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fuckyeahisawthat · 2 months

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There are so many places in the Villeneuve Dune adaptations where he just...takes all the narrative pieces that Frank Herbert laid out and subtly rearranges them into something that tells the story better--that creates dramatic tension where you need it, communicates the themes and message of the book more clearly, or corrects something in the text that contradicts or undermines what Herbert said he was trying to say.

The fedaykin are probably my favorite example of this. I just re-read a little part of the book and got smacked in the face with how different they are.

(under the cut for book spoilers and length)

The fedaykin in the book are Paul's personal followers, sort of his personal guard. They show up after his legend has already started growing (the word doesn't appear in the book until chapter 40) and they are people who have specifically dedicated themselves to fighting for him, and right from the moment they're introduced there is a kind of implied fanaticism to their militancy that's a bit uncomfortable to read. They're the most ardent believers in Paul's messianic status and willing to die for him. (They are also, as far as you can tell from the text, all men.)

In the book, as far as I can remember (I could be forgetting some small detail but I don't think so) there is no mention of armed resistance to colonialism on Arrakis before Paul shows up. As far as we know, he created it. ETA: Okay I actually went back and checked on this and while we hear about the Fremen being "a thorn in the side" of the Harkonnens and we know that they are good fighters, we don't see anything other than possibly one bit of industrial sabotage. The book is very clear that the organized military force we see in the second half was armed and trained by Paul. This is exacerbated by the two-year time jump in the book, which means we never see how Paul goes from being a newly deposed ex-colonial overlord running for his life to someone who has his own private militia of people ready to give their lives for him.

The movie completely flips all these dynamics on their head in ways that add up to a radical change in meaning.

The fedaykin in the movie are an already-existing guerrilla resistance movement on Arrakis that formed long before Paul showed up. Literally the first thing we learn about the Fremen, less that two minutes into the first movie, is that they are fighting back against the colonization and exploitation of their home and have been for decades.

The movie fedaykin also start out being the most skeptical of the prophecy about Paul, which is a great choice from both a political and a character standpoint. Of course they're skeptical. If you're part of a small guerrilla force repeatedly going up against a much bigger and stronger imperial army...you have to believe in your own agency. You have to believe that it is possible to win, and that this tiny little chip in the armor of a giant terrifying military machine that you are making right now will make a difference in the end. These are the people who are directly on the front lines of resisting oppression. They are doing it with their own sweat, blood and ingenuity, and they are not about to wait around for some messiah who may never come.

From a character standpoint, this is really the best possible environment you could put Paul Atreides in if you want to keep him humble. He doesn't get any automatic respect handed to him due to title or birthright or religious belief. He has to prove himself--not as any kind of savior but as a good fighter and a reliable member of a collective political project. And he does. This is an environment that really draws out his best qualities. He's a skilled fighter; he's brave (sometimes recklessly so); he's intensely loyal to and protective of people he cares about. He is not too proud to learn from others and work hard in an egalitarian environment where he gets no special treatment or extra glory. The longer he spends with the fedaykin the more his allegiance shifts from Atreides to Fremen, and the more skeptical he himself becomes about the prophecy. This sets up the conflict with Jessica, which comes to a head before she leaves for the south. And his political sincerity--that he genuinely comes to believe that these people deserve liberation from all colonial forces and his only role should be to help where he can--is what makes the tragedy work. Because in the end we know he will betray all these values and become the exact thing he said he didn't want to be.

There's another layer of meaning to all this that I don't know if the filmmakers were even aware of. ETA: rescinding my doubt cause based on some of Villeneuve's other projects I'm pretty sure he could work it out. Given the time period (1960s) and Herbert's propensity for using Arabic or Arabic-inspired words for aspects of Fremen culture, it seems very likely that the made-up word fedaykin was taken from fedayeen, a real Arabic word that was frequently used untranslated in American news media at the time, usually to refer to Palestinian armed resistance groups.

Fedayeen is usually translated into English as fighter, guerrilla, militant or something similar. The translation of fedaykin that Herbert provides in Dune is "death commando"...which is a whole bucket of yikes in my opinion, but it's not entirely absurd if we're assuming that this fake word and the real word fedayeen function in the same way. A more literal translation of fedayeen is "self-sacrificer," as in willing, intentional self-sacrifice for a political cause, up to and including sacrificing your life.

If you apply this logic to Dune, it means that Villeneuve has actually shifted the meaning of this word in-universe, from fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for Paul to fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for their people. And the fedaykin are no longer a group created for Paul but a group that Paul counts himself as part of, one member among equals. Which is just WILDLY different from what's in the book. And so much better in my opinion.

#dune #dune part two #adaptation #paul atreides #fedaykin

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complete-clownery · 5 months

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Hahaha okay rant about this amazing fanfic (you probably heard of this one already but still)

So whenever it comes to explaining and writing under my posts I just get lazy but I need to push through this cuz I need to talk

So the fanarts were made for the lmk fanfiction sunbreak, that a lot of you (probably mostly shadowpeach shippers) had read, and it is amazing, I read trough it as fast as my brain let me and as you can see it has pleasantly scratched my brain so much so that I even (attempted) to make fanart for it

Ngl if I wasn't a major pussy I would try to illustrate the whole thing or make covers for each chapter but Im unable to work on something more than 2 hours and I would want those to look good, but good looking art (if I don't mess up) takes 6 hours ughh--- annoying much---

Anyways I'm not good with literature but man is this fix a masterpiece *chefs kiss* its everything its amazing, I was unable to put it down once I started it

Okay i dont think I have the brain capacity to explain how much I worship the writer of this masterpiece @ladygreenfrisbee , so i'm just going to talk about the drawings a tad

So first picture with Red Son and MK its sort of like an au in the fic where the whole lbd plot is somehow nonexistent and after Macaque gets to his sisters domain they settle down and raise the kids together without much of an issue aside from assassinations keep happening and trying not to get in trouble with the heavens

Id like to think that Gongzhu still wouldn't let the court tailors to put any form of red or gold on MKs outfits and only allowed the yellow after when MK was old enough to declare that yellow was his favorite color, but even now she would insist on some form of purple and shadow motives to let others know who the mother is

We also got baby MK and toddler Red Son and sassy LIF and Mac

Third pic with the lion: I don't know what it was or why but I just love general Song so much--- he's a major dickhead but sgvshshsevkdididhr (actually I kinda love all the original characters in this one, from the generals to the old lady in the beginning of the book, (gosh I also wanna draw some scenes from those chapters I loved how Mac and she interacted hshsjsj))

so chapter 34 was probably my favorite so far I re read it about two more times cuz it was amazing to see Macaque being the schemer he is and try to piss of Song lol

Last picture: its a sketch/a wip or whatever (probably not going to finish it but im still putting it there cuz its somewhat decent looking)

Its the part where Wukong remembered of Macaque finally finding him and asking for him to come back to flower fruit mountain.

I tried to make Macaque look more unhinged on this one but since I didn't finish it I dont think its that noticable so fuck that but I also gave him a halo like the saints to symbolise his suffering and what not (thought it looked cool and fitting think whatever you want about it lol)

And that all ((((hollly mother))))

If you read this trough, thank you and congrats👏👏

#clown does art #lego monkey kid #lmk sunbreak #sunbreak #shadowpeach #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #lmk mk #lmk red son #fanfiction #lmk #lmk pif #princess iron fan

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hairmetal666 · 17 days

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NSFW; Modern AU

Eddie feels like the luckiest man alive, that he gets to count Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley as his best friends, but he wasn't sure about it at first. No matter how often his new little sheepies praised Steve, Eddie remembered high school. He remembered the Steve that was a grade-A, top-choice asshole. But then--Robin comes out to him. And Steve knows. Steve knows and he's cool about it. So, Eddie comes out to them and Steve is cool about that too.

It fucks Eddie up a little, if he's being honest. Like, Steve, objectively, is hot, but Eddie's only ever been superficially attracted to him. He thinks the whole jock archetype just doesn't do a lot for him. Too much negativity attached to their whole thing. But he'd be lying if he said part of him isn't intrigued.

He doesn't develop a crush on Steve, though. Somehow, through all the charm and bitchiness and not-so-secret kindness, his heart remains unmoved. It must be the jock thing.

And then he's scrolling on Twitter. He's scrolling on Twitter and he's not looking for porn, not even in a "Oh no, I never look at porn on the internet" way, and there's this video.

The first thing he sees is the lowered waist band of a pair of 90's-style basketball shorts, Pacers logo just visible. Then it's the long fingers, the broad hands. They're skimming down a tanned, toned torso, not a six-pack but it's somehow sexier this way. Their path draws Eddie's eyes to the dot of moles, the spread of freckles. They're so kissable, Eddie's mouth waters. Those fingers, they linger against the trimmed thatch of dark hair just peaking out over the elastic, before pulling that waistband lower.

Eddie's hard. Rock hard. Fuck, he's so hard a wind gust could make him come.

The guy on screen, he's got his gorgeous dick in hand, giving himself slow strokes and thumbing at the tip to collect the obvious slickness beading there.

It's not really a decision when Eddie unzips and shoves his jeans just low enough to take himself in hand. On screen, the hand speeds up, the stomach shivering, breath coming in soft bursts, somehow almost more intoxicating than the jerking off.

Eddie times his strokes with the video, coming apart faster than he ever has watching porn. He can tell the guy is close, his grip goes tighter, his breath shorter. Eddie's about to go off like a fucking rocket.

The hand stills, the guy's cock fucking quivers, and he's ready for the money shot, will totally come at the same time, except--it doesn't happen.

The screen goes black.

Eddie comes all over himself.

"Fuck, shit, goddamnit," he hisses. He flails around trying to find something to clean himself up with and pause the video so he can read the fucking text.

As wiped up as he can be without showering, Eddie runs the video back a few seconds to see the words, "want the full experience? Subscribe to my OnlyFans."

He's never clicked a link so fast in his life. He's never really explored OnlyFans before, but he signs up for the free trial without a second thought.

The guy's username is KingJock016 and under usual circumstances, Eddie would be disgusted, but it's too late for that. He's already scrolling through thumbnails of hands and dicks and asses and butt plugs and dildos, pausing briefly at a preview of one where KingJock is bent at the waist, perfect ass--dotted with freckles-- framed by the bands of a jock strap. He's deliciously hairy, deliciously ripe, and Eddie is firming up again.

Without fully meaning to, he hits play, and the video starts with KingJock already rocking his cock into his fist. He's moaning in this one, full throated, almost desperate. And there's something about it, something that catches in Eddie's brain, but he can't focus on that when he's watching KingJock trace a finger around his own asshole.

It's insane that Eddie is this far gone without seeing the guy's face, that his toes are curling at the mere sight of KingJock fucking himself. The sounds are obscene, the slick and snap of skin on skin, the throaty moans, the creak of the bed as KingJock rocks into his fist and back onto his fingers.

Eddie's not even touching himself, and he's already standing at complete attention, a heady ache already starting in his balls.

And then KingJock flips his head back, revealing a shock of chestnut hair, the taut lines of a mole-kissed throat, the hard line of a jaw. One eye flashes open, looks directly at the camera, at Eddie.

It's fucking Steve Harrington.

