#FUCK I wrote a lot but holy shit I needed the words out

[hopesworlld]

౨ৎ got to love me harder, baby

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — jealous!anakin x fem!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — anakin doesn't make you cum, so then he does again, and again, and again

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 1k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, insecure anakin, anakin kinda scares reader for a sec, smut ( unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, spanking, oral sex f receiving, fingering, pinching, over stimulation ) think that’s all !

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — i was possessed by some sort of smut demon and wrote this in a haze in about 30 minutes and i kinda love it. so thank you for requesting this i loved writing it !

part one ( kinda ) part three masterlist

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“holy shit,” anakin hissed, burying himself deeper inside of you, his hips twitching with the force of his thrusts, the sick squelch of your juices echoing around the room as anakin chased his relief, glasses askew on his face in such a way that it could have been endearing had his cock not been bullying your cervix. “feel so good, baby,” he told you, eyes meeting your, piercing blue stained onyx with lust. 

“ani, just like that, oh my god,” you cried, lifting your hips from the bed to meet his thrusts, grinning at the way anakin gasped, eyes rolling into the back of his head, he was sheened with sweat, golden skin glimmering beneath the dull lamplight, he looked ethereal, lips red and flushed, tongue lolling to the side as he hammered into you, closer, closer… 

“i’m gonna cum,” anakin told you, words babbled, as he sank into you once again, you could feel your own phantom relief curling up your spine, sinking into your core in white hot flashes, but as quickly as it had started it began to ebb away as anakin let go, a cry escaping his lips as he came flooding your gummy walls with thick hot spurts of cum, he continued to thrust for a few moments, fucking you through the oversensitivity before going still and collapsing down atop of you. 

“good boy,” you whispered, brushing your hands through his amber curls, “did so good for me, angel,” you murmured, planting soft kisses along his hairline, the taste of salt lingering on your tongue. 

“you… did you cum?” anakin asked, pulling back, his eyebrow pulled into a firm line, you smiled at him gently, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his pouty lips. “you didn’t… i didn’t feel you?” his lips trembled, tears welling in his pretty blue eyes. 

“it’s okay, ani, i’m okay,” you told him with a reassuring smile but anakin shook his head, he pulled backward, tugging his cock free from your soaking core, looking down at the mix of your juices and his cum spilling from you with glaring hatred. 

“no, you think that's okay?” he growled out, “think it’s okay that i can’t make my girl cum?” he demanded, searching your face for answers but he didn’t seem to find what he was searching for, “you think i’m pathetic don’t you? can’t give you what you need,” you quickly shook your head, pushing yourself upwards on the bed and reaching out, cupping anakin’s cheeks between you palms but he pushed you off, anger flashing in his teary eyes. “don’t,” he ground out, voice trembling.

“anakin, calm down,” you said soothingly, “lots of girls can’t just come from penetrative sex, it's not your fault it was just a bit fast tonight, you always make me feel so good, okay, a one-off doesn’t matter,” you told him, but your words fell upon deaf ears, if anything your words seemed to upset him more as he grasped your shoulders and shoved you back down onto the bed, your head slamming against the pillows, you gasped, looking to anakin with wide eyes but he was gone. you had never seen him look so… feral, his chest was heaving, tears staining his pretty face but he looked mad, more angry than you had ever seen him and you couldn’t help the little burst of panic that flared in your stomach. “ani,” you whispered unsurely. 

“you think i can’t make you cum?” he asked, words like ice as he stared down at you. 

“i didn’t say that,” you argued helplessly but anakin didn’t seem to care what you had to say right now as he grasped your thighs with both hands and wrenched them open, spreading you out before him, his grip was harsh and you were sure if he continued like this he would leave bruises along the delicate skin. 

