact. He's a quiet and loyal lover, he also has his goofy side that mixes girlfriend and best friend vibes. But there's been a little bit of tension in the air about the topic to carry the relationship out more... Sex. You love those intimate moments with him and the thought has crossed your mind often. It's just... You never had sex. You don't know about Choso (he hasn't), but they say the quiet ones have the best dick... And maybe you could find out..?
But little did you know your 'innocent' boyfriend was thinking about it even more than you. Every time he kisses you and gets a taste, he wonders how you taste in your pussy. He ponders how wet you can get from a simple loving touch... How loud he can make you, how messy it'll get? The scenarios make his pants tighten... If needed, he'll take the time out of his day to learn how to really please you until you're on cloud 9, dying from pleasure and a sloppy mess... Or maybe do you want him to drown in between your legs? Do you want to be on top of him? God, he overcomplicates it.
"Just fuck her..." Choso talks to himself and lets his hair fall out of his ponytail as he runs his fingers through it. He stares down at his hard on... This is all because of you, the thought of you. It's been so long he's been thinking about it. He grabs his phone and calls you up. He'll make that first move...
Choso's heart strings and paces when he hears the dial ringing... Then your voice greeting him with a 'hello?'
"Hey, sweetheart." Choso casually answers you, subconsciously putting a fist on his straining clothed dick. "Can you come over to my place?" He gets to the point. "Hm, why?" Your voice reaches over the other line. Choso gulps...
'To fuck you in ways you couldn't imagine. I want to see your face when you can't breathe right and when the pleasure is sickening...' how bad he wishes to tell you all of that... "I want to see you, love." Choso half lies. He hears your soft voice giggle mockingly. "Okay, fine. I'll be there in 10." The line clicks. Choso finally lets out a breath... He swears he forgot to breathe. Choso normally can call you with no problem, actually, sleepy calls are one of his many favorite things to do with you. He just hopes you couldn't hear the stress in his voice or the sound of his fiddling with the fabric on his groin. He looks down again only to see it's grown and God, doesn't it hurt.
Ten minutes and you'll be here. Choso looks around his room, his bed is made and things out where they need to be, nothing out of place on the floor. It should be comfortable for you as much as it should be for him, you'll most likely be the one bleeding when he breaks your hymen... Shit, right, he'll hurt you either way no matter how gentle and sweet he is. Plus his big dick and then his boner and him being a grower. It would be any woman's dream, but not a virgins... Maybe he'll use these ten minutes to get rid of his boner. But he wants to save it for you. He ignores the pain and goes to wait outside his room for you...
When he hears a knock, his dick seems to gather all the attention once again. Lucky him he's wearing loose clothes or else it would be so noticeable. He walks over and opens the door--- "Hey, Cho." You stand on your hip wearing a baggy foggy blue T shirt and black tights with yellow and blue stars placed on your thighs and your calf with matching blue shoes with your shirt. You look so fucking cute in such a well thought outfit yet he still wants to rip it off of you. "C'mon, Y/N." He grabs your wrist and slides his fingers down to your hand, interlocking touch. He leads you to his room. You stupidly and cluelessly follow him with a chirpy smile. "Are we going to watch TV or something? All you really wanted was to see me so..." You ask and take a seat on the edge of his bed, resting your elbows on your thighs while glancing at him... *Shutting and locking* the door. He takes a while to answer your question, looking a little blushful. "Y-yeah... Pick one, baby." He turns to you with a sweet reassuring smile. You grab his remote and turn the TV on, going on Cinema and scrolling down. Choso sits next to you, obviously keeping a 6 inch distance from you. You easily notice it, side eyeing him as he sits so stiff. You shuffle near him, leaning on his shoulder. Choso jolts and looks over to you, your face so close to his and your lips looking so damn kissable. He hides it with an awkward chuckle and firmly rubs on your back. You pick the popular movie, Human Earthworm 4, a classic splatter horror movie. Choso rolls his eyes at your movie choice. "Lemme see it, baby." He reaches your hand with his only to be swatted away. "I wanna see this..." You give him a pouty face.
That made him even harder. His eyes lock on yours pathetically and he squeezes the fabric of his pants. Your eyes roll up to look at his with your lips out in an adorable pout. Shit, could you make that face while getting stuffed with cock? He looks away and moves his hands from the remote, allowing you to see whatever. You make a little happy sound before turning the movie back on.
"AHHHH!" Screams emit from the TV. Blood splatters everywhere and guts pour while the man begins to tear the victim's mouth. You yawn on Choso shoulder before nuzzling closer. "You're warm... Can I get on top of you? I wanna sit in your lap." You give him a hopeful stare.
"Uh-" God, you look so cute with a begging face. Why does tonight must he turn everything holy to something sexual? And for you to sit on his lap, on his crotch, his painful hard dick... It would cause him to flip you and give it all to you right then and there.
He takes too long to answer and you climb into his lap and snuggle---
Something pokes you. You jolt up. A hard as rock texture right under your ass, almost near your hole. You look down to see if it was the remote. "H-holy shit, Cho..." You give him a hot and sweaty stare with a face flushed red and a crooked, shocked smile. Choso grumbles, looking down at where you're sitting. "Uh..." You never seen him hard before.
"Sweetheart, I'm sorry but... Damn I couldn't stop thinking about you and... Shit, I seem like some perv, huh?" He awkwardly laughs, ruffling his hair and ruining his two ponytails, one coming undone. You swallow hard, unable to say anything. "A-about me...?" You manage to say.
Through the TV and its screams and bloody sounds with the colors lighting up the dimly lit bedroom, all you can hear is Choso's unhinged breathing and see his worried face. "Yes... I was thinking of..." He paused, trying to find the words to sugarcoat it. "Damn it. I just wanted to have sex with you. It's been a hard topic to bring up." He says through his teeth. You blink stupidly and glare at his face to his ever so hard dick and back to his red face. You abruptly let out a breathy laugh and squirm a bit. "I don't mind you taking my first..." You say in your hand, getting all flustered. Even with the horror show playing, it feels so hot and romantic. In pure shock he looks up at your face, all red, matching his. "Are you sure..? Because right after I get your consent I'm undressing you and pressing you down." He grabs your hands and cups them, giving you a serious stare. "Yes--"
Choso wasn't joking, because from then he placed you off his lap and onto the mattress on a pillow and began to take his shirt off. You watch as his muscular complex unfolds before you. You've seen it so many times before, but it wasn't as hot as it is now and the TV's red glow illuminating the room gives it such a sexual vibe. You shudder at the sight. Choso's hands tug at your waist line before sliding your pants off. "I'm going to ask again... And as a warning... I'm... Pretty big." He caresses your thigh and rubs live circles. "I'm sure I can take it..." You rub your hand and swiftly move your fingers through his hair and purposely undo his other ponytail, his soft and silky black hair falling down to his shoulders. He hums in response, "I... don't think so." He still removes your pants and shaky removes your panties.
Out of instinct, you pull your baggy foggy blue T shirt down and cover your pussy and squeeze your thighs together. Choso looks a little worried that you covered yourself and also because he wanted to admire your body. "Love... We need to remove your shirt unless you want it on?" His frame hovers over yours, his legs straddled around yours. You look up at him with a worried glance. God, he looks so hot like that. Glaring down at you with his long hair, his bare chest and pants dangerously low on his hips.
To show you're okay and comfortable, you lift your shirt off and unclip your bra, tossing it to the side. Choso's eyes roam all over your nude body and his boner grows. "Fuck..." He curses under his breath. He needs to be inside... Now. But he takes his time and slides a finger in between your legs, earning a small 'eep' from you in the process. You slowly open your legs wider to let him inside. He rubs on your clit and moves to find your cunt. Slowly, his middle finger goes it. That's when he realizes how tight you are. You're going to need some mad stretching... You wrap your arms around his back as he leans closer to you and plants feather kisses on your neck. You mutter something out while his finger pushes in deeper. He gently runs it in and out before pressing it in and curling his fingers. Soon, he adds his ring finger in and gets you all wet.
Of course, you had your fingers inside yourself before but yours aren't as long and as thick as his. And the way he is so gentle with it makes you all whiney.
Choso gets rougher with your before trying harder to please you. "C...Cho." You whimper in his ear. It takes every fiber in his being not to put in his dick. You say you can handle it, you claim with a little smirk. As if. A whole 7.2 inches long and a width of 2 inches... And he's a grower, so God knows what he is right now, and let's hope for your sake it's not even an inch. "What is it, baby?" He looks into your glossy eyes. "What's wrong...?" He rubs your cheeks. "I can take it... No n-need to restrain yourself." You claim. Choso shakes his head and plunges his fingers in deeper to silence you. "Not yet, princess... Be patient. You're still so tight and it won't work-" he tries his best to clarify that to you. You pout at him. Choso presses his lips onto yours and melts you with his tongue kiss. You moan into his mouth and whine. He pulls apart and a small strand of saliva hangs beside he does down again to lick your lips and enjoying your flavor all while thrusting his fingers and curling them inside your wet walls. You close your eyes in bliss and focus on the pleasure. You open them to see his hot body with the TV'S flashing blue and yellow to red lights on him through half lidded eyes. Who knew he could look so damn majestic while being so filthy? He begins to go rougher on you, your wetness seeping out. You moan helplessly, in such ecstasy as his fingers work magic in you. "Ngh... C-Choso, I--- shit~" your eyes roll in the back of your head, the pleasure chasing you. It gets all fuzzy and you just succumb willingly, knowing you're safe in his hands. He smirks at your state and goes down to bite the flesh near your neck and trail wet kisses down your neck to your chest. His thumb sneakily finds its place to message your clit. Your breath hitches-- "Sh, baby... I got it."
No way it's his first time. He's multitasking like he's done this before, like he has bodies on bodies of women and maybe even men... He's doing way too well for someone's first time. But the truth is, he just spent time learning how to please you and he's doing what he thinks is right.
You arch you back when the familiar feeling (because you to please yourself) builds up and makes your heart pound in your ears. But then the pleasure shifts to an overwhelmingly stuffed feeling... It feels so different to you. "Somethings... Happening..." You squeak out weakly. But Choso doesn't stop, matter of fact, he goes harder, the lewd sounds echoing. "Choso~" you try to warn and move his hands away but he grabs your hand and interlocks your finger, pressing it above your head. Your voice gets louder and your sweet moans drown out the TV. You cum on his fingers for the first time, yet it comes out different. It almost gushes and it's a huge mess.
It felt so different ...
Choso smirks at his work before kissing you breathless. His fingers slowly go out, your slick connecting with his fingers before he breaks it, pulling away. "What did I just do?" You question hazily as if Choso knows. "You had an orgasm. I'm sure that's not your first one..."
"N-no, but it was so intense and--!"
Choso cuts off your rambling and kisses you sweetly. "Did you feel good?" He asks you lowly in such a sexy tone. You pause before timidly nodding. "Then that's all that matters..."
