#(he really won't shut up will he. sure talks a lot. shut your mouth boy.) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

siriusleee · 11 months

Text

23:20

a/n: please reblog I love this piece.

pairing: ghost x medic!reader (hazy) tags: not really romantic, religious symbolism and imagery, dying, gunshot wound, blood, lots of cursing, lots of switching between character pov, obvious ptsd

Part 2 1.8k words

Exodus 23:20 Behold, I send an angel before you to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared.

He's going to die in this alley. Simon lets his head fall back against the brick behind him. His comms are lighting up - Johnny screaming on the other end for backup, for an exfil, for Simon to fucking answer him. But Simon can't; he doesn't know how much blood a human body needs to lose before it stops functioning - (cut through the femoral artery, hit the ribs just right and it doesn't matter because they'll be dead before you can even think about the blood) but he knows he's getting close to it. It's ironic, he thinks, that this is where it happens: some quiet alley in some fucking city a thousand miles from home and not face down in the desert somewhere. A quiet death for a man who doesn't deserve it.

It would be poetic if he had the brain for poetry.

Simon Riley has never believed in angels. He's seen too much to believe in them. there's been too many he's been too late to save who needed an angel more than Simon ever will - the angels never appeared for them. There is no divine savior coming for him. Johnny isn't going to sweep in and take him to safety. No Price to shake him sober. No Gaz to be the eye in the sky. Simon wouldn't deserve it anyway.

"-are you ok?"

"-the fuck is that?"

"-grab under his shoulders we can-"

Two sets of small hands grab Simon. He tries to tell them to go away - Johnny'll be here any moment to get him, but he can't articulate the words. Above him, the stars spin in a dizzying array. His feet stumble beneath him; when his knees hit the ground it doesn't hurt. The hands grab at his vest and haul him up. The voices merge around him - he can't make out what they're saying through the ringing in his ears.

Sorry, Johnny; I won't be here when you come looking.

He can feel his boots catch on the concrete below him as he's being dragged - he tries to get his feet beneath him, but they won't listen. His toes are freezing, but the air against the exposed part of his face is warm.

Can you guys fucking slow down?

The sound of a fist on a door rips through his skull. Shut the fuck up.

Simon Riley doesn't believe in angels, but one opens the door.

***

He stumbles on your doorstep, barely held up between the two boys on either side of him. One of the boys you recognize from the neighborhood - you had stitched him up earlier this year after he cut himself in a skateboard accident. He looks at you and then at the giant of a man he's struggling to hold up. A tactical vest - a skeleton mask - a patch that you don't recognize. Maybe you do, but it's unrecognizable beneath the blood spatter and viscera.

"I think he needs your help."

It takes two seconds for your years of training to kick in. You can feel your shoulder screaming at you - an old injury that never healed quite right - as you help the two boys drag the guy across your small townhome, a bloody trail left in the wake of the hurricane.

He's fucking heavy and you wonder what a miracle it was that the two boys could even drag him any distance to you. You're not sure what miracle worked to get him onto the kitchen table.

"Leave," you tell the two boys, "go home and lock your doors and do not open them for anyone do you understand me?"

They understand you.

The man on your table is barely breathing.

***

She's on top of him - he wants to make a quip about it, but his brain isn't connecting enough with his mouth. Johnny would be able to think of it faster than him. He knows she's talking to him; he can see her mouth moving, but her words are a soft hum. He can't tell if she's beautiful, her halo is blinding him.

Take it off.

"-name. What is your name?"

A breakthrough. A crack in the static.

"Come on dude; you cannot fucking die on my kitchen table."

I'm already dead sweetheart, otherwise, you wouldn't be here.

She curses more than he thought angels would be able to. Maybe it's not in their by-laws to keep a clean mouth; that must be reserved for mortals.

She's rough as she pulls off his tactical vest, her hands sliding underneath his drenched t-shirt. I don't fuck on the first date, sweetheart.

Can angels fuck?

It seems like the kind of thing that would be forbidden.

Her hands are so fucking soft and warm; Simon didn't realize he was freezing until she touched him - her skin is like fire against him. Her hand traces up his bicep, to his neck. She grabs his shoulder; maybe he needs to roll over for her. That's stupid though because he can't. His shoulder lights on fire as her nails dig into the shoulder there. Stop that.

The kitchen ceiling above him comes into sharp focus until she fills his entire vision. Her halo is gone.

"What is your name?"

She's begging him to answer.

I like that.

His lips are like sandpaper; his tongue is glued to the top of his mouth. His lips form around the word, but he can't make himself say anything.

***

His eyes light up when you pinch his trapezius muscle; beneath his mask, you can see his face rearrange in a grimace.

That's good.

He's not dead yet.

Your medic bag is dusty beneath your bed, but everything inside of it is still good. His shirt is drenched in blood; you drag off the tactical vest the best that you can do after cutting the thick canvas on the side. The shirt cuts off easier, so blood-soaked that the blood drips onto your knee..

Through the blood you can't tell where he ends and the injury begins. You think as you press the Quikclot to the wound that you should have put on gloves - who knows what this guy could have. But you never had time for that out in the field either. What difference is this? It was one of the first things you learned as a medic. Every battlefield is the same, every victim is just another body beneath your hands.

Keep 'em breathing. Keep it moving.

You hold the gauze with one hand, the other trailing down his arm to his wrist to take his pulse. 120.

Fuck.

You hear your old captain in your ear, walking you through all the steps.

Feet up.

Blanket on top.

Pressure on the wound. Add a new bandage on top of the one if the one below becomes saturated in blood.

Pray.

Fuck.

Beneath your bare feet, the floor is slippery with blood.

Fuck.

The comms on the guy's vest lets out a hazy sound of static and you reach for it, running off instinct and adrenaline. British voices explode on the other end - angry and searching.

"This is call sign Hazy looking for exfil. Last townhouse on Miller Avenue. I've got one down and bleeding out - he's going into shock."

The words slip out of you and for a moment you're back to mortar shells and blood on the sand. Dust in your mouth. Screaming in your sleep with blood caked underneath your bitten-down nails.

"Who the fuck 'r you?"

You repeat yourself, hand slipping on the button from sweat and blood, yelling over the voices on the other side.

"This is call sign Hazy looking for exfil. Last townhouse on Miller Avenue. I've got one down and bleeding out - he's going into shock."

A hand reaches up to wrap around your wrist. The guy on your table is looking at you, eyes alert but searching. When he speaks, it's barely a whisper.

"Ghost."

His hand shakes where he holds you.

"This is call sign Hazy looking for exfil. Last townhouse on Miller Avenue. He's dying on my kitchen table. Please."

***

She's hurting him. It fucking hurts when she presses down on his side. If Simon could open his mouth, he might scream at her. Might beg her to stop. His heart feels like it's about to break out of his chest; he can't breathe through his stupid fucking mask. He's gasping, hand reaching out to grasp her wrist. He doesn't remember trying to do what.

"Ghost."

He doesn't want her to not know his name. If she's his angel, she needs to know what to call him when she delivers him to where ever they're going together. What kind of first date would it be if he didn't at least tell her his name? Aren't angels everlasting? Are they going to be together forever?

That might not be too bad.

"This is call sign Hazy looking for exfil. Last townhouse on Miller Avenue. He's dying on my kitchen table. Please."

Hazy. What kind of name is that? Fitting though, he thinks, because he can't make her features about above him as she presses on his side.

Hazy.

Hey.

Hazy.

That fucking hurts.

***

They don't even attempt to just open the front door - it shatters off of its hinges as their boots connect with the flimsy wood. They come in guns pointed; it's not the first time this has ever happened to you. Might not be the last.

They're screaming at you to put your fucking hands up, and you're screaming at them to get you a fucking towel because he's bleeding through and you don't have anything else to put on top. It is a cacophony of noise; your ears are ringing, and your hands shaking against Ghost's side.

This is exactly why you left in the first place.

This shit fucking sucks.

One of the men - the youngest-looking one - finally listens to you and snatches a towel you have laying on the back of the couch. Outside you can hear an ambulance screaming; intermingling with the men screaming into their comms, screaming about getting someone there now.

Thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds and he's gone - loaded onto a stretcher and rolled out of your townhouse, the remnants of your broken front door slamming against the wall behind them. One man is still screaming at you, hand grabbing your shoulder roughly as the blood from your hands drips to the linoleum below.

***

Her hands are replaced with rough ones; they drag him away from her - he tries to stretch his hand out towards her to grab her, to bring her with him. Guardian angels have to come guard. He can't get anything to work.

It nearly fucking kills him, turning his head back towards her to catch a glimpse of her standing there, hands bloodstained and dripping. Johnny's screaming at her; he reaches out to grab her shoulder. Simon wants to tell him to take his fucking hands off of her - she's here for Simon anyway. Johnny doesn't get the girl this time.

She doesn't look at Johhny - she only has eyes for Simon.

That's good.

She disappears around the corner, her halo the last thing Simon can see in the darkness.

Hazy.

Fuck.

#my fics #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod x you #ghost #simon riley

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whosjunglejim4322 · 1 year

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Incarnadine - E.M

Warnings ® angst, fluff, SMUT, you suck him off<3 Established relationship, mentions of injury, scars, Eddie has nightmares and is still recovering from the Upside Down, lots of reassurance and praise, he's needy but he will never admit it, this story involves wounded Eddie, you show him how beautiful he really is, no matter what <3 good boy! Eddie

Today marks five months exactly. Chatter still moves around town like an echo of an old friend. People are still nervous when they're in crowded spaces, even more nervous when they're alone in their homes, big and ostentatious or small and quaint. They still talk about him like he's a monster, like he's not a victim.

It's excruciating. And maybe you're selfish for saying that, but knowing what you know, it's hard to hear anything negative come out of any snooty or high strung suburban residents mouth's.

The only saving grace is being able to be with him. Everyday, give or take. But this week he will be under your care entirely. After what happened to Chrissy Cunningham, and what happened after, which is regarded as 'the incident', the town of Hawkins did nothing to cover Eddie's medical bills. Despite the fact that he and your friends became faces of a bullshit cover story - to save everyone else's asses.

Wayne has been doing doubles for the past four months and twenty nine days, but his boss has given him an out of town gig that pays twice as much, and goddamn it he will make everything right again. That's his words, not yours. Wayne has taken it hard, understandably so.

You had to explain to him, and your boyfriend alike, that you love Eddie. Dearly, without judgement, with an open heart and mind. Eddie isn't a pass off, and you making sure he's alright is second nature, not obligatory in any definition of the word.

Eddie hates this feeling, admittedly. Like he's a burden, like he's got to be watched after and like everyone has to redirect their lives for him of all people. You'd kill him if he ever said that out loud. The only thing that makes it even remotely worth it, is that you're the one here by his side every day. And not just at the hospital anymore, but here, in his home.

Now, you're gonna be a permanent resident for the foreseeable future and he can't hide his excitement despite the physical pain he's in.

"Eddie, Eds, baby -" Your scolding falls on deaf ears and turns into a full blown giggle before you're able to establish any actual authority. The brunette is too worried about kissing your face like an overly excited golden retriever, elated that you're finally here. "you're not healed."

You keep your eyes from staring at the mauve and plum colored scar that decorates the side of his neck.

He groans petulantly, nipping your earlobe. His chest and back and sides are still on fire after all this time. It doesn't really go away, it just simmers down like someone has stopped on the flames. He's gotten used to it, but not enough to push it. Not enough to forego your advice and pounce you like he normally would.

"l probably won't ever be healed, what harms' a little lovin'?" He toys with the strands of your hair that are unruly, smiling down at you like he hasn't been through the literal pits of hell and back. It'll never not amaze you, his resilience. He doesn't even notice it in the creases of his smile lines or the shake of his hands.

"We have plenty of time for lovin', Munson. Just not right away. I haven't even gotten a good look at your pretty face."

His blush burns across his nose, cheeks, and brow bone. You reach up to cup his jaw, to stroke his skin. He leans into the touch like he hasn't felt your warmth in eons, sighing through his nostrils. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and opens them when you lean in to kiss his chin.

"I really...I'm glad you're here. You don't have to -"

You flick his nose.

"Shut up, I love you, dummy. Don't you know that I practically begged Wayne to let me tend to sweet little Eddie? Hmm?" You've grabbed two thick handfuls of his hair, swinging it above his head like puppy dog ears. He chortles, scrunching his face.

"and by the way, you're right. I don't have to do anything. I want to." His cheeks are squishy and moldable between your palms, lips pouty and too kissable to bear.

He believes you. He believes it in the way you peck his mouth over and over again, little strings of your shared saliva in the middle. He believes it in the way you allow him to wrap his arms around your middle and pull you close to his still healing body. In the way you trust him enough to let him grab your hands and place them on his waist.

You tense, and then relax when he pulls away with sparkles in his eyes.

"Just didn't want anyone else to be here playin' doctor with me, did ya sweetheart?"

The nights always start the same. Eddie gets up halfway between the movie that's on, wincing and giving you an apologetic smile. Cold showers help when they burn, which seems to happen mostly at night. You're still new this, to the interdimensional eldritch horror situation - but you know enough about it through Dustin Henderson's graphic retellings to know that it is having some residual effects.

As far as when they will go away, if they go away, everyone is still in the dark about it. No one has had such awful injuries from being in the Upside Down, and survived.

Doctor Owens is only sure about a few things. It won't spread. And it won't kill him. However, the pain will stay as long as the scars do.

Eddie is still apprehensive about letting you see them. The one on his neck is the only one that's visible. Instead of waltzing out of the bathroom with just a towel around his lithe hips, he returns fully dressed, wet hair drenching the tops of his broad shoulders. It's like this for almost an entire week.

And you're not angry, you're not hurt. You're just worried. Worried about the tossing and turning in his sleep, the fearful whimpers that sometimes escape him during the midnight hours. He sometimes even clings to you so hard in his half consciousness, that you wake up with fingerprint shaped bruises.

Tonight is no different.

His hair is still damp against his pillow case, he wriggles and writhes and mutters words you can't quite interpret. Your back is facing his, warm and solid. You feel him twitch and whine, and it tears you from the half conscious state you're in.

You roll over, carefully placing your arm around the expanse of his hip, resting your nose against the nape of his neck. This usually calms him down, sometimes he even sleeps through the whole night if you hold him like this.

"Burns..." His voice is small, almost silent. Your body reacts instantly, removing itself from his proximity so you can sit up and give him a once over. He rolls over onto his back, and a tear slips from the corner of his half opened eyes.

Your heart cracks in half, and all of your love for him spills into your body, lighting you up like a bonfire.