“i’ll fucking show you,” he muttered and you were unsure if he was even talking to you anymore or himself, but you didn't have time to overthink it as anakin buried himself between your thighs, plunging his face into your cunt and sucking your clit into his mouth, a surprised moan fell from your lips as anakin suckled on the bundle of nerves with vigor. anakin had eaten you out many times before, but usually, it was soft, gentle licks and caresses with his tongue before he delicately entered his fingers into your sopping hole and opened you up for him, but right now, he was fucking devouring you. he switched between sucking on your slit and licking large stripes from your core up to the top. 

it was messy, the sticky sounds of your release coating his tongue and him slurping as he took every little thing your body gave him. it wasn’t long before you came for the first time, completely mesmerised by the sight of anakin between your thighs, and the way he ate you out like a man starved. you thought that was it as you finally came down from your high, body tingling, but anakin didn't pull away, instead, the spill of juices that escaped you seemed to encapture him more, he greedily sunk his tongue into your gummy walls desperate for more. 

“anakin,” you moaned, hands falling to his curls and tugging slightly, trying to pull him away from your sensitive cunt but he yanked your hands away and planted a firm slap on your thigh that had you screaming, pain mixing with pleasure as anakin went down on you. you had never seen him this worked up, so dominant with you, usually he liked your guidance, and whispered words of assurance as he kissed your cunt to release, but right now he was pussy drunk. completely lost in your taste as he went back to your clit, slipping two fingers into your cunt and pumping, a cry fell from your lips as you jerked against him, but anakin didn’t stop, instead curling his fingers inside of you hitting that spot that made your toes curl. “fuck,” you screamed as another orgasm crashed over you, your vision went white and everything around you seemed to spin, but still anakin wasn’t done. 

“anakin, please, i can’t,” you gasped, once again trying to pull him away from your swollen cunt but anakin scowled at you, eyes rasing from your cunt for only a moment and the look he sent you worked almost immediately as you fell silent. he began lapping at your clit, little kitten licks before switching to larger drags of his tongue, his face was soaked, a mess of cum and drool, you whimpered as he began to pump his fingers faster, slipping a third one in to continue the stimulation as he played with your clit. 

“oh my god,” you shouted, “ani, i don’t know if i can cum again,” you hissed as he harshly suckled your clit back between his lips, grazing his teeth over the most sensitive part and you were falling once again. this orgasm even more powerful than the last, it crashed through you, welling in your stomach and coming to a crescendo, and you screamed, tears spilling from your eyes as you thrashed against the pillows, face soaked with sweat and sticking stray hairs to your forehead and temple. 

“ani,” you screamed hoarsely as he once again locked himself between your thighs, arms warped around your ankles like a vice so you couldn’t escape, your hips writhed against him as he suckled your lips, tongue sliding across your sopping hole, slurping and swallowing you whole. you had never felt such intense pleasure in such a short amount of time in your life, your legs were aching, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cried out, begging for him to stop, or never stop, you weren't sure what you wanted. all you knew is that anakin had ruined you for anyone else, he has always been it for you, from the moment you met, but now, you knew you could never leave, not as he sank his tongue back inside of you and pulled one of his hands free to pinch as your clit, it was hard, his blunt nails sinking into the sensitive skin but it was enough to send you spiraling. 

you couldn’t be a hundred percent of what had happened next, all you remembered was tears spilling down your cheeks and screams pouring from your lips as you hit the peak of pleasure and your entire body went rigid, but when you managed to tear your eyes open once again anakin was hovering over you, a bright smile twisted on his cum soaked lips. 

“ani?” you whimpered, sobs ripping from your throat, your entire body was trembling and your legs felt numb, your mind fuzzy from pleasure as you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“baby,” he crooned, leaning down and pecking your lips, smearing your face with your release. “did so well for me,” he said happily while you could only blink up at him, jaw slacked. “you’ve never cum that hard before have you, sweetie?” he asked and all you could do was shake your head dumbly. “that’s why you need me, always gonna make you feel good, aren’t i?” and you nodded in agreement, completely blissed out as anakin sank down beside you. 

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feel free to send me more horny asks guys i’m home for two weeks for easter and need some entertainment while i’m here ! mwah !

tags: @johnbassplayercutie @anakinscrybaby

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker x reader #hopes fics ! #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin #anakin modern au #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #darth vader x reader #star wars anakin

[minisugakoobies]

It's You - Choi San | 3 AM

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF’s Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: sneaking around, sloppy making out, lots of cuddling and kissing, honestly this is super soft, drunk San is a whole different type of menace, a little angst on OC's part, pet names deployed as weapons (baby) Word Count: 2.1k Disclaimers: SFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend’s little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That’s it. How did this happen?