Finally, he presses you on your back and puts your knees near your head. He unties the knot in his pants before pulling his dick out. Your eyes widen and the shear size. He's... He's fucking unrealistically big. At least to a virgin who never saw this in real life, in front of her face. Choso looks at your face with worry. "I'll be easy on you, okay? Besides, you said you can take it all..." He positions his dick head to your wet cunt. "I didn't think you'd be s-so damn big...!"
His tip pushes inside you, the thickness stretching you out more than his two fingers did. Thanks to his careful prepping, it goes in much easier than imagined. "Ah... Gosh, you feel better than I imagined..." he grits his teeth. "So tight still..." He grunts. You cry out and claw at his back, feeling tears build up. Choso quickly goes to rub the tear and kiss some stray ones away and to your quivering lips. "I got you..." He whispers to you. Only 3 inches in and it begins to hurt. "Cho...so... N-no more..." You whimper and squirm around his size. "S' big..." Your eyes water. "One more? A little bit more, kay? I won't put it all in, just a bit..." He condolences you while his hand grabs your neck. Yet the way his hand wraps around your neck doesn't feel threatening or in a sadistic way, he doesn't put any pressure at all. He just holds your neck and rubs. You nod and give him consent... He pushes a little more in before stopping. 4 inches in completely, yet you still have 3, almost 4 more to go. And it almost hurts you. "Adjust, baby. Get comfortable." He speaks firmly.
"I'm f-fine..." You hic with lazy eyes staring at him, tears daring to come out. Choso takes his thumb and smears a tear away. "Mmh... You're so warm around me." His eyes go half lidded and hazy, taking long blinks. You can feel him subconsciously putting more inches in you while he thrusts out. The slow way he does it and rolls his hips, buckling them to yours before pulling out and shoving it back in. It sends a pleasing pain to you. "Oh, s' much... Inches!" You squeal out and toss your head to the side, drool pooling out the corner of your soft lips. Now 6 inches are in you. You're full of cock and it makes you sick off of it. "Can I put the last bit in, princess?" He asks you, his lips dangerously close to your. "Yes..." All of it is in, the base of his dick touching your wetness. He pulls it all out and sees blood... He popped your cherry, your hymen is broken. "Do you feel okay?" The blood causes him to question. You look at him with lustful eyes with a weak pleased smile. "I... Feel different." You exhale sexily. Choso smirks before pushing his dick back in with some ease. The full feeling spreads again. He begins to move in the same previous motion, his hips rolling and his dick pressing on your G-spot. Your breath stalls from the full feeling. You scream out, moans echoing around and fitting the mood. Your eyes water and chest rises before abruptly stopping. You breath hitches from when the full length comes back in, so much inches of cock killing your insides, more blood getting on it. His hot and sweaty hand moves away from your neck and rests on your chest. "Breathe, just breathe..." He coaxes you. You try your hardest, but you've never been so damn full before. His hard dick glides in at a faster pace, you cunt loosening and making him feel so good. He moans out and lowers his head, black hair strands hanging while he goes rougher... Soon, he's pounding in you, the sound of skin to skin hitting being so loud your moans almost drown out. You grips onto his back for support and tears stream, yet even in such a horny state, Choso kisses the salty water away and rubs on your thighs before giving your hand a loving firm squeeze. All of this shows just how much he lives you and he's trying to make you feel as good as he can. You gasp out when he pounds balls deep, the pleasure becoming too much. "Choso--"
"Breathe baby, it's f-fine---fuck---you're okay~" he tries to keep in all of his bottom moans. You mewl helplessly and feel that same overstock orgasm... Your nails begin to cut a thin layer of skin on his back when the feeling rises. "shit, i-its coming, im---" you squirt uncontrollably, clear liquid flowing out. Choso fucks you through it, loving how you twitch around him and squeeze. It causes his orgasm to creep around. What he has been waiting for, he saved it for you because he wanted to cum for you and only you. Choso thrusts into you like a hungry man and pulls out right when the white cum whips out, seed falling on your stomach and some in between your shaky warm thighs.
You both pant heavily as the after glow. Choso takes his time to admire the mess in front of you, your hair is messy, your body has his cum on display, your cum and how it drenched the sheets and his pants, the way your chest rises and falls, you glistening pussy. He snaps out his trance when your eyes lock on his. "Cho...?" You breathe heavily, still trying to collect air. "Yeah, sweetheart?" He leans over you and wipes some staining tears on your face. "C-can we take a bath together?"
How could he say no?
He took you to the bathroom, he placed you in the warm water with him. In the shower, he simply couldn't keep his hands off you, offering to help bathe you knowing damn well he was asking just to feel all over you again. He kept kissing you whenever you were distracted and loved to lick over the hickeys he left all over your neck and get firm grips on your breast, nibble on your ear, grind on you. It was like he was still so horny and needy for you. But your fucked out, cumming twice was so overstimulating, and that wasn't even a regular orgasm that happens when you play with yourself.
He stayed in the bed with you, having you wrapped in his arms as he whispered to you. "Did I do well?" He constantly asks. "Yes, for the 29th time. Are we going to make it 30?" You playfully roll your eyes. Choso fleecy chuckles and snugs you closer. "I just like the affirmation." He says into the crook of your neck. "Because I'll tell you over and over again how amazing you did for me..." His voice lowers and goes straight to your heart. You scoff and look down at his deep purple eyes that shimmer for your affection. "I didn't even do anything..." You grumble, getting redder at the second. "You made me cum and got me ever so hard plus let me take your virginity."
"That's what you do in sex, Cho..." You run your fingers through his hair (you do it so much it's like second nature). Choso sighs heavily and looks at your sleepy eyes. "I know... But seems like what you didn't know about the after affects of sex. You're getting sleepy." He brushes his finger over your red nose, turning redder. You mumble into his chest . "Sh..."
He rumbles a laugh and kisses the top of your forehead and gets into a comfy position with your legs straddled around him. "Rest well, princess..."
✨Ze End✨
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f1girliefics · 4 months
Text
Taking Back My Love
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Lando Norris x Reader
Warnings: mention of possible cheating, alcohol consumption
Summary: You wanted to relax, forget and get drunk, but of course, the universe had another plan.
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Slow dancing to an upbeat song.
Holding each other close as everyone around you seemed to have disappeared in the fog.
The club was loud.
And yet, you didn't hear anything. Possibly the tequila shots you had earlier were finally working. 
All you could see, hear and feel was him.
You weren't even sure if you were moving to the beat of the song.
You moved as he moved and placed a kiss on your neck. 
Then suddenly as he pulled back everything came back.
The noise, the music and the pain.
You pushed the stranger back.
"I don't feel good," you said, not caring if he heard or not. Then you rushed to grab your bag and left. Just as you exited the club, you locked eyes with Lando. He was alone, with his phone in his hand.
"Ah. I had a feeling you would be here." he had a white hat on.
Of course, you would. It is where you met him after all.
You heard the door behind you open and close.
"Why did you leave, Babe?" you didn't look at the guy, but Lando did. "We were having fun, no? Let's go back and dance." 
You watched Lando as his anger grew.
Good.
At least now he had some form of idea of how you felt.
How you still feel.
Betrayed. Hurt.
You love him for fucks sake!
And yet because of some PR move, McLaren had him go out on a "date" with a model... Even though people knew he was in a relationship already.
Thankfully the whole thing backfired.
Lando told you what he had to do, minimising everything saying it would be only a business dinner.
Then you saw the photos, much like everyone. Him smiling and laughing with the woman. The photos really made it look like a romantic date...
You called him, voicemail.
You left him about 15 voicemails, all yelling and crying about how he betrayed you.
Then, the public.
Since it was a known fact that he was dating you, most of the fans started to say that he was a cheater. They called him all kinds of names.
It got to a point where McLaren had to come out with a statement about Lando still being in a relationship with you, it was a business dinner he attended with the model.
No one believed it.
Especially since you broke up with him on the spot.
The photos of him with someone else, having a romantic dinner were too much.
And that is how you got to this club, to numb your pain and forget him.
The guy behind you grabbed your arm and you moved out of his reach.
"I told you I have to go."
"Don't care, I'll buy you another drink."
"I believe she said no." Lando spoke up beside you. 
"Actually," you said moving back inside. You moved to the bar, asking for a tequila shot. 
You knew you shouldn't have.
It will make you lose control.
And it did. 
Next thing you knew, you were outside again, crying as Lando was following you, trying to catch up as you walked... God knows where.
"Stop following me!" you turned and looked at him. You had enough. "Go back to that supermodel with long gorgeous legs and perfect hair and skin! You betrayed my trust, I don't want to see you. I just want to forget you."
"I'm so sorry. She was drunk and I pushed her away but she kept coming on me. I told her I have a girlfriend."
"HAD! You HAD a girlfriend. You don't have one now, so go and get your model." you turned but he moved quickly to stand in front of you.
"Please just, listen to me once."
"I already did. I sat there for an hour, in silence, listening to your explanation. Do you realize what you had done? You said it was a simple business dinner, then I saw the photos of you and her smiling at each other. Then when I freaked out you confessed what the PR team's plan was... I don't deserve this, not after three years, Lando."
"And I agree with you. I-I do. And I'm so fucking sorry. How can I get you back?"
"Leave me alone." you said as you walked past him.
You rushed home, closing the door behind you.
You needed a bath and some food.
You were still drunk, but the pain in your heart didn't stop.
No matter what you did.
---
The next morning you woke up with a headache, but you were proud of yourself.
Even drunk, you stood up for yourself and let Lando know what you think and feel.
It sure didn't ease your pain but it was something.
You ordered some breakfast and watched some TV.
Then a friend of yours sent you a text.
"Check Lando's insta."
"I have him blocked." was your reply, but then she sent another text with a screenshot.
You read 'Hello Everyone, I would like to clean up a big misunderstanding that has been happening for the last couple of weeks. 
It is true that I had a meeting and dinner with a famous model, it is true that at the time I was in a relationship.
I completely understand why everyone on the internet called me a cheater.
I'm here to apologise to all of my fans and to Y/N. She didn't deserve this and I do and continue to suffer from this. But the real victim here is Y/N. I am truly sorry for everything I have done to hurt you.
I hope all my fans can understand that I will take a step back from social media.
Thank you.'
The post was nothing you didn't expect. It was clearly not only his words in there but it did mean a lot for you that he publicly apologised.
"I think you should take him back." another text from your friend. "Both of you suffered enough because of this, I believe it is time to put it behind yourselves and move forward. But I would understand if you said no. It is your decision. I just believe I have never seen people more in love and fit to be together than the two of you."
"Thanks." you texted her back after a couple minutes.
And unblocked Lando's phone number.
You ignored the flood of texts that came and pressed call.
"Can you come over?" you asked as soon as he picked up. 
"Y-Yeah, I will be right there!" Lando answered with the hopes that you weren't just going to hand him the rest of the clothes that he had at your place.
You opened the door for him and sat him down on the couch, you sat next to him.
"I listened to you, now you listen to me." he nodded. "I read your post. And I understand what happened. I know it was all to make the fans of the model interested in F1 and become McLaren fans. I get it. It was a horrible plan. They chose you because Oscar isn't as outgoing. And knowing him and his girlfriend, he wouldn't have gone in the first place. I'm not saying that I'm ready to fully forgive you. But I do want you back." you could see in his eyes that his hopes were back. The shine came back in an instant.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so so much Y/N! I will do everything you ask of me."