"What can I do? Please, tell me what to do." The lump in your throat is obtuse. He reaches out, grabbing at your arm like he's offended you left him. He blinks a few times, licks his lips, and you know he's awake now.

"Ice pack - there's an ice pack in the freezer." He sounds reluctant, like the idea of you doing anything for him when he's like this, hurts. It should be the other way around. He thinks to himself. He's in too much pain to put up a fight about it.

You bound out of bed, around his long legs and over the clutter on his floor until you're booking it towards the dark kitchen. Slinging open the freezer, you search for a quick minute until you see the blue ouch sitting atop a miscellaneous selection of frozen meat and vegetables.

A Hershey's bar in the door calls for your attention, but you save that thought for a later time.

"Got it," you breathe out, returning to the quiet room. Eddie is sitting up, panting, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. His bottom lip quivers and you feel like you're breaking in half. You sit across from him, moving his hair out from in front of his face. "baby, let me see."

He stalls for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. He has to prepare himself for the worst, for you being so terrified of how he looks now that you may run. He isn't the same, his body isn't the same as the one you touched before. He takes a deep breath.

"I gotta...gotta get this off." He gestures to his shirt, arms stiff from the searing pain coursing through his nerves. You move slowly, gently. You grasp the hem of his shirt, Black Sabbath, and carefully lift the material past his abdomen. A strained whine leaves his lips when it's almost over his head, when he has to lift his hands in the air so you can pull it off.

The moonlight is beautiful. A pale iridescent light that serves as a reminder, I'm here you're safe, I'm bathing lovers in my essence. It's the only thing that illuminates his body, the still healing skin. They're pink and purple and form ridges and valleys across his belly, sides, chest. It takes your breath away, the thought of those things doing this to him. You gasp when a tear cascades down your bottom lip.

Wiping it away fervently, you realize you've been staring. Eddie is so still you have to look up at him just to make sure he's still here.

Big brown eyes stare back at you, glossy. He looks crestfallen, like hes waiting for the worst. Waiting for you to scream, look disgusted, call him a monster. His bottom lip is wobbling again, and you are careful to avoid the injuries when you reach over and smash your lips into his.

It takes him a moment to realize that you're kissing him. Not just kissing him, you're fucking consuming him. Now he's the one breathless, clenching fist-fulls of his bed sheets while you hold his fevering face in your soft palms. Your noses are scrunched together, neither of you can breathe, and you hold it for just a moment longer so that you can taste his tongue before you're pulling away.

"Holy fuck." He pants. For some odd reason, the pain has lessened.

"Lay back, tell me which one hurts the most okay?" You say it like you his pupils aren't blown out, like his breathing isn't eerily steady. You say it like he isn't blush and kiss bitten. He listens, leaning back. How the fuck have you made him speechless?

You crawl beside him, sitting on your heels and pretend not to be disheveled. His hand has found purchase on your hip, rubbing circles against the skin that's exposed from your shirt rising up.

"The one in the middle...s'the worst." He watches you with intensity, every move, every breath. You hover over the healed wound with the blue ice pack. His belly tenses.

You're light with your hands. So gentle, all he feels is relief instead of discomfort or pain. The doctors had been rough, probably had something to do with their own biases. But you. You're a fucking angel, your touch is heavenly and all consuming. He's melting into the mattress, sighing in relief as the coolness graces his skin.

You feel your heart piecing back together, looking over to see his eyes half lidded, his tears dry. He keeps a steady pace with his thumb against your hip.

"Better? Worse? Talk to me." Your voice isn't scolding. It isn't judgmental. It's curious. He smiles like he's drunk, staring up at you. He's never looked more beautiful.

"Better, much better." There's a mischievous lilt in his tone. You quirk your eyebrow, giggling.

"What is it, Munson? You look like the cat who got the cream. Or however that goes," you trace the blue veins that branch outwards at the corner of his inner elbow. "it's cute, but I feel like I should be worried."

"I thought you'd think I was horrendous. A real freak show." He tries to sound like he's half joking, widens his eyes comically and snarls his lip sardonically - but you cock your head, confused.

Eddie thought you wouldn't love him anymore.

"Are you fucking insane?" It's the harshest you've sounded all night, and he can't help but to chuckle. It hurts his ribs, but the giggles bellow from him like smoke.

"Eddie, you're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. I don't say that to blow sunshine up your ass, I say it because I mean it," you stroke his face, and he seems bewildered. "you're so pretty it hurts. You always will be, to me. How could I? Why would I-?"

You sound like you're on the verge of tears again, and his bones feel heavy, stomach churning. He sits up, disregarding the burn, and places his warm palms against the sides of your neck. You look at him like he's just said something inhumane.

"Baby, hey," he presses his forehead to yours. "I love you, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, his curls tickle your face. "You don't have to be sorry Eddie, of course not. Just...I love you so fucking much."

He wants to cry again, but he doesn't. He mouths the side of your cheeks. Your eyelids. The tip of your nose. "I love you too sweetheart," he pecks your mouth. "more...more than I'll ever really be able to say." And again. And again.

You probably shouldn't be as slick between your legs as you are right now. But you can't bring yourself to feel guilty about it. Not when he's kissing you like this, the way he knows you like, in a way that you haven't felt for three entire months because of the state his body has been in.

His hair billows through your fingers, and you absentmindedly pull him closer to your mouth by the roots. He groans in your mouth, a sound that reverberates through your throat, downwards behind your ribs. It flurries through your body like a memory that's so close you can taste it; feel it.

You pull back hastily, wired from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. He looks so goddamn pretty, so messy and raw. You stroke his plump bottom lip with your thumb. He resists the urge to suck it into his mouth. He doesn't know if you're ready for that type of thing yet.

"I wanna suck you off, Eddie."

Well fuck.

He looks as incredulous as you expect, eyes practically bugging out of his head. His cheeks puff outwards when he lets a breath out.

"Really? You're serious?" He knows the answer. You're looking at him like he's the reason for your starvation.

"I want to...I want to make you feel good Eds," his cock was already growing, now it's practically bursting at the seams. You grab his big hands, bringing rough knuckles to the surface of your lips. "wanna make you cum. Will you let me? Do you want that?"

He feels a little dizzy. He honestly didn't know when you two would ever be able to do anything like this again. Hell, he couldn't fathom you liking his appearance anymore, let alone asking to suck his dick with the lilt of a beg in your voice.

"Jesus Christ, yeah baby 'course I want it. Y-you're sure you want this- ohh, ohh sweetheart."

You've already brought your palm to his pants, stroking the twitching appendage underneath. He's so touch deprived he doesn't know what to do with himself, so he settles for throwing his head back, gripping at the sheets once again for dear life.

You don't want to wait. You're set a fire on the inside, between your legs aches to be filled but you're too focused on making him feel good to really want anything done about it. Him. That's what matters right now. The desperate groan that escapes him, the vein bulging at his jugular.

"Lay back baby." You kiss his throat, and he does as you ask.

You're careful when you kiss his chest. You move around the scars, teetering around the perimeters. He's stuck between wanting to close his eyes, and wanting to watch every move you make. You're careful, delicate like he's the most important thing in the world.

As you kiss the trail of hair underneath his belly button, across alabaster hip-bones, you pull his bottoms off all the while.

From your position, it nudges against your chin when it's out of the confines of his pajamas, dribbling with precum, sticky all the way down the shaft. You coo, kissing the tops of his thighs. Eddie doesn't know what to do with himself. He's never felt this vulnerable, this fucking horny. His balls are about to burst.

"Eddie...you're so hard. Baby, mm, my boy." You grip the very base, starting your mouths ascent from there. He whimpers into the cool air of his bedroom, holding on by a very thin veil of consciousness. Your elbows rest between his thighs, belly atop his mattress. You close your eyes and hum when you get to the swollen, ruby tip.

"Oh god - please," he doesn't know what he's begging for. For your mouth, your being, your soul. His fingers grasp your face as your tongue gathers the pre arousal that's made such a mess of him. You have to hold his shaft steady so that the twitching doesn't move him away from your lips. "feels so fucking good, you've no idea."

The praise is getting to your head. You feel wetness leaking from your hole, dripping into your underwear. You pull his cock forward slightly, angling it so that you can take him in your mouth.

His whole body clenches when you slide it in.

He's moaning obscenities into the wind, writhing like he's too overwhelmed to think. He is. It's been so long. Too long, since he felt you like this. Since he felt your mouth. You're feeling the same sentiment as you begin to stroke what you can't fit, from the thatch of brunette hair to the glossy head. The salty aftertaste of his pre-cum keeps you satiated.

It's intoxicating, being able to make him feel like this. Feeling him fill your mouth and throat up like this. Just knowing the sounds he's making are not only for you but because of you - that's enough to have you on the verge of an indescribably neediness yourself.

"Taste' so good Eds, missed this."

It's barely coherent, but he knows your voice too well - knows your sweet talk too well. The most excruciating part is that you mean it, you say it with so much truth he feels it in every part of his body.

You suck him off like you've missed it as much as he has. Because you have. You're not shy, not ashamed. The sounds are lewd and sticky and wet, it's driving him fucking mad. He reaches down to grasp one of.your hands that are around his cock, replacing it with the intertwinement of his fingers.

You take him further, till the head of his cock touches your uvula, and you gag. Eddie groans like he's in pain, but you know he isn't. He's thrusting up into your mouth, chasing all of your warmth, all of your spit even though most of it has leaked from your mouth and coated his balls and inner thighs.

"Ohhhh shit, m'gonna cum baby I can feel it," he looks down, fucked completely out by this point. You're a fucking goddess, messy hair and a wet mouth and fluttering lashes. "don't stop, p-please."

You wouldn't dream of it, not when he's so close. Not when you can feel the muscles in his abdomen clenching, convulsing. Not when he sounds so pretty, so unbelievably yours.

You moan around him, elated by the fact that you're able to please him like this, and Eddie is a goner.

"Cu-cumming!" He's barely able to breathe it out.

He shoved his face into the pillow beside him, biting down on the fabric. The sound that rips through him is animalistic, and you have to use a good bit of your strength to keep his thighs parted as he spurts his seed into your mouth, down your throat.

You don't let up until you've swallowed every drop, every remnant of his arousal. His chest is rising and falling with such a rapid pace, you're almost worried you've hurt him.

But then he's looking down at you, with your mouth releasing from his semi softening cock. He's got glossy eyes again, blotches of red on his neck and chest and face. His hair is sticking to him like saran wrap and this big, dopey smile is etched across his face. His tongue darts out to lick the perspiration from his upper lip.

He doesn't have to ask for you to start moving towards him. When you're in close enough proximity, where he can actually manage to move a limb, he's grabbing your face and pressing your lips to his like a man starved.

Your giggle echoes his own.

"When I'm mobile again," he suckles your tongue, tasting himself.

"I'm showing you no mercy, sweetheart"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson x you #stranger thigs smut

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zushikiss · 1 year

Text

voicelines about you

summary ; self explanatory title, their voicelines about you

warnings ; reader is implied to be non-mortal/adepti in xiao's, reader is not traveller, use of petnames [ dearest, annoying insect 😭 ]

pairings ; xiao, ayato, scaramouche

notes ; i've been seeing this a lot and i can't sleep so why not try :D 3 for scara cause i love my baby boy

─ XIAO

about relationship ;

"..traveller what makes you ask a question like that? curious about my personal life? tch you should worry about yours instead of trying to find out about mine, but if you really must know. i'm married."

about y/n ;

"seriously traveller? now where did you hear about this? zhongli..? ah, i forgot he goes by that name now- anyways, y/n is my spouse, for 500 years now. she resides with zhongli in liyue harbor.. why? i want them to be safe while i protect liyue."

─ AYATO

about evening walks ;

"good evening, traveller. care to join me for a walk? hm? of course i have time, traveller. my partner is quite fond of the evening breeze and so i always leave an hour free of my schedule every night to accompany my dearest in their nightly walks."

about y/n ;

"well aren't you a curious one? y/n is my significant other, they always remind me to take care of myself and most the time they take care of me when i'm too emerged in my paperworks, they make sure i always eat on time and that i have proper hygiene, i treasure them, traveller. exactly why i have plans on being wed to them.. what? you didn't hear anything."

─ SCARAMOUCHE

about art - painting ;

"painting is nothing but another hobby nahida is forcing me onto, that's it. do i like it? i guess it's more tolerable than the other things she asks me to do, though i often find myself painting the same thing over and over again. what? i often paint my lover, of course."

about y/n - first move ;

"not only are you asking about my personal life, you want specific answers as well? ugh you are being insufferable, slowly. well y/n made the first move, talking to me at the akademiya and always checking up on me, i found it.. what's the word? endearing, i always feel a strange feeling around them, how weird.."

about y/n - relationship ;

"...i guess i could entertain your question if you promise to keep your mouth shut. as you already know, y/n approached me first and they reminded me of an annoying insect, at first! but that annoying insect won't leave. but i grew to soon love that annoying insect, now it's my job to make sure the annoying insect won't leave."

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sleepy-gee · 2 months

Note

corruption/innocence kink sejanus x innocent/virgin coriolanus. send tweet.

mhm. yup yup totally.. 🤭🤭🤭

(this ended up being way longer than i intended it to be sorry)

coriolanus never having the time for any sort of relationship because of school and also just a genuine lack of interest in them.. until he met sejanus, who's been around the block a few times iykwim

the two are at sej's house for some assignment or whatever and they get to talking,, and they're teenage boys of course sex is gonna come up. maybe they're a little tipsy on posca too just for shits and giggles.

"have you ever.. y'know?" coriolanus asked, taking another swig of posca. my man cannot handle his alcohol in the slightest.

sejanus nodded. "three or.. four times.. i dunno.. twice with a girl and.. then there was this one guy.. what about you?"

coriolanus shook his head no. "not really my thing.."

"why not?" sejanus took the bottle from him.

the blond shrugged. "just another form of vulnerability.. i don't see the point in it either.."

".. it's different when it's with someone you care about, y’know? you're.. becoming one or whatever the fuck people say nowadays.." he giggled. "media hypes it up a lot.."

".. maybe. but who in their right mind would want to take me to bed?"

".. i wouldn't totally mind."

coriolanus choked on his own spit. ".. you're drunk."

"drunk words are sober thoughts, coryo. i'd just be helping you out.."

on any other occasion, coriolanus would've used his head and said no. got up and left. but right now? his head isn't what he's thinking with. ".. but i've never even.. it would be bad."