A/N: This started with talking about drunk San with @minttangerines and @kiestrokes, and then @moni-logues made me miss this couple, so boom! New vignette! I should warn you that I wrote this over the course of 2 days, entirely between the hours of midnight and 5 am because I've been staying up wayyyy too late to watch the Coachella livestreams (can we talk about Chellateez?! because holy shit!), so it's probably a mess and it's unbeta'd, so… blame any typos or incoherency on my fucked up sleep schedule! 🥱

Lyrics are from "Moondance" by Van Morrison, inspired by that one toktoq of San singing that song, which absolutely killed me.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It’s You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

It’s three in the morning, and you’re wide awake, at your desk, working frantically on an article whose deadline is mere hours away. For not the first time tonight, you curse your natural inclination towards procrastination and scrub your hand down your face, wishing you’d chosen a different career. 

There’s some noise outside your door and you realize San must be home. He’d been down at the Blue Bird with Hongjoong, drinking and hanging out with Wooyoung as he bartended. From the way San’s shuffling around, it sounds like Woo had been his typical kind self and given San more generous pours than he should have. A loud “oof” resonates, and you hear the armchair scrape the floor a bit, as if he were setting it back in its place. You wince, hoping he didn’t wake his sister, who has an early shift and needs to be up at dawn.

“Noona. Nooooooona.” Tap tap tappity tap. “Are you up? I can see - I can see your light.” 

San raps on your door, calling out to you in a voice that’s hushed but maybe not quite as quiet as he thinks it is. From his spot on your bed, Nero lifts his head off his paws at the sound, then blinks at you with his bright green eyes. 

“I know. He’s loud as fuck, isn’t he?” With a cluck of your tongue, you quickly hop up and open the door. San must’ve been leaning against it, because suddenly you’ve got a mountain on top of you, a loose-limbed one at that, eagerly but clumsily wrapping its arms around you. “San!” 

“Hiiiii,” San coos into your shoulder, where he’s buried his face. You shudder slightly as his breath tickles your skin exposed by the tank top you wear, and stagger away from the door enough to close it quietly as you can, not an easy task to do given the giant mass of man hanging his dead weight on you. 

“You know, your sister is sleeping just on the other side of this wall,” you remind him, but he doesn’t respond, too busy lathering the column of your neck with tiny kisses. “San. Come on, sit down.” 

With some stumbling from San and a not insignificant effort on your part, the two of you make it over to your bed. Your attempt at coaxing San into a sitting position fails miserably as he promptly splays on his back, pulling you on top of him. Nero hops off the bed in a huff. 

You go down like a sack of flour, not a gram of gracefulness in your fall, but San appears not to notice when your chin bounces off his sternum or your knee rams his thigh. He sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around your back, tucking you against him.

“Mmmm. So nice,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against the top of your head. 

It’s three in the morning, and you need to finish this damn article. Except that right now, your body is telling you that what you really need is to stay exactly where you are. Because the minute the warmth of San’s embrace surrounded you, your stress melted away. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms you, makes your own breathing slow. You close your eyes, nestling closer to him, sliding your own arms around his waist. You could so easily fall asleep like this. 

But he can’t sleep here. 

“San. San, are you awake?” 

“I’m awake,” he replies, but with closed eyes, which doesn’t really give you a lot of confidence in his response. “I am,” he insists when you shake him, rolling his head away, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warn him sternly. “I mean it!” 

San smiles, the one that tells you that he knows you’re going to give in to him, which is the smile you tend to see him flash the most often, because you’re weak for him and always giving in. But this isn’t one of those times when you can indulge him. No matter how much you want to. 

“Wish you’d come to the bar tonight. Wanted you there.” 

You knew that. He’d told you as much when he’d texted earlier. Unfortunately, you had to turn him down for the sake of remaining gainfully employed. He’d tried to convince you otherwise at first but finally said he understood. And then sent you a series of sad selfies, each one more pathetic than the last, lips puffing to an extreme. Because he understands the power that pout holds over you.

It’s embarrassing how bad you’re down for this man.

San’s fingers dance idly down your spine, and you sigh, eyes slipping shut again as you speak. “Believe me, I would’ve rather been there with you.” 