"Then don't pull another stunt like this."
"I-I won't. I already spoke with everyone and they agreed, the faithful boyfriend is a lot better for PR than a... cheater... clearly." you smiled at him as he hugged you, he held you tight. "I am sorry. I promise I will never do anything like this again." he pulled back but you stayed close to him.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't go out with girls. I know you have friends... just..."
"I get it. If it's anything, I had a bad time the entire night I was there."
You smiled at him once more and even laughed a little.
"But I'm not taking this for granted, your forgiveness, I mean. I definitely understand that I fucked up and I have to prove my loyalty. I promise you, I will be better."
"Thank you, Lando." you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
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/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
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dancingbirdie · 4 months
Note
Here’s a smut idea that’s been stuck in my mind, how about the reader getting caught in the middle of “taking care of themself” and Astarion decides to join the fun but only to guide their hands along and just cooing soft, encouraging/teasing words into their ear 😩
Hi, anon! This was so naughty and I loved it. I wrote this fic in, like, less than two hours. So I guess that shows how excited I was to sketch this out haha. I hope you enjoy! xoxoxo
A Good Show
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.5K
Warnings/Tags: masturbation (fem), praise kink, voyeurism, slight dom/sub vibes
Summary: Astarion catches you playing with yourself and is all too eager to help you finish.
*****
“Your wicked tongue got you into this predicament. You know that, don’t you?” Astarion smirked down at you, sprawled as you were on hands and knees over his lap. 
You whimpered as his fingertips traced across your backside, feather-soft, mapping the skin there. 
You heard the crack of his palm against your bottom before you actually registered the sting. A desperate mewl slipped from your lips as your mind attempted to reconcile the pain with the flood of arousal in your lower abdomen. 
You were so wet. Dripping, filthy wet. And he knew it. 
“Tch. So naughty. Not even a good smack can get you to behave. Whatever shall I do with you, hmm?” Astarion murmured. His hand resumed its tracing while the other carded through your hair lovingly. 
“Whatever you want,” you breathed, trembling with want from the obscene position you found yourself in. Naked, bent over Astarion’s lap, ass smarting, and cunt as wet as the Chianthar. 
“Dangerous words, darling,” he chuckled, dipping his fingers lower and slipping all too easily between your slick folds. 
You moaned as you felt him insert two fingers inside you and begin pumping at a leisurely pace. His other hand soon joined, thumb circling slowly around your swollen clit. It was all you could do to remain balanced and not collapse on top of his lap. 
You could see it so clearly in your mind’s eye. 
Although it was your fingers pumping inside you, it was his hands you thought of. It was his slender digits, impaling you again and again. It was his thumb circling your clit until you nearly saw stars. 
You’d shoved the collar of your tunic in your mouth to keep your voice muffled. The vision you were concocting was so vivid, it was nearly impossible to stop yourself from moaning. The humble little inn you all had settled in for the night was so quiet; you could only pray that no one heard you through the thin walls. But just a few more pumps of your fingers with fantasy-Astarion goading you on, and you knew that a climax would be nearing ever closer. 
Your hopes for secrecy were dashed as your ears pricked, honing in on the quiet cough emanating from the corner of the room. You froze. To your horror, you realized the door to your quarters was ajar and who else but Astarion himself was now peering around it to find you, perched at the end of the bed, trousers at your ankles, playing with yourself. 
You could have sworn you’d secured the latch on the door beforehand. But, then again, this place was in shambles. It was fully possible that the thing was too rusted to do its simple job. Either way, it hardly mattered now, given that the subject of your pleasure fantasy was now locking eyes with you in reality, his eyebrows raised in obvious amusement. 
“My, my. What do we have here? And, more importantly, why didn’t I receive an invitation?” he smirked. 
His voice spurred you into action, and you quickly rose from your reclined position to attempt to cover your not-so-decent bits from view. You could feel the red crush of embarrassment coloring every part of your body it could. 
“Astarion, I’m so, so sorry. I swore I closed the door earlier and… and…” you trailed off, burying your face in your hands. “Gods, this is worse than a javelin to the thigh,” you finished in a muffled tone.
You heard his throaty chuckle. “These locks are all but disintegrated, darling. They’d barely hold a mouse at bay, I’d wager.” 
You nodded, too mortified to continue having this conversation with him. It was bad enough to have been caught in the act, but to be caught by the very person you’d been fantasizing about? The gods were truly cruel. 
You heard the door close with a quiet snick. Assuming Astarion had sauntered off down the hall, your shoulders sagged with the weight of all that had transpired. 
You didn’t expect his voice to call to you again. This time, a little closer in proximity. 
“Well, is that it, then?” he goaded. 
You lifted your head slowly from your hands to peer at him. He was watching you with an intensity that one might see in a predator observing their prey. 
“What do you mean?” you hedged. 
“I mean, are you going to leave yourself half-sated, or are you going to finish what you started?” Astarion intoned. 
“What - are you thinking of staying for a show?” you retorted, flabbergasted at yet another turn in the course of these events.
“Wouldn’t you like me to?” he pressed, a teasing smile stretching his lips wide. His fangs glinted in the candlelight. “I heard you sigh my name, you know.”
You stared at him in horror, but he only chuckled again. 
“The wonders of elf ears and vampiric senses. They never cease,” he explained. 
Then he made his way further into the room, closer to you, before slouching against one of the bedposts at the foot of the bed. 
“I know you want to,” he murmured in a low drawl. “I can feel your arousal. It’s still boiling within you.”
Your breath stuttered of its own accord. His voice was so deep, so smooth, it was nearly impossible to resist. 
“I don’t know that I can…” you whispered, not trusting your voice to keep the gravity of your desire a secret. “What with you, you know, just standing there watching me…”
“Oh, darling,” he cooed, peeling away from the bedpost to crawl up on the mattress behind you. You watched him, awestruck, until he disappeared from your peripheral vision. 
“I plan to do much more than that,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. 
You shivered as you felt his legs stretch and line up against yours, while his hands came to band around each of your wrists. You groaned as you felt the hardness of his erection pressed firm against your backside, realization dawning on you that he was enjoying this, too. 
“Wh-what are you doing?” you breathed as you allowed him to lift your hands from your lap. Like you were a marionette on strings. His marionette. His strings. 
“Making sure you give yourself a good finish,” he crooned. “Now, lean back into me, and start touching yourself again.”
The obscenity of it all caused your cunt to flush with arousal all over again. You clenched on thin air, a pitiful whine escaping your mouth. 
“Three fingers this time, please,” Astarion whispered, nudging your right hand down lower. “I know you can take it.” 
Your fingers followed his orders almost of their own accord. Like your body was primed and ready to take Astarion’s demands, whatever they may be. 
You groaned as you sheathed three fingers inside your dripping cunt, pulsing them in and out. It was tight, so tight, but in the most delicious way. 
“There’s a good girl,” he murmured through a kiss against your temple. “Now the other hand, if you will.”
You whined as he guided the fingers of your left hand to begin circling your swollen clit, almost too sensitive to bear. 
“That’s it, darling. Yes. You follow orders so well,” he crooned. “Give yourself a good finish. Let me see how you touch yourself when you’re thinking of me.”
You were beyond words. Couldn’t fathom enough of them to string together a sentence. His name and a plea to the gods were all you could muster, and after a while those two seemed to blend into one. Astarion was the only god here that you could feel. And it was his praises you sang as he kept a firm grip on your wrists, forcing yourself to usher in your completion. 
“You’re so close, I can almost taste it,” he breathed into your ear. You could feel his ragged breathing behind you as you continued to touch yourself, back arching into his chest all the while.
“Give me a good show, darling. Come for me. Come with my name on your lips,” he ordered. 
Your body was more than willing to comply. With a last thrust of your fingers, landing all the harder thanks to the extra force Astarion applied to your hand, you wailed his name as you climaxed. Your body shuddered as you reeled from the pleasure of it, stars exploding behind your eyelids and reforming from the dust that remained. 
It was the hardest orgasm you had ever experienced by your hand, and you knew it had everything to do with the one who had been guiding you. You collapsed your full weight into Astarion’s chest, soaking in the coolness of his skin against your heated flesh. 
“That was… that was incredible…” you murmured after a moment spent collecting your breath. 
You bounced against his body slightly as he chuckled. “It was, wasn’t it?” he mused. “You gave quite the performance, I have to say.” 
“I had an excellent instructor,” you teased, eliciting a true bark of laughter from him at last. 
“Free lessons for you, whenever you’d like,” he retorted, kissing your temple once more.
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leighsartworks216 · 5 months
Text
Migraine Pain
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
Wrote this for me bc I have a migraine rn and I want Astarion to act as my personal cold pack. Beginning of Astarion's dialogue taken from the vid Neil did of an Astarion wake up call lol
Not proofread bc brain hurts
Warnings: migraine descriptions, pain, light angst if you squint, swearing, OOC Shadowheart
Word Count: 1,839
Main Masterlist
First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist
AO3
Tag List Form
The two knocks at the door split your skull. Each one like an iron spike hammered into your temples. All you could do was hide deeper under the covers, hoping they would muffle the sound enough to stop hurting.
“Darling, get up,” Astarion called through the wood. Two more knocks accentuated his annoyance. He groaned when he didn’t hear any movement. “Get the fuck up!”
You wished you could tell him what was going on - really you did. But the slightest twitch from your tadpole was enough to have you wishing for death. Hells, you’d make a deal with Raphael with unbalanced terms just so it would go away! Instead, all you could do was wait it out. It would be a long wait indeed.
With another irritated sigh, you could hear the familiar scrape of his lockpicking tools working at the lock. Even the quiet metal-on-metal grated right against your eardrums. Fortunately, he was exceptionally skilled, because with a click the door was swinging open.
He rolled his eyes when he saw the lump of your body underneath the blankets. “My gods, you’re so lazy. Just like Gale.” His footsteps, even as an elven rogue, were too damn loud. You pressed your nose into the mattress, willing the thumping pulse in your head to stop. It thudded behind your eyes with each step.
In one swift motion, the blankets that provided the small mercy of darkness were whipped off of you. You curled as tightly into yourself as possible, covering your head with your arms to block out the sunlight streaming into your room. Astarion scoffed.
“Get out of bed and get up!” He gestured to the window. Even though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the rustling of his shirt. “It’s the morning. Listen, I might be a vampire that’s been away from the sun for 200 years, and I can actually now walk in it thanks to a tadpole that’s induced my mind,” he rambled, before huffing indignantly, “but even I don’t rest in!”
Now was the worst time for his dramatics. You usually adored how sassy and silly he could be, but now it just drove a stake through your brain. Even the Absolute couldn’t cause a pain this agonizing.
You whimpered, reaching out with one arm to swat him away. You missed. “Please, stop,” you whined. “Head hurts.”