"so? i'll show you the ropes, coryo. you won't have to do anything you don't want to do.. i'll take care of you." sejanus set the bottle down on his nightstand. that final phrase made his cock twitch in his trousers.

coriolanus pondered quietly for a moment. ".. i guess.." the words rolled off his tongue without his consent. the blond turned to sejanus, cock twitching again when they made eye contact. ".. so, uhm.. how do we–" he was cut off by sejanus' lips crashing into his own. coriolanus made a startled groan, eyelids falling shut as he melted into it.

sejanus' hands were quick and rough, making quick work of their academy uniforms. his speed had to be due to the alcohol, right? he hadn't even registered fully what was happening when sejanus had him pinned down against his silk sheets, holding his waist in a grip so tight it'd surely bruise.

his heart fluttered at the thought of it.

"you're so cute, you know that?" the brunette taunted as he sat back on his heels, pulling off his belt. "who knew coriolanus snow had a soft side after all.."

"shut up."

"why don't you make me, pretty boy?"

coriolanus bit his tongue. damn, he was good. why hasn't they done this early? he opened his mouth to reply but instantly lost his train of thought once his best friend pulled his cock out of his pants. he watched in awe as the boy leisurely stroked himself.

sejanus caught his gaze with a wicked grin. "c'mon.. don't be shy now. show me what you got... unless you haven't even touched yourself, too?"

"i have." coriolanus grumbled, acting like jerking off his friend was a chore. could he even still call him a friend? friends didn't do this. slowly, coriolanus' hand took the place of sejanus'.

how the fuck is that going to fit in me? he stroked him like he would himself, trying to follow his body language and use it as a cue.

"c'mon, coryo.. what did i say? don't be so shy... pull down your pants for me, i'll show you how it's done."

the added 'for me' sent a pleasant wave of heat through his stomach. he complied, pulling down his red academy pants and issued underwear.. but sejanus didn't stop there. "y'know what? just strip for me."

he was a lot quicker this time getting himself undressed. sejanus licked his lips, eyeing him carefully before pulling off his own shirt. "god. you're fucking beautiful."

"whatever.. just.. show me how it's done."

"oh, is someone getting impatient now?" sejanus didn't hesitate, grabbing the other's cock and pumping it like he had done on himself. coriolanus couldn't bite back his moans, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. christ. sejanus' hands were perfect for this. big and warm..

"nah ah. let me hear you, coryo. let me hear how good i'm making you feel." those words were enough to make him moan again. coriolanus moved his head slightly, uncovering his mouth but still hiding his face. his hips fucked into sejanus' tight fist, body moving on autopilot.

"close already? my god, coryo.. i've barely even touched you.." the tone of his voice was so bittersweet.. tantalizing almost. he was being mocked. and he fucking loved it.

"i– i know.." he gasped. "but.. your hand, mmh–"

"what about it, huh?"

"it– it feels good.."

"yeah? good?" sejanus kissed him on the cheek. "look at you. god. you can't even get yourself off properly.."

"keep talking like that and so help me–" coriolanus couldn't even finish his sentence, voice broken up by a gasp as he painted the others fist white. he slouched back with a sigh, trembling.

"well.. that was.. certainly something.."

"was? oh, baby. i'm not done with you yet."

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosbas #thg #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #snowjanus #coriolanus x sejanus x you #innocent!coryo #sub!coriolanus snow #softdom!sej

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ilexdiapason · 8 months

Text

(part one here) (part four here)

Oli doesn't try to broach the subject again until the pizza is delivered and the ice cube is a soaked-up puddle in a napkin on the coffee table.

When he does, though, it's with his hands in his lap and his best efforts to not sound like a scolding teacher. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

Martyn, in lieu of answering, pulls open the pizza box and wiggles a slice free from the still-stringing cheese. His fingertips bounce it between them, ginger; he bites down and clearly regrets it. Still, he chews, mouth caught in a conflict between ventilating the heat and keeping his secrets sealed tight shut behind it.

"Come on," Oli continues, gentle as he can push it. "I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is."

Martyn swallows. He looks like he's deliberating.

He must decide, whatever the stakes of this crisis are, that Oli's worth it, because he does reply.

"You know," he says, quiet, "I wasn't kidding when I said you should keep your computer away from me."

"Do you want me to take it upstairs?"

"I mean - bit late now. But yeah, that'd probably help."

So he probably has the conviction that something, somebody, is listening in through the machine. That's understandable; if whatever his situation was involved him being able to join some random strangers' games, he probably had a computer, and it was probably monitored, which would explain why he's so terrified of being tracked. It makes about as much sense as anything else in this exchange does.

Even if it didn't, though, Oli still would have taken his laptop back upstairs, tapped out a quick notice that he'd be unavailable for the rest of the day, and tossed it on his bed - and his phone beside it, after a moment's thought. Martyn's comfort is what really matters here.

"There we are," he says on his way back in, "the highest-tech thing in the room now is probably the microwave."

Martyn offers him a thin smile, which feels more like progress than anything else.

"Right." He sits back down, takes his own piece of pizza (which by now is a far more edible temperature than it must have been when Martyn tried it), and gets the whole thing down before he takes another shot. "You want to start, or shall I?"

Martyn exhales amusement. "Go on then. Tell me what you know."

"Not a lot," Oli admits, "apparently. You don't make a lot of sense. You fell out of the sky, you still seem fairly surprised that things are real, you didn't know we’d been playing Minecraft - and you were calling me CHEST agent, which isn't a job title my company offers, as far as I'm aware. What, were you born in a video game?"

"I told you I was born in Nottingham."

"That might have been a cover story!"

"Nah. Wouldn't lie about that. I am a real boy, Gepetto, you can believe me on that one."

"Well, there's one thing I know for sure about you," Oli says. "All this talk of being in there, though. I don't know. VR?"

"Something like. You -" he hushes his voice, even though it's the middle of the afternoon and the neighbours won't be home "- you're, like, a normal CHEST employee, then? Front end stuff?"

"Yeah. I told you, I'm a software dev. If it's a front, I'm not in on the secret."

"God," says Martyn, "okay, so you're still not safe, but… okay, telling you this now, you're not getting the whole truth. But your company sucks and you should quit your job."

"Sucks like questionable QA policies or sucks like torturing teenagers in the basement?"

"I - shit," says Martyn, "a lot of those agents might have been folks like me, huh. Damn. Least I never killed anyone."

"I seem to remember you being pretty handy with a knife."

"Yeah, 'cause none of that was real, I was a bloody rat in a maid dress. You can't be on at me for killing people there."

"Suppose Jimmy killed the gardener."

"Exactly!"

"So, what, CHESTCorp have figured out how to turn VR into R, and you got caught up in it?"

"Not CHEST," Martyn takes another go at his slice of pizza, "just Doc. It's real experimental stuff. You're lookin' at test subject number one, I'm pretty sure."

"And now that you're not a test subject any more," he finishes, "you're having trouble readjusting."

"I guess. It's just… y'know, like, it's nice to be back, but… weird. Incredibly weird."

"Two and a half years would do it," Oli nods.

They take another lull to properly eat. Oli hadn't realised before this how starving he is; he would have thrown something together from the groceries he'd picked up if he hadn't had a guest to entertain. Martyn, too, seems fairly intent on ingesting an entire pizza by himself. His mother’s voice sounds inside his head, urging him to slow down, but Oli ignores it. If Martyn ends up with stomach problems it’ll just be another stark reminder that he’s not… trapped in a virtual reality simulator, he supposes.

“So, er,” he picks back up, once they’ve cleared the wedges and made more than a dent in the pizza, “what now?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve gone through all that. Nobody’s going to believe you, I assume, if this stuff’s as top-secret as it seems to be.”

“Kinda thing you’d need a two-hour primer with your therapist for,” Martyn nods, “and a lot of faith in doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“But, what, do you just… go home?”

“I’d like to,” he says. “I would really, really just like things to go back to normal.”

There’s a silence. But they can’t rings clear as a bell in the air between them anyway.

Martyn looks down at the last three slices of pizza. “You should take me home.”

“You’re sure?”

He swallows. “Yeah. I’ll just… I’ll be a big surprise for my parents when they get back home from work. And then I’ll add you guys on Discord, and hopefully we’ll be able to talk more on there?”

“Hopefully,” says Oli, meaning it more than anything. His entire life’s been pretty much flipped on its head by this encounter. “We’re always wondering about you, y’know. Or, I mean, I am. Owen probably thinks you’re there from Apo, Apo probably thinks you’re there from Owen, all that, but… Hard not to wonder who the hell you really were, when you would never act like it was actually a game.”

“I mean, it’s all a game, isn’t it, really?” Martyn muses, half-distant. “Just in the long dream now.”

“Is that from the End Poem?”

“Is it?”

Oli shakes his head. No time for all that. “So I’m driving you back to Nottingham, and… you’ll DM me when you can?”

“Yeah.”

It’s the best he can ask for.

Martyn refuses to tell Oli his exact address, just asks him to drive close enough that Martyn can walk the rest of the way home. It’s understandable - a CHESTCorp employee knowing Martyn’s exact location is, apparently, an incredibly dangerous thing - but still a little concerning. He’d at least like to be sure that Martyn won’t be getting poached back by this Doc guy at the earliest notice. Still, Martyn’s comfort remains the most important thing, and so he leaves his Google Maps at home.

It’s a bit of an autopilot drive, even without directions. Oli feels the wheel under his fingers, the pedals under his feet, like they’re abstracts. He looks over once or twice and sees Martyn glued to the window, to the mirrors, hypervigilant; he hopes that Martyn feels a little more real now than he did before.

They’re idle at a semi-populated roundabout when Martyn straightens his back. “Second exit, then pull over,” he announces.

“Almost there?”

“Pretty close.”

Oli obliges.

Martyn, with just the barest tremor in his fingers, pops the car door and steps out.

“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay?”

The words leave Oli’s mouth in a rush, the emotion behind them probably more visceral than Martyn is expecting, if the way he startles at them is any indication.

“Because - ‘cause if you need a hotel, or cash, or -”

“No,” says Martyn, “no, I’m fine. Promise.”

He hesitates, hand on the open car door, a few more seconds.

“And thanks,” he finishes, “I don’t - I’m not - I don’t know. Appreciate it.”

Oli understands what he’s getting at. “Stay safe, okay?”

“Nah, I’m gonna throw myself right in the Trent when you’re gone,” Martyn smiles, and Oli dutifully ignores the crack in his voice. Blame it on the last vestiges of teenagehood.

“And if you do end up needing to - I suppose erase all traces of your old life online… then it’s been an honour.”

“Yeah.”

“... Good luck.”

“Talk to you later,” Martyn says, and slams the car door closed.

All Oli can do, once he’s ambled out of eyeshot, is mechanically drive back home.

So that was InTheLittleWood. Friend group cryptid, unethical experiment, man with more trauma than Oli could ever begin to help him deal with… but man he was able to feed, and house, and walk through an emotional response, which is better than nothing at all. The one person in the world who Oli could almost hit with his car and have that be a better situation than the one he’d just escaped from. Still a mystery, too; he’s left Oli with far more questions than answers, left him returning to an empty house and wishing he’d been selfish enough to make Martyn stay a little longer, talk a little more.

Oli picks up his phone where he’d tossed it in the bedroom.

He has one new email to his work address.

Human Resources 3:04 PM

to me ˅

Subject: Performance Review

Dear Oliver,

You have been scheduled for a performance review. You are required to report to our Shoreditch location by 09:00 tomorrow, Tuesday December 12th. Failure to comply with this request will result in disciplinary proceedings, which may lead to your subsequent termination.

Regards,

Dan

Human Resources

CHESTCorp UK

Ah.

That’s… well.

The word termination is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that threat.

… Okay, so they’re working to a deadline now. That’s fine. He can deal with that. Martyn’s been dealing with far worse, right?

The friend request, at least, flips through from pending to accepted.

TheOrionSound — Today at 16:14

[Attachment: Screenshot_20231025_161408.png]

InTheLittleWood — Today at 16:14

Shit.

(end! now on ao3, if you’d like to leave a comment slash kudos slash bookmark!)

#ilexworks #reverse isekai au #itlwlore #oli theorionsound #martyn itlw

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snipersfucker · 10 months

Note

If ur still taking requests then I am curious on your take on how Mirage would go about a crush who is basically the opposite of him? Quiet, introverted, doesn't really live for the high life yet he still falls for them? I find him very attractive but I'd rather read a book than go on a joy ride lol, I'm afraid I'd only disappoint him

you just like meee but that would not be a problem for our boy at all, lemme tell you.......

i feel like he'd be a bit surprised? to come across such a quiet person. you know, not much experience with humans, being surrounded by loud sounds all the time, his fellow autobots always finding a way to talk back to him, scold him or just say random (very important, just not to him) stuff in general..... and noah talks a lot, too. he never shuts up.

he'd definitely observe you a lot, taking mental notes on your behaviour around people, on your responses to his words and everything

he'd find you interesting (always pictured him as the type of robot to perceive humans as wild animals in their natural habitat lmao)

you're reserved, introverted and he is absolutely mesmerised by the fact that you're so different than anyone he's come across before

i do feel like at first he'd either beg you to go and do stupid shit with him cuz that's just how he is, or trap you inside him and take you in a joy ride despite your protests

(he means well, he just wants to make sure you are having fun but by his definition lol)

but he'd gradually begin noticing how little to no interest you had for his type of time well spent. he wouldn't be disappointed per se, maybe just slightly..... hurt? probably thinking that you didn't want to spend time with him, that you thought he was too much and all.....

but he is hella wrong. and as soon as he realises you are just an exact opposite of him, not that you dislike his bubbly personality and cannot stand to be around him, he felt at least relieved

matter of time he'd start catching feelings. the fact that you are so peaceful, allowing him to just talk your ear off was much, much appreciated

he'd definitely try to spend as much time with you as possible, sometimes forgetting that you need some time alone

he'd literally agree to just sitting in silence with you if that's what you want, even though he always has at least three thousand thoughts that threaten to escape his mouth when the room's too quiet in his opinion

he wouldn't try to change you, the thought not even crossing his mind, not even once

he would understand your personality which was so different than his but that would be the reason he falls for you so hard, damn

i so so so see him with an introverted partner tbh

walk him like a dog energy. don't ask me.

if you are ever insecure about the fact that you're not a big fan of extreme shit like him and you think you disappoint him when you say no to his wild offers, he'd immediately reassure you that it's totally okay and that he won't push you to do anything you don't want to

"but i'll be there if you change your mind ;)"

(i kept messing up the tenses fsr tell me if thats too chaotic cuz lmao)

#mirage x reader #mirage x you #mirage rotb #mirage x my pussy #mirage #mirage transformers #transformers rotb #transformers #rotb #mirage angst

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sparklingsin · 2 years

Text

— say you want me too | robin buckley

+ robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: "are you really that oblivious?" in which robin thinks the reader is straight, when she's definitely not. [requested by @taylorsmylover]

tags: just fluff, getting together, robin pov, confident reader

a/n: first robin fic! i love her sm. yes, this fic is inspired by that popular girl applying makeup on another girl meme. hope you enjoy reading it! feedback is appreciated. <3

Robin thumps her head against the side of the giant shelf. A couple of tapes come tumbling down from the top and Steve, who had been casually leaning against the opposite wall, scowls at her in distaste.