He hums, fingertips quickening their light minuet. He mumbles something into your hair, low and unintelligible from the way his lips are smushed against your head, so it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s not talking, he’s singing. 

“... marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…” 

“San,” you begin, but before you can warn him not to get any louder, he does so anyway, raising his beautiful voice a little, starting to get into it. 

“A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies…”

“Shhh!” Your shushing is cut short by your giggling, as you clap a hand over San’s mouth. “Oh my god, now is not the time for this!” 

This is one of San’s more notable habits - when a song gets stuck in his head, you’ll hear him singing it for days, just walking around the apartment humming the melody or, if he has an audience, belting out the lines. He knows how much you love his sweet tenor. Another fact about you he’s filed away to devastate you with at the most opportune times.

Like when you need to kick him out of your bed. 

He continues singing despite your hand pressing on his lips, slurring the words directly into your palm. His eyebrows are working overtime, top half of his face playfully conveying whatever lyrics are being smothered against your skin. He’s so ridiculous, so over-the-top, even at three in the morning when anyone else would be exhausted, like you felt before he walked into your room, since his energy is infectious and perked you up better than the multiple cups of coffee you downed in your desperate attempt to stay awake. That’s San for you - he’s always giving you something when you need it - his time, his help, his energy. 

So you decide to give him something back, and replace your hand with your mouth, drawing him into a tender kiss, imbuing it with all those things you feel but never say. His muffled singing becomes a hum becomes a moan, at first surprised, then pleased. One of his hands drops to your thigh and with a bit of urgent tugging, he maneuvers you on top of him, chest pressed to chest.

His kissing is only the slightest bit sloppier when he’s been drinking, wetter from his tongue caressing yours with somewhat less skill than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You like seeing this side of him, looser with his inhibitions, with whatever holds him in place - or holds him back. One day you’ll ask him to show you more, when you’re both sober. 

And when things are different. Less… ambiguous between the two of you. 

If you reach that point. 

“Noona.” San whispers, thankfully pulling you from the heavier thoughts threatening to sink you right out of the moment. You open your eyes to look at him as he pecks your cheeks.  “I like kissing you.” 

You grin, letting your forehead knock against his. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.” 

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” The look he gives you would melt the hardest of hearts. This is why you’re not afraid to be needy with San. There’s no reason to be, not when he’s just the same. 

“I like kissing you too,” you declare, kissing the tip of his nose, laughing at the way his eyes cross as he follows your lips. “But now’s not the time for that, either.” 

“Then what time is it?”

Laughing, you gently guide him into a sitting position, keeping your arms looped over his shoulders. His lust is morphing into sleepiness, eyelids drooping as he gazes at you, and your heart goes so soft at the sight of him. 

“It’s time for you to go to bed.” 

“Okay,” he chirps, immediately flopping onto his back again. 

“Ohhhh no, not here. You gotta go. I still have to finish my work, and you…” The words stick in your throat. You can’t be here. You don’t want to say them. You want him to be here. Tonight, and tomorrow, and on and on. 

But that’s a conversation for another time. Not three in the morning.

“You have to go,” you groan, sliding off the bed and grabbing his arms, less gentle and more insistent this time. “Come on, get up!” 

San lets out a whine of protest. “But baby, why can’t I stay here?” 

Oh, he would drop a ‘baby’ now, slipping it in so casually, so naturally, like there’s nothing unusual about him calling you that. As if it’s not something new he only started doing the other day, happening maybe a handful of times since. 

Since the two of you have been doing this undefined thing, there’s really only been one unspoken rule. You sleep in your bed, and he sleeps on the couch. Even on the nights when Haneul’s working the late shift, or she’s over at Jongho’s. You never know if she’ll come home early, so you don’t risk it. It’s just easier this way.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though. 

“Because. If Haneul catches you coming out of here - “

The sound of a door opening makes you freeze right down to your tongue, leaving your sentence unfinished. Your head swivels towards your own door. A pair of feet pad down the hall, getting closer, then fading away, until you hear another door being closed. The bathroom. 

“Noona.” 

You turn to find a sober-looking San staring at you. He reaches out, hands settling on your hips, holding on to you as you stand between his legs. Clinging again. 