Eddie comes all over himself again.

It's Steve. His best friend, Steve. His straight best friend. Making content clearly targeted for queer men? I mean, Eddie can't fault him. Like, nice work if you can get it, but Steve???

He hasn't done anything to clean up because his thoughts are spiraling too hard. How long has this been going on? Does Robin know? Should Eddie subscribe ? Leave a comment about how this video made him come untouched? Join a live? No, no, of course not. Steve was his real life friend. He couldn't hang out with him and then watch him fuck himself on a wall-mounted dildo.

He hits subscribe though. He'll hate himself for it later. It's only for the trial period, anyway.

He wipes himself off, but the come is already drying, sticky, against his skin and in his body hair. He needs a shower. He needs to practice being normal around Steve now that he--

Shit, Steve. They're going to the movies tonight. Steve's supposed to pick him up in, shit, fuck twenty minutes.

Eddie hurls himself into the shower, moves so quickly he doesn't really have time to think about Steve having an OnlyFans, about how hard he got off to his friend, about how he keeps having flashes of Steve's perfect body play through his head.

It's hard to ignore it when Steve is standing at his door in his form hugging jeans and little t-shirt and Eddie's done for, a dead man; here lies Eddie Munson. He's just standing in the doorway, smiling at Steve and he knows it's manic, but he can't slip it.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks. Eddie hears the words but all it does is remind him of KingJock's breathy moans.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He keeps smiling.

Steve's eyes narrow. He leans into Eddie's space. "Did you drop acid again? We told you not to do it alo--"

"I didn't! Nothing's wrong."

"Your face is all flushed. You feeling okay? You could have a fever."

Before Eddie can react, Steve's resting the back of his hand on his forehead. Eddie flinches, swatting Steve away, which devolves into a brief slap fight.

"I don't have a fever, man. I'm fine. Hot shower, is all."

"If you say so. Ready to get going?"

Eddie nods. He can totally do this. He can pretend he doesn't know about the OnlyFans and the face Steve makes when he's about to come.

The drive is quiet. Too quiet. He thinks his bones are trying to rip through his skin.

He starts talking, isn't even tracking what he's saying. Dnd and then suddenly it's hobbits and then Star Trek for reasons even he doesn't comprehend. He glances over at Steve, and he's burnished golden from the light of the setting sun. He's so beautiful. How did Eddie miss it all this time? Why did he--

"Get any new subscribers lately?" He hears come out of his mouth.

Steve slams on the breaks, sending Eddie careening into he dashboard.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck," Eddie shrieks. The car behind them lays on the horn, then speeds past when it's clear they aren't moving.

"Why are you saying what the fuck at me?" Steve hisses back. He hits the gas, pulling the car to the side of the road. "Eddie--what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he chants. He hides his head in his hands. "I didn't mean to--I'm so fucking sorry."

"How'd you find it?"

Eddie snorts. "One of your videos showed up on my TL. That's the algorithm for you."

"Jesus christ," Steve mutters. "You weren't supposed to--it's--"

"What are you even doing, man?"

"My Family Video salary won't cut it, if we're moving to Indy."

"You're not even gay."

Steve mumbles something, but he's looking out the window and not at Eddie at all.

"What was that?"

"Maybe I am!" Steve doesn't shout, but it's forceful.

Eddie's mouth drops. "Does Robin know?"

Steve stares forward, hands tightening on the wheel.

"And you didn't tell me?" It hurts, he's surprised how much, so much it takes his breath.

"It wasn't like that, Ed."

"Oh, no? Then what was it like?"

"It doesn't matter."

"The fuck it doesn't! I'm the first person you should've come to! I know exactly what it's like."

"No, you don't." Steve explodes. "You don't because you made me realize. And I couldn't talk to you about it because I like you. And, yeah, maybe starting an OnlyFans as part of my gay awakening is weird to you, but it's done a lot for me, okay?"

Steve said a lot of stuff just there, a lot of important things, but Eddie's glitched out on one part. "You like...me?"

"Yeah, like. Have you met you?" Steve slumps in his seat, like he's defeated. "You're fucking beautiful, dude. And smart and funny and passionate. Nerdy as hell. I didn't stand a chance."

"But I'm--" Eddie shakes his head. "I mean, look at me."

"I have." Steve nods. "A lot. I really like what I see."

"When I realized it was you in those videos, I came all over myself. Untouched," Eddie blurts. He flushes deep crimson immediately. "Oh my god, I can't believe I just--"

Steve is laughing, hands pressed over his mouth.

"Shut up, shut up," Eddie swipes at him. "It's not funny, oh my god."

When Steve gets it together, he finally looks at Eddie, and there's pink in his cheeks and a shine to his eyes. "That might be the most gratifying thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Yeah, well. It was humiliating."

"It's hot, Eddie."

His blush hasn't cooled even a bit. "Yeah?" His voice comes out deep, husky.

"I wouldn't mind, uh--that is, if it's cool with you--seeing it for myself?"

Eddie giggles. "You wanna make me come untouched, sweetheart?"

Steve shifts in his seat. "I'd really like that. Will you let me?"

"Uh-huh, absolutely, definitely. If you don't put this car in drive and get us back to my place, I'm going to literally die."

Steve laughs again, a bright, free thing, and he swings back onto the road. "Not yet, you aren't."

That sends a shock of pleasant shivers down Eddie's spine, right to his dick.

"Maybe we can even make a video together sometime."

Eddie, much to his deep embarrassment, whines, hips shifting with the sudden need for relief. "Oh, you didn't want me to die before because this is how you're planning on killing me."

Steve turns to him, a smirk on his lips and a devilish glint in his eye. "You have no idea what I'm going to do to you."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #modern au #smut #onlyfans au #steve is an onlyfans creator #fluff #oblivious eddie munson #steve falls first #eddie accidentally finds steve's onlyfans #feelings realization #feelings confession #eddie is steve's gay awakening #onlyfans helps steve explore his sexuality #i decided steve's jersey number was 16 #there's a little wedding singer reference in here

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vampiresfromxenon · 8 months

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Kiss It Better

Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav

Around 2.2K words

Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n

CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)

Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…

With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse.

You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment.

You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.

You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag.

In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought.

You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching.

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out.

You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away.

“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment.

You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact.

“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual.

Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.

“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion.

“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally.

“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm.

“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand.

“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off.

“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out.

“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.

You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you.

If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason.

“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time.

“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.

“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.

He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more.

Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you.

He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood.

“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.

Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin.

“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.

You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent.

“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.

The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while.

No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.

Author's Note:

Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)

I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same

Hope you enjoy!

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion soft #astarion fluff

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tadc-ragatha · 8 months

Text

Being Their Friend

TW: Breakdowns/crises (mentioned), knives, swearing, centipedes, bullying, general mental health stuff, Zooble's limbs being (painlessly) moved/stored/body horror

Type: Headcanons

A/N: Hi. These are just for fun; don't get up in arms if they aren't perfect (they can't be anyway, considering how far into the show we are). Requests aren't open (EDIT: they are open now). Spoilers obviously. Includes only the main six because I honestly don't know enough about Caine yet.

Pomni

Being her friend entails a multitude of existential crises. Everyone's trying to find their own way to cope, but expect to be helping her through many a panic attack. She's a hot mess most of the time, and doesn't really know what to do.

As seen in the trailer, she still gets scared of getting hurt, much unlike people like Ragatha who know they can't be harmed by knives or whatever else Caine throws at them. It'd be your job to help calm her down during these situations and help her adjust to not being hurt.

Other than that, I imagine once Pomni gets (semi) used to living in the digital circus you'd spend a lot of time looking for the exit. She definitely wants to get out of there before she becomes abstracted--something she knows is possible with her mental state. She also just wants to get her and everyone else out of there. Even that jackass Jax.

Pomni would take a lot of comfort in the things that connect her to the real world like food. If she offers you some food, you know you're really friends with her. If she had access to drawing/painting equipment or whatnot, I reckon she'd try to draw herself in her real form (if she could remember). She's like to see what you look like, and would compliment you on your appearance.

Ragatha

Ragatha's been in the digital circus for a while, and is much more comfortable with it than some of her other friends (or so she likes to pretend). She's fine with getting hit with knives as seen in her introduction short and likely wouldn't be scared of dying by anything else. As she said, her only fear is centipedes.

Still, it'll be your job to get them out of her room for her. Everyone knows what an arsehole Jax can be, and she sure as hell isn't risking walking into her room to find tens of thousands of them. If you don't do it, she's staying in your room for an indefinite amount of time.

Actually, I think Ragatha would like to have sleepovers anyway. It'd keep her impending thoughts at bay. Even if she doesn't require sleep, it's fun and reminds her of home. Like I said in Pomni's section, I think she'd enjoy drawing or painting. Or any creative visual art really, but especially drawing and painting for the purpose of making pictures of what you look like outside of the digital world.

Though be warned, the sight of her may send her off on a spiral of homesickness. Since Ragatha serves as a kind of rock of stability (as best as her overly optimistic self can), seeing her collapse may cause the others to collapse, too. Except maybe Jax, but it'll be up to you to try and get everyone back together before abstraction happens.

Jax

First of all, I don't know if this is possible. Not only are we so little into the show to really know, but Gooseworx also said he's going to have some really bad scenes. So, I suppose you won the lottery in doing this...Maybe. It really depends on how you look at it.

Because first of all, he's still a massive dick. He's just rude to everyone, so expect nothing different. He'll still be a jerk to you, "prank" you, or really, just straight up bully you. Honestly, half the time you can't even tell this guy is supposed to like you. He doesn't even really say sorry unless it's sarcastic.

The only way you can tell he likes you as a friend is when he gets all up in arms about you being annoyed at him. At first, at least, he's confused as to why you can't just let it go. Over time, though, he gets more in tune with his emotions and starts to mellow out a little.

However, it does come with the perk of having someone who will beat the ever-loving life out of whoever hurt you. Okay, well, not that far--he's got to keep his reputation as someone who doesn't care about other people, so he'll at most just be a bit of a bigger pain in their side. But it's still there.

Things you'd do together include terrorising the other members (or, he tries to get you in on it, anyway), sneaking into people's rooms to snoop around, and all-in-all just being a bit of a pain. But you also do other things; he seems like he's not one for visual arts or theatre, but maybe he could play an instrument and may--very heavy on the "may"--teach you some stuff. Otherwise, I don't think he's an arts guy. He'd enjoy video games, though, if they had those! And going to the digital carnival for thrills along with just exploring the grounds.

Kinger

Kinger would be an interesting friend. I have two routes for this guy based on a theory I saw. Route one follows him actually being on the brink of insanity/abstraction. In this route, you have to make sure he's alright. Just be gentle with him and check up on him every now and then. But don't be in his face all the time. Everyone needs a bit of personal space.

You can still hang out with Kinger, obviously. You can still talk about things you'd normally talk about, whatever that may be. Just don't bring up the abstracted queen (who I shall be calling Queener). It'll bring up some...Bad memories.

Anyways, my second route is this: based on a theory, Kinger is actually one of the more stable ones in the group, and is just pretending to be on the brink of losing it. Basically, if I remember right, he's pretending in order to get out of the activities/shenanigans of the group.