"Ugh. I wish she would look at me like that," Robin whisper-sings, feigning ignorance about the tapes. Her gaze is hooked on you, talking to a random blond, leaning casually across the counter. Your lips are stretched into a toothy smile and Robin can't help but think you might be in the middle of flirting.

Steve groans loudly, moving to pick up the fallen tapes.

"Jesus Christ, this again. She does, Robs! You're just never looking at her when she is."

Robin watches as you laugh coyly at something the guy says.

"She likes guys, Steve," Robin says, like a mantra at this point, trying to get herself to move on. You like guys. You like guys. You like guys. Boys. Men. Not girls. Not women.

Certainly not her.

"So? She could like girls too," Steve argues. The pile of tapes in his hand is high but Robin makes no effort to help.

"Ya know, she's always wearing that shirt you complimented that one time."

So not true. But, admittedly, you are wearing it right now. It's a bright orange top, with faded hems and a slightly scandalous neckline but Robin loves how it brings out your eyes.

God, you're biting your lip now and Robin has never felt such privation before.

"Shut up," she mumbles, spellbound by your laughter. "It's just coincidence. Happenstance. Yesterday, she was wearing that pink dress that makes her look like a pr—"

"Yeah, yeah we know you're in love but then explain why she made a face when you asked if I could tag along for your night out?" Steve questions and Robin opens her mouth before shutting it in response.

Steve smiles smugly. Too soon.

"Maybe she doesn't like you. Lot of people don't like you, you ever think about that, huh, Harrington?" Robin disses and the smirk on Steve's mouth fades.

"Well. You like me," he counters.

Robin shrugs, turning back to look at you once more. You're patting the dude's shoulder and ugly, ugly envy trickles down her chest.

"Anyway," Steve hisses, "She made a face 'cause she wanted it to be just the two of you. Take a fucking hint."

Robin doesn't have time to respond, because the blond man has already left and you're now making a beeline right to her.

"Hey Robin, Steve," you say, still smiling cheerfully. Much like the radiant sun, your presence warms her skin. Robin can feel her body start to tingle like it has been doing lately, every time you are in her vicinity.

"So... I just wanted to ask if we're on for tonight still?" you ask, looking in between them both and Steve turns to Robin, waiting for her to answer.

Robin's lips seem to be sealed shut and Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah w—"

"A-about that," Robin shuts him off loudly, suddenly finding her voice, and you blink back, surprised. "Sorry— er, Steve's not going to be able to make it actually," she continues, lowering her voice and wringing her hands.

"I'm not?" Steve asks just as you say, "He's not?" and you look between the two of them again, clearly confused.

Robin and Steve exchange quick glances. He sighs, something passing over his features.

"I'm not, yeah— I've got this... thing—" Robin shoots him a look, "I've got to babysit my kid's sister— er I mean my sister's kid. So I won't be able to come, sorry."

You look between the two of them, before shaking your head slowly.

"Um, sure okay," you say pressing your lips into a thin line and then turn to Robin. "I'll see you at my place at eight then?"

Robin nods, smiling in a way that she hopes isn't creepy but the look on your face says otherwise. You nod then, excusing yourself from the two of them.

Only once you leave does Robin realise that she'd been holding her breath all this while and lets go, sagging against the shelf.

"My kid's sister, Steve?" she asks wearily.

Her best friend makes a face at her. "So I fumbled. Big deal. I was just taken aback. A little heads up would be nice next time," he replies defensively.

Robin drags her hands down her face in exasperation.

Maybe they really are fated to be alone forever.

"But— you don't even have a sister!"

***

It is entirely plausible that Robin's a little too obsessed with you for her own good. She spends half an hour solely on deciding what to wear, settling on black jeans and a tank top in the end; fifteen minutes doing her hair only to get frustrated and let it down as is and then another ten minutes outside your door, scouting for the courage to ring the doorbell.

All the dilly-dallying proves to be worth it, however, because she's finally in your room, sitting on your bed as you stand beside it, hands on hips and deep in thought. You're wearing a cute crop top that says "Filthy Animal" over teeny jeans shorts, your lipstick a shade of red that she can't help but think would look lovely on her own skin.

Now, maybe, Robin is setting herself up to get a massive heartbreak when she (inevitably) finds out that you're not into her but that doesn't mean she's going to think rationally and pass up on the opportunity to hang out with you.

It simply isn't her style.

"I think this is closer to your style," you say, handing her a black dress with long bell sleeves. Robin does think it's pretty but she's never worn anything other than jeans and overalls before.

"You really think this'll fit me?" she asks.

"My sister's the same size as you, hon'. It's gunna fit."

Robin shrugs, rising to stand up from the bed.

"Wait!" you shout, gently shoving her shoulder to stop her from getting up.

"Not that you don't look absolutely beautiful without it," you say nonchalantly, reaching for a large box on your dressing table, "I really want to do your make-up."

Robin only absently agrees to the last part because her brain stopped listening the moment you called her absolutely beautiful. Beautiful. You called Robin beautiful.

Her brain barely catches up from it's derailing before you're whipping out foundation and brushes and Robin has to shake herself to the present.

"Whoa, whoa. I've never done this before," she says and a grin tugs at your lips that makes her insides warm.

"I'd pictured you saying that in a different setting, but we'll make do," you quip and Robin's brain just about shuts down. For the first time in ever, Robin can't think of words. Whatever the hell do you even mean? Did she hear you right?

"Okay. Why don't you lean back down so I can do your eye make up better?"

Robin's brain is having a hard time coping with everything that's happening. Her hands pushes her back onto your bed on their own accord, resting half her back and head on a pillow. She watches, with bated breath, as you climb onto the bed and crawl over her. You place your knees on either side of her, brushes in hand and lean over.

You're just barely hovering over her, not quite sitting, but Robin just about dies. You pick the eye-shadow with the brush and softly ask her to close her eyes.

Robin thinks she might combust.

Your warm breath fans her face as you gently dab the powder onto her eyelids, painting out the corners and the outer wing.

"What do you think about red?" you ask, voice lower than usual and Robin struggles to figure out what you're talking about.

"Like, the color?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, the color."

"I like it. It's the color of so many of my favorite things. Steve's car, a bag I bought in high-school, this old book I have from when I was a child. My mom's purse, the color of your lipstick and—" she bites her lip.

It was better when she didn't have words to say.

You continue to dab the eye-shadow on the other eye. Robin thinks this might be where you might call everything off, you might end your friendship with her.

"You like the color of my lipstick?"

Something faint blooms in Robin's chest. A wet tip presses against her eyelid— eye-liner.

"Yeah, it's— it's uh. It's a pretty shade." Looks good on you, Robin wants to add but the words die in her throat.

You brush her cheeks with what she assumes is the blush.

"Would you like me to apply it on you?"

That something fizzles and fades away in her chest.

"Sure," she agrees, heart folding in on itself tighter than she'd expected.

"All done," you say and Robin opens her eyes. You're still looming over her, lower lip tucked in between your teeth, as your eyes skim over her face.

She feels hot everywhere all of a sudden and hyper aware that you're leaning so close, hovering right above her stomach.

"Should I get changed, then?" she asks, when two minutes later you're still looking at her and have said nothing.

Her words seem to jolt you and you hop off of her, which immediately makes Robin feel cold all over.

"Oops, yeah. You can change in the bathroom," you say, pointing to the door opposite to you.

In the bathroom, she has to take a second to calm her racing heart. Having your crush sit on top of you like it's nothing... well, it's not nothing. And all those things you said about her being pretty and the double entendre— did you do that with all your female friends?

Robin knows she's going to get hurt. That somethings are simply too good to be true and her good might downright be unachievable. And yet, she tries the dress and it slips on like a glove. It is an almost perfect fit, the sleeves flowing down her long arms nicely, the hem falling down to her mid thighs.

You've given her almost silver, glittery eye-shadow and a lipstick that isn't the red you had been talking about. She looks almost like her natural self, save for the glittery eye-lids and flowy dress. But it isn't too uncomfortable, she thinks she might even look good. Checking herself out in the mirror one last time, she takes a deep breath and steps out.

"Tada!" she says nervously, drawing your attention since you have your back to her.

Robin thinks she imagines it but your jaw almost drops.

She begins to fiddle with the hem of her sleeves.

"Thanks for not putting on too much of the make-up, I'm just not used to it haha. And the dress," she pats down her thighs, "it's almost perfect, I might have to come over and borrow more of your sister's clothes because, well, even though this is, perhaps, the opposite of my style— I do kind of like it and—" she stops when she sees a smile creep up your face.

"What?"

"You're adorable," you say, stepping closer.

Robin feels heat creep up her cheeks. She rubs her neck nervously.

"Thanks."

"And shit," you say, stepping closer, until you're inches from her face. Your gaze definitely dips to her lips and back up, something dark flickering in your eyes.

Robin forgets how to breathe.

"You look so incredibly hot in this outfit," you say casually and all blood rushes to Robin's face. You're standing so close, gaze fixated on her face, skimming over her features like you can't get enough to look.

For the millionth time that night, Robin finds herself at a loss for words. It's like her tongue ties itself in your presence.

"You always look hot." You're whispering now.

"Robin Buckley—" you begin, stepping impossibly close, breath hot on her face. Heat flashes through her, tendrils of a tigngling sensation snaking all across her body.

"— You drive me insane."

All thoughts evaporate from Robin's head, leaving a bubbling mass of one surviving question.

"You... like me? Like that?" she says, before she can stop herself but she's stunned by your words to care.

You chuckle, that pretty laugh that stings Robin's heart in all the right places. You step closer and your hand finds it's way to her waist. Her breath hitches in her throat.

"Are you really that oblivious?"

And then, you're tilting your face and kissing her, a gentle brush at first that makes the ground slip from beneath her feet. The mere contact of your cheery red lips sends her head spinning. Your hands card through her hair then, cupping her jaw and pulling her further in this time.

The kiss presses deep into her body, lips moving against hers with fervour once she overcomes the initial shock. It's nothing like she's ever experienced — a hot want travels through her being when you push your bodies closer.

When you have to inevitably come up for air, the first thing Robin notices is that your lipstick is smudged all over your face.

It's the most incredible thing she has ever seen.

You pull her in again, biting your lip devilishly and looking up at her with half-lidded eyes that make her chest do flips.

"My lipstick looks so much better on you."

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley smut #robin buckley fluff #stranger things x you #robin buckley hc #robin buckley fic #mywriting*#mywriting

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juiceinpanties · 2 years

Text

A Proper S'more, pt 2

Pairing: Eddie Munson/afab!reader

Rating(s): E

Words: ~5.5k

Tags: smut!, humping, nipple play, semi-public sexual activity, drug use (just some pot), flirting through food, friends to lovers, established friendship, oral (both), dirty talk, rough sex, LOTS of kissing, fingering, ass play, a bit of come play, unwrapped penetrative sex, subbie!Eddie, but also not-as-subbie Eddie, praise kink (him), reader likes to be called dirty names

Summary: Your best friend Eddie Munson invites you camping, and while you're reluctant at first, you realize this might be just the chance you need to finally show him how you feel.

Notes: I was rage-inspired by the TERRIBLE take on s'mores they recently featured on Great British Bake-Off. Pretty sure this is the first time the British have inspired hot, sexy smut. Thanks as always to @tonybourdain for her invaluable help as beta, idea bouncer-off-ofer, and just all around wonderful and amazing human.

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and PLEASE reblog if you can! It's how posts spread around here; likes are appreciated, but they do nothing to boost interaction. :)

part 1 | part 2

In case you wanna read on Ao3 instead

Later that night you're all cleaning up dinner mess and stashing everything in bear-safe containers when Eddie sidles your way and smiles a little. "Hey."

"Hi," you say. "I heard Dustin tell Mike you peed your pants."

He rolls his eyes. "That little shit. He makes Dennis the Menace look angelic. Don't worry; I'll get him back in the next campaign and he knows it."

You can't help but giggle at the random shit that comes out of Eddie's mouth sometimes. "Sorry about that," you say.

"Don't worry about it. Worth it." He grins at you, his dark eyes big and bright even in the low light. "Way worth it." He clears his throat and tucks his thumbs into his back pockets before changing his mind and playing with a lock of hair instead.

"Do you want to—maybe, if you’re into it, no pressure—meet up later?" he mumbles.

"Like when later?"

He drags the bit of hair over his mouth. "Umm...maybe after everyone's gone to bed? Meet up here, then...go somewhere else?"

"Yeah, Grove. I'd like that." You lean in and lower your voice. "I wasn't done with you."

His cheeks turn pink and he fights a grin. "I wasn't done with you either, princess."

"Good," you say. "Later, then."

"Uh huh. Later." He stumbles a little as he prances away, but he rights himself and offers a wave to let you know he's okay. Jesus he's so cute. Bambi on ice like 80% of the time, at least.

You and Nancy are sharing a tent, but you know she wants to sneak off to Steve and Eddie's tent...and you want to sneak off with Eddie, so really it all works out. She gives you a knowing grin as you don't bother taking off your boots when you crawl inside.

"Meeting Eddie later?" she whispers.

You blush and fiddle with your boot laces. "Mhmm. We sort of got interrupted earlier."

"Uh huh, Steve mentioned that. Just be careful, okay? You don't want to get lost out there."

You nod. "Eddie seems like he knows these woods pretty well, and there's always Boy Scout Steve if we get too turned around."

"I think the kids are pretty much asleep if you want to go now," she says. "Don't forget the flashlight."

You grab it and crawl out. "Thanks, Nance," you whisper as she zips the flaps shut behind you.

The fire is banked for the night, but there's a nearly full moon, so you're able to make it to the picnic table without much trouble. You sit on the bench to wait, and before long Eddie appears. He smiles and presses a finger to his lips, then takes your hand to lead you into the woods.

He has a battery-powered lantern, but he keeps it off until you're far enough away it won't be noticed. He stops every now and then to tie bright orange streamers to trees. You poke his arm and point at one with a questioning gesture.