“She’s in early today, right?” 

The two of you probably know Haneul’s schedule better than she does. You nod.

“Then I’ll just stay in here. She’ll think I never came home.” 

He makes it sound so simple. So reasonable. He’ll stay here until she leaves. Why didn’t you think of that? Is it because you don’t like thinking of San with someone else, even if said person is an imaginary person who exists solely to provide an excuse that will allow you to get what you want? And if you get what you want now, it’s only going to hurt more when you can’t have it anymore?

Yeah, that’s probably it. 

“I don’t know…” you bite your lip.

“Come on,” he wheedles, drawing you into his lap again, cupping your face with both hands. “Let me stay with you. Don’t you want me?” 

And there it goes, the last remaining bit of your resistance. 

“Okay.”

San seems a little shocked, face lighting up in delight, and you wonder if it’s at how quickly you agreed, or that you agreed at all. Maybe both.

“But we have to be quiet. So, you know…” You trail off, gesturing wordlessly. 

“No moondancing?” He emphasizes the word heavily, lifting a brow, and you roll your eyes but grin as well.

“Right, none of that.”

“Just cuddles?” 

As if he needs to ask. You nod. “But I’m not coming to bed until I finish my work.” You reclaim your seat at your desk, folding your arms over the back of it, trying to give the appearance of someone with a solid backbone, since yours is apparently made of pudding. 

“That’s okay,” San says, already tugging his shirt off, then his pants, until he’s only in his boxer briefs. He peels back your comforter, sliding into the soft sheets, and again the action is so natural, so normal, like he does this every night, that something in your chest constricts. “I’ll just wait for you.” 

Your first thought is that you should inform him that he’s going to be waiting a while, but then again, maybe he won’t. 

You’re feeling suddenly inspired. 

(It’s three in the morning, and you’re falling in love.)

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee @hiefisch

© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

#ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #san x reader #choi san x reader #san fanfic #ateez angst #choi san fanfic #fic: it's you

[eyrieofsynapses]

why Aurora's art is genius

It's break for me, and I've been meaning to sit down and read the Aurora webcomic (https://comicaurora.com/, @comicaurora on Tumblr) for quite a bit. So I did that over the last few days.

And… y'know. I can't actually say "I should've read this earlier," because otherwise I would've been up at 2:30-3am when I had responsibilities in the morning and I couldn't have properly enjoyed it, but. Holy shit guys THIS COMIC.

I intended to just do a generalized "hello this is all the things I love about this story," and I wrote a paragraph or two about art style. …and then another. And another. And I realized I needed to actually reference things so I would stop being too vague. I was reading the comic on my tablet or phone, because I wanted to stay curled up in my chair, but I type at a big monitor and so I saw more details… aaaaaand it turned into its own giant-ass post.

SO. Enjoy a few thousand words of me nerding out about this insanely cool art style and how fucking gorgeous this comic is? (There are screenshots, I promise it isn't just a wall of text.) In my defense, I just spent two semesters in graphic design classes focusing on the Adobe Suite, so… I get to be a nerd about pretty things…???

All positive feedback btw! No downers here. <3

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I cannot emphasize enough how much I love the beautiful, simple stylistic method of drawing characters and figures. It is absolutely stunning and effortless and utterly graceful—it is so hard to capture the sheer beauty and fluidity of the human form in such a fashion. Even a simple outline of a character feels dynamic! It's gorgeous!

Though I do have a love-hate relationship with this, because my artistic side looks at that lovely simplicity, goes "I CAN DO THAT!" and then I sit down and go to the paper and realize that no, in fact, I cannot do that yet, because that simplicity is born of a hell of a lot of practice and understanding of bodies and actually is really hard to do. It's a very developed style that only looks simple because the artist knows what they're doing. The human body is hard to pull off, and this comic does so beautifully and makes it look effortless.

Also: line weight line weight line weight. It's especially important in simplified shapes and figures like this, and hoo boy is it used excellently. It's especially apparent the newer the pages get—I love watching that improvement over time—but with simpler figures and lines, you get nice light lines to emphasize both smaller details, like in the draping of clothing and the curls of hair—which, hello, yes—and thicker lines to emphasize bigger and more important details and silhouettes. It's the sort of thing that's essential to most illustrations, but I wanted to make a note of it because it's so vital to this art style.