But no matter what his reason for doing it is, he's smart as hell. Having tricked everyone, it'd take a keen eye to figure it out. If you do, he'd be impressed. Once he trusts you enough, the two of you will discuss the other circus members and how to outsmart them secretly. You'll also just hang out, gossip...He feels like a guy who'd be into drama, with his whole being the actual king thing. You two would do some impromptu skits and whatnot to pass the time.

Gangle

Oh, Gangle. What would you do with Gangle? Well, you'd certainly have to be gentle with her. She's a very fragile soul--and also fragile physically--and needs some care. Help her repair her mask, or better yet, stop Jax from breaking it in the first place. In fact, just stop him from doing any mean stuff to her in the first place.

Other than that, Gangle is someone who'd actually enjoy drawing as a hobby and not just a memories thing. She draws anime, and would make you and her anime personas with cool abilities and features like wings and shit. I imagine her art style is very early-mid 2000s anime, with the really big eyes and whatnot.

Anyways, I reckon she'd also write. Mostly fanfiction when she wasn't stuck in the digital world, but since there's no fandoms to write about now she'd start branching out into her own original stories. But don't get me wrong; if anyone was going to write about their friends and fellow members it'd be her. She just hides it somewhere other than her room. Gangle would like to write stories about your sonas going on adventures and saving the world.

Eventually, these stories probably get found by Jax or someone else (but probably Jax). He'd laugh his arse off at them and would run to tell everyone about it. Unless you can absolutely beat the shit out of him, prepare to do some explaining and also comforting for her.

Zooble

Zooble does not give much of a shit about the others. They wouldn't let them die (at least I think so), but they're in no way buddy-buddy with them. In order to be friends with them, you'd have to meet their strict criteria. So, good job on that!

Being friends with them would either involve lots of gossip because they want to talk shit about people and complain, or it'd have no gossip because they honestly couldn't care less about the others. I can't tell. But if you do gossip, I imagine they know a lot about the other members. You'd be filled in on everything they know, too. They've been dying for someone to tell this too.

Zooble's also very particular about their looks, as seen in their introductory short. They have many stored limbs and whatnot to swap around for their mood. Don't mess with their body by switching around their antennae-like things or ripping off their body parts like Jax. They will retaliate.

Going off of this, though, I imagine they're pretty strong. I mean, they choked Jax like that. So, if anyone (him) comes around to piss you off, you best bet they'll be on their way to beat his arse. Though, it probably ends in a tug-of-war with one of their arms.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

Text

Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written.

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

#michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fan fic

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chelseeebe · 7 months

Text

promise.

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved?

a/n: ok i’ve been a bit shit the last few weeks and this is genuinely the only thing i could conjure up but forewarning, it is sad and it does mention some pretty heavy topics that i know aren’t for everyone so i completely understand if u don’t want to read! my adhd riddled brain has already started a part two which does have a happy ending

title based on promise - ben howard i just thought it was a really lovely song and fits well with part two

read part two here.

18+. mdni! mentions of domestic violence, not explicitly described but the injuries are there and it is referred to multiple times throughout (eddie is not the perpetrator). smut. v much hurt/no comfort but not for long.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

eddie is positively wrecked.

who would have ever guessed working in a shoddy, run-down bar would be so fucking tiring?

graham had said that if he picked up a few shifts at the hideout a week, then corroded coffin could play once a month. a guaranteed slot and he got paid? this was like heaven to him.

he just hadn’t expected the little bar to be so exhausting. he supposes that his lack of work experience and the fact he was used to doing sweet fuck all most of the time was to blame. that’s not his fault. not really. after finally graduating high school a year or so ago, he just hadn’t found any work in the tiny town.

on one particularly boring mid-week shift, eddie’s sat behind the bar doodling on the back of an old receipt, tapping his foot along to the kiss tune playing on the stereo. wouldn’t be his first choice but he’s not complaining.

‘you coming for a smoke?’ you exclaim suddenly, causing his head to jolt up, running the biro over his shitty drawing, ruining it completely.

‘uh.. then who would be on the bar?’ he utters, quickly hiding the doodle before you could judge it. not that he thinks you would, but just in case.

‘eddie, it’s dead,’ you say flatly, looking around at the empty tables.

truth be told, he hadn’t seen another soul bar from you and graham since he’d arrived which was odd for a thursday. assuming that the usual bums that lined the dusty old stools were otherwise engaged today. that or they just hadn’t been paid yet.

‘oh.. yeah, okay,’ he nods, hopping down from the stool and grabbing his jacket. you’re already gone, bounding off down the hall to the fire exit you all used for smoke breaks.

eddie’s still fairly new and very rarely got invited on the group breaks. which was fine, he just wished that you’d all take it in turns so that he could smoke too. he gets it though, like he talks enough but yet not enough to really make friends with any of you.

you’re leaning back against the brick wall, cigarette hanging from your lips, ‘you got a lighter?’

it’s not like he’d been staring or thought about it that much, but he’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were on his second shift. okay, maybe that’s a lie. he’d thought about it a lot. but anyway, he’d been utterly in awe at the way you handled the drunks, brushed off their creepy comments and stood your ground no matter how angry or persistent they were being. he admired that and just wished that he had even a smidgen of the confidence you had.

he fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, clumsily handing it over before getting his own pack out. it feels wrong to look you in the eye, god that sounded pathetic. you were older, far cooler than he was and positively stunning. if he remembers correctly, you must’ve been a couple grades above him at school but had left long before he graduated.

‘thanks,’ passing the lighter back to him, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his. it’s like electricity sparks through his veins.

he really needs to get a grip.

‘you enjoyin’ it here?’ you ask, eyes intimidating as they bore into his.

‘it’s okay.. tiring though,’ he shrugs, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact despite his inability to look pretty girls in the eye.

‘yeah.. you’ll get used to it,’ you chuckle, the smoke flowing out of your lips perfectly. he’s so pathetically down bad for you and you have literally no idea.

‘how long have you worked here?’ longing to keep the conversation flowing.

‘shit.. too long,’ chuckling as you take another drag. eddie could listen to that sound all day. ‘i think i was eighteen when i started so..’ pretending to count on your fingers, ‘six years?’

eddie blows the air out of cheeks, he’s probably be in a similar position if he’d have just graduated when he was supposed to so he can’t exactly pass judgement.

‘i think we went to school together, i mean, you were a couple grades above me but i remember you,’ hoping that that didn’t sound as creepy out loud like it did in his head.

‘oh shit, really?’ your eyes narrow, trying to place him though it’s obviously not going to happen, ‘i don’t remember you.. i’m so sorry,’ playfully hitting his arm.

the connection is enough to keep his delusions going for at least another month.

‘it’s fine, didn’t think you would,’ not many people did to be honest. he tosses his cigarette into the overflowing makeshift ashtray, waiting for you to lead the way back inside.

‘hey, it was a long time ago, i’m old now!’ you joke, walking back through the dim hall back to the bar. he tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip to you ass but he swears it’s only for a second.

the bar’s still dead, the stereo now blaring out some madonna tune he hated.

‘ugh.. turn this one off,’ he mutters, mostly to himself as he repositions himself back on his perch.

‘what?’

‘i hate this song.’

your jaw drops in faux-offence, ‘i made this mixtape you asshole,’ going to shove him off of the stool, ‘i can’t believe you can’t drop the cool guy act for one second to appreciate some madonna,’ laughing as you start collecting glasses.

his frown turns into an immediate grin, begging for your forgiveness as he starts to bop his head along to the beat. it’s not like anyone would see him and hell, even if they did, he didn’t care. not if it made you smile.

‘holy fuck, you been fightin’ with the door again?’ james remarks, pulling eddie’s eyes from his paper to spot you rushing into the bar.

your head is ducked, flashing the older man your middle finger, disappearing into the back before eddie can properly get a glimpse of your face.

but he knows.

there’d been a handful of times that you’d come in wearing a massive sweater instead of your usual low-cut tops and when you reached for something high up, the sleeve would reveal just enough for him to see the dark blue marks on your wrist.

he’d never been sure, not until now. but his stomach drops the second his brain puts two and two together.

ditching the paper and that asshole james behind the bar to slink off into the back, approaching the tiny staff room with the upmost caution. it’d never be wise to start throwing accusations around but he’s not stupid. eddie had watching his mom go through the exact same shit for years. knew all the tricks in the book to cover up bruises, cried his heart out every time his mom went back to his asshole dad.

only god knows how many times he’d planned out his fathers death. anger brimming in his tiny body the second he heard raised voices.

he knocks gently on the door, watching as you hurriedly wipe the makeup onto your eye. it’s not doing much, in fact, it’s not doing anything at all. the purple shining through undeniably.

‘you okay?’ practically whispering as he enters the room, knocking the door shut behind him. james’ comment had meant that this obviously wasn’t the first time you’d come into work with such horrid markings.

you sigh, giving up on attempting to cover it, slamming the metallic compact back into your locker. ‘i’m okay.. i’m fine,’ refusing to turn and face him.

you’re obviously not okay and it hurts eddie to know that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. instead, he takes a seat on the communal bench, if nothing else, he’d lend his ear for whatever story you wanted to tell him.

‘what happened?’ he dares to ask, not expecting to know the truth but it felt better than silence.

you sniff, closing your locker and finally facing him head on. there’s pain and guilt wracked all over your face, ‘i’m just.. clumsy,’ shoulders slumping, ‘i tripped..’

‘clumsy?’

you were anything but. eddie had watched you balance trays full of glasses without spilling a single drop. maybe other people bought your story but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

there’s a short silence and eddie shuffles, patting the empty space beside him, ‘you don’t have to lie to me.’ he swallows his anger, lets it rest in his stomach for a later date. there’s no doubt that if he got the opportunity, he’d kill the asshole that did this to you.

you swallow, reluctantly perching on the bench, ‘why are you even asking when you already know?’ not quite meeting his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

‘i don’t know.. didn’t wanna pressure you..’ he’s familiar with the whole routine. the denial from his mother had broken his heart at such a young age even though he wasn’t stupid.

you blink, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘he didn’t mean to.. was my fault,’ wiping the back of your hand against your sodden cheeks.

even hearing the words makes him inexplicably frustrated. not with you of course, but with the fact that you can’t see how much you don’t deserve that.

‘i don’t think you could do anything to deserve that,’ motioning towards your blackened eye. he’s not going to push it but he needs you to know that he’s here and would quite happily wrap his hands around that bastards neck.

‘you know.. my dad used to hit my mom,’ swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, but finds enough strength to continue, ‘she was the nicest lady in the world.. she didn’t deserve that and neither do you,’ licking his suddenly parched lips. it wasn’t an easy topic then and it certainly isn’t now.

he’s not particularly ever open about what happened to his mom but if it convinced you even a tiny bit to leave him, it’d be worth it.

there’s a beat, followed by a muffled sniff but you’re nodding, staring down at the grimy tiles rather than his face. eddie reckons that he’d be overstepping his mark if he did what he wanted and leant over to hug you. so he doesn’t. putting a sympathetic hand on your shoulder instead.

‘you’re an angel, you know that?’ the hints of a smile creeping onto your lips.