He clicked his tongue. “Nothing the cleric can’t fix. C’mon, she can do whatever it is she does on our way out of here.”
You shook your head slowly, burying your face further and further into the bed. Gods, why did it have to hurt so fucking bad? Your chest tightened as the burn of tears stung at your eyes. Even crying hurt. Your body trembled and shook, your hands tangling into your hair to press at your affliction, as choked sobs suffocated you. Each gasp for air felt like a vice gripping your brain.
“Darling?” Astarion spoke, much softer. You couldn’t answer. He sighed softly, no longer annoyed. Well, a little annoyed. He dragged the blankets back up to your shoulders. “I’ll get Shadowheart.”
His footsteps were much lighter as he rushed out of your room. Was… this the work of the tadpoles? But wouldn’t they be affected, too? Ugh, why couldn’t anything be simple in this damn group of weirdos?
Shadowheart rushed in a moment later, remembering to keep her steps light halfway to you. She knelt down, frowning at the sight of the group’s leader so shaken. “Is it a migraine?” she whispered.
A sharp pain bolted through your temples as you nodded. You whimpered.
She sighed quietly. There was nothing her magic could do; migraines weren’t something she could just heal. “I’ll tell the others and whip up some tea, alright?”
She didn’t wait for your answer and set to work closing the curtains over the windows. Astarion frowned, missing the golden light already. “What’s wrong with them?”
Shadowheart put a finger over her lips with a glare. He scowled, but didn’t say anything. She only spoke when she was right next to him in the doorway. “They have a migraine. They’re extremely sensitive to light and sound right now.”
“Can’t you do something?” He glared impatiently at her, crossing his arms.
“There’s nothing for it. All we can do is wait. I suggest getting comfortable - we’re not leaving today.” She slipped past him, back down the stairs to the rest of your anxious companions.
He tapped his arm as he watched the lump under the blankets shift slowly as you finally uncovered your head. Baldur’s Gate was so close. Cazador was so close. They couldn’t deal with these delays when he was so damn close to being honestly, truly free.
He hadn’t moved from his post by the door when Shadowheart returned with a steaming cup of tea. She placed it carefully on your bedside table. “Drink this,” she whispered. “It should help with the pain.”
You nodded slightly, wiping at your face. She offered a little sympathetic smile. She gave Astarion a stern look as she passed. “Don’t try taking a nibble, vampire.”
He forced a sweet smile. “Offering yourself up instead?”
She scoffed, scrunching her nose up at the mere thought. “They need rest. And you leering over them isn’t going to help.” She left once more, with a last cursory glance over her shoulder to see if he’d leave.
Once she was out of sight, Astarion stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him. His feet barely made a sound as he found his way back to your side. At least you weren’t curled up into a little ball anymore. Or crying. Small mercies, he supposed. He had no idea how to deal with someone being sick, let alone someone crying.
You looked at the cup on the table. Liquid salvation. The real trick was being able to drink it.
With a deep breath, you forced yourself to sit up, wincing and whimpering with every jerky motion. He was honestly shocked you didn’t jump when he grabbed your arm to help, but perhaps you really were that out of it. Or you knew he was there. Either way, you thank him in the smallest, most pathetic voice he’s ever heard.
Comfortably propped up on a stack of pillows against the headboard, you reached over to try grabbing the cup. He caught your hand just before you knocked the cup over.
“Careful, darling,” he chastised quietly. With a put-out sigh, he sat down at the edge of the bed and picked up the cup. He brought the rim to your lips. “Since you’re so incapable…”
You carefully took a sip. Your whole face relaxed at the warmth, and the soothing herbs mixed in. It wouldn’t be an immediate remedy, but it was a very pleasant one. After you eagerly drained half the cup, he set it back on the table. You sighed with relief, content in the knowledge even a single percentile of your pain could be eased away.
“You don’t have to stay,” you mumbled, watching him through squinted eyes. Even the dimness of the room was too bright for you.
He rolled his eyes playfully. “Least I could do after such a rude awakening.”
You chuckled, but the sound was cut short with a strong wince. You sat there for a moment, face pinched and brow tight as you waited for the sting to pass. Once it did, your face softened once more.
“How bad is it?”
“Like Dwarves are taking pickaxes to my temples in search of gold.” You took a breath. “And like an ogre is sitting on my head.”
He huffed a laugh. “Not much I can do to help with that, love.”
You hummed, shaking your head ever so slightly. You didn’t want to go jostling the miners when they were so damned hard at work.
With a small gesture toward the cup, Astarion helped you finish off the last half of the tea. A small dribble fell from the corner of your mouth down your chin. He caught it with his thumb quickly, the knuckles of his closed hand brushing your cheek. You leaned into the touch immediately, without even thinking about it. You sighed with relief.
“You’re cold.”
“Mm. Comes with being undead.” He set the cup aside, but allowed his hand to linger. In fact, he opened it up so he cupped your cheek with his palm. A sharp chill raced down your spine, but you didn’t pull away.
It was curious, how easily you placed yourself in his care. Watching as your eyes shut in easy tranquility as you indulged in the coolness of his hand, how relaxed you became - it surprised him. You always found new ways to amaze him.
Slowly, not wishing to jostle you, he moved to press his hand to your temple. If he thought you were relaxed before, this was utter bliss. “Gods, don’t stop,” you begged.
He glanced at the door, half expecting Shadowheart to burst in and yell at him for disturbing you. But nothing happened. Still, it would be better to avoid being told off. He pulled away, but kept a hand on your arm. “Lay down, dove.”
Whether out of desperation to have him acting as a cold compress once more or just to take the pressure off your brain, you complied in a heartbeat. Slowly, you shimmied back down into the covers, head situated on a pillow once more.
Astarion thought for a moment. Did he really want to keep sitting here, back tiring out, arms reaching for hours? You whined, placing a hand over his on your arm, asking without words for relief. He hushed you.
As quickly as he could without shaking the bed, he stood, rounded it, and slipped in under the covers beside you. You gravitated toward him immediately, even as you winced. Head on his chest, arms clinging to him like a babe holding onto its mother, you relaxed into the natural chill he offered. He rested a hand back on your cheek, but slid the other to the back of your neck. That was the sweet spot, it seemed; you practically melted in his arms.
It wasn’t long before you were fast asleep, lulled into peace with the aid of the tea. He stared at the dark curtains blocking out the sun. One more day couldn’t hurt, surely. Not that they really had a choice, but…
You stirred in your sleep, turning your head to press your nose further into the ruffles of his shirt. Like this - bags under your eyes, hair a mess, a bit pallid - he was sure. He would Ascend. You’d never have to suffer like this again. Neither of you would. He’d be the most powerful man in the lands, with you at his side. Never again would he have to live in fear, bound in chains to someone else.
He sighed and rested his cheek lightly on your head. Gods. Just a few days now.
---
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buckgasms · 11 months
Text
Dr's. Barnes and Rogers (Part 1)
Don't worry I am already writing part two I just needed to set the scene before we get to the goooood stuff 🩷
This is doctor kink territory y'all 💦
Tagging @biteofcherry for being a wonderful enabler. Thank you for bringing this out of me and many others with one simple question 😂
@zonkie-bee
Just note this part contains mentions of pregnancy, fertility talk and a gaslighting ex-husband (he's not in it tho). If that might trigger you just give me a day and the next chapter will be just pure filth.
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You sat in the waiting room of the Barnes & Rogers Clinic, feet tapping nervously. You were here to have a fertility check up, already feeling like you knew the sad truth.
Your ex husband had been certain that you couldn't have children, that the process of trying to have a baby had been made more painful for your failures. He was a dick. But the doubt and worries continued to plague you.
Finally a friend gently suggested you go to the best fertility clinic in the city. Then you could get actual answers and real solutions. It took some persuading but you decided to try it. What did you have to lose?
At that moment the office door clicked open and Dr. Barnes popped his head out. "Are you my 10am appointment?" You nod and he steps back, and you shuffle in, hoping he doesn't notice how flustered you are at how absolutely gorgeous he is.
You take a seat on the comfy couch, as he sits in an armchair across from you. You try to relax as he welcomes you and picks up his paperwork.
"So, your papers say you're worried about your ability to conceive? Are you married or trying for a baby currently?" He asks, a strand of hair falling into his face as he looks at you with kind, professional concern.
"Um... No not married anymore. That's um.... That's why we split. I just wanted to know...if it was...me? My ex said.... It was me..."
He nods, a glimmer of anger seems to cross his features. "It's never anyone's fault sweetheart..." you smile a little, a flutter in your stomach but then he moves on. He asks questions about your diet, physical activity, and of course your previous attempts at trying to get pregnant. It brings up some painful memories and he is very sympathetic and gentle with you.
"I know this is hard, you're doing so well. Don't worry sweetheart, we'll sort all this out together ok?" You look at his sweet, handsome face and smile. You feel better already. After a further few questions he leads you into his consultation room and explains the tests he's about to conduct.
The big examination bed with stirrups looks a little intimidating but his hand presses at your lower back and guides you with more confidence. "I need to take a sample, which might be a little uncomfortable but I'll do my best to be gentle ok. Just take off your skirt and underwear and get comfortable in the stirrups." He heads out of the room and you hear him chatting to another man in the corridor.
After a few moments you are legs akimbo and feeling a bit ridiculous. But the leather beneath you is soft and smooth, and the room is warm so you feel as comfortable as you'll ever be. He comes back in and he clears his throat at the view of you.
From his perspective the most beautiful perfect angel is laying spread out on his chair, her most intimate parts there for him to enjoy, but for you, you just feel nervous.
"Ok sweetheart, just relax while I check you over. Don't be embarrassed about any reactions you might have. Totally normal." You huff out a laugh and scoot down at his guidance, goosebumps breaking out as you feel his warm breath fan over your intimate area.
The way he probes you makes you bite your lip as you try not to moan. It's honestly the best pelvic exam you've ever had. By the time it comes for him to take a sample you are almost totally unaware of why you are there in the first place.
When he announces he's finished you are mortified to hear yourself whine in disappointment. Thankfully he either doesn't here or pretends he doesn't so you can chide yourself for being such an embarrassment as you get dressed.
"Ok sweetheart, I'll give you a call once we get the results." You shake his soft hand and he squeezes it gently as you smile and make you way out of his office.
⚕️
So here you were a few weeks later. You felt so nervous because when Dr Barnes called you he didn't actually tell you the results. He just told you to come in because he needed to discuss things face to face.
Finally the door clicked open and you were greeted by the handsome face of Dr Barnes. You smiled tightly as you walked in but were surprised to see another doctor sitting in the office on the couch. "This is Dr. Rogers, I wanted to have him here for this consultation, I hope that's ok?"
You nodded,trying to ignore how gorgeous both these doctors were before dropping your bag to the floor and sinking into the seat. It must be really bad if it takes two hot doctors to tell you what's written on that paper.
"Are you ok sweetheart?" Barnes asks, looking concerned at you, reading your mood as Dr Rogers turns towards you, his face also reading concern. Your eyes well up and you sink backwards into the cushions. "Can you just get it over with and tell me I'll never.... That I can't...." You broke into sobs and they both came over to you, rubbing gentle hands over your back and shoulders.