THE USE OF LAYER BLENDING MODES OH MY GODS. (...uhhh, apologies to the people who don't know what that means, it's a digital art program thing? This article explains it for beginners.)

Bear with me, I just finished my second Photoshop course, I spent months and months working on projects with this shit so I see the genius use of Screen and/or its siblings (of which there are many—if I say "Screen" here, assume I mean the entire umbrella of Screen blending modes and possibly Overlay) and go nuts, but seriously it's so clever and also fucking gorgeous:

Firstly: the use of screened-on sound effect words over an action? A "CRACK" written over a branch and then put on Screen in glowy green so that it's subtle enough that it doesn't disrupt the visual flow, but still sticks out enough to make itself heard? Little "scritches" that are transparent where they're laid on without outlines to emphasize the sound without disrupting the underlying image? FUCK YES. I haven't seen this done literally anywhere else—granted, I haven't read a massive amount of comics, but I've read enough—and it is so clever and I adore it. Examples:

Secondly: The beautiful lighting effects. The curling leaves, all the magic, the various glowing eyes, the fog, the way it's all so vividly colored but doesn't burn your eyeballs out—a balance that's way harder to achieve than you'd think—and the soft glows around them, eeeee it's so pretty so pretty SO PRETTY. Not sure if some of these are Outer/Inner Glow/Shadow layer effects or if it's entirely hand-drawn, but major kudos either way; I can see the beautiful use of blending modes and I SALUTE YOUR GENIUS.

I keep looking at some of this stuff and go "is that a layer effect or is it done by hand?" Because you can make some similar things with the Satin layer effect in Photoshop (I don't know if other programs have this? I'm gonna have to find out since I won't have access to PS for much longer ;-;) that resembles some of the swirly inner bits on some of the lit effects, but I'm not sure if it is that or not. Or you could mask over textures? There's... many ways to do it.

If done by hand: oh my gods the patience, how. If done with layer effects: really clever work that knows how to stop said effects from looking wonky, because ugh those things get temperamental. If done with a layer of texture that's been masked over: very, very good masking work. No matter the method, pretty shimmers and swirly bits inside the bigger pretty swirls!

Next: The way color contrast is used! I will never be over the glowy green-on-black Primordial Life vibes when Alinua gets dropped into that… unconscious space?? with Life, for example, and the sharp contrast of vines and crack and branches and leaves against pitch black is just visually stunning. The way the roots sink into the ground and the three-dimensional sensation of it is particularly badass here:

Friggin. How does this imply depth like that. HOW. IT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

A huge point here is also color language and use! Everybody has their own particular shade, generally matching their eyes, magic, and personality, and I adore how this is used to make it clear who's talking or who's doing an action. That was especially apparent to me with Dainix and Falst in the caves—their colors are both fairly warm, but quite distinct, and I love how this clarifies who's doing what in panels with a lot of action from both of them. There is a particular bit that stuck out to me, so I dug up the panels (see this page and the following one https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-30/):

(Gods it looks even prettier now that I put it against a plain background. Also, appreciation to Falst for managing a bridal-carry midair, damn.)

The way that their colors MERGE here! And the immense attention to detail in doing so—Dainix is higher up than Falst is in the first panel, so Dainix's orange fades into Falst's orange at the base. The next panel has gold up top and orange on bottom; we can't really tell in that panel where each of them are, but that's carried over to the next panel—

—where we now see that Falst's position is raised above Dainix's due to the way he's carrying him. (Points for continuity!) And, of course, we see the little "huffs" flowing from orange to yellow over their heads (where Dainix's head is higher than Falst's) to merge the sound of their breathing, which is absurdly clever because it emphasizes to the viewer how we hear two sets of huffing overlaying each other, not one. Absolutely brilliant.