‘yeah i know,’ he scoffs, bashing his shoulder into yours, only gently.

‘shut up,’ knocking him straight back.

you get up from the bench, puffing your cheeks out as you take one last look into the mirror.

it’s a gut-wrenching, awful sight and god forbid eddie has to ever see you like that again.

perhaps rather naively, eddie assumes everything is fine for the next few weeks.

understandably, you’re a bit subdued for a few days but you do revert back to your usual bubbly self come friday evening. no more bruises, no more groaning when you change the keg and absolutely zero mention of your wretched boyfriend.

so when he pulls into his gravel driveway one gloomy saturday night, he’s aghast to see you perched on his trailer steps. blinking through his headlights, soaked through from the rain with a busted lip and a torn shirt to match.

he near enough launches himself from his van, rushing over to your hunched over frame. damn near falling over his feet to get to you.

‘what the hell happened?’

you stand, clinging onto your poorly packed rucksack, ‘i.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ utterly defeated, any traces of life drained from your face.

he doesn’t say another word, bundling you into the trailer, slamming the lights on to get a proper look of you. his hands firmly on your drenched shoulders as he examines your injuries. your lip is cracked, the blood had wept from the cut and dried on your chin.

it’s awful. knocks him sick just to see you like this. your cheeks are stained with a mixture of rain and he presumes tears, hair hanging limp around your beautiful face.

‘what happened?’ he says softly, studying your face. he notices the small gash on your forehead, using everything within himself not to storm out of that door in a murderous rage.

your mouth opens but no words come out. it’s not as if he can’t put two and two together, he just doesn’t understand how it got to this point after last week.

‘it’s okay.. c’mon let’s get you out of these clothes,’ he blinks, collecting himself before taking your sopping wet bag. the clothes had all suffered in the downpour, damp and unwearable.

so he leads you into his cramped room, hastily rummaging through his drawers for something you can wear.

it’s a little self-indulgent and completely the wrong time but his heart flutters when you reappear out of the bathroom sporting his tee and a pair of old gym shorts. now showered and without the blood stains on your face, it’s a welcome sight.

‘better?’ he offers, though he knows a shower could never really help.

you nod, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. it’s so adorable and eddie seriously has to fight his compulsion to just pull you into his arms. he knows there’s no way he can protect you from everything but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

‘you want a drink? beer?’

your eyes light up, a minuscule smirk appearing on your battered lips. he’s sure wayne would understand why he came home to a non-existent six pack. the berating would be worth it to see you smile again.

he collapses onto the couch next to you, beer in hand as he watches you slowly relax. delighted that he could offer a safe space for you, even if it did come with some very complicated feelings.

that night, admittedly very creepily, he watches as you sleep. terrified to fall asleep in his makeshift bed on the floor in case you needed him.

at some point in the last two weeks, eddie had gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in his bed next to you. you’d told him it was far too cold for him on the floor and he should just get in. which he did, with great pleasure. there was nothing to it of course, but a few times he’d woken up to your leg entangled with his or your face pressed against his back.

everything had just got a whole lot more comfortable. rides to work, cooking for one another and some shared looks that he’d been unable to put his finger on. not wanting to believe they had any deeper meaning but at the same time, he knew that that wasn’t how friends looked at each other.

it’s a rare night you both have off, sat in the trailer watching halloween, neither of you really interested in what’s going on on the screen. there’s an inexplicable tension in the air tonight, you’re quieter than usual which eddie doesn’t like.

‘you okay?’ he dares to ask. he’d felt a little overbearing those first few days, constantly checking on you to make sure you were okay.

‘hmm? oh, i’m okay,’ setting your bottle of beer on the table, ending up much closer to him when you sit back.

‘you sure? you’re quiet,’ keen not to let on that he was absolutely buzzing about your close proximity.

‘just thinking.’

‘about?’

you let out a soft breath, twisting around to look at him fully. the only times he’d been this close to you were in bed where he laid and listened to your soft snores and when you’d been covered in injuries. neither one were exceptionally great circumstances.

‘you,’ you blink up at him, smiling just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

‘me?’ he can’t decipher whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘mhm.’

‘what about me?’

you don’t respond for what feels like an eternity but your gaze lowers, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. if he weren’t staring directly into your bright eyes, he’d have missed it.

‘i really want to kiss you,’ you say, so brazenly that eddie’s not quite sure if he’s heard you correctly, almost sputtering on his breath as the words process.

‘you.. you wanna kiss me?’ trying hard not to sound so astounded. pretty girls didn’t want to kiss eddie, not like this.

you nod, ‘can i?’

there are stars in his eyes, blood pumping around his limbs at an alarming rate. his head is fuzzy and if he weren’t sitting, he’d probably have fainted.

‘please,’ he chokes, desperately forcing the word out before it becomes impossible.

your palms are soft as they caress his cheek, wishing that he’d shaved before this had unfolded. his heartbeat stutters, bubbling with anticipation as you lean in, gentle lips locking onto his as his eyes flutter shut.

this is it. he’d dreamt of kissing you for weeks, practiced on his hand an embarrassing amount of times and yet still nothing could’ve prepared him for how earth shattering this felt. his heart is practically jumping out of his chest and he’s sure you can feel it thumping against yours.

it’s as if fate had bought the two of you together, moving against each other in perfect harmony. if he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

your hand creeps down onto his chest, holding yourself upright as you shift onto your knees. do you want to have sex with him? is this actually happening? his fingertips vibrate as they connect with your waist, like you weren’t even real and just a figment of his overactive imagination.

the second your lips part from his, he wants to cry, pull you back in and never let go. the absence of contact makes him whine, opening his eyes to see yours gazing back, they look different. different to how you’ve ever looked at him before, full of something unspeakable.

‘do you want to?’ you ask quietly into the minimal space between you.

eddie wants to so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. nodding hurriedly to let you know just how eager he is. there’s not a chance in hell he’d let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

your lips twitch into a smile at his permission, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt.

but before you get any further, the trailer door clicks open and wayne is stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand accompanying his unimpressed scowl. ‘okay well, i think that’s enough of that,’ he grumbles, shuffling into the trailer as you climb off eddie’s lap, back into your own spot.

‘sorry wayne.. i didn’t know you were back so early,’ his cheeks burning, bashful as ever. it wasn’t enough for wayne to walk in on that but he was always now straining against his jeans, trying desperately to hide the tent while you reshuffle, pulling your shorts back down to a more appropriate length.

‘yeah yeah whatever,’ his uncle shakes his head, trundling over to the couch and tossing the box onto the cluttered coffee table, ‘move over boy, i wanna watch my programme,’ collapsing into the empty seat beside his nephew with a deep, guttural sigh.

the two of you share a sly smirk, tuning in to whatever shit wayne had put on without saying another word. stifling your laughter with a piece of pizza as eddie tries and fails to discretely pull a pillow onto his lap.

it’s hours later when you both crawl into bed and eddie has checked five times that wayne’s actually asleep before he gets to kiss you again.

bundled up under the covers when you pull him on top of you, your face gloriously basked in the bright moonlight shining in. it’s breathtaking.

‘you want to?’ you ask again, as if his answer had changed in those few hours.

he nods, his curls brushing fall down and brush against your cheek, ‘have you.. before?’ you ask cautiously. he’s not offended, even if he should be.

he has had sex before. only twice. when ellen had first joined hellfire, they had sorta had a year long fling which had ended after they had sex and ellen realised that maybe she didn’t actually like men. that was a super boost to his confidence. and then at senior prom when tina took great pity on him and somehow they ended up having sex in the back of his van.

he nods anyway, granted he’s not the most experienced but he’ll sure as hell try.

‘good,’ you smile, warm thighs wrapping around his torso as you reconnect your lips. it’s soft, gentle even. world’s apart from his previous encounters. this felt real, like you weren’t just kissing because you had to but because you wanted to.

it’s too cold in the trailer to care about removing your clothes, though he’s sure that’ll change in a minute. focussing on getting his tongue inside of your mouth, rutting against your pajama shorts. the friction causing his already semi-hard dick to rise, unable to contain the moan from escaping.

a smirk flashes across his face as his hand drags your shorts down your legs, savouring every moment of being able to touch your bare, supple skin. his hand makes its way back up your legs, repositioning the one he could grasp back around his lower back.

he has trouble getting his boxers down, too excited to focus on being smooth about it. appreciating the feel of your hand tugging the fabric down. you’re barely kissing at this point, your lips connecting with the corner of his mouth, all messy as the anticipation takes over.

‘you sure?’ he asks, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. he could just about remember what to do. sending a quick prayer upstairs to not let him be utterly useless.

‘i’m sure,’ you breathe, the feel of your fingers tangled into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

‘okay..’ he nods, mostly to himself as he wraps a head around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. taking a brief moment to just capture this moment in preparation of it never happening again.

the pleasure overcomes his body as he slides in, already almost losing himself as he fills you up. a soft moan escapes your lips, gripping onto his neck. he is acutely aware that his uncle is asleep on the other side of the old trailer so he muffles his face into your neck, lips connecting with your jaw bone, kissing any and every bit of skin exposed to him.

sex had never felt like this before. at best, it had felt slightly better than when he jerked off, but this was something else. eddie knows it’s cliche and is definitely only because you feel so fucking good around him, but it’s as if you were made for each other.

hands pressed into the pillow so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a permanent dent either side of your head. using everything within himself not to start hollering, eyes fluttering shut against your neck. he moves in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. the small room filling with the sounds of your soaking wet cunt. its undeniable to anyone with ears and he just hopes to god that wayne is still asleep.

his own low groans vibrating against your cheek, mouth hanging open as his thrusts grow faster. you’re panting softly directly into his ear, spurring him on. despite the feel of your perfect cunt around him, the best feeling is knowing that he’s making you feel good.

‘h-holy shit,’ he mumbles nonsensically into the crook of your neck, not allowing himself to come for air because he know that the second he looks at your face, he’ll cum.

your one hand is splayed out on his upper back, the other holding onto his sweaty neck beneath his mop of hair. whining his name into his ear, driving him into a frenzy with the sound of your breathy voice, desire rippling through your moans. he should tell you to be quiet but that’d be cruel and he’d rather take the shame of wayne knowing than not hearing you.

your legs shift higher the position allowing him to reach the golden spot, nudging the soft, spongy spot over and over. eddie figures you’re far more experienced than he is. with no offence meant to you but you obviously know what works. this is new territory for him, a closeness that he’d never known possible.

you’re engulfing him completely, every single one of his senses encompassed by you. you’re all he can see even with his eyes screwed shut, all he can hear, taste and smell. god knows you’re all he can feel, calves squeezing around his back and your perfect pussy tightening around him.

he groans, feeling his stomach begin to twist in that all too familiar feeling. orgasms had never felt so good, it’s like everything was dialled up to level ten. ‘i’m gonna.. shit- i’m gonna come,’ he babbles far too loudly.

every noise tumbling out of your mouth was pulling him closer, no record could ever come close to the sweet mewls that were slipping between your lips. his arms begin to tremble under his own weight. feeling your legs quivering around his waist as your orgasm begins to overtake your body, sinful noises echoing around the otherwise quiet trailer.