"Steve," he whispers. "Good ol' Boy Scout Steve. He gave them to me so we wouldn't get lost."

"What a thoughtful boy," you say.

"Uh huh."

You hike for a bit longer, until you reach a clearing bright from the full moon. He grins over his shoulder at you and spreads out the blanket he brought. "Wanna sit?" he says.

You drop down next to him with a smile. "So," you say. "What's on your mind tonight, Munson?"

"Hm?" He looks up from where he's fiddling with the lantern and quickly looks away again. "Oh, you know. Nothing. Just, uh. Just thought we could come hang out. You know, away from all the...everybody."

He clears his throat and settles down on the blanket, but he has his lighter in one hand and is flipping it over and over. He won't look at you.

"Grove?" you say, nudging him a little. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yep, sure, everything's—everything's great. Um." He pushes to his feet and wanders away. Being so close to you is making his brain scramble. You smell so good, wood smoke and sweetness, and you're so warm and soft. There's a fire burning low in his belly, and every time he looks at you it just gets hotter.

"A little chilly out here, huh? Shoulda brought another blanket. Shit. Don't want you to be cold. We could go back if you—oh. Hi."

You've moved to stand in front of him, and with his nervous pacing he didn't hear you. You take his hand in yours and lead him back to the blanket. "Let's just sit," you say. "We don't have to do anything. It's just us, Grover. You and me, same as always."

"Riiiight," he says, doubtfully. "Except I've had my mouth on your nipples now."

"True. Does that make things different?"

"Um." He rubs a hand over his lips and his eyes dart down to your chest, then back up to your face. "Maybe a little. But only because I wanna do it again."

You smile. "I'd like you to do it again. But it can wait. Hey, do you still have that baggie?"

"Ohhh yeah good call." He fishes the baggie out of his pocket and grabs one of the joints. "Too bad we didn't bring any marshmallows."

"I think we'll live. If I get the munchies I'll just nibble on you."

Even in the low light you can see how his cheeks flush at that. He ducks his head to light the joint and takes a slow, deep drag before passing it to you. "Have you always been this evil?" he says on the exhale.

You shrug and take a pull. "Probably. I just keep it hidden most of the time."

He settles down with one knee pulled up, his arm draped over it. You lean against his other side and tangle your free arm with his.

"I kinda like it," he says after a contemplative silence. "I like..." He cuts his eyes your way, then back out toward the trees. He shifts his ass a little. "I like...hanging out with you."

"Mmm," you say. "I like hanging out with you too." You finish off the joint and pass him the roach to store away, then rest your head on his shoulder. Your voice softens. "I like what happened earlier."

He tucks the Sucrets tin away. "I liked it too." He's quiet, fiddling with the laces on his boots before he undoes them and sets them aside. When he comes back he lets his hand wander until his arm is around you and you're pressed against his chest. His eyes are on the stars as he wrestles with what to say. He wants you to know how much you mean to him, how much he cares about you.

He clears his throat and turns his head to press a soft kiss to the top of your head and take a deep breath of your sweet scent.

"I just, um—I don't want you to think that I—that that's all I want now. Just, you know. Dirty stuff."

You tilt your chin back to look at him, then kiss his jaw. "I know you don't. I don't either. But I'll tell you a secret."

"Hmm?" he says, angling his head so he can see your face.

You grin at him. "I like the dirty stuff," you whisper.

His mouth curves in a bashful grin. "Yeah?" He runs his finger over your lips. "You mean with me, or in general?"

You catch his finger between your teeth and swirl your tongue around it. His breath catches and his eyes go wide. "With you," you murmur. "Just you, Grove."

"Fuck," he says on a rough exhale. His hand buries itself in your hair and he drags you up to kiss you. You respond with a little whimper, kissing him back desperately, and he slowly pushes you back onto the blanket.

"Want you, princess," he breathes between hot, hungry kisses. "Wanna take such good care of you. Make you feel so good."

"Mmmm it's my turn!" you say. You push at his shoulder until he rolls over, and you pounce on top of him. He lets out a surprised, breathless laugh that turns to a quiet moan when you bite the spot where the pulse pounds in his neck. You swirl your tongue against the spot and reach down to tug at his shirt.

His back arches enough to get it off, and then you're working your way down, kissing and biting and sucking. "Marks?" you ask.

He gives a quick, desperate nod. "Please! Mark me all up, baby!" He wants to be marked, wants to look in the mirror tomorrow and see you all over him. He wants to remember how hungry you were for him, how you wanted him as much as he wants you.

You smirk and do as he's begging. You bite harder. Suck longer. You kiss and lick every mark you leave, and soon you've made your way down to his soft tummy and the delicate line that leads down from his bellybutton.

"Can I take these off?" you say as you hook your finger in the waistband of his jeans.

He swallows. His heart is pounding so hard he can barely think. "Yeah, babe. Please."

You undo the button, then slowly unzip them before tugging them down to his ankles. You sit back on your knees to study him: shirt off, jeans around his ankles, cock big in his blue boxers.

"Such a slutty boy," you say with a little grin. You run your fingers along his erection. "Is this for me?"

He whimpers, hips bucking a little. "Yeah, fuck, all yours!"

"Mmmmm." You lean down to bite his tummy and pull his boxers off. His cock springs free and you lick your lips at the sight of it: thick and hard and so pink, even in the low light. "So pretty," you murmur. You wrap your hand around it and rub your thumb across the head. "Of course such a pretty boy has a pretty cock."

"You think—you think I'm pretty?"

You look up at him with his big eyes, flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips. "I think you're the prettiest boy I've ever seen," you say. You kiss the tip of his cock and suck it into your mouth.

He makes a rough, high-pitched noise and grips the blanket for dear life. "Fuck, babe! Please!"

"Please what, baby boy? Use your words."

He whines through clenched teeth. "Need your mouth, princess! Suck my cock, please!"

You shiver and clench your thighs together at the rush of wet heat in your cunt. "Gonna, sweet boy. You sound so pretty begging like that." You suck him into your mouth, deep, and he groans.

You wanted to tease him, make this really last, but you're so goddamn wet and your pussy is throbbing so hard you don't have the patience. Instead you suck him like your life depends on it, rough and sloppy and hungry.

He loves every second of it. "Fuck, princess, oh fuck! Fuckin A don't stop, don't stop, just like that!!"

Your head bobs as his cock fills your mouth, the flared head presses into your throat. You gag, pull out, and repeat. Drool drips down his shaft and onto his balls, and you wrap one hand around the base and the other around his sack. You squeeze, just a little, and at the noise he makes you do it again.

You pop off and smirk at him, at his flushed cheeks and messy hair and slack mouth. "Dirty boy. Look at this hard, leaky cock! I bet you want to come, don't you?"

He makes an incoherent, wrecked noise and manages to nod, then shakes his head. "Whatever you want, baby! I'm yours. Cock's yours!"

"Mmmm." You lick your swollen lips. "That's right. What a good boy." You stroke him slowly, enjoying the thick, hot feel of him in your hand. Your thumb rubs along the underside, presses against the spot where the shaft meets the head, then strokes over the pink tip. You swirl it through the pre-come gathered there, then bring your thumb to your mouth to lick it clean.

He watches you with a dazed expression, then his head falls back on a groan. "Please! Need more, fuck, please!"

"Since you asked so nicely," you say and dip your head to flick your tongue against him. He twitches, so you do it again. You're still stroking his shaft and playing with his balls, and now when you suck him into your mouth his hips stutter and jerk and you almost choke on him.

"Fuck! Fuck, baby, sorry!" he gasps.

You shake your head to tell him it's okay and keep going. As you suck you press your thumb against his perineum and stroke in firm, steady circles. That takes him to the next level.

"Gonna come, princess, fuck fuck that's so fuckin' good so—goddamn—FUCK!" He lets out a long, ragged moan and his come fills your mouth, hot and thick and salty. You swallow as much as you can in eager gulps, but a bit dribbles out onto your chin.

You keep lathing him with your tongue until he's a twitching, whimpering mess and he tries to stop you. "Too much! Gotta—fuck!"

You ignore him and don't let up. Your tongue is soft and wet against his too-sensitive cockhead and he thinks he might die. Words are beyond him; he's making the most desperate little whimpering sounds you've ever heard, and it's making you crazy.

"F—f—uuu—ck!" he chokes out. "Baaaaaby!!"

Finally you take pity and grin up at him. At the sight of you with your red, swollen lips and his come on your mouth he groans and drags you up to him. He kisses you hungrily, sucking and slurping every drop of himself off your mouth even as his tongue plunges in and out and tangles with yours.

You both moan and he rolls you over so that he's on top of you. The kisses don't stop, but somehow get hotter and deeper.

"That was so fuckin' good, angel," he rasps. "Fuck! Didn't know it could be that good! You're fuckin' incredible!"

"Taste so good, Eddie!" you say. "Coulda sucked your cock all night!"

He chokes out a laugh. "That probably woulda killed me."

You giggle and kiss him again. "Good thing I stopped then."

"Uh huh, because I gotta get my mouth on this cunt." He presses his hand between your thighs, then pulls it away with a dismayed look at his rings. "Hang on," he says.

You grab his hand with a mischievous smirk. Your eyes steady on his, you suck his finger into your mouth and wrap your lips around the ring. You slowly drag it off, then do it again for the other two.

He's staring at you with stars in his eyes. "Holy shit!" he breathes. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

You giggle and hand him the rings. "A little party trick, I guess," you say.

"Excellent trick. Remind me to attend more parties if you're gonna be there."

"You hate parties," you murmur as you tug him back down to you.

"I could learn to like 'em if you're gonna be suckin' my fingers," he says with a grin. He pulls your shirt up and over your head, then kisses his way down to your tits. Like earlier he spends ages on them: licking and sucking your nipples. Biting a little. Tugging them with his teeth. He kneads your tits with both hands and lathes his tongue back and forth over each sensitive bud until you're writhing under him.

"Eddie, please! My pussy!"

He gives a rough, hungry groan and finally moves on to kiss and bite his way down your tummy. He bites the pudge below your bellybutton. Sucks and laps his tongue over your soft skin.

He undoes your shorts and you lift your hips so he can tug them and your panties down together, and you kick the clothes away. He sits up and swallows hard. "You're so fuckin' pretty, baby girl," he says in an awestruck voice.

Your skin seems to glow in the moonlight, your nipples dark and swollen like ripe cherries. Between your thighs he can just make out the crisp whorl of hair on your mound and the way your puffy lips glisten when you squirm under his gaze.

"Is this for me?" he murmurs, his palm coming to rest against your pussy. "This sweet thing's all for me?"

"All for you, Eddie," you gasp. "Please don't tease me! God I need to come!"

"Greedy little thing," he says. "Guess it's your turn to beg, huh?" He drags a fingertip up and down your slit and you can't stop the needy little noises that fall from your lips.

"Please!" you whine. "Need your mouth, baby boy!"

He groans and ducks his head to kiss you before falling between your thighs. He kisses the inside of your knee then spreads you wide. Bites the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and sucks until you hiss.

"Can I leave a mark, princess?"

"Uh huh! Where no one'll see."

"Mmmm. Mine," he murmurs and sucks several big, dark marks. You squirm and writhe and whine, undone before he's even touched your cunt.

"And this is mine too," he says about the cunt in question. He kisses your labia. Drags his tongue up and down, then licks his lips as he savors the taste of you. "Goddamn you taste good, princess!"

"More, please!" you gasp.

He grunts and tugs your legs over his shoulders so he can really bury his face in you. He spreads you and licks every inch of you. Dips his tongue inside and swirls. Flicks up to your clit and then stops just before touching it.

"Hmmm. What's this?" he says. "A strawberry, all fat and pretty and ripe just for me?"

"Uh huh! Tastes good, too!"

He smirks and wraps his lips around it to suck. Your hips come up off the blanket with a little cry, but he holds you steady and still. "Can you be good, baby? I'll tell you when you can move."

You bite your lip. Where did that whiny, begging little boy go? Eventually you manage a nod. "I can be good," you say. "I'll be still."

"Good girl." He presses his mouth against you again and lathes his tongue back and forth across your ridiculously sensitive clit. You moan his name and grip the blanket and your thighs and belly are tense as you resist the urge to rock against his face.

His hands slide up your body to squeeze your tits, pinch your nipples. You can't help it: you writhe under him, whimpering his name, but he doesn't let up or make you stop. He's making the hungriest noises you've ever heard as he slurps and sucks at your clit. You look down at him, his big eyes and flushed cheeks, hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, fingers tight enough to leave marks on your tits.

"Eddie oh god!" you gasp. "Eddie, please, please! Need fingers, baby!"

"Not yet," he mumbles and goes back to sucking. You taste so fucking good and you're so responsive and desperate! His cock is fully hard all over again, aching and throbbing, and he ruts against the blanket in wanton desperation.

"Fuck fuck oh fuck!" you whimper. "That's so good, fuck!!"

"You can move, baby. Fuck my face."

"Eddie!!" you cry. Your hips buck; you grab a handful of his hair to hold him tight against you; your thighs grip his head and he tugs and twists your nipples.

"Please!" you breathe. "Oh god please!" You're so close you can taste it, your tummy tightening and clenching as the orgasm closes in. He knows it too, and he doesn't let up. His tongue pulses and lashes against your clit and that's it, you can't take it anymore. You grind against his face and bite down on your free hand to muffle your scream of pleasure as the wave breaks over you.

He groans and laps up the rush of wetness and before you can catch your breath he's sinking his middle two fingers into you, deep, and you let out a soft cry.

"Eddie!"

"You asked for fingers, princess," he says, his voice rough. "I live to serve."

He leans up to kiss you, letting you suck your orgasm off his swollen lips. "You want another one, greedy girl?"

"Uh huh!" you gasp with a desperate nod. "Please!"

He groans and kisses you again. "Knew you'd be so good, baby. Knew you were my goddamn dream girl."

You push your fingers through his hair, shoving it away from his sweaty face, and bite and nip at his jaw. His neck. You suck his earlobe into your mouth and he whimpers your name.

He works you with his sensitive fingers, curling and flexing them until he finds the spot that makes you whine against his ear. "There, princess?"

"Right there!"

He kisses you hard and starts to fingerfuck you rough and fast. He twists them. Scissors them open and closed. You squeeze around him and the sloppy, filthy sounds your cunt is making drive you both wild. His face is set and intense, his dark eyes steady on yours with a line between his brows and his full mouth thinned in concentration. You're all he can see, his entire universe, and neither of you wants the feeling to end.