"Oh honey! No! I'm so sorry, it's not like that at all!" Barnes curses and squeezes your shoulder. You hiccup a sob and look up at them both. "What do you mean?" Dr Rogers tuts and grabs the paper from his colleague. "What my partner has stupidly failed to mention to you is that, you are in fact very much able to have babies and you don't have anything at all to worry about in terms of your fertility..."
You glance between them both, Barnes looking sheepish and Rogers looking concerned before collapsing into a combination of sobs and giggles. You can't stop laughing from sheer joy and tears of relief slip down your cheeks. Both of the doctors chuckle in surprise at your reaction. Once you calm down a more comfortable mood fills the room.
"I've always wanted a family of my own. Thank you, I feel like I can have that again now..." You smile at them both and they smile back, "just need to find the right man huh?"
"Well what about another route?" Doctor Rogers draws your attention his way and you cock your eyebrow at him. "What would that be?"
He settles back emanating confidence and professionalism, Barnes reclaims his seat and watches. "We have a trial programme, you can sign up for an insemination and we will monitor you from now until the birth of the child or children. There is considerable remuneration and you can even be provided with new accommodation should you desire it..."
You were dumbfounded. You'd never heard of anything like this before and it certainly sounded life changing, but pretty amazing at the same time. "There has to be a catch?" You say suspiciously, unable to believe this is actually real.
"Well, the insemination process is... revolutionary so it requires some open minded thinking..." Barnes says and you feel a bloom of excitement in your stomach as he looks at you.
"And once the baby is born? Is there still help or monitoring? Or are we just out in the world alone?"
You chuckle but they seem to take it quite seriously. "Absolutely not! We... I mean the programme is very interested in the life span of the child. Besides if you are successful you might want to have another perhaps?" Rogers tries to act casual but you feel like you've stumbled on something there.
Barnes hands you an envelope. "Inside is all the information plus the potential candidates for the donors. Take it home, read it and if you want to take part, call me. If not, no harm done."
⚕️
At home you spent a little while pretending to ignore the envelope but finally you caved and had a read through.
There was very little information about the medical procedures other than the things you might expect. Thorough examination process, compatibility, tests and so on. The next set of documents were mostly about the remuneration which almost made your eyes pop out of your head. Thirty Thousand dollars for the first year! All medical costs covered! It also detailed the new accommodation which sounded like the most luxurious apartment on earth. It was almost too good to resist as you looked around your rented studio flat, your instant ramen going cold as you read.
Finally there was a piece of paper that detailed the potential donors. Only two in fact. A tall blonde, with blue eyes, physically fit and a doctor! The other was a slightly shorter brunette, with blue eyes, physically fit.....and a doctor....
Oh...
⚕️
Part two
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shadesoflsk · 5 months
Text
LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF
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pairing: vendetta!leon x fem!reader.
summary: Leon and you have been divorced for a year now. It’s been one hell of a year between his missions and his new lover: alcohol. He thinks he’s doing just fine, after all you’re the one who’s missing out — or so he thinks. It’s until he has fallen ill that he realizes how lonely he is.
warnings: Kinda angsty, arguments, hurt/comfort, Leon is a bit mean but he gets better, mentions of being sick, vomiting wounds, scars, implied happy ending.
word count: 4k (dear god)
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Ragged breaths filled Leon’s dark room as he gasped for air. It all started with a simple headache which he ignored since it was just that, a headache. It wasn’t supposed to develop into something more because he is Leon S. Kennedy he just can’t fall ill. However, the way he stumbled into a wall was a sign of how sick he actually was. 
He cursed the wall, as if it was the one who got into Leon’s way. He felt weak, physically and emotionally. Physically because the pain he was feeling was almost unbearable. Besides the scars that adorned his back and abdomen he felt as if his insides were being split open — he blamed himself — not his missions, not the alcohol. He’s being weak, he’s being a crying baby, he’s being everything he despises in someone. 
And emotionally because he feels like shit. The alcohol has taken a toll on him. Before the divorce he used to drink now and then. Just on special occasions when his darling and him would go on dates. He loved wine — it made him feel so fancy and classy. He used to be like that. Now he’s just the shell of a man. But he doesn’t blame himself for that, he blames you. 
He knew he was being irrational, you did nothing but support him on every step he made. After both of you said “I do” you promised you would go through hell just to make him happy, you promised you would stick with him in good and bad, in sickness and in health. But no one prepared you for the time where he would push you away. You cried, begged and pleaded. You knew Leon had an habit of pushing away people he loved — but you were his wife, the woman he promised to love until the day where his blonde hair turned into a white color, where his stride would be replaced by a limping and unsteady walk proof of the years he has on his back. Yet, after 3 years he decided he had enough. 
“Enough of what?” You bawled with tears filling your eyes as Leon decided to turn on his back and avoid eye contact with you. You clenched your fists — you were never the violent type yet you wanted to hit a wall by the way Leon was throwing away 3 years of marriage. But no matter how much you tried, your question was responded with a dead silence. 
Why was Leon remembering all of this? Simple: because he realized how fucking lonely he was. Back when the two of you were married he used to pretend he was fine. “Baby, you have been coughing since morning.” you often said as you noticed how red Leon was from holding another cough. With a giggle, you would press your hand against his forehead. “A fever,” you added with a worried tone in your voice. Leon only scoffed, waving his hand in a dismissively way as if you were being dramatic. Yet, he never refused your treatments. For a few days you pampered your husband in a way only he knew. You dragged him to bed, made him swallow the pills he hated because they tasted funny. But you also were a nurturing lover — laying on bed next to him even when he protested that you were going to get sick too. “That just means you will have to take care of me,” you retorted with a warm laugh spooning him the way he loves it. Yes, the big and scary man loved being the smaller spoon.
With shaky hands he reached his cellphone. He knew it was a mistake on his part. He was breaking the promise he made to himself. He felt stupid, no, he was stupid. Pushing away the person he loved the most just for the “sake” of protecting you? Yeah, he was. But he wasn’t perfect, God how he wanted to feel like that yet he was flawed, weak and helpless without his rock, without his sunshine. But moreover, he felt selfish. After a year of being away and not even contacting you and suddenly wishing to hear your voice but to specially, see you. But if he was going to be selfish, he was going to be the most selfish person you’ve ever known.
Nonetheless, when he squinted his eyes in order to see the screen of his cellphone, he hesitated for a moment. As the light illuminated his features, bloodshot eyes, dark eyebags and dried tears around his cheeks he wondered what the hell he was going to say to you. “Hey this is your husb- no sorry your ex husband,” he couldn't say that for the love of God! 
By the time he gathered the courage to type your phone number, his head was almost exploding with pain. He pressed the call button as his forehead met with the cold countertop. Seeking something cold enough to cool down his increasing fever. 
The first few seconds were the most anxious moments he has experienced. He was being dramatic, of course. But the thought of hearing your voice, of hearing that sweet and tender melody of yours which made him melt almost instantly. He blamed the fever, of course. He's just calling because he needs help, nothing more.
“Hello?” You said through the other line, voice full of drowsiness and sleepiness since Leon didn't even notice what time it was when he called. He almost drops his phone when he hears your response — what is he supposed to say? As he's deep in thought, unaware of the fact that he has left you without a reply you spoke again “Hey listen. If you're drunk don't call me I don't want t–” 
“I'm not drunk…” Leon responded with a groan as another throbbing pain stabbed his head. He sounded similar as to when he's drunk, that he won't deny. 
“I don't believe that for a second.” Your voice was laced with exhaustion but now it wasn't due to the lack of sleep, it was because of him. No matter how much you try to forget him it seems that he comes back when you're getting better, when you think you're already getting over him.
It was pathetic, really. You didn't believe in soulmates yet you found yourself thinking if both of you were some kind of star crossed lovers. Right person wrong time type of relationship. But you reminded yourself that real life doesn't work like that. Some people just aren't lucky.
“I'm telling you the damn truth!” Leon's voice echoed through his empty living room leaving him speechless by the sudden outburst. He dug his fingernails into his palm as if distracting himself from the pain in his body and the fact that he just fucking screamed at his ex wife. He was met with dead silence and for a moment he thought he blew up the only opportunity he had to talk to you, but he could hear you, the faintest sound of your breathing made him aware that you haven't hung up. At least not yet.
“Look… I'm sorry.” His voice switched up from his sharp tone to a gentler and softer one. He was ashamed of himself but right now he wasn't in the right state of mind. His speech was slurred, proof of how bad the fever was affecting his body. “I–I'm not feeling well… physically well.” Leon's words stumbled into one another as he was explaining his situation. 
And that simple sentence was everything you needed to hear. Leon wouldn't just call you to tell you he's sick. You know him more than everyone else, you know him more than he knows himself. If only your inner voice could stop ringing alarms in your head; the rational part of yourself told you that you shouldn't go. He was your ex husband for a reason. He has all the money in the world to hire a highly-qualified nurse. But no nurse knows him like you do, at least that's what the emotional part of yourself keeps telling you.
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Besides the droplets falling against the windows, the ride to Leon's apartment was silent. The guilty feeling overwhelmed you as you made sure not to break any traffic law in your little trip. It took you barely a second to get your car keys as soon as you heard Leon throwing up in the middle of the phone call. A slurred waterfall of sorry sorry sorry were the last things you heard as you hopped on your car.
The ride was easy, knocking on his door was the real war here. It took you fifteen minutes to drive there and now you're having second thoughts. “Fucking hell…” you mutter under your breath as your fist knocks against the wooden door. You knock twice, as you usually did when you came back from work. When someone welcomed you with a big smile on his face. A minute passed and you got no response. You almost turned on your heel when the door suddenly opened. The scene developing in front of you made your heart ache. 
There he was – the man who once was the most important person in your life. Your missing piece, your other half. But now he was merely a percentage of what he used to be. His once smooth face was replaced by rough features that seemed only to show more as a growing stubble adorned his face. His once blond hair was now a dark shade of brown – you knew he hasn't had the best year of his life but Jesus he looks awful. Yet you can't help but feel how you still feel so much love for this same man.
For Leon, this is another story. His dizziness only seems to get worse by the second as he tries his best to keep balance. His eyes traveled from your eyes to your legs – not in a sexual way but as if trying to see if you had changed. But you haven't. And how dare you? Why haven't you changed? Leon's world has turned upside down since the divorce and you're here, looking like your old self. Again, he was being irrational and stupid. 
“Hey…” you gathered to say with an unsure voice. No one prepares you to face your ex husband. Especially when the simple sight of him makes you feel both like shit and in love. Loving him was like that. 
“You…” his raspy voice came out as a groan as his eyes remained locked on yours. You remember his baby blue eyes – full of love when he kept praising you. for the tiniest things. Now they're slightly hollow and with lack of life. “Please, come in.” Leon widens the door, gesturing for you to enter. It all felt so foreign, the last time you were alone with him was so different from this.