‘ohh fuck,’ he growls, feeling your walls clenching around him, it was like he’d been pushed over the edge. the only way he can begin to describe it was otherworldly, flashes of white light illuminate his eyelids.

images of your face accompany your honeyed whimpers and he has to pull out before he explodes. spurts of his release cover his hand and admittedly the back of your thigh. if he had any semblance of control, he’d have been embarrassed but he’s not exactly sure that he’s still on planet earth.

he dares to open his eyes, watching as your chest heaves below him clinging onto his forearm with desperate fingertips. you’re looking up at him as if he’s the only person you’d ever seen. mouth slack as you regain your breath.

‘jesus christ,’ he whispers, hand resting on your angled knee as he floats back down to your planet.

eddie clambers off of the bed with a grunt, wiping a hand over his sweaty face. reaching down to grab his previously discarded towel. it wasn’t the epitome of romance but he darent to leave his room, petrified that wayne had just heard that entire encounter.

he’s a gentleman, of course, running the towel over your thigh to clean his mess. offering you a tiny shrug as if to say sorry. rather suddenly he feels rather conscious of himself, refusing to look at you as his cheeks flame.

it’s ridiculous. he’d just been buried between your legs and yet now couldn’t even look you in the fucking eyes.

before he gets up again, your hand reaches out, curling around his t-shirt. ‘stop,’ using his shirt as leverage for you to sit up.

in one quick movement, you’re placing a tiny onto his lips. a reassurance he really shouldn’t have needed but he appreciates nonetheless.

‘don’t do that,’ you hush, millimetres from his face, the shadow of his broken blinds shine upon your cheek. it hurts him to know that someone would dare look at you and want to hurt you.

if it were possible, he’d take all of your pain and carry it with him instead.

‘okay..’ he nods, resisting the urge to apologise once again.

you giggle and it sounds like the heavens have opened, pulling his body on top of yours as his bed makes an almighty squeak. if wayne wasn’t already awake, he certainly would be now.

eddie doesn’t know where the fuck you are.

you hadn’t come back to the trailer after work last night and now you’re nowhere to be found. you were supposed to start half an hour ago but hadn’t turned up and now his heart is pounding, mind racing at the horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened.

at first, he’d thought maybe he said something wrong? he’d just thrown out the suggestion of going to get the rest of your things and moving them in here while you got back on your feet. he hadn’t meant to push you out, god no, that was the last thing he wanted.

maybe stupidly he had presumed you wanted your own space. whatever the hell was going on between you two was so fresh, he didn’t want to even chance fucking it up.

the guilt wracks his brain, tempted to drop everything to drive around this tiny town looking for you. he’s so stupid. should’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed it while you were there.

he’s just about to tell james that he’s leaving when the door to the bar opens and a rough looking man comes through with you held tightly underneath his arm. your eyes avoiding his direction, staring at the floor as the mystery man ushers you towards the back, making himself comfortable at the bar.

eddie’s heart shatters into a million pieces, watching open mouthed as you disappear into the back.

judging by the look on james’ face, he recognises him, reluctantly pouring his beer as they engage in useless small talk.

‘thought i’d better sit in for her shift.. wouldn’t want her running off again,’ the man announces, beady eyes glaring right into his soul.

eddie knows who he is. he’d never seen him before but he could tell. they all had that sinister aura about them, like they could flip at any given moment. his dad was the same, walking on egg shells around him just in case he said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way.

you emerge from the staff room, still vehemently avoiding eye contact, a shell of the you he saw just yesterday. ‘hey.. you okay?’ eddie asks, but it falls flat as you walk off without so much as a look back towards him.

he can’t believe it, how you could be so different so quickly. as if the past few weeks you’d spent together had meant nothing. he can’t blame you. not really. it’s a cycle and he knows better than anyone that it takes a thousand attempts to actually break out of it.

his shoulders slump as he rushes out the back, refusing to look at that assholes face any longer. willing himself to get a grip and not jump over that bar to strangle the piece of shit right now.

a hand clamps down on his shoulder and for a brief moment he thinks he might be you until james clears his throat, shuffling on his feet behind him, ‘you can’t save her man,’ squeezing his shoulder firmly, ‘you think we haven’t tried?’

eddie sniffs, shrugging him off. he didn’t appreciate the patronising tone in which james was speaking to him.

because god knows, if he couldn’t save his mom, there’s no fucking chance he’s not saving you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things x you #eddie munson x female reader smut

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tragedybunny · 7 months

Text

Sunlight and Stars in the Sky III - Astarion X F!Reader

The third, and last, part of a little arc about Astarion's confession.

Part 1 Part 2

Astarion has confessed everything to you, to try to make your relationship real. When he discovers it isn't as easy as he thought, he's determined to make things right between the two of you.

Astarion was happy, the happiest he could remember being, as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight against his chest. You cared about him and, impossibly, you forgave what he'd been trying to do to you. Snuggled into your hair, he breathed you in, wildflowers and sun-warmed forests. It wasn't what he expected at all. He'd thought you'd scream and curse him, say you never wanted to talk to him again, maybe even force him to leave the camp.

But you hadn’t. With soft words and the sweetest embrace, you'd told him you cared and would wait for him to be ready for anything more. His Sunlight, you were so good to him. And it was real now, what the two of you had, you had told him that. "Will you still share my tent?" His hand in yours, his voice caught in his throat as he asked. What if you didn't want to without the promise of intimacy?

“Of course Love,” you’d smiled warmly, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

That’s what led the two of you here, cozily cuddled together, your fingers entwined in his as you lay with your back against him. “No hunting tonight?”

“It can wait, there’s not much out there and I want all the time I can while you’re awake.” His lips brush your ear, the tiny half-elf point is a bit of a fascination of his, the way sometimes it makes you either giggle or make one of your happy little noises depending on just how it's touched. Tonight you sigh softly, you must be tired.

Astarion waits until you’re completely asleep to go out hunting, even then he’s loath to disentangle himself from you, afraid you could somehow just vanish. It still stings when he thinks of that first night you stayed in his tent, you were gone when he came back from hunting. Laying there alone in the dark, it was like he had been robbed of something he hadn’t even known he had, and he couldn’t fathom why. Later he learned you still thought you were unwanted at his side. He’d make sure you never thought that again, you were his and he was yours.

Hunting doesn’t take long, there’s really nothing about, a stray bird that found its way through the curse somehow. Once you all made it to Moonrise he’d make use of some cultists. Besides, that’s all the sooner he can have you back in his arms. Soft steps approach the tent, he doesn’t want to wake you. But something draws his attention, a sound, hushed sobs from within. Frantic that you’ve been harmed somehow, he hurries through the opening only to find you curled up on your side, face hidden in a pillow. Visibly unharmed, it's only your feelings that seem to be wounded by something. “Darling, are you alright?” Settling next to you, he hesitates before reaching over. Is this what he’s supposed to do? Or do you want space? His hand hangs in the air far too long while he tries to decide.

You shift and he loses the opportunity, sitting up a little to rub your eyes and try to hide your tears. “I’m fine, nothing to worry about.”

Awkwardly, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “You can talk to me. Please?” That’s what couples do, they talk to each other, but you’re holding back, and his doubts are starting to claw their way into his mind.

His eyes meet yours and the sudden realization knocks the air out of him. It’s him, he’s the reason for the tears. How he can see it, he doesn’t know, he’s sure all the same though. But still, you force a little smile for him. “Astarion please, I promise it’s fine.”

It would seem it’s your turn for pretty lies, and he wants to go along with it with all his heart. Let it go, wait for it to pass, bury it and never look back. But that wound will stay there, unresolved, festering. With a shaky hand, he cups your face gently. “Love, please, I…” He doesn’t know what more to say, so he lets you go and hangs his head. Perhaps he's not meant for this afterall.

“It’s just…a lot to take in. And it hurts to have been lied to.” Even with your eyes still watery, you’re so gentle with him. Far too gentle.

Arms move, reaching for you, but he stops, unsure if you'd want the comfort of the one that brought you pain. “I thought we were alright.” He hurt you, his Sunlight, his Darling, his Love, and everything in him wants to run, to get away before this all can go even worse, before he has to hear you say you've changed your mind.

“We will be,” you say, voice worn from crying.

Hells, he can’t let you do this again, be the strong one, put yourself to the side for someone else. Moving closer, he cautiously wraps his arms around you, still not knowing if it's what you want. “I’m sorry. I was so afraid, I didn’t think about hurting you.”

Returning his embrace, you nuzzle into his neck, an affectionate gesture he couldn’t even conceive of a few days ago, and now he’d die a thousand deaths to keep feeling it. “I know, I’m not mad.”

“Gods, perhaps you should be. At least if you took it out on me, we’d be even.” Astarion gives a shaky laugh, plunging ahead despite his doubts, because you’re still there, still holding him even after everything.

You answer with a peculiar little snort-laugh, a sound he’s never heard from yoy. For a fleeting moment he ponders how many more little facets of yours he’ll get to learn about in the time that he gets with you. “Please, if I yelled at you, you’d sulk for days.”

“I said we’d be even Darling, not that I’d take it gracefully.” Kissing the top of your head, he smiles, grateful you’re playing along.

“In that case,” you sit up and give him a serious look, which is immediately undercut by the grin you're suppressing, “you’re awful, you have bad hair, and you’re a messy eater.” You gesture to the recent puncture wounds in your neck for emphasis.

His jaw goes slack and he puts a hand over his heart in mock shock. “I didn’t realize you would be so ruthless about it. Why, if I still could, I would walk into the sun and burn myself out of pure heartbreak.”

Both of you dissolve into laughter and he scoops you into his lap, lingering giggles dying away as he covers your lips with his. “There, we’re even.” Your head comes to rest against his chest as his fingers trace small circles on your back.

“In all seriousness, Love, I need you to talk to me. I don’t know how to do any of this, give me a fighting chance.” At the last word, his voice cracks in a way that he abhors, not only does his pride shudder at the thought of breaking in front of you, he still wants to be the strong one right now, to give you that.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Turning in his arms, you kneel in front of him, eyes locked to his, hands on his shoulders.

There’s a different kind of intimacy to this, to looking you in the eyes and giving you the truth without obfuscation or embellishment. His first impulse is to look away, but he resists, keeping his gaze steady. Hands come to rest on your waist, a look of peace crossing your face at his touch. “With all my heart, Sunlight.”

Lips press to his, fervent but not demanding of anything more. With a swift motion, he pulls you down into the blankets, causing you to gasp in surprise. “Astarion!” You try to sound exasperated, but sigh happily as he wraps himself around you. “I’m glad we talked about this, thank you.”

“I mean, I am incredible in every other way, of course I’m a wonderful partner. Now I believe I am owed one overly-sappy term of endearment or I’ll be deeply hurt.”

“My Starry Sky.” The silly little nickname has a way of making everything inside him flutter somehow, but the way your voice was right now, soft and affectionate, warm, like a home he didn’t know he had, he’d die if you asked him too. Or at least strongly consider it.

After pulling some of the scattered mess of covers over the two of you, lips brush yours one more time , and you tuck your head under his chin. Exactly where you belong.

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #x reader #my writing #my fanfic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

too many teens whining for validation, this blog needs more weird and stupid so...