"Oh god!" you whine. "Oh god, Eddie, that's—oh fuck please!!"

"Come for me, baby girl," he croons. He kisses you and nips at your lip. "Make a mess for me. Take what you need, princess. Whatever you need."

You grip his hair with one hand and the blanket with the other as you buck up onto his fingers. He moves with you, setting a harsh, driving rhythm that makes you want to scream. When he twists his hand and his thumb finds your clit that's it, you're gone. You yank his hair and moan his name and clench around his fingers so tight he hisses.

He watches you as the orgasm grips your body, the way your chest heaves and your tummy ripples and clenches. Your thighs are shaking and there are tears running down your cheeks. He kisses them away so gently, his lips soft and sweet on your heated cheeks.

Eddie eases his dripping hand from your cunt and grins at you. "You did make a mess, princess. You squirted for me. What a good girl!"

You shudder and nod. "That—happens—sometimes. But never with someone else," you say through deep, panting breaths.

"Oof," he says, a rough exhale like you punched him. "That's so fuckin' hot. I'm honored, baby. Thank you."

You giggle and sit up enough to wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze. "You did it, silly. I'm the one who should be thanking you."

He hisses and carefully removes your fingers from his dick. "Stop that. Bad girl. I have plans for that."

"Oh do you? Care to share with the whole class?"

"Uh huh, I will. First..." He grabs his pack and hands you the bottle of water from inside it.

"Ooo, smart boy." You take several long, thirsty gulps before handing it back so he can do the same.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grins at you, the really big one that crinkles up his whole face, and you can't help but grin back. You murmur his name and pull him close for soft, easy kisses, and he manages to get the lid back on the water bottle before he's on top of you again.

"Hang on, angel. Gotta—" He twists away just long enough to grab a condom from a pocket of his jacket, and then he's back to kiss up and down your neck.

"You brought condoms?"

He gives a sheepish shrug. "I always carry one with me. Just in case."

"Uh huh. Eddie 'The Stud' Munson."

"Ha. Yeah, that's me." He strokes his hands up and down your sides and you arch into it. "Tell me what you want, princess."

"I—fuck." You push at his shoulder so that he turns onto his back. "Like this," you say. "Got a taste for it earlier."

"Not gonna complain," he says. He squeezes your thighs and hands you the condom.

You study him a moment. "You know, I'm on the pill."

His eyes widen just a little. "Really?"

"Mhmm. I've always used a condom before."

"Me too," he says, swallowing hard. "Do you wanna—not?"

You lean down to kiss him. "I'd love to feel you come inside me," you murmur against his mouth.

He's pretty sure he's died and gone to Heaven, but somehow he manages to nod. "Yeah, princess. Whatever you want."

You smirk, toss the condom aside, and straddle him. "Ready, sweet boy?"

"God yeah! Please, baby!"

He holds himself steady for you and with long, filthy moan you sink down onto him. "Oh god!!" you whimper as he stretches you. You're absolutely dripping wet, but even after 2 orgasms you aren't used to taking something so big. You can feel the head snug inside you and it's incredible.

"Eddie!! Fuck!" you whimper. "Oh fuck you're so big!!"

"Baby girl!" he gasps. He cannot believe how good you feel, how hot and slick and just right. "Perfect little cunt, perfect little princess!" He smirks at you and squeezes your thighs again. "But not so perfect, huh? More like the perfect little slut."

Your eyes widen and your cunt clenches around him. "Say it again, baby."

He rocks up into you and you move against him. "Is that what you are, baby? My little slut? Perfect princess on the outside, hungry little whore on the inside?"

"Oh fuck!!" you cry, your head calling back. No one has ever talked to you like this before, and it's doing things to you. "Eddieeee!"

"Ride me, baby," he grunts. "Take that cock. It's all yours, sweetheart. Your cock."

You whimper and don't waste any more time. You brace your hands on his chest and grind down onto him. You wiggle until you get just the right angle, then lifts your hips and drop back down. You both hiss. He grips your hips, his fingers digging in so that the skin turns white around them, and soon you're fucking him in earnest, his big cock hitting you just right, your clit grinding between you in a way that makes you whine.

"Greedy girl," he breathes. "Fuck I love it! Love the way you take my cock, love how much you need it!"

"Gonna come, gonna—can't—oh my god!!" You can't believe you're coming again, fourth time tonight, and it's so fucking good, better each and every time. "Eddie!" you gasp. "God, Eddie!!"

He squeezes your ass, then carefully lifts you off of him. You're confused in your post-orgasmic haze, but you can see him smirking at you. "On your knees, princess. Down on your elbows."

You moan and do as you're told. "Don't hold back, Eddie," you breathe as he kneels behind you. "I can take it hard like this. I'll stop you if it's too much."

"Fuck," he says. He whispers your name and strokes a hand down your back. You feel the tip nudge your entrance, and then he's inside you, all one stroke that buries him to the hilt.

You cry out and push back against him. "Fuck me!" you whine. "Fuck me, baby, please!"

He's very glad he already came once or he'd be in trouble right now. As it is he can hold on enough to give you what you want. He pulls out and slams in again, the force of it rocking through you. You grip fistfuls of the blanket and beg for more, faster, like that, more!!

He fucks you deep and slow, no matter how much you beg for him to go faster. Your ass is so soft and round against him. He spreads it with both hands, then licks his fingertip and presses it against your hole.

"Eddie?" you whimper.

"Shhh, baby. I got you. Stop me if you don't want it." He drags his finger down to grab some of your wetness and pulls it up to your hole; over and over until you're slick all the way up.

"Don't stop!" you manage. He's deep inside you, rocking and grinding, and it's a maddening, delicious tease. "Fill me up, Eddie."

"Mmmm, you wanna be stuffed full, princess?"

"Uh huh! Please!"

He loves how wrecked and desperate and cock-drunk you sound. He sides his finger in and out of his mouth, getting it nice and slick, and slowly, carefully pushes it into your ass.

It hurts a little, a rough burn, but it's also good, so fucking good, and you rock back into him with a hungry whine. "Like that! Fuck, Eddie, like that!"

He draws more of your slick up until he can get his finger in to the second knuckle and he just holds it there as he fucks you. Harder. Faster. He grips your shoulder with his free hand for leverage and pulls you back with each thrust forward. He's grunting and gasping your name and you've never felt so full and used and delicious.

"Don't stop!" you gasp. "Oh fuck don't stop!!"

"Oh god oh fuck goddamn, princess, I can't—" He bites his lip hard, but it's no good. He's gonna come. You feel incredible, sound so good, are so desperate and needy for him still, after four orgasms, and he can't hang on. "Gonna—fuck!!"

He fills you in a hot, breathless rush, and you moan at the sensation. "Eddie!!"

He's groaning, his head thrown back, but when he hears your wrecked voice he realizes you didn't come again. He pulls out and stops the rush of your mingled come with his fingers. He draws some of it up to your ass so he can fuck you there while he fingers your cunt, and he twists his hand to press his thumb to your clit.

You whine, completely overwhelmed. "Eddie!" It's all you can manage: his name, like a mantra. Your brain is utterly gone, fucked out on the forest floor, and now he's got you stuffed full with three fingers in your aching cunt and another deep in your ass.

"One more, baby," he rasps. "I know you can do it. One more just for me."

"Can't!" you whimper. "Can't, Eddie, can't!"

"Yeah you can. Pretty little slut. Sweet little princess. Come for me. Look at you, takin' me like a goddamn pro. You love it. I know you do."

"I do!!" you say, your voice high and thready. "God fuck oh god!" After that you can't form words; it's all just sensation, pleasure and sharp, heady spikes of almost-pain, and soon you're giving him what he wants, another orgasm, and this one rings you out and leaves you boneless and spent and outside of yourself.

He whispers sweet, soothing words and carefully pulls out of you. Wipes one hand on his bandana, then gathers you against his chest. You look up at him, wide-eyed and stunned, and he kisses the tears off your cheeks again before sliding the fingers that had been in your cunt between your lips.

You moan at the mingled taste of the two of you and suck them clean.

"Good girl," he croons. "Fuck, you're such a good girl. That was insane, baby. Fucking incredible!" He replaces his fingers with his mouth and you kiss slow and easy as you ease back onto the blanket.

He wraps his arms around you and you snuggle into his chest. You still can't speak.

"Princess?" he murmurs against your hair. "You okay?"

You nod. Your fingers clench against him. "Yes. Yeah. Holy shit, Grove."

"Yeah," he says.

"That was..."

"Uh huh."

"Have you ever...?"

"Nope. Not like that. Have you?"

You shake your head. "Wow."

He grins and lifts his hand. "Yeah?"

You look up at him, face scrunched in confusion, but then comprehension dawns and you snort out a laugh. You tap your hand against his, too worn out to slap. "Yeah," you say. "You big fuckin' nerd."

"Emphasis on fuckin'," he says with a smirk.

You laugh again and roll away with a groan. "Oh god I hate you. Go away! You're fucking awful!!"

He cackles and drags you back against him. "You like it. You like me. You wanna have sex with me again. Don't lie, strawberry shortcake."

You give a drunken giggle and turn your head to bite his arm. "Yeah, doofus, I like you. And if I manage to ever walk again, I will definitely wanna have sex with you again."

"Whoop whoop! Calls for another one!" He lifts his hand again, and this time when you hit it you curl your fingers with his and lean in to kiss him.

"Dork," you murmur against his lips.

"Slut."

"Your slut."

"Uh huh. Your dork."

"Good," you breathe. "That's exactly what I want."

@briasnow-blog , @tayhar811

#eddie munson #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #stfic #emfic #smores

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knowlesian · 2 years

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Stede tells the crew: "We'll talk it through as a crew" and he gets them to be emotionally open and honest with him and with each other, but he can't bring himself to do the same. He gets Ed to open up to him in a sobbing meltdown but he's a closed book.

I think the first (and possibly only) time in the show that Stede ever actually talks about his own feelings is on the beach: "You make Stede happy."

THIS IS VERY TRUE

and since i have a couple minutes i want to talk about stede and trauma responses.

because stede's got a lot going on, re: the reasons he makes some pretty poor choices throughout the run of the show; he's got a touch of narratively ironic main character syndrome, he's preeeeeeetty fucking non-neurotypically coded, his wealth and material comfort have kept him from noticing the larger state of the world, the hilarious snippy retorts parts of him are hilarious and snippy, etc.

but on top of that: we've met his fucking dad. i don't really want to speculate past what canon showed us, but i'd say he absolutely qualifies as emotionally abusive, and we know he sent stede off to sad alone little rich boy school at some point.

we get zero indication stede has experienced even the barest attempts at emotional support until mary offers them, at which point he's like 'what is this... telling people deeply personal things about you that you speak of??? and then people don't take those things and laugh at you??? they want to help you??? seems sus, i would rather go read a book and/or run away to sea like a small child lugging his backpack of fruit snacks down to the park. also when i tried to tell you about horses with kind eyes you didn't understand what i was trying to do there and i felt slighted, so thanks to my upbringing i have taken that miscommunication and hung onto it and even if i don't know it, it's playing into why i won't take you up on your very kind and well-communicated offer to alleviate my pain. i am A LOT. it's sad, it's realistic, but oh man. it's hard dealing with me and it's hard BEING me. tell you the truth, i don't like it much either. or myself! weird, that.'

this man makes me want to CRY.

anyway: stede grew up with a father who looked him in the face and said: you suck. you deserve no kindness, which is handy because i will never show it to you! and if you don't get used to that level of cruelty in the place that should feel safest from the person the world says is taking care of you, you are not gonna make it out of this shit alive.

stede made it the fuck out. he cut himself into pieces and shoved himself into boxes and learned to shut his fucking mouth and not expect kindness, so when people offer it to him he doesn't trust it.

hell. i'm not even sure he knows what kindness is, before he takes his fruit snacks and his backpack and runs away to the sea.

i truly do love this show.

#my ofmd meta #okay now to like. do an adult thing. a chore! who knows #the world is my responsibility oyster

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hinamie · 15 days

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some notes/hcs from th jjk band!au ! read at your leisure i have written a novel 🫠

tl;dr guitarist brothers suku/ita bassist megu drummer nobara band name BL4CK FL4SH

i imagine them slightly aged up in this au, i'm thinking yuuji n them are around 17 and sukuna is 2 years older ( i would make the age gap wider to account for canon but i feel like any older and sukuna wouldn't be caught dead playing in his little brother's band)

it /is/ technically yuuji's band, he /was/ the one who started it even though sukuna would argue that he's the one funding the whole thing and nobara would argue that she's the one organizing and promoting every one of their gigs and megumi would argue that he constantly loses sleep writing mixing and producing their songs,, they all love yuuji tho so they go along and let him put his name on it

don't think too hard about how sukuna, 19, makes enough to fund a band . wholesome legal stuff, promise

yuuji's current guitar is a hand me down from sukuna after he had saved up enough to splurge on the double necked monstrosity he has currently. because they were strapped for cash growing up, for years yuuji played on a beginner kid's size electric guitar that sukuna (serial music snob) couldn't stand the sound of and may or may not have violently smashed before tsundere-ly shoving his old guitar into yuuji's hands.