“Now do me a favor and shut up please! Your damn voice irritates me.” you remember how his voice had no traces of love and tenderness. He spat venom right in front of you, no matter how much your face contorted into a crying expression. You always took pride in standing up for yourself and being a fairly independent woman who takes no shit from anyone. However, your values seemed to crash as soon as the fights started. It all began with Leon drinking more and more. And as his addictions started, so did his insults.
You tried fixing him, really. A savior complex you may say. Nonetheless, loving him was never enough. And eventually, Leon made you a bitter person too. That was expected, really. You can't bend a branch without snapping it in half. 
Now, your plans for the night didn't include taking care of a sick Leon. As soon as you entered his apartment, he basically stumbled on his feet. You were quick to catch him – almost falling to the floor because no matter how rough he looked he was still 80% muscles. 
“Sorry…” he whispers as he tries to lean on your shoulder for support. As soon as his forehead touches your skin, you wince in discomfort.
“Leon, you're burning.” you state the obvious as you manage to make him sit on the couch. Your first thought was bringing him to bed but it would be difficult since your ex husband can't even stand up correctly. “How long have you felt like this?”
Leon groans in pain as he tries to remember. Everything is foggy but in his slurred speech, he answers you. “This morning… just a headache and then…this.” 
You sighed, not sure about what to do. You glanced at Leon who sprawled on the couch. Sweat beads fell from his forehead until they stopped on the junction of his neck and shoulder. You see something metallic shimmering in the dim light – you pay no mind for now.
“I'm going to damp a towel… you stay here,” you explained before excusing yourself and walked to the bathroom. There, the emotions came like a waterfall. Gripping the sink with your hands, tears fall from your face as soon as you are alone. You weren't strong enough for this, you weren't built for this. He used to call you sunshine because you were like the warmest sunlights bathing him. But he broke you until you were merely a cloudy and moody day. 
You remember every little thing, every memory and every wish that you shared with Leon. Your mind was playing dirty tricks on you – your worst enemy being yourself. You often wondered what life had in storage for you, as simple as it sounded you longed for simplicity, Leon did too. Wedding rings echoed through your foggy mind as it drifted back to the moment you first saw him standing at the altar. 
Neither of you were religious people, yet you decided to do a more symbolic type of wedding. You remember saying your vows and him saying his – he didn't keep his promises, though. As soon as his oh so called sins started to weigh heavily on his mind, he decided to take it all on you. 
“I don't know why I married you.” “You're so naive, you don't even know what the hell is happening outside of these four walls. Don't you?” Those phrases kept repeating in your consciousness as you damp the towel, quiet sobs escaping your lips as you tried your best to be silent. 
Eventually, you stepped out of the bathroom. Holding a damp towel with a bowl of water. Eyes locked on the floor to see anything but the sight of your ex husband quietly snoring and mumbling nonsenses. The fever was so high his body ultimately collapsed. 
You sat down next to him, brushing away some of his hair that was covering his sticky forehead. He looked peaceful, safely passed out in his dreams. You knew he was safe even though he was burning to the touch. Because as long as you're here, you will look after him. No matter how much he broke you.
You place the damp fabric over his forehead – a sigh of relief left his lips even when he was unconscious or so you thought. The dark filled room brought some sense of comfort to the both of you. Your hand on the fabric attempted to leave its place as Leon remained still yet as soon as you pulled your hand away, a weak but decisive grip caught your wrist.
Your eyes widen when you notice Leon grabbing your wrist oh so delicately. His breath was still ragged, proof of how much his weakened state has affected him. You wanted to break away from his grip, to pull away from him and tell him not to touch. You really wanted to. But did you do it? No. Instead, you decided to let him be. He’s had his fair share of battles throughout his life. His to carry and his to blame and to be blamed. You weren’t going to take away a simple touch. 
“Sorry…” He mumbles, his eyes trying his hardest to open yet he was still met with darkness surrounding him. The effect of medicine and booze was a cocktail and perfect recipe for almost killing him. But as he seeks forgiveness, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something else behind that word.
Was he saying sorry for suddenly grabbing your wrist as a puppy who doesn’t want his owner to leave him? Or was it for everything they had to go through? You don’t know and you don’t even want to know. Because if it’s the latter, you can’t know for certain if you’ll be strong enough to not crumble.
“It’s okay.” you responded back, an empty attempt at reassuring him. He was no fool, he was stupid for many things he has done. But he wasn’t so self absorbed as to not notice how nothing was okay. 
“No, It’s not okay…” Leon grumbled. “Look I’m really sorry for–” 
“For what, Leon?” You finally snapped, voice nearly breaking at the sight of Leon apologizing. “For leaving me alone without answers and wondering what the hell I did wrong?” Previous emotions dawned upon you as your lips trembled. At least the darkness will hide your tears. 
“For making me feel as if I was a failure in the relationship? For making me feel dumb since I couldn’t understand what you were going through? Guess what, Leon. You were right, I didn’t since you never told me shit!” He remained silent through your outburst which wasn’t really one. In his eyes, you were right – as much as he tried to keep blaming you, he couldn’t. As much as he tried thinking that he was the one who was better without you, reality came back and hit him like a truck. He wasn’t. He was miserable without his sunshine, without the person he trusted the most, without the wife he chose to spend the rest of his life with and promised to give her the life both of them wanted.
“Yes.” Leon stated, it seems that his previous weakened state faded away as your rambling continued. “Yes, for all the shit and fucked up things I made you go through. You never deserved it. You never deserved the way I treated you…” Leon’s eyes, as much to his own dismay, start to water. “You didn’t deserve throwing away 3 years of your life marrying a failure of a man such as myself –.” 
You didn't add anything else for the time being. Ironically enough, your hand stayed glued to the damp towel the whole time they argued. 
“Why…?” you asked the million dollar question. Why did Leon leave you? Why did you have to divorce? You could have faced everything, you had all the love in the world, as pathetic as it sounds. 
“Because I was fucking scared.” Leon exhales, his lips trembling a bit from his own fever. He closes his eyes trying to drown in the cool and refreshing sensation the wet fabric provided. “I–I lost so many people throughout my life… And I know that isn't an excuse but it can help you to – to understand my shitty behavior.”
Leon's necklace once again shimmered with the weak source of light that his living room had. He had his head thrown back, relying on your treatments to feel better. To feel something.
“I knew… that I could live without you knowing that you were alive. But I couldn't even fathom the idea of living without you because you died.” Leon finally let go of his own inhibitions and ego. And he sobbed like a baby. His whole body hurt like hell but his mind was aching even more with past memories of him pushing you away. 
Leon's face reflected everything he had to go through. Since that gruesome night of September until his whole unit dying in front of him. The internal battles he had to face all by himself because he indeed pushed away the only person who would sit down and comfort him after a difficult mission.
“There isn't a day that goes by where I don't miss you. I miss your morning face. I miss the way you would always ask me if I wanted dinner. I miss the way you looked at me as if I was the only man you could ever love.”
Leon was going to continue talking, but a coughing fit came into him as he tried his best to hold it back – he turned red, as he used to do back then when they were married. It brought you a soft smile seeing him trying not to interrupt his speech.
As Leon kept on denying himself to take a breath since it would lead to more cough coming out. Unconsciously you brought your free hand to his cheek. Your thumb grazing over one specific scar that he got ages ago. 
“Let's go to sleep, Leon.” you whisper as Leon finally exhaled. His own fatigue betrays his own desires to continue talking. He had so many things to say, so many sorrys to ask. So many kisses to give. Nonetheless, he silently curses his eyes as they close on their own.
Forgiveness doesn't come easily, especially after a year of grief and pain. You can't expect a kiss to make it all better but you can try. Both of you could see the light in this dark situation and let it shine upon you. 
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Morning comes and neither of you know how you ended up cuddling one another. That's a lie, though. You know that as soon as Leon's words came out of lips, his drowsiness did too. Heavy eyelids followed by yawns were proof of how much comfort he was feeling at the moment and he found a perfect excuse to be clingy. He was sick, after all. He could blame it on that.
You were the first one to wake up. Back's aching as hell while you groan in slight discomfort. But as soon as you try moving, a heavy weight on you stops you from doing anything else. Leon's whole body was on top of you. Sucking the air out of your lungs as his strong arms keep you trapped in his warm embrace.
You ponder between the options, dying between his arms while he keeps hugging you like his life depends on it or wake him up and tell him to move. The first one doesn't sound so bad.
However, life has other plans for you as Leon starts waking up. Groggy and disoriented, his eyes flutter open taking in his surroundings. That's when he sees you, practically under his weight as he uses you like a teddy bear. 
Leon's head slightly rose from the comfort he had found against your neck. His bloodshot eyes have turned back into his usual baby blue ones. 
“Morning…” you greeted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As if neither of you have slept together like a married couple. There are many things unsaid and they definitely needed to talk. But it can wait. For now, they just want to be in their little makeshift nest.
“Feeling better?” you asked with the softest of the smiles. Your hand pressed against his growing stubble. It traveled down to his neck as something metallic brushes your finger. With a soft tug, you discovered his own wedding band dangling from a silver chain. 
And you knew from that moment that your heart would always long for him.
“Never been better.” There he goes again, a glimpse of the Leon you've always known. A smug and flirty smile yet full of undivided love. You knew it wouldn't be easy. It won't be easy. 
But the way Leon smiles at you and by the way his lips seem to move on their own accord, make you want to try. It pushes you to help him again. Not changing him because as much as it hurts you – his pain is something he can't just let go. It's part of his identity. But he's the most stubborn man you've ever known. From his ashes, he would grow to be the best agent, the partner and the best husband the world has known. A second chance in life.
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authorhjk1 · 2 months
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Can you make smut about SANA getting fucked by the CEO of Graff in exchange making her ambassador and giving her jeweleries.
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Sana couldn't stop thinking about that one necklace she saw last week. Nothing she did was able to distract her from it. It was weird for her to obsess over something simple like this, but she couldn't help it.
It's unbelievable expensive, which means she could never buy it herself, despite being so successful. And the company wouldn't buy it for her either. Since she isn't the ambassador for Graff, there was no reason for the company to fulfill her wish.
And when she asked to be the ambassador, the company only told her that Graff already has a Korean ambassador. So what could Sana do to get this necklace? And maybe even more?
Ten days later, Sana attended an event, to which the CEO of Graff was going to. That was her chance. She didn't need to put in a lot of effort, apart from being herself. No one could resist her anyways.
And how did she now become the ambassador of Graff? At exactly midnight. When the CEO came all over her face. Sana gasped in disbelief. She didn't expect him to coat her in so much cum. She couldn't even try to swallow half of it.
And now, Sana is lying on her back, getting fucked on one of the counters inside the large kitchen. The chefs all went home already and most of the guests too.
But Sana really wanted that necklace. That's why she is here after all.
"So deep!"
Sana moans loudly as the CEO bottoms out inside of her. Her hair, which her stylist took hours to do, is now sprawled out on the cold surface, partially glazed with a couple of drops of cum.
His hands squeeze her thighs, while Sana holds onto the edge of the counter. She has to force her eyes open, otherwise she wouldn't be able to open them again, once she closes them. His cum would glue them shut.