AITA for kidnapping my friend and trapping her in the cheesebarn?

Hear me out:

The story starts about a week before my (20 at the time ftm) 21st birthday. If you live in the US you know this isnt just some lame 7th birthday or 36th birthday, this is one of the big boy birthdays, the special ones. Its when you can legal buy alcohol and are therefore truly an adult in the eyes of the law.

Naturally my friends (20s) wanted to do something Big for our 21sts. So they asked me what i wanted to do and i said i didnt really care as long as I got a road trip somewhere with friends.

Everyone thought it was a fun idea but it was a little short notice for everyone to get time off from work, but my other friend we will call C also had her 21st exactly a month after mine to the day, and the two of us agreed to share our 21sts and not do much of anything on my actual birthday. This is important, bc it was a SHARED birthday road trip.

I agree to let C pick the destination and I provide the car. We didnt have much of a plan as we were going to meet up with C's old roommate who lives in the city we picked to show us a good time.

It was 5 of us total and about a 7 hour drive altogether there with not a whole lot on the way there. We get to the city she picked and meet the roommate and honestly the rest of this part is just standard 21st birthday shenanigans. Its when we start the drive home things really start.

Remember its a long drive with not much to see? Well that was a lie. On our way back we see it, the Real "Happiest Place on Earth" as far as places with a mouse for a mascot go:

Grandpa's.

Fuckin'.

Cheesebarn.

Obviously me and the other people on the trip want to stop and see the magic, but unfucking fortunately C happens to be the only Basic White Girl ™️ in the entire world who hates cheese and isnt even lactose intolerant. This girl is notorious for making "petty" and "I hate Cheese" her entire personality. She would constantly make faces and gagging noises and talk about how gross and nasty cheese is if you so much as eat a grilt cheese near her.

Clearly she made it known that she wasnt on board with it. "NO! FUCK YOU ALL IM NOT GOING TO A PLACE CALLED A CHEESEBARN ON MY BIRTHDAY!!" were her exact words.

But i remembered i was driving, it was my car, and it was supposed to be my birthday too. So I put it to a vote. "Raise your hand if you wanna go to Grandpa's Cheesebarn!"

All hands raise but one. With C out voted we head to the cheesebarn.

Guys. This place is amazing. Its obviously making cheese its main draw, but yhere's so much more, its every shitty midwest tourist trap rolled into one glorious place. There's even a chocolate shop. We even got C's roommate to ditch work and come meet us bc shr heard "Grandpa's Cheesebarn" and knew she had to drop everything.

All in all a good visit, C even seemed like she had fun once we got there (she sure spent $300 on candies and dip mixes anyway). We go home. Things seem fine.

Then C drops off the face of the earth.

She wont respond to our calls or texts and at first we thought maybe she was giing through a rough patch or something and try to just keep reaching out but give her space. But then we find out that not only is she still hanging our with our other friends who couldnt make the trip with us. So clearly she's just pissed at us about something.

Finally one day a few months later i catch her at her job and just tell her "I dont care if you hate us, we'll never speak to you again if you dont want us to, but what the hell did we do to you??"

And she just looked me over and says "Well. You kidnapped me."

lolwut

And she yells (bc this girl loves yelling at people) "YOU KIDNAPPED ME AND TRAPPED ME AT A CHEESEBARN ON. MY. BIRTHDAY!!!!!"

And i just said "Well it was my birthday too," and havent spoken to her since. Its been over a decade and "No ragrets" as we said back in the day, but uts baffled me for years that that was her reaction. "Im just over you guys" i can understand, and its not like she was shy about telling people she hates them and their out of her life ever before. And from what i ended up hearing from our other friends she kept talking with it really was about the cheesebarn and how we "ruined her birthday".

No but srsly AITA??? For making her go to a cheesebarn???

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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vioartemis · 1 year

Text

Jealous

(Ghostface! Sam Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Sam gets jealous and killed a girl that flirted with you. You catch her, and things turn heated very quickly Warnings: (+18), smut, strap-on sex, top! Sam, blood, Sam kills someone a/n: let's say that Richie wasn't Sam's boyfriend during the 2022 massacre (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

Sam and you had been dating for over two years now, and she was a perfect girlfriend. Sweet, caring, maybe a little overprotective sometimes but you could understand why.

But there was that side of her that you never saw. She was jealous, and possessive. Not just a little like everybody. No. It was far more intense than that.

The simple thought of someone else touching you - or wanting to - made her see red. She had to hold back every time someone looked at you a little too long. Fortunately, it always worked.

Until today.

You had been invited to a party by one of your classmates. Sam didn't trust the girl, she saw how she looked at you. And she was right.

As soon as your girlfriend left to go to the bathroom, Bella came to you.

"Hey beautiful, how's the party?" she asked, putting her hand on your arm

"It's cool, thanks for inviting me"

"Anytime" she smiled "I'd invite you everyday if I could" she added, trailing her fingers up your arm "Why don't we go upstairs, huh? I have some good stuff in my room"

"I'm gonna have to pass. I have a girlfriend"

"She doesn't need to know. C'mon, it'll be quick, she will not even notice-"

"She told you she had a girlfriend. Now back the fuck off." Sam intervened, spawning right behind you, glaring daggers at the other girl

The girl must have been scared because she complied without complaining and almost ran away.

Sam wrapped a possessive arm around your waist, holding you close.

"This bitch" she mumbled

"Thank you for helping me out" you said, turning around to face her and wrap your arms around her "You're kinda hot when you're jealous y'know?" you kissed her tenderly "can we go home? I don't really want to stay anymore..."

"Of course baby, we're going home"

Maybe two hours after you got back home, Sam told you she was going to her therapy session and went out. You were alone in the appartement, Tara being with her friends. You looked up for your bag, the one you brought to Bella's party, in which you had put your phone, but couldn't find it.

"Shit..." you whispered as you remembered you left it at her house

You had no other choice than go back there and get it. You weren't going to leave your phone there.

You put your shoes on, and quickly went back to the girl's house.

When you arrived, the party was over, and everything was silent. You entered quietly, not sure you were allowed to do that.

You made your way to the living room, looking for your bag, when a noise coming from the kitchen draw your attention. Without even thinking about it, you started walking towards the noise.

When you entered the room, you saw Bella lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, someone in a black robe on top of her. You first thought it was Ghostface, but the person wasn't wearing a mask. You could see their long, dark hair.

"Sam...?"

Hearing her name, the girl turned around, eyes wide. You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to see that.

"Why did you do that...?"

She got up and walked to you, dropping the bloody knife on the floor, trying to find the good words. She couldn't find any excuse, her jealousy taking control.

"She was trying to fuck you. I'm not letting anyone touch what's mine."

You never thought she could kill someone. You should be scared of her. But you were not. You were aroused.

The look in her eyes, dark, almost animalistic, the way her muscles tensed when she stabbed the girl, the very muscles that drove you crazy since day one, the blood on her face... The fact that she killed for you...

You couldn't help the blush that appeared on your face. And she saw it. A smirk appeared on her face.

She took your chin between her thumb and index and tilted your head up so she could kiss you. She wasted no time and slipped her tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss.

Her hands were on your hips, before sliding down to your thighs, signaling you that she wanted to lift you up. You helped her - even tho it was useless, jumping slightly and wrapping your legs around her waist.

Without breaking the kiss, she walked to the couch and knelt on it so she could make you lay on your back and be on top of you.

She then pulled away, only to dip down to your neck where she left hickeys and love bites in the most visible places for people to know you were hers, and hers only.

When she was satisfied with the marks she left on you, she sat up and looked at you for a second, biting her bottom lip.

She took off her black robe, leaving her in her grey tank top and jeans, jeans that were took off quickly after, revealing the black strap she was wearing.

You didn't know seeing her wearing a strap and a tank top could be that exciting. You felt yourself get wetter by the second, cheeks burning, heart racing in anticipation.

Sam took her belt from her jeans and pinned your hands over your head, tying them up with the leather band.

"If you move them I'll stop." she said, still mad from earlier.

You nodded.

She kissed your lips one more time before unbuttoning your pants, slid them down your legs and threw them somewhere in the room before taking off the last piece of clothing you had at a painfully slow pace.

"You're so wet, I don't even need lube." she smirked, looking at your dripping cunt "Who made you this wet, huh?"

"Y-you"

"Damn right I did."

Without any warning, she slid her silicone cock inside you in one swift motion, making you moan loudly.

"God, you're so tight..." she groaned

She waited a little, letting you time to ajust, before she started moving in deep, rough thrusts.

You knew it was bad, she just killed someone after all. But it felt so good.

Her smirk got wider at the moans leaving your mouth, knowing she was she only one who got to hear them.

"You like it when I fuck you like that, huh? When I fuck your pretty little pussy with my cock? Tell me, who do you belong to?"

Her movements slowed down, making you whine, frustrated tears in your eyes.

"Y-you. I belong to you Sam...! P-please 'm close..."

"That's right, you're mine. Mine to kiss, mine to love, mine to fuck." she picked up her pace again, hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you "I'm the only one who get to fuck your tight pussy. I'll kill everyone who would want to do it too."

You clenched around the faux cock at her words, your orgasm building.

"You're so pretty under me, your pretty pussy swallowing my cock like that... God, I wish I could fill you up with my cum..."

"F-fuck Sam... I- I'm gonna-"

"I know, cum for me" she cut you off, moving her thumb to rub tight circles on your clit

You moaned her name as your orgasm washed over you, back arching, legs shaking, eyes rolling back. Sam fucked you through it, only stopping her thrusts when she saw tears in your eyes from the overstimulation.

She looked at you tenderly and pulled out, eliciting a last moan from you, before kissing you softly.

"You did amazing baby. Such a good girl for me, hm?" she hummed against your lips

She stood up and put her pants back on, taking her black robe from off the floor, and started walking in the other room.

"Where are you going?" you asked, propping yourself on your elbows

"Getting tissues and bleach"

"For what?"

"Cleaning the mess you made on the couch" she replied with a smirk before disappearing in the kitchen "I wouldn't want the police to find you DNA on a crime scene"

You looked down at the couch below you and couldn't help but blush at the sight of your dripping pussy soaking the piece of furniture. You got up, looking for your underwear and pants before putting them back on.

Sam came back with bleach and handed you a sponge.

"What do I have to do this?"

"It's your mess baby, you clean it"

"But it's your fault if I made a mess"

"The faster it disappear, the faster we can go home and continue that properly"

She had a proud smirk, knowing you couldn't say no.

"... Okay give me the bleach"

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter smut #scream

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carland0 · 8 days

Text

Star Crossed | D. Ricciardo

Summary: You are attending the Met Gala. You've been several times before, but this year Anna Wintour has invited you to perform. You meet Daniel Ricciardo on the red carpet, and you spend the evening getting to know eachother.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x singer!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

A/N This is my first time writing in a really long time so pls go easy on me, and let me know if you want part 2! This part is more of a prologue, it will get spicier as it develops in future parts

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Part 1

It's the first Monday in May; Met Gala day. I've been before, and it's always been one of my favourite events of the year, but this year is different. This year, I'm performing.