that being the case, sukuna thinks what yuuji has done to his old guitar is atrocious bc he's the type to take /meticulous/ care of his instruments. we're talking regular tune ups, wax, mods, the works. man carries spare strings and a microfibre cloth on him at all times just in case and Will Not let yuuji near his gear because yuuji is a hurricane of a boy and has dropped and broken his equipment more times than any of them care to count . they do however make a game out of placing bets as to what he'll knock over during practice

yuuji usually does lead vocals because his energy is quite frankly contagious and he's a natural at working a crowd . Sukuna sings backup vocal but there are a handful of songs where they switch and he sings lead and those songs are . hm . a very different vibe ! and some of their most successful releases much to his brother's chagrin

megumi had always noticed and admired sukuna's voice and thought it would be a waste not to give him a lead vocal part so he was originally the one to offer to collaborate with sukuna to write a few songs more tailored to his style ,, yuuji felt a bit snuffed but couldn't deny that megumi had a point so he agreed to take a back seat

once sukuna had gotten a taste for the spotlight and saw the stream count on the songs he led he and yuuji started bickering a lot more over who gets to take over lead vocals. they've tried duets before and it's simply out of the question so instead they fight over megumi to get him to write for one of them. it still usually ends up being yuuji which irks sukuna but he's placated by how explosive the reaction is when he /does/ get a song to himself

megumi can also sing !!! he's really good !!!!except he's shy and stubborn and won't do it in front of others. he once drunkenly admitted that he has a secret folder on his laptop full of audio files of himself singing unreleased songs and they (mostly nobara) haven't let him forget it and pester him relentlessly to let them listen. he will not because his songs are emo and sappy and pining and definitely not about yuuji

this is MY brainrot so this au is not immune to pining megumi x oblivious yuuji. one time yuuji kept inviting a girl he liked to their rehearsals and megumi's mood would get so sour that most days they had to call practice early and the ensuing show was one of their worst performances ever because their practices had been so unproductive. nobara is 95% sure she knows what was up but in the interest of keeping megumi in the band she kept her mouth shut ((she did admonish yuuji afterwards that no more outside spectators were allowed at practice no matter how hot he thinks they are))

in the days leading up to their first ever show yuuji was an anxious wreck to the point where the rest of them were legitimately concerned for his health but completely at a loss as to what they could do to help. megumi's love language is Not words of affirmation so instead he got yuuji a new set of audio cables accompanied by a note that read "good luck -M" to help ease his nerves. yuuji keeps the note taped to his guitar

megumi and nobara can both play piano and alternate covering the keyboard parts if a song requires it. (((megumi is a lot better at it which annoys nobara but she attributes the skill difference to his "freakishly long fingers and perfect pitch, which is basically cheating anyway")))

nobara gives the boys hell for making her play manager most of the time but she honestly thrives when a gig is coming up and she gets to order them around and use sukuna's credit card to book photoshoots and print promotional materials and buy them new outfits to match the concept

everyone but sukuna dreads the aforementioned shopping days. yuuji is a chronic protag who just wants to sing with his friends and megumi thinks coordinated outfits are frivolous and a waste of time . sukuna however /loves/ the visual aspect of performing because he's a dramatic bitch and wants to make sure they leave an impression. he and nobara are a force to be reckoned with and megumi and yuuji fight for their lives when they bust out the eyeliner

gojo is in this au because i guess he has to be smh i am never free -_- he was megumi's old music teacher and he runs the studio they rent out ("friends and family discount for my favourite student! aren't i kind, megumi-chan?") and they're pretty sure he's famous overseas or a retired star or something because whenever he comes to their shows there's a flood of paparazzi and tabloids that he miraculously manages to avoid??? they have no idea how he does it but they're happy to leech off the publicity

#jjk band!au #i have more don't tempt me take this away from me #hina.txt

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inkrabbit · 2 years

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What do you think the ghouls moans/general nsfw noises sound like? Who’s more quiet, who has no shame and will make sure all the other ghouls know why y’all are doing just by the sounds

oh boy oh boy. here we go. for obvious reasons, I'm tagging this as Semi 18+

Aether:

He's not too loud, but he does let out a good amount of grunts and snarls to remind everyone that you belong to him

He honestly prefers it if you're the one making noise, especially if it's his name you're crying out

Don't worry, he'll make it up to you by being really gentle later

Just make sure you can hang in there whenever he senses/smells someone passing by

He'll become pretty loud when he's going through his rut, however. This means more growling and praises, but there's a good chance you'll be drowning him out with your own noises

Mountain:

He's pretty quiet when it comes to intimacy

It's not that he's ashamed of you two together or anything. Far from it

He just sees this as an intimate moment between you two, and he wants to keep it that way

You know how people talk about "connecting with the earth?" Yeah. That's pretty much what you're doing, and he's focused on trying to get you to connect with him spiritually as well so you two can truly become one

The time he really starts making noise is when someone gets close to you two, letting out a low rumbling growl. Unless either of you have decided to invite another ghoul for your "bonding session", Mountain has no desire to share

Rain:

He tries to stay quiet. He really does, but he just can't help himself

He'll start out biting his lip and whimpering, trying to stay quiet, but he tends to lose control when he gets towards his end

You wanna hear him make noises sooner? Take control. Ride him or even get on your knees for him. You'll hear all of his noise loud and clear

You've actually had to slap a hand over his mouth before when you two were trying to discreetly have some fun in a storage closet. Spoilers: one of the other ghouls found you

He's very vocal during his rut, however. You won't get him to shut up, unless you find a way to cover that pretty mouth of his

Sodo:

He honestly prefers if you're the one making all of the noise, but he'll let out grunts and groans if it really turns you on

He's full of praise and full of dirty talks, and he likes to increase his volume whenever he knows there are others lingering around

He really starts moaning when you go down on him, especially when you do that little trick with your tongue he likes

If you're really embarrassed about you two being figured out, just let him know and he'll tone down his voice

But just remember that you'll also have to work at keeping quiet too

Swiss:

He's here to please and make sure you have a good time

You like hearing him grunt and moan? Great! He's making all of the noises he wants to

If you're too embarrassed, that's great too. He'll do his best to keep quiet by giving you extra kisses and marks

This doesn't apply when he's going through rut. He's a lot more sensitive so it's almost impossible for him to 100% keep quiet

He will, however, make sure you're both making a lot of noise if he catches someone trying to listen in. Hell, he'll probably invite them to join if you're okay with it

#requests #headcanons #hcs #aether #aether ghoul #mountain #mountain ghoul #rain #rain ghoul #sodo #sodo ghoul #swiss #swiss ghoul #gn!reader #ghost #ghost band #semi 18+

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strawbabys-blog · 7 months

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Erm..hopefully this request is alright..

Harry Potter regression Headcanon or scenario of when Little! Harry Potter is reluctant about regressing (sp?) in front of you Caregiver! Reader who is also Ron's older twin sister..you found out about it and you didn't blame him for it..he went through a lot growing up and you wanted to help him feel safe so you gave him a Little! Environment in the room of requirement that he would feel happy with and you made sure that he knew that you accepted his Little! side.

You are an experienced Caregiver considering a lot of things.

Hiii, ofc, I love this request, baby Harry is the sweetest thing!! You didn't specify an age range so I went with around 3/4, I hope that's okay :) I'm so sorry this took me so long, I've been offline for a while now but I'm back and trying to catch up with requests

Precious Little Boy

Harry had been quiet lately, fidgety. He couldn't focus in classes and was having trouble paying attention in conversations unless you kept pulling his attention back to you. Most, if not all the people in your circle had caught on to the situation, people either attempting to cheer him up or giving him space. Either way, nothing was really working.

"I don't understand what could be bothering him so much that we wouldn't know about," Hermione says. She, you and Ron had been trying to study but it had quickly devolved into worrying about your friend, he'd disappeared after dinner again tonight and none of you had seen him since.

"I feel like we should talk to him," you say, "he's been like this for a week now, it's going to affect his school work if it keeps up,"

"I wish he would just come to us" Ron mumbles, still pretending to focus on the parchment in front of him.

"Mate, none of us are getting any work done at this rate, let's just go back to the common room and wait for him" You say, starting to pack your stuff away. They take your lead and you all head back to the common room.

It takes you a moment to realise that the mop of dark hair and glasses peeking over a thick blanket is, in fact, Harry. You and Ron exchange a glance.

"Hey Harry," you say, breaking the silence. He snaps out of his trance, his eyes locking onto yours for a second before he takes in his other friends in the room.

"Hi," he says, quietly.

"You okay mate?" Ron asks, walking over to the sofa and sitting down. You follow, sitting next to him while Hermione takes a spot on the floor between you both. Harry nods.

"Yeah, I'm okay,"

"Are you sure? You've been off this week," he pushes. Harry's face screws up a little, shifting uncomfortably.

"You can talk to us, hon," you say, the term of endearment slipping into your sentence naturally. He looks up at you, for a second you swear you see his eyes glass over before he screws them shut, "Harry?" He whines.

"Do you want us to leave you alone?" Hermione asks. His eyes shoot open again, the panic clear on his face.

"No," he says. This time you get a good look and can clearly tell what's happening.

"Hey, Harry, can I talk to you over here for a second?" You ask, gesturing behind you. He blinks at me for a second before nodding. You take his hand and gently lead him to the other side of the room, mouthing at Ron and Hermione that it'll be okay.

Harry rocks on his feet in front of you, looking about ready to burst into tears.

"Are you mad at me?" He asks.

"Oh no! Of course not, I just wanted to ask you something, is that okay?" You reassure him, running a hand down his arm. He mumbles out a yes, glancing at the floor between his feet, "Alright sweetheart, are you feeling little right now?"

His head snaps up, eyes widening as he shakes his head, immediately trying to deny it.

"No, no, I'm big, promise," he says, tears pooling in his eyes. You put a hand on his face, trying to calm him down.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," you say, thumb running over his cheek, "you can tell me, yeah? I won't judge you, I know all about it and I can even take care of you if you like,"

Harry looks away, biting on his lip hard enough that you have to refrain yourself from stopping him. He glances over to Ron and Hermione who had started chatting between themselves.

"Don't want them to know," he says, slurring his words together as he speaks.

"That's okay, I've got a special secret room we can go to if you like? I promise its super fun and cozy," he looks back at you, still quite clearly apprehensive but there was a new hint of hope on his eyes, a clear vulnerability that had you close to melting.

"Really?" He asks.

"Yeah! Can you wait here for me while I go talk to Ron and Mione?" You say, he pulls a face, clearly upset at the idea of you leaving, "it'll only be for a second, they've been worried about you, I just want to let them know that you're okay," he looks up, tears filling his eyes again.

"M' sorry, didn't mean to make em sad," he mutters, his hands clasping and unclasping around nothing. You move your hand down to his shoulder.

"No, baby, it's okay, no ones sad. Ron and Mione were just a little worried about you, you really needed to slip huh?" You say. He nods, sniffling a little, "okay, you wait here then honey, I'll be right back, yeah?" He nods again. You feel a little guilty about leaving him but there's no way you could take him with you without the two knowing something was different, and you couldn't just leave without telling them where you were going.

"Hey, is Harry okay?" Hermione asks as you walk over.

"He will be, we're just gonna go on a walk, we might be out late so don't wait up okay?" Ron gets up to give you a quick hug.

"Alright, make sure your careful and don't get caught yeah?" You nod.

"See ya later," you say, eager to get back to Harry who was still stood in the corner where you left him, "I'm back!" You say. His head shoots up and his little smile makes your heart jump, he was so adorable.

"They okay now?" He asks, looking over at your guy's friends, who were now setting up a game of exploding snap between them. You give Harry a reassuring smile.

"Mhm, they're all good. Now how about we get going?" He nods and you take his hand, leading him out of the common room. You lead him down a few winding corridors before you stop in front of a blank wall.

"Here?" Harry asks.

"Mhm, come here sweetheart," you say, moving behind him to cover his eyes. You watch as the door to the room of requirement appears before you two. You remove your hands and listen to the boy gasp.

"It's magic!" He says, turning around to you with a grin.

"It is baby! Now let's go inside," Harry skips ahead to the door and you help him open it.

The room of requirement had manifested itself as a lovely bedroom/living room. The decor was a bit of a mix between the Gryffindor common room and the Burrow, clearly pinpointing where Harry was most comfortable with ease. There was a big four poster bed pushed against the far wall with a ton of plush blankets and pillows, to the right there is a cozy fire blazing away with a three seater sofa in front of it. The room is covered in blankets, rugs, tables and lamps, it's mismatched but it works to form a soft, comfortable environment.

Harrys eyes light up at the sight of the place, turning around to smile shyly at you.

"It's pretty," he says.

"It is isn't it?" You say, going over and running a hand through his hair, "now how's about we have a look around and see what you want to do?" He nods and you take his hand, leading him over to a chest of draws and pulling them open. Inside are a stack of colouring books, some crayons, a myriad of kids cutlery and plates along with some sippy cups. Harry gasps and your heart swells with happiness.

"Books" he mutters.

"Yeah honey, how about you pick one and we can do some colouring," you suggest. He tentatively reaches out, shuffling through the books before picking out a dinosaur themed one. He looks back up at you for approval and you grin.

"That one looks great honey, can you pick one for me as well?" You ask. He nods, concentrating hard on the books once again before picking out a Disney themed one full of prince's and princess's. He holds it out to you and rocks back and forth on his heels, something you realised was a nervous habit.

"This one?" He says, "because you're like a princess... pretty and nice," His cheeks turn a bright shade of red and you feel your heart melt for what feels like the hundredth time today.

"Oh I love it baby!" You say, taking the book from him and grabbing the crayons from the draw, "Come on let's go colour," he gives you another shy smile and follows you to the sofa.

You sit on the floor, putting your book and the crayons on the coffee table and he follows your lead, sitting cross legged next to you and putting his book down. He looks nervous so you decide to start colouring. You pick out some crayons and start colouring a little mermaid themed page with Princess Ariel and Prince Eric. You watch from the corner of your eye as Harry slowly relaxes, picking a page and starting to colour too.

For a while you guys sit in silence, content to just be in each other's presence. Every so often you look over and see Harry bent over his book, his brow furrowed and his tongue sticking out a little as he concentrates. It's adorable.

Suddenly you feel a little tap on your shoulder and turn to see Harry holding his colouring out to show you, his cheeks turning red again. You take the book from him and gasp at the page, making a big show of how we'll he's done.

"Wow honey! This is amazing!" He smiles at you and shuffles a little closer to you, "do you want to keep colouring or maybe we can take a nap and cuddle?" You ask. His eyes light up and you can't help but grin at him.

"Cuddle please, I'm sleepy," he murmurs. You stand up and open your arms, offering to carry him. He lifts his arms up and you pick him up, sitting him on your hip and thanking Merlin that Harry is relatively short and you're just as tall as your brother. He cuddles into your neck and you smile.

"Do you want to change clothes?" You ask. He nods into your neck, "okay, do you want me to help or can you do it yourself?" He whines a little.

"Help, please," he mutters. You nod.

"Okay, sweetheart, let's get you some clothes. You take him over to the chest of draws again, opening one to find some pajamas. You let him pick out an oversized t-shirt and some shorts and take him over to the bed, setting him down and quickly helping him change.

As soon as your done, he falls backwards, snuggling into the covers. He holds out his arms for you, whining quietly.

"One second honey, I just need to get changed," you move as fast as possible, not wanting to leave him waiting, changing into some pajamas before climbing into bed next to him.

He immediately latches onto you, cuddling close. You smile softly and pet his hair as he drifts off next to you.

You watch as his breathing evens out, his features relaxing, and only then do you let your eyes close as well, falling asleep next to your boy.

#sfw agere #agere #sfw age regression #agere blog #sfw little post #age regression #sfw agere blog #agere little #sfw little community #harry potter agere #little!harry #cg!reader

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rinatic · 1 year

Text

Want it | Kim Jungwoo

Pairing: nonidol!jungwoo x fem!reader | genre: friends to fwb (?), nonidol au | word count: 1800+ | warnings: making out, hard jungwoo, suggestive

I wish to touch jungwoo's lips with mine.