Sana hisses in pain as he keeps tightening his grip. The thought of giving her body up to be able to wear that necklace made her feel shame at first. But now, she is actually getting off on it.
Sana likes the way he uses her. Like a fleshlight for his pleasure. And she has to take everything, if she wants to be ambassador and wear that one piece of jewelry.
His fingers start to dig into her flesh, almost painfully. The grunts and moans both of them are producing echo through the empty kitchen.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum in you."
Sana lets out a gasp.
Not that she can do anything about it, he made that clear earlier.
Sana feels his warmth fill her body as he finally unloads inside of her. His cum stains her walls, painting them white. He came almost as much as before, now filling her to the brim.
As he pulls out, his cum starts to dribble out of Sana's used pussy. A thought enters her mind. And before she can actually think about it, she parts her cum stained lips.
"What would I need to do for one pair of these earrings your model wore earlier today?"
-----
Sorry for the long wait. I will be catching up with your requests now, which means they should come out one after another over the next weeks. The order on my masterlist is not the release order.
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abibliophobiaa · 1 year
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Hii hope you're having a lovely day
Can I get a forced proximity,fake dating smut with Eddie Munson and the phrase "come on I won't bite, unless you're into that"
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this was such a fun prompt! below is 4k of eddie and r just being adorable as hell. warnings: fluff; barely edited because i’m at work and die like bob in the docs; fem!reader; smut, so 18+ minors dni.
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It was supposed to be simple: show up to your ex's wedding with a date, so that way your friends from college wouldn’t look at you with pitying gazes that clearly said, “Look at the poor, sad, tragically lonely girl.”
For the record, you were none of those things. And maybe it was a little dramatic to think that way. Also yeah, maybe you received those questions from time to time—asked innocently enough, usually—when you planned on settling down, but what if you never wanted to?
But pretending, at the time, to be in a relationship seemed easier than avoiding all of those questioning stares and probing comments.
It had been Max’s idea, actually; you’d been helping tutor her for a college math test when she noticed the invitation on the fridge and you’d laughed about how it was your ex and you still frequented the same friend group, which meant being invited to his wedding was an absolute. You murmured to her in confidence that you really weren’t excited about going; mentioned you were the only one in your college friend group who hadn’t been married off yet or popped out a kid (you shuddered to think of either of the two).
“Why not bring a fake boyfriend or something?” She asked. It seemed so…silly at first. You’d arched a brow in her direction and chuckled to yourself, the tip of your pencil tapping against her loose leaf notebook absentmindedly. At your confusion, she proceeded, “You know? Ask Steve or Argyle…Eddie.”
“Don’t say Eddie like that,” you grumbled, chewing at the eraser tip.
The redhead flicked one of her braids over her shoulder, shrugging. “Don’t say Eddie like what?”
“How you did just now! You didn’t just say Eddie,” you explained, dropping your pencil down onto the paper. “You said Eddie. Like you’re insinuating something.”
“Yeah, like the big freaking crush you’ve had on him since you two were in high school together—”
“Your answer to number five is wrong.”
Max snorted. And that was that.
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Luckily, Eddie’s amicable as he always is. When you suggest coming as your date, he’s quick to ask for times to pick you up and requesting the attire for the event. It’s an evening wedding, and he shows up in a dark suit that matches the color of his hair. The same suit that now rests over the back of his chair, the sleeves of his shirt beneath rolled up to the elbow, revealing endless whirls of tattoos he’s collected over the years since he graduated high school.
He’s—well, Eddie on a normal day is breathtaking. All dark hair that falls in waves to his shoulders, broad smiles, dark eyes that can see through your soul. Charming as hell, and just as charismatic. He’s the kind of person that brightens every room he walks into and graces with his presence.
Eddie at a wedding?
You’re practically heaving into your champagne glass with how disturbingly—and unfairly—handsome he looks, but he can’t know that, so you play it off that you’ve danced one too many songs and need a moment to collect yourself.
“Think the plan is working?” He muses, leaning over to sip at your glass. “Think we’ve fooled enough people so grandma over there can stop clutching her pearls asking if you’ve accepted your spinsterhood?”
Honestly, the whole fake dating thing isn’t as bad as you initially thought. Eddie’s been ever the gentleman, holding open doors, holding your hand, holding the side of your hip. It’s great for the optical illusion you’re trying to portray, but it’s terrible for the ever painful kick-thump throb of your heart in your chest.
“Why? You wanna get out of here?” You likely can. You’ve stayed for the ceremony, most of dinner. You’ve even danced with Eddie a bit on the dance floor, introduced him to a few of your college friends, let him press a kiss to your cheek during the ‘couple’s dance’ after he’d suggested you try on the lips and you nearly broke an ankle, tripping up in your movements from the mere suggestion of doing something so insane. “We could always head back to the hotel room?”
Oh—and therein lay the other problem aside from your cardiovascular symptoms as a direct result of Eddie’s proximity: the hotel reservation somehow got all mixed up and you only afforded yourselves one bed.
One.
Singular.
Eddie had reassured the front desk employee that it was no issue, but you’d slapped your card onto the countertop and asked—admittedly pleaded—if they could check again for another room. It was with pitying gazes that they advised, because of the wedding, all the other available rooms were full. Which left you and Eddie with a king size bed for the night.
“It’s fine,” Eddie had teased, tossing pillows down the center of the bed after both tossed all of your things onto the floor. “Here’s our bundling board. You better not try to jump my bones in my sleep now.”
The thought itself has your thighs sliding together, mind swimming as your friend’s ring clad fingers trail against your forearm, drawing you back to reality. You turn with a ‘huh,’ your eyes meeting his as he says, “I’m fine with that if y—”
You’re interrupted by the sound of Clarissa, your ex’s new bride, calling your name from another table away. You’ve been friends with her for years, studied in the same program for your undergrad degree, and remained as such even after she came to you one day in the library and asked if it would be okay to date Jared. And it was; you’d been broken up for some months, anyway, after all. All adults who could handle weird circumstances.
Just like right now, as Jared joins his new bride’s side and extends a hand to greet Eddie. “Is this the guy that swept our friend here off her feet? Nice to meet you…”
“Eddie,” Eddie says, reaching over to grasp Jared’s hand and shake it. He’s just as charming when Clarissa leans down and urges you both forward in tight hugs, giggling brightly over how nice the two of you look and blushing when Eddie speaks again saying, “You look beautiful. Congrats, you two.”
“Congrats you two,” Clarissa practically trills, clapping excitedly. She mouths over Eddie’s shoulder, “He’s gorgeous.”
You can only pathetically shrug in agreement before Jared’s asking how the two of you met and Eddie tugs you so close to him you’re practically sitting on his lap. Your hand manages to grip his thigh to steady yourself when your chair wobbles, and his palm swallows yours upon doing so. He lifts it up to his mouth to brush a gentle kiss against the back of it. Your skin bursts to life with a thousand bubbles dancing along your skin, though you chalk it up to the champagne buzzing in your system.
Heat coils again as he turns to look at you, brown eyes fathomless as he says, “Back in high school. She walked into first period math class and she waved at me and I knew it was all over after that. But we only recently realized we wanted to be more than friends; figured it was about time to take a chance. Best choice I’ve made in a long time, really. Now we’re inseparable. Unbreakable. Insatiable—”
You elbow him slightly, cutting his words off. “Insatiable, Ed?”
Clarissa and Jared are none the wiser. The both of them only lean into one another, Clarissa glowing with her bridal beauty and Jared looking like he’s fallen in love with her all over again as Eddie regales them with your fake relationship origin story.
“Can you act like you actually like me?” He grumbles near your temple, that palm curling around your hip again to draw you even closer. Heat coils in your belly once more as that mouth drops lower, hot breath fanning along the shell of your ear, his voice a husk of, “Relax. I won’t bite…unless you’re into that.”
So, maybe you can’t swallow the breathy sigh that punches its way up your throat. And maybe your thighs clench beneath the table. But they’re all mere side effects to the man hypnotizing everyone around him with his charm, casualties of the battle waging war behind your ribcage. Even so, the damage is done; the carnage remaining in the wake of your inner turmoil is evident in the slow curl of his lips, the proud smirk lining those presently devilish features.
He’s thoroughly enjoying himself—enjoying the effects his presence has on you, even under the guise of pretending you’re something you’re not. So if your eyes roll in your skull when he leans down and presses a barely-there kiss beneath your ear, it’s only because he’s really wonderful at the elaborate facade you’ve both concocted.
It’s only because, over the years of being DM, he’s perfected the art of performance.
It’s that and nothing more.
Call the casual touches and flirting throughout the night side effects of a few glasses of champagne and loosened inhibitions. Call the glances across the dance floor nothing more than intrigue and longing for a ‘what if?’ Call the brush of his fingers against your skin, the press of lips, the hand on your hip nothing more than part of an act. Because that’s all it is.
Or so you think and have conditioned yourself to think.
But that tension lingers long after Clarissa and Jared wish you well. It lingers in the breaths filling the elevator on your way back to the room, it seeps into the pauses in your conversation. It grows and curls like a bowstring in your belly, drawn tight when Eddie slides the key into your hotel room door and pushes it open.
“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I would have thought you were flirting with me earlier,” you hum, a casual laugh breaking into the otherwise quiet of your newfound privacy with the man, toeing off your heels near the door. “And the little speech about how we started ‘dating’ was really convincing. Either that or you should reconsider a career in acting.”
“What if I was, though?” His voice is soft. Softer than it’s been all night, a tremulous breath that makes your stomach clench. “Flirting with you, I mean.”
Before you, you can see two options laid out on a platter: you push into unknown territory, a world of possibility should you choose to open your heart to him; or, you brush his affection aside and preserve what you already have, not wishing to disrupt the balance of your life as you know it.
Eddie is friends with your friends.
You’re friends with his friends.
When lines become blurry, relationships are put at risk. Sides might need to be taken. There are other people involved outside of the two of you. But a louder thought rings true. An understanding that it’s Eddie. Eddie, who has only ever put your own needs above his. Always first. Wanted what was best for you at all times. Would it, then, be such a terrible thing to be selfish just this once?
“If you were…” you begin, stepping across the room to meet him where he stands. Your fingers trail up to his tie, the dark red material like blood sifting through your fingers, “did you mean it? The story too?”
“Since first period math class senior year—well, your senior year. My first senior year.” He chuckles uneasily, palm moving to slide over the span of his shoulder, easing at a knot. Watches you slide your fingers up along the fabric, moving up to help loosen the knot around his neck. You fumble with it for a moment, his breath spilling across your forehead, your bottom lip between your teeth when he rasps out, “Can I kiss you?”
And you’re nodding your head rapidly, gasping as his hand slides up to rest against the small of your back, guiding your frame closer to him. You practically ooze into his chest, bodies warm and humming with anticipation as he walks you backward over toward the bed and groans into your bottom lip presently pinched between his teeth as you tug at his tie and drag him into the cradle of your thighs down to where you lay in a sprawl of limbs against the mattress.