I shouldn't be nervous, I've performed in front of thousands of people worldwide, but as I pull up to the red carpet, I can't remember the last time I felt this nervous. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, trying to shut out the conversations of my team around me.

"Y/n, it's time to go", my assistant calls, jolting me from my thoughts. My stylist fusses with my hair, and I stand to step out of the car. As I step onto the carpet, the flash of cameras illuminate the night, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement.

I smooth down the delicate fabric of my gown, a 2001 Karl Lagerfeld dress, and begin to navigate my way towards the cameras. The flashes are almost blinding, and the paparazzi start shouting directions at me, telling me where to look. At first, red carpets and paparazzi were overwhelming, but it's become second nature to me by now.

I make my way across the carpet and up the steps, pausing every now and then for photos and to say hi to a few industry friends before making my way into the opulent halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

After catching up with an old friend, I hear an Australian voice calling my name. Glancing around, my eyes land on a familiar face, but one that I've only seen on television screens and in the pages of magazines.

Daniel Ricciardo.

He stands tall, making his way towards me. Despite attending a few races, I've never met him, and his easy smile draws me in like a magnet. I knew he was good-looking, but up close...

"Hi, I'm Daniel," he says, interrupting me from my thoughts and extending his right hand. I reach out and shake his hand, trying to ignore the shivers crawling up my arm at his touch.

"I'm a huge fan," he adds with a grin.

"Oh, you don't need to introduce yourself to me," I say, smiling back at him. "I'm a fan, too. Is this your first Met?"

"It is. Pretty crazy out there, right?" Daniel responds, gesturing towards the crowd outside.

"Sure is." I agree, nodding.

"I was just ahead of you on the carpet, you made it look easy," he says, beaming his signature grin again.

"Thank you," I chuckle. "It hasn't always come naturally, but y'know, it comes with the job. You must be used to it too, especially now you're a Netflix star."

"You watched Drive to Survive?" he asks, seeming surprised.

"Of course, like I said, I'm a fan too. It's great to meet you."

Our conversation flows effortlessly, spanning topics from our favourite tracks to travel adventures. Despite the glitz and glamour surrounding us, our interaction feels genuine, as if we've known each other for far longer than just a few minutes.

"So, what's it like performing in front of thousands of people?" Daniel asks, eyes sparkling with curiosity as we make our way around the exhibits.

"It's exhilarating," I reply, trying to mask the nerves that flutter in my stomach at the thought of tonight's performance. "But it can also be nerve-wracking. Tonight's no exception."

"I can imagine," he muses, leaning in slightly as if hanging on to my every word. "But I have no doubt you'll kill it out there."

His words offer a comforting reassurance, and I can't help but smile gratefully. "Thanks, Daniel. That means a lot." I say, as I see my assistant approaching from the corner of my eye. "That's my cue. It was great to meet you, Daniel." I say, not quite ready for the conversation to be over.

As I start to walk away, Daniel catches my arm gently, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. "Hey, if you need a distraction from the nerves, I'll be right here."

I chuckle nervously, grateful for his offer. "Thanks, I might take you up on that." With a final wave, I disappear into the backstage chaos, my mind buzzing with anticipation for the performance ahead.

As I take the stage, the bright lights momentarily blind me, but as my eyes adjust, I scan the crowd for familiar faces. And there, in the sea of Hollywood stars and models, I spot Daniel, his encouraging smile a beacon of support amidst the sea of faces.

Our eyes lock for a brief moment, and in that instant, I feel a surge of confidence wash over me. With his silent encouragement, I dive into the performance, pouring my heart and soul into each lyric. After my performance, I head back into the crowd to watch the other performers and catch up with a few friends, but I can't escape the disappointment in the back of my mind that I haven't bumped into Daniel again.

Later in the night, as I'm beginning to get bored of forced conversations, our paths cross again. Daniel's presence is like a magnet, drawing me in with his infectious energy and easy charm. We find ourselves laughing and sharing stories, the rest of the gala fading into the background as we lose ourselves in each other's company.

"So, what's next for you after tonight?" Daniel asks. I smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his interest. "Well, this was my last performance for a little while. I'm taking a break for a bit before heading to the studio to work on new music. What about you?"

Daniel shrugs casually. "Oh, same old. Just doing some promo stuff for Red Bull. I'm desperate to get back on the track."

Instinctively, I reach out and gently touch his arm. "I have no doubt you'll get there, you're a talented driver."

Before I can say anything else, Daniel reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. "Hey, would you mind if I got your number?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

My heart skips a beat at his request, and I nod, trying to contain my excitement. "Of course," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady as I take the phone from his hands and enter my number.

"Thanks," Daniel says with a grateful smile as he takes his phone back. "I'd love to stay in touch."

The warmth in his voice sends a thrill through me, and I can't help but smile back. "Me too," I reply, my heart fluttering with anticipation.

As the night begins to wind down, the energy of the gala mellows into a gentle hum of conversation and soft music. Daniel and I linger for a while longer, savouring the final moments of the evening.

I glance at the time on my phone and realise that it's time for me to leave. "I hate to cut this short, but I should probably head out. Mind if we take a quick picture before I go?"

"Of course," he says warmly, leaning in as I snap a picture of the two of us at our table. "It's been an amazing night, thank you for making me feel welcome at my first Met."

"The pleasure was all mine. See you again soon?" I say, trying to hide the sadness creeping into my voice at the thought of saying goodbye.

"I hope so," he smiles, opening his arms and pulling me in to a gentle embrace. I reluctantly tear myself away, the lingering scent of his cologne leaving a bittersweet reminder of our evening together.

Settling into the backseat of my car, the picture of Daniel and I burns brightly on my phone screen. I decide to share the moment to my Instagram story, tagging Daniel alongside the honey and badger emojis. I place my phone in my bag to avoid the notifications that are sure to start rolling in, and rest my head against the window, shutting my eyes to replay the night in my head, wondering when I'll see Daniel again.

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fic #Daniel Ricciardo fanfic #formula one imagine #🍯🦡#Daniel Ricciardo fluff #lando norris #carlos s #carlando #lando norris x reader #Daniel Ricciardo x you #Charles Leclerc x reader #Carlos Sainz x reader #Carlos Sainz x you

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raz-writes-the-thing · 7 months

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Warming Up (Good Omens Drabble)

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: You're cold. Aziraphale and Crowley can't have that, can they?

CW: none, this is so freakin soft

Gomens tag list: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“Are you cold, dearest? Oh, you’re positively shaking.”

Aziraphale has his brows drawn down in that way that you know means he’s starting to overthink things and stress right out. You are in fact cold. Freezing, even. You nod, and Aziraphale tuts, drawing you into his embrace.

“You poor thing,” he coos.

You relax almost instantly, a sigh of relief melting out of you. Aziraphale rests his chin on the top of your head and rubs his hand over your back softly but firmly, trying to get the circulation going once again.

“Crowley, love, would you mind popping in here for a moment?” Aziraphale calls, using his other hand to cover your ears softly just in case he was too loud for you. It was such a sweet gesture that it made you giggle, though you were immediately wracked with shivers as the cold bit back into your skin.

“Mm- yes, Angel?” Crowley sticks his head around a bookcase. He takes one look at the view before him before promptly letting his protective instincts kick in. “What’s happened?” He sounds calm, but you know him better. You can hear the hint of a threat behind those words.

“Our dearest here is cold. Come?”

Crowley is pressed up behind you before the full sentence has left Aziraphale’s mouth. His warm hands wrap around you and the both of them are now sandwiching you between them. It takes a moment but cold does start to seep away.

You decide that there’s nothing quite like being sandwiched for a warm cuddle with the afternoon light coming in through the window. You could stay like this forever.

“There, now,” Aziraphale comforts. “Are you warming up?”

You nod, snuggling into his chest further. The Angel chuckles, and the Demon behind you presses in closer with a soft grunt.

Crowley pulls a miracle from below, and suddenly the three of you are in the bedroom upstairs. Your stomach lurches uncomfortably for a second at the momentary displacement, and Crowley chuckles.

“Sorry, Pet- just thought- well, you know. Might be more comfortable in here.” He averts eye contact, doing his best to quell the flush creeping up his cheeks. “Blankets and things,” he adds.

“Good idea,” you say, shivering as the both of them step away. You clamber into the middle of the bed. Your partners follow- one on either side of you. They pull you in close, Crowley nosing at your neck and Aziraphale pressing a kiss to your temple.

Aziraphale miracles the blankets over the top of the three of you and settles down comfortably.

“Can’t have our favourite mortal getting sick now, can we?” He says, tutting softly.

“Mm- remember last time?” Crowley adds. “All that… mucus.” You can’t see his face but you can tell he has his lips screwed up in distaste.

You roll your eyes and reach behind you to swat at him.

“If I recall correctly- you were the one who wouldn’t leave me alone, remember?” The last time you’d gotten a cold, Crowley had barely left you alone for more than two minutes at a time. He’d been always coming by to see if you needed anything. It was sweet at first but did end up grating on you somewhat. “Couldn’t have thought it was that gross at the time.”

“Shut up,” he replied, nipping at your shoulder. You laugh.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought, dear.”

It doesn’t take long at all before you’re all warmed up again, but you don’t tell Aziraphale or Crowley that. You enjoy their warmth far too much to let them go tend to their errands. At least not yet.

They know this, of course- but they certainly don’t complain.

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chuuyrr · 8 months

Text

SAY MY NAME AND EVERYTHING JUST STOPS — NAKAHARA CHUUYA

=͟͟͞♡ CW(s): NSFW, MDNI, f! reader, tummy bulging, oral (f! receiving) slight overstimulation, soft! chuuya constantly calls you nicknames like good girl, sweetheart, and baby

=͟͟͞♡ SYNOPSIS: in which you and chuuya share a secret moment together that's a bit closer than usual

=͟͟͞♡ INSPIRED BY: dress and false god by taylor swift !

before you read: i wrote this as a part two of i can see you in mind, but i think this can be read as a stand alone

it was nearly midnight when the gala ended.

since the event was being conducted by a powerful and high-class organization, the armed detective agency and the port mafia sent you and chuuya there for intel purposes, but you couldn't help but take the tie-up assignment a little too far.

you and your partner had already gotten what you needed, but you took advantage of the opportunity to let loose and have some fun as you drank your third drink of the night, and the fact that you were dressed up so beautifully for the occasion didn't help chuuya either.

you looked so stunning in your sweetheart neckline dress with a slit showing off the soft and tender flesh of your left leg, matching shoes and jewelries, and hair and make-up that would make anyone swoon.

chuuya felt hot and bothered as he watched from afar while sipping his own glass of wine as your face gradually became flushed from all the beverages you were drinking while you smiled and danced on the floor. one of his hands was tugging at his own collar, his suit felt unreasonably thick for some reason.

chuuya sighs and checks his watch as he finishes his last glass of wine. it was becoming late, and he didn't want you to come home in a drunken stupor.

chuuya always felt so different whenever he was with you, especially right now, with all the banters, drinks, and conversations he had with you, as well as the intimate moments you spent as you two belonged to different organizations.

it warms his heart to see how far you two have come. chuuya could still remember the first time you two met, how he used to become upset with you fooling with him and snatching his knife, but now you have taken his heart and he had entirely given it up to you.

but right now, chuuya wants you more than he has ever desired you before.

chuuya shakes his head and approaches you in the middle of the room, gently taking your arm in his hand and saying, "hey, pretty. don't you think it's becoming late?