Oh to have this become reality, though it is not really a good idea because he seems to be in love with someone else, and kissing someone who's in love with someone else is just not a cool thing to me. And how did i knew he likes someone else? I don't see him often these days so he might be dating or something of that sort. But i think not seeing him often is good for me, because my desire to just smack my lips on his just grows stronger every time I see that idiot's face.

And the reason behind it? I don't know, honestly. Do I have a crush on him or do I just want a taste of his juicy lips? I don't know either.

I like him to an extent i guess, but i don't get how can a person be so oblivious, every time he talks or moves those fucking pair of juicy pink plump lips my eyes just settle on it. i zone out, my mind automatically thinks of dirty stuff, and I pay no attention to what he's blabbering about.

And him being my roommate's best friend doesn't make it any better, it literally came to the point where i just avoid jungwoo when he hangs out with my roommate, the last time i pretended to be asleep, and that annoying idiot literally came into my room, whispered jokes into my ears because he was sure i wasn't asleep, and what did i do? I imagined his lips in my mind as he whispered.

Fuck him, no one told him to be born with a pretty face, no one asked him to exist with this much beauty, the world will definitely be peaceful without him looking like this. It would've been fine if he was ugly, filthy thoughts wouldn't run through my mind like this.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend time with us?" Jaehyun stood and leaned his body on the door. His arms crossed to his chest with an unreadable expression. Shit, did he come already? Did he just come out of nowhere? I haven't seen him for like a month and it's definitely a lot because I'm used to seeing him almost everyday. "I'm fine without your boring hangouts." I let out my tongue at him but he stayed unfazed, then raised an eyebrow at me.

"Y/n, are you hiding something-"

"The snacks are delicious!!" Jungwoo barged in the room with his finger between his lips, licking the crumbs of what seemed to be hot cheetos. I rolled my eyes as i noticed how my brain is starting to focus on his finger being licked.

Jaehyun's eyes settle on jungwoo's. "Did you hurt y/n? She doesn't want to meet you, see? She just rolled her eyes as soon as you came." After these words left jaehyun's mouth, jungwoo let out a laugh, i wasn't sure if it was a sarcastic one. "Hmm, you figured it all out quickly, you're her roommate after all." I can tell that jaehyun is shocked at how jungwoo admited it easily. I try to figure out what jungwoo but i definitely fail because this boy is just unreadable. What is this idoit planning? He takes a few steps till he stands in front of my bed, he sits next to me and faces me, then he puts his arm around my shoulder. "It's a silly matter, we'll solve it quickly and come to watch a movie together.."

I don't know what Jungwoo wants to do with me, but his smile and earlier gestures were hard to ignore. Surely he smiles a lot and is a weird kid, but this time, he's kinda scaring me, really.

Knowing jaehyun, he won't insist on knowing what's going on, he hates interfering in others matters and he also doesn't like fights and confrontations, so he'll leave us alone, i guess this is what jungwoo wants? But why would he just suddenly create a nonexisting 'fight'? What does he want from me?

"Okay then, just hurry up." With that, he shuts the door behind him, we both hear his footsteps fading away, in an instant, I find Jungwoo leaning in my direction, then he rests his head on my thigh, my eyes wide a little and I furrow my eyebrows at this sudden move.

He closes his eyes then stares directly into mine. "So… wanna makeout?"

My body freezes and i nearly gasp at his words. "What..?"

"Why surprised? Isn't this what you want? I recall seeing you glancing at my lips often" He keeps his bottom lip in place between his teeth as he stares into the ceiling. "Wait, why would I want to kiss you? How did- why you think i want to?" I grumbled, his eyes shifted to mine and his eyebrow raised.

"Y/n, you think you're so slick when you stare at my lips, but I caught you every time and you don't notice it." My cheeks felt hot, I immediately avoided the eye contact he tried to maintain. "You should've told me directly that you want to kiss those perfect lips of mine, or better, you could've kissed me, I'll always be welcome to grant your wish of kissing me." He added.

Never in my life have I wished to die this bad. I definitely want to kiss you, Jungwoo, but I never expected you to be this direct, I thought you were always shy and pure. Who knew that this man can be two faced? He really gaslighted me into thinking he was a dumb angel who did not notice my 'sinful' stares at his goddamn kissable lips.

How can he do this to me? Now I feel like a high school kid who got caught staring under girls' skirts.

"I'm sure jaehyun is sick of waiting." As soon as I was about to get up, Jungwoo held my hand and sat up. "Why are you shying away now? Isn't this what you want?" His other hand caresses my cheek, I feel my face heating up as I see his eyes settling on my lips, he looks into my eyes again and smirks. "Don't feel bad, I want to kiss you too, y/n."

He leans in and his lips part, laying his lips on mine, I never imagined his lips to be this soft. He carefully holds my face in place, I find myself kissing him back, moving my lips with his. I felt like biting him because of how good his lips felt so i bit his bottom lip, It felt like i was eating candy because of how tender it is, so sweet.

But maybe this move of mine was wrong because after I did that, he removed his hands off my face and wrapped them around my waist instead, moving my body closer to his and at the same time he bit my bottom lip. i forget my surroundings as it gets heated. For a moment i wish for time to just freeze, so i can enjoy the taste of his lips more.

After a few seconds, he stops and takes a breath. Allowing me to have a good look at his face, how doll-like it is. Making me wonder how a human can be so perfect. "Woah, y/n, I thought I'll be dissatisfied, but you only made me want more." His fingers reach and touch my chin. He drew me towards him to kiss me again, but this time he used his other hand to move my body closer. I was almost on top of him, he supported his body with his hand while the other kept me in place.

His eyes were half closed, and so were mine. He nudged his nose against mine to tease me and I felt myself blushing again. It was crazy how I used to fantasise about this and now it's happening.

Softly, his hand pressed on my cheeks making my lips part slightly, he slips his tongue inside and it touches mine. It felt ticklish at first, but as we continued making out, it became really hot. I feel like ripping off my shirt because of how hot the atmosphere here is. My nose picks on the scent of his hair, the soft peachy scent almost made me dizzy.

It's funny how i didn't ask him why he disappeared for a whole month, but i feel like this makeout is the proper 'you're welcome', i did really miss him, but i don't know if he did.

Even though I was still thirsty for more kisses, I backed a little so I could take a proper breath. I can feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath my nose, a smile appears as he brushes my hair away from my face. "Why didn't you kiss me earlier, dummy, there could've been a big progress by now." He throws his head back with closed eyes and takes a breath, I notice the small tent that appeared on his pants. I look away and secretly smirk, hoping he didn't hear me slightly chuckling.

He comes back to reality and looks at me. "I want more of you." He says

"You're being greedy."

"Anyone who kisses those lips will be."

I chuckle at his words, he sighs and leans in closer to kiss me agan. "Guys, is everything okay?" Jaehyun calls, we can see his shadow from the small space underneath the door. Jungwoo rolls his eyes. "Yeah! We're good!" He spoke like how his bubbly self would, completely different from the jungwoo i was just making out with. We hear the sound of the door handle, jaehyun enters with an uninterested expression. "I made some popcorn, come on, the movie is about to start."

"Alright! We're coming." Jungwoo parts his lips and let out a small sigh. "Fuck you jaehyun, were were about-"

"Shut up, your voice is so loud." I get up and he holds my hand as he gets up. I look at our hands then at him. "Why are you holding my hand?"

"Felt like it."

"Wait.. are you going to watch the movie like that?" I asked, looking at his pants then at his face again. Instantly after that, he closes the door and pins me against it, i slightly hiss as i felt pain in the back of my head "The only way to solve it is to fuck you right now." I widen my eyes at him. But he's not even shocked after what he just said, he's just grinning at me with scary half closed eyes.

I gulp as i stare at his eyes, wondering if he actually means it. His hands caresses my shoulders, his cold hands cooled my burning skin a little "Come on, y/n, it's not that hard to decide."

"Guys! The movie started!" I broke the eye contact as soon as i heard jaehyun. "We gotta go watch the movie, come on, let's not leave him al-" he kisses me softly then pulls away, a much creeper smile appears on his plump lips. His fingers touch my lips then moves to my cheek, pulling a few strands of my hair behind my ear, his fingers slightly touch my ear and it makes me shiver almost instantly.

"Alright then, but you'll still have to do something about it."

#nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct u #nct reactions #nct127 #nct jungwoo #nct smut #nct suggestive

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 2 months

Text

"The female isn't yours to objectify, not in art nor anywhere else!"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "That's rich coming from you, Tequila. You had some pretty wild views about women last weekend..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "I don't know where he picked up these views, but wherever it was, he seems to be sincere about them."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that mixing art and sex can make you fucking *rich*. Just don't go on a jog, unleashing a cascade of doom that washes it all away."

2. "What's up with the tracksuit?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "What? You never seen 100% Lickra(TM) before? Go on, feel that primo material." The man extends his arm...

Touch it.

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Pretty nice, huh? This might be one of the last of its kind. Should probably be in a museum, honestly." He takes another sip.

INTERFACING [Impossible: Failure] - Good god, it's nearly impossible to describe how dirty this texture is. It's like rubbing two jellyfish skins together. You feel about 15% less human for having touched it.

-1 Morale

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] - Randomized trials have also found Lickra(TM) to be associated with a number of exotic, highly malignant cancers. So you also have that to look forward to.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Easy: Success] - And then there's the smell, but you don't even want to think about that.

ROSEMARY - "Wow, you're lucky. He never lets me feel it."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "That's because your paws are fucking filthy, Rosie! We're right next to the bay, you could wash them anytime."

3. "What about the other drunks?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "My fellow members of the Union of Moribund Alcoholics? They're exactly what they look like."

ROSEMARY - "'Ey! Tequila! You wanna buy some speed?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Shut the fuck up, Rosemary! He's a cop, remember?"

ROSEMARY - "I thought he was a cool cop."

DON'T CALL ABIGAIL - "Don't call Abigail!"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "And this is Abs." He points to the man in the pipe. "So yeah, that's basically us. We drink together."

4. "What's this about a lost jacket?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Tequila, it's a verifiable tragedy. It was practically brand new. Sure, it didn't really go with my Lickra(TM) threads, but it did itch a lot less..."

"Say, you're a detective, right?" He looks at you, bleary-eyed. "Maybe you can help ol' Doom Spiral out… solve the case of the missing jacket! What do you say, Tequila?"

"Wait. You're asking a police officer to help find a jacket you stole and then lost?"

"Okay, sure. Where'd you lose it?"

"I don't have time for this."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Yeah, exactly. You're here to serve, right?"

2. "Okay, sure. Where'd you lose it?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "If I knew where I lost it don't you think I'd have it? I mean -- maybe I was up by the boardwalk? Or walking along the beach? Or checking out the abandoned fish market?"

"That's a lot of places."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Somewhere north of here, that's for sure. You could ask around, see if anyone's seen it."

New task: Find Idiot Doom Spiral's jacket

5. "Let me ask you something else." (Conclude.)

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "I'm all ears, Tequila."

4. "Have you got any more stories?"

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "I do -- but as you can see my fuel tank is running quite low, if you catch my drift..." He spins the bottle in his hand. Not a single drop of liquid remains.

"I don't have any on me right now."

IDIOT DOOM SPIRAL - "Cotton mouth is keeping my tongue imprisoned." He shrugs his shoulders dramatically.

3. "Be seein' you." [Leave.]

ROSEMARY - "Good to see you, friend! Do I have *deals* set up for you, buddy-boy!" He spreads his arms as if wanting to embrace you.

"What are you talking about?"

"Good to see you too, friend."

"I'm a police officer, not your friend."

ROSEMARY - "So whadda'ya want?" He tilts his head. "I got smokes. They're cheap. Very cheap. I got pilsner. Great deal. You won't get a better deal on that piss... Spirits I can let go for 300 reál. I also have speed. And by *speed* I mean amphetamine."

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - See, there it is, bratushka! -- you feel your necktie *strangle* you with excitement -- the *spirit*! Let's buy the spirit! 300 reál is a lot, but this has to be done.

It's our END GAME.

This is just another stupid drunk idea I'm having, that I'm attributing to my necktie.

This is the mystery and the truth and I need to buy that spirit.

What if I don't want to listen to my necktie anymore?

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - Bratan, you don't understand. It's not just another drink. This is what our relationship has been building towards all these years. This is the climax. The mystery. The virginal sigh.

You *have* to buy it from him. Get it off him. Kill him, if you have to. Our ultimate fate depends on it. And the fate of *many worlds*.

New task: Spirit is eternal

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant looks at you looking at the bottle of spirits. Then at Rosemary, suspiciously.

So, we can buy cheap drugs from Rosemary, including more alcohol if we want to immediately pass it on to Doom Spiral. We very obviously cannot afford the 300 reál spirits.

"Amphetamine?"

"Quite the business venture you've set up here."

"Why does the bottle of spirits cost 300 reál?"

[300 reál] "Here's the money for the spirits."

[2 reál] "I want a pack of smokes."

[1.50 reál] "Here's the money for a pilsner."

[15 reál] "Sell me some speed."

"I'm off." [Leave.]

ROSEMARY - "Aye, by amphetamine I mean speed."

"I think you didn't hear me, when I said I'm a police officer."

"I thought by speed you meant amphetamine?"

"Right. Got it."

ROSEMARY - "Sure did, buddy-boy," he taps the side of his nose. "That's why I said amphetamine. I mean speed. I mean amphetamine. I got both."

"I thought by speed you meant amphetamine?"

ROSEMARY - "Aye, 's'what I said."

"Right. Got it."

ROSEMARY - "Good-good, my man." He takes a chug from his beer bottle. "Now what can I offer ya?"

2. "Quite the business venture you've set up here."

ROSEMARY - "Oh..." He gets a proud gleam in his eyes. "The system's been good to old Rosemary here and I'm milkin' 'er like a bitch goat in the backyard."

"What do you mean?"

ROSEMARY - "You see, friend," he raises his index finger, "man makes his own luck -- and I made mine real good. Got my hands on three bottles of *liqueur exquise*, sold two to the fellows around here and *immediately* invested the profit."

"Bought cigarettes, bought beer, even bought a bit of speed. And look at me now… I got everyone on my hook." He spreads his arms and smiles a crooked toothless smile.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - The hook -- where is it? I can't see it.

#disco elysium #idiot doom spiral #rosemary #don't call abigail #kim kitsuragi #harrier du bois

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