“Oh…” He pauses in his ministrations, breaking apart with a gasp despite your whines of protest to run a palm along the mattress. You flop down onto your back as the man presses the same palm against the topper, watching it shift and move beneath his weight. “Oh this is nice. Much better than my shitty one back home.”
“Eddie…” His head jolts back your way, as if he remembers you’re lying beneath him, waiting for him to help you out of your dress, and drops a kiss down against the curve of your neck. You hum to yourself and grasp his chin, dragging his mouth near to yours. He brushes your lips once, twice, and you tell him, panting, “I really like you, Eddie.”
He sighs as your hands finally help free the tie from around his neck and you toss the fabric into the far corner of the room, fingers dropping down to start working on the line of buttons down his chest inch by inch until you’re met with dark ink and a trail of hair against the bump of his stomach that disappears into his waistband and has you leaning forward to press a kiss to his exposed sternum. Beneath you can feel the rapid thrum of his heart, can taste the salt on his skin, flesh still warm from all your dancing in the wedding hall.
He’s climbing over to the top of the bed, bringing you with him, and rearranging the two of you so you can lay side by side. One of his palms starts a gentle slide up your back to grasp at the zipper pulled all the way to your neckline. His eyes implore yours briefly, a gentle exchange with no words, and your head dips. The sound of the metal dragging down your spine reaches your ears, fabric soon pooling around your ankle before he’s tossing it over onto the far corner of his room with the rest of both your clothes.
You take a moment to look at one another. Eyes roving across skin, fingers following in their wake. He trails his fingers along your shoulder, down the path of your sternum, swirls a circle around the soft skin of your abdomen until your sides shake with laughter. You watch those exhausted eyes of his trail along the curve of your hip, the bend of your knee, the crux between your thighs. Nearly gasp into his collar bone when he hikes a thigh over his hip and draws you in for another kiss, and you can feel the hot press of him briefly—albeit too briefly—against your center.
Those kisses, burning with a fresh fervor, draw breathless sighs from your lips. His words against your skin, telling you how beautiful you are, how he’s wanted this moment, how he wants to watch you fall apart against his fingers when he asks if he can touch you have you mewling with want, shuddering at the first brush of his fingers through your slick, warm and welcome between your thighs.
But it’s in that languid exploration that the two of you start to slow down, champagne bubbles that still linger in both your bellies making your eyes more and more tired with each passing moment, fingers becoming gentler, lingering longer. He sighs when you lean over to brush a kiss against his throat and suck, but it settles in the air and you can’t help the airy giggle that spills from your lips when one of his hands waves lackadaisical in the air as you ask, “Falling asleep on me, Munson?”
“No—no,” he groans. He presses a gentle kiss to your throat, and feels your pulse skitter beneath your skin. “Jus’ g’me a second. Wanna make you feel good.”
It’s a shame, a sin really, how even in his tired, partially blissed out state, Eddie Munson still has the power to make your insides liquify. Especially when those eyes start to flutter as he tries to focus his attention on you, lashes lingering longer and longer against the tops of his cheekbones in his efforts to stay awake.
With one last press of your mouth against his, you slide off the bed and help yank down the comforter enough so he can crawl inside, sleepy sighs spilling from his tattooed chest. Satisfied, you clamber in beside him and smile to yourself as that same chest aligns against your spine, arm looping low around your waist, and you both drift into a slumber.
It’s early when you wake again. Sunlight starts to filter in through the windows, the clock to your left reading seven in the morning. Luckily, it’s a Saturday and your check out time isn’t until eleven, which means more than enough room to shower and get ready to head back home to Hawkins. You’re about to clamber out of bed when you feel Eddie’s hand against your stomach shift. Butterflies burst to life at the gentle caress of his skin against yours, fluttering away only seconds later when the man in question grumbles, “Oh shit. Oh shit, sweetheart. I fell asleep.”
“You did,” you giggle, your calf brushing along the hairs lining his own. He groans, face pressing between your shoulder blade, hips flush against your ass and you continue, “It’s okay, though. You were tired.”
“We were…and I was…shit.” He huffs against your skin, hooking his chin over your shoulder to then brush a kiss against the plushness of your cheek. Then once more in that space beneath your ear that has you shuddering against him.
He starts a slow path along the side of your neck, laving kiss after kiss into your flesh, trailing down your shoulder. He starts to mark his way back upward, igniting every inch of you with a fresh fire when you gasp out, “We, ahh—mmm—still have a few hours before we need to leave.”
For emphasis, to really drive home your wishes in the moment, you slide your thigh up and over his, your hips moving backward to press needily against where you know he’s hard already. Those talented hands of his that strum along his guitar at the countless Corroded Coffin shows you’ve been to begin to work a slow path up your thigh, calluses tantalizing against skin. You push back harder against him, feeling his returning roll of hips against your ass, seeking out friction, craving release. But you have all morning.
You have time for the gentle slide of his fingers down the front waistband of your panties, the whine you release as his middle finger parts your center from entrance to clit, drawing out three slow circles that have you nearly begging him to fuck you right then and there. Still, he’s patient. Takes his time stroking against your center, listening as you coach him through what feels good, telling him to speed up, slow down. His other hand, not occupied with drawing out your pleasure, grips yours and slides it against the pillow nearest your head, a chuckle spilling from his lips when your head turns and you whimper into your pillow, asking him for what you need.
“What did you just say, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your bare shoulder, hissing when your hips push back into his hardened cock. “Tell me what you want.”
“Mmm—” He slides a finger inside you, drawing a slow circle, opening you around the digit before adding another. He repeats the question, low and sensuous in your ear, a purr that has your eyes pinching shut. “Want you inside me, Ed. Want you, want—”
Those fingers at your center slip from you, your chest heaving as he reaches over onto the nightstand nearest to his side of the bed and fishes out a blessed foil packet. You hear him hastily tear it open, the bed shifting and dipping in his efforts, before he’s pressing his chest back along your spine and hiking your thigh up and over his. The hand previously holding yours against the pillow above you slides back into your own, and your vision blurs out around the edges as he pushes your panties aside and drags himself through your folds from behind, catching on your clit, before slipping inside.
Your mingling hisses at the initial stretch of him turn into quiet moans as he starts to pick up his pace. He pastes sticky kiss after sticky kiss into your shoulder as that hand of his moves around to slide against your throat, shifting your head up and away from the pillow you’ve buried it within. Your eyes meet his, and between the constant roll of his hips as he moves within you, the fingers splaying across your neck, and the words he babbles into your lips about how tight you are, how good you feel, how you’re doing so good for him, it all quickly become too much.
He catches the flicker across your features, the way your sounds pick up in frequency, the rasp of your breath through your lungs. Against your lips he mutters, “Come on, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me, okay? Wanna watch you.”
And you’re quick to do as your told, palm sliding down your stomach until two fingers meet your clit, rubbing in the way you know you like, matching the frantic pace of Eddie’s hips, pulling back and then slamming into you again and again, driving you closer and closer to utter bliss.
“Oh—fuck—I’m so close, baby.” His fingers around your neck tighten, lips pressing against the corner of yours as you work yourself in tandem with him, the sound of skin slapping together muffling the cries spilling through your parted lips. “Tell me you’re close.”
You come before him, nails pressing down to etch crescents into the hand holding yours above your head, murmuring his name over and over again like a prayer as his lips claim yours once more and swallow the moan he lets out as his body jerks a few times and then stills behind you, shallow breaths puffing hot and frantic into your kiss.
When you both finally catch your breath, and you roll over and turn into him, he pulls you close to his chest and grins into your shoulder, asking, “What are you doing next weekend?”
And it’s that next weekend, at Jonathan and Nancy’s wedding, that you go as a real couple this time.
You don’t even give Max and Lucas shit for giving you a thumbs up when they think Eddie isn’t looking.
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(protect myself from readmore)
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Grad school Spencer in his little white coat and glasses getting his chem PhD and he just spills everything and goes 🫠 because he sees English lit major reader walking by from the lap window.
because I will die on the hill that this actually happened.
hiiiii 💕
like 23 year old phd candidate spencer in his white lab coat is everything to me and i took some liberties so bear with me :)
spencer reid x female reader
So he’s working in his lab doing something sciencey and smart
He’s already a phd in math and engineering which makes him something a myth in his departments
Part of his program makes him work as a TA for a chemistry course which is how he meets you
You’re a Literature major and Sociology minor and in his Chemistry class. It’s filled with many students, but Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to remember you
He never found the courage to talk to you, thinking that you’ve probably already have a boyfriend on a count for how pretty and smart you are.
Every Tuesday and Thursday he sees you walk by his lab. He forces himself to not recognize the pattern, but it’s impossible when you’re so magnetic to look at and think about and patterns are so recognizable to his brain. And out of risk of you thinking he’s a stalker, he decides it’s safer if he ignores you walk by
What Spencer doesn’t realize is that you’ve also noticed his pattern of being in the lab the same days you’re in the Sociology wing.
One day he’s busy his lab, and he can see you through the big picture window. He feels his hands grip the beaker and his grateful that the chemical liquids he’s working with today are something as simple as water
As he gazes through the big window he watches you walk with a big stack books in you arms
He walks to the sink, needing an extra 30mLs of water in his beaker, but as his does he accidentally trips over a stool and crashes to the floor
He jumps up, and sees you look at him in horror. Which wasn’t the way he planned on you looking at him (he forced the thoughts of the various ways you could look at him from his mind)
Suddenly you rush into the lab and just as Spencer tries to stammer about maintaining proper hygiene protocols in the lab, your hands are gripping his wrist
“You’re bleeding” you say, and Spencer watches as you maintain steady, tight pressure on his open wound to stop the bleeding
“I didn’t realize” Spencer says with a stained smile. He’s planned on how he’d approach you over and over again in his mind ever since he saw you in the Chemistry class he TA’ed last semester “I was preoccupied”
“It’s alright, Doctor Reid. You’re not going to need stitches or anything. But let me put some bandaging on it.”
Spencer gulps, as he tries to remember how to breathe. All he can focus on is how your hair frames your face perfectly and how your perfume smells like earl grey tea and honey and apples
“You can call me Spencer, Y/N” He whispers, listening to as you practically drag him by the wrist to the first aid kit
“You know my name?” You ask, a look or wonder and amusement washes over your face
Spencer jerks his head back not in pain nor in discomfort, but rather in confusion. “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I know your name. You’re Y/N.”
You lick your bottom lip as a small smile plays on the corner of your mouth. “there were a lot of students in your class last semester. I’m not very good at chemistry. Nor do I have a particularly memorable face.”
Spencer raised his eyebrows in disbelief. You gently placed a bandage on his cut. “You did very well in the class. And as for your face, it’s very memorable. More than memorable, honestly. It’s gorgeous—oh, no I didn’t—I don’t intend to be forward…”
“I think you got a memorable face too, Doc” You say, smiling as you sit knee to knee on the lab stools
“It’s Spencer,” He says, blushing as he nudged his hand forward to just barely touch yours
You stand, smiling as you do so, “Doc suits you. You’re kinda a legend and you’re really cute when you flush like that when I call you Doc”
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