"chuuya, hey," you turn your head to face him, half-lidded eyes on him, before wrapping your arms around his suit-clad torso, your cheek against his chest, "there you are pretty boy.

chuuya feels his heart skipping a beat. even when you're somewhat tipsy, the way you say his name makes his heart flutter and warm inside his chest, and it was enough to make everything around him stop and his universe revolve around you, and only you.

"yeah, sweetheart? i'm right here," chuuya whispers quietly, in a rather husky and deep tone of voice.

his hands were trembling with anticipation as one of them moved to your cheek to caress it, while the other trailed from your arm to wrap around your back to hold you as well.

chuuya draws the two of you away from the crowded room, his back against the hallway wall, while he passionately plants a kiss on the crown of your head.

truth be told, you were the only one he was like this to. chuuya was never this gentle with his coworkers. you were different, as you had always been, and no one knew about you and him.

you were the only one who got to see this side of him, and no one else did, without even having to try. everyone only sees the unyielding, intimidating, and short-tempered side of him, never this one.

"chuuya," you softly murmur again, looking up at him with a small pout.

"hmm?" chuuya struggles to keep his breath from hitching. you look so damn beautiful in this angle, with your body pressed against his and your face resting on his chest.

the alcohol was starting to seep into your systems, making you a little more honest than usual as you say with a cheeky little smirk that he admires, "i have a secret to tell you."

chuuya could feel your heart beating against his chest. you seem a bit nervous for the first time despite your playful display, despite the fact that you're typically so upbeat and confident with him, especially at work.

"and what's that?" chuuya blinks, his hand still softly caressing your cheek, and he can't help but chuckle as you look up at him.

you straighten up and stand on the tips of your heels, your lips just a few inches away from his, your cherry wine breath teasing him as you say, "i only bought this dress so you could take it off."

"fuck," chuuya whispers quietly as he feels the blood rush to his cheeks, as well as the alcohol in his system from all the wine he's been drinking from this occasion.

he finds himself gripping your waist a little tighter now as he softly says again and tries to gather himself, "don't say things like that, [name]. people could hear you, baby."

"but i want you to, chuuya," your eyes meet and you speak in a language that only you two understand as you say, "and i want you too."

chuuya trails the hand he was using to caress your cheek and slides it to grab your waist before shakily moving both of his hands to your hips.

he moves in closer, your faces practically touching as he traces your temple with his nose before pressing his lips lovingly on your cheek and pulling you closer against his body.

"i want you too, baby. i've always had, and you've always seen that i have, no?" he murmurs huskily with a smirk before pressing his lips on yours, eliciting a soft moan from you.

chuuya is honestly surprised that he was able to drive you both back to his penthouse after you had been almost all over each other since the gala, practically in each other's tongues and making out in the hallway in secret.

as you made your way inside place, you and chuuya were nearly tripping over each other.

"up," chuuya whispers a delicate request on your lips before kissing them for the nth time tonight, his hands carressing the side of your thighs over the fabric of your pretty dress.

you jump obediently, urging him to carry you as such with his hands firmly beneath your thighs, and it doesn't take long for the two of you to end up in his bed.

chuuya hovers over your body, biting his bottom lip and groaning at the sight of you on his sheets, looking so ethereal with your hair undone and lipstick smudged from all the passionate kisses, while you look up at him with those pretty eyes, admiring the lipstick stains you've peppered on his face and neck.

despite the intense and desperate tension in the air, chuuya's hands were warm and soft, but yet quick as they roamed your body, feeling you up through your clothes.

as your arms wrap around his neck, he grinds his knee into your clothed pussy and kisses you passionately on the lips. the weight of you and him causes the mattress to dent and creak.

chuuya pulls away a little after the kiss, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek as he looks down at you with a chuckle, "shall we take this further? i wanna make sure my sweetheart wants this as much as i do, and also to make sure i'm not dreaming either."

"mhm," you nod swiftly before turning your head to kiss his palm cupping your cheek and smile at him.

chuuya nods his head as well when he receives your consent before he carefully removes your dress, his hands sensually working their way to unzip your dress from you and get rid of the rest.

your arms wrap around his neck again as he takes off his own clothes with you helping him unbutton and unzip everything, drawing him closer as his warm lips plant feathery kisses on your neck and his hands delicately carress your hips, worshiping them.

"chuuya, i need you right now. please," you moan out his name quietly, and the way you say it always gets the best of him. it always makes his heart skip a beat.

"i know, baby. i know," chuuya kisses your ear before gently nibbling it, causing a soft but sweet little whine to escape your lips.

chuuya kisses you from your ear to your neck, delicately tracing your body all the way to your abdomen and, eventually, your inner thighs. as he holds your thighs firmly apart just to bury his face in between your legs, your chest heaves up and down, your breathing hitching.

you shudder and moan softly as he kisses your inner thighs, nibbling on the tender flesh before slowly trailing his lips to your pussy. as you feel his tongue prod at your clit, you let out a stifled but sweet little whine as your body arches.

your leg trembles as you squirm, but he only pulls your thighs more apart to keep you in place and make an easier access for him.

"stay still for me, pretty girl," chuuya's smile and breath brush up against your dripping wet cunt, which was practically demanding to be licked, fingered, and fucked by him.

chuuya kisses your clit once more, and kitten licks your pussy until he begins to lap at it, probing it inside while stuffing his face between your thighs as if he wants to suffocate himself in them.

"a-ahh, mmh!" the wet muscle repeatedly lapped at your cunt. as chuuya deeply plunges and swipes his tongue in between your folds, your eyes began to water with ecstasy.

chuuya pushes his tongue inside you as deeply as he can, and you let out a quiet cry of pleasure as you come undone, and the way you say his name and moan always sounded like heaven to his ears.

chuuya places a soft kiss on your sweet cunt before gently taking a hold of your hips to carress it meticulously as you lay there on his sheets, a shuddering mess with tearful eyes.

ge then adjusts both of your positions in bed, causing you to squirm as he properly lays you on your back with a pillow propping you up as he positions in between your legs, hovering you.

his cock was now just in between your folds, and you could feel his pre-cum seeping from his tip, wetting your folds even more as your arousal increased. you whimper softly at the position, but chuuya softly hushes you as he gently thrusts in.

you cry soft yet choked moans beneath him, wriggling at the sensation of being packed by his girthy cock. you could feel it reach every inch of your inner walls, and chuuya grunts as they tighten around him.

"fuck. you feel so good, pretty girl," chuuya grunts in pleasure as he starts to thrust and grip your hips in place.

you and chuuya have never been this close before. it was always just a simple makeout with a few carresses here and there, but tonight was different.

right now, all you could do was lie there while he rowed his hips against you, making you moan and whimper out his name in pleasure, and to him? hearing you say his name like that just makes everything stop.

when one of his hands trails from your hips to your tummy, you moan out, shuddering a little more intensely than earlier, "chuuya, a-ah!~"

he bites his lower lip, groaning as he presses his hand on the bulge on your tummy. he stares down at you with a loving gaze before his gaze fixes on the bulge that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts his cock so deeply into you.

it was quite a sight to behold, along with the way your legs shook with each sensation of being stuffed by his girthy cock.

"chuuya, please! w-wait," you say in between your moans as he starts to intensify his thrusts, which makes you squirm beneath him.

"shh, shh~ it's okay, baby," chuuya says in a hushed tone, pressing you down further im bed by putting his weight on you so you couldn't pull or squirm away from him.

he was now gripping your hips to hold you more firmly in place as he continues row his hips back and forth, harder and faster now with his lips right against the spot behind your ear. chuuya does it over and over again, intending to fill you up and make you feel good just as you deserve.

sounds of pleasure filled the bedroom and were followed by the slaps of skin.

you shudder and cry as your pussy clenches around him hard and tightly when his cock twitches inside you and fills your walls with his hot, thick cum.

you laid in his sheets, panting softly and trying to catch your breath, but chuuya wasn't finished yet. he refuses to pull out and hovers over you with a breathy smile.

"chuuya?" you feel your cheeks grow warm as you call out his name.

"i'm not yet done, sweetheart," chuuya chuckles deeply as he finally pulls out, but leaves in just the tip of his girthy cock between your folds.

before you can say anything else, he thrusts his cock back into your sodden and sensitive cunt, easily gliding in with his cum and yours serving as a lubricant. you arch your back and let out a small broken moan of pleasure.

"c-chuuya!~" you gasp softly as he rocks back and forth inside you, thrusting deeply that you could feel the tip bulge your tummy again.

"shh, it's okay. you can take one more, yes? i just wanna make my good girl feel so good," chuuya murmurs in a hushed tone as he kisses you deeply for the umpteenth time, muffling your moans.

his warm body presses you down the matress once more, and at this rate, he could almost carve your shape and name in his bed.

you continue to moan, your hands reaching for his back, only to dig your nails into his back and your heels into the mattress as you kicked them reflexively from the intense pleasure.

"almost there my good girl. just a bit more, okay? hold onto me tight," chuuya whispers in between his passionate kisses on your lips with one of his hands gripping your hips in place even more firmly now, intensifying his thrusts.

he moves frantically now, burrowing himself deeply inside you, simply wanting to feel you and himself bulge on the same spot on your tummy with his other hand. he massages his fingers on your tummy, addicted to the way it emerges and re-emerges with each thrust.

your hear was hazy, and every inch of your body was sensitive, especially your sodden and squelching cunt, with the overwhelming pleasure overstimulating you with each deep and furious thrust so that you couldn't construct any proper words and only moan.

"chuuya!~" he breaks the kiss just on cue, just as you moan again, your body arching against him at his final deep thrust into you.

chuuya can't help but admire how you sound so lovely and how he feels your tummy bulge from his deep thrusts as his cum fills up your inner walls for the second time, stuffing you full that some of it was rolling down your inner thighs and on the sheets.

his heart flutters at the thought of being this close to you with your nails deep into his back, painting it with your love marks.

"good girl, pretty," chuuya breathily says to you, chuckling before pressing a kiss on your lips, his tongue intertwining with yours as you wrap your arms around his neck once again.

you two share a few more kisses as you feel his hands that were gripping your hips loosen up and trail to your waist instead, caressing you delicately to easen you as you come down from your high.

chuuya does this a couple of more times before pulling away just a bit, now carressing your face tenderly with one of his hands and a smile.

you return the loving smile he gives you and he wraps his arms around you this time, hugging you closely to his chest as he falls back in his bed. he presses another kiss, this time on the top of your head, as he cups your face.

"i love you," he whispers as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek with his breath tickling your skin.

you cuddle up to chuuya, feeling warm and comfortable in his arms just like this, and you softly murmur in response, "i love you too."

chuuya exhales softly, a smile tugging on his lips as he closes his eyes and continues to hold you, running his fingers through your hair.

you two may have been enemies owing to your respective reputations and organizations, but only you and chuuya knew you two were so much more than that.

you were each other's secret mission, and today you two had never been closer than ever.

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