(A few other notes of appreciation to that panel: beautiful glows around them, the sparks, the jagged silhouette of the spider legs, the lovely colors that have no right to make the area around a spider corpse that pretty, the excellent texturing on the cave walls plus perspective, the way Falst's movements imply Dainix's hefty weight, the natural posing of the characters, their on-point expressions that convey exactly how fuckin terrifying everything is right now, the slight glows to their eyes, and also they're just handsome boys <3)

Next up: Rain!!!! So well done! It's subtle enough that it never ever disrupts the impact of the focal point, but evident enough you can tell! And more importantly: THE MIST OFF THE CHARACTERS. Rain does this irl, it has that little vapor that comes off you and makes that little misty effect that plays with lighting, it's so cool-looking and here it's used to such pretty effect!

One of the panel captions says something about it blurring out all the injuries on the characters but like THAT AIN'T TOO BIG OF A PROBLEM when it gets across the environmental vibes, and also that'd be how it would look in real life too so like… outside viewer's angle is the same as the characters', mostly? my point is: that's the environment!!! that's the vibes, that's the feel! It gets it across and it does so in the most pretty way possible!

And another thing re: rain, the use of it to establish perspective, particularly in panels like this—

—where we can tell we're looking down at Tynan due to the perspective on the rain and where it's pointing. Excellent. (Also, kudos for looking down and emphasizing how Tynan's losing his advantage—lovely use of visual storytelling.)

Additionally, the misting here:

We see it most heavily in the leftmost panel, where it's quite foggy as you would expect in a rainstorm, especially in an environment with a lot of heat, but it's also lightly powdered on in the following two panels and tends to follow light sources, which makes complete sense given how light bounces off particles in the air.

A major point of strength in these too is a thorough understanding of lighting, like rim lighting, the various hues and shades, and an intricate understanding of how light bounces off surfaces even when they're in shadow (we'll see a faint glow in spots where characters are half in shadow, but that's how it would work in real life, because of how light bounces around).

Bringing some of these points together: the fluidity of the lines in magic, and the way simple glowing lines are used to emphasize motion and the magic itself, is deeply clever. I'm basically pulling at random from panels and there's definitely even better examples, but here's one (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-16-33/):

First panel, listed in numbers because these build on each other:

The tension of the lines in Tess's magic here. This works on a couple levels: first, the way she's holding her fists, as if she's pulling a rope taut.

The way there's one primary line, emphasizing the rope feeling, accompanied by smaller ones.

The additional lines starbursting around her hands, to indicate the energy crackling in her hands and how she's doing a good bit more than just holding it. (That combined with the fists suggests some tension to the magic, too.) Also the variations in brightness, a feature you'll find in actual lightning. :D Additional kudos for how the lightning sparks and breaks off the metal of the sword.

A handful of miscellaneous notes on the second panel:

The reflection of the flames in Erin's typically dark blue eyes (which bears a remarkable resemblance to Dainix, incidentally—almost a thematic sort of parallel given Erin's using the same magic Dainix specializes in?)

The flowing of fabric in the wind and associated variation in the lineart

The way Erin's tattoos interact with the fire he's pulling to his hand

The way the rain overlays some of the fainter areas of fire (attention! to! detail! hell yeah!)

I could go on. I won't because this is a lot of writing already.

Third panel gets paragraphs, not bullets:

Erin's giant-ass "FWOOM" of fire there, and the way the outline of the word is puffy-edged and gradated to feel almost three-dimensional, plus once again using Screen or a variation on it so that the stars show up in the background. All this against that stunning plume of fire, which ripples and sparks so gorgeously, and the ending "om" of the onomatopoeia is emphasized incredibly brightly against that, adding to the punch of it and making the plume feel even brighter.

Also, once again, rain helping establish perspective, especially in how it's very angular in the left side of the panel and then slowly becomes more like a point to the right to indicate it's falling directly down on the viewer. Add in the bright, beautiful glow effects, fainter but no less important black lines beneath them to emphasize the sky and smoke and the like, and the stunningly beautiful lighting and gradated glows surrounding Erin plus the lightning jagging up at him from below, and you get one hell of an impactful panel right there. (And there is definitely more in there I could break down, this is just a lot already.)

And in general: The colors in this? Incredible. The blues and purples and oranges and golds compliment so well, and it's all so rich.

Like, seriously, just throughout the whole comic, the use of gradients, blending modes, color balance and hues, all the things, all the things, it makes for the most beautiful effects and glows and such a rich environment. There's a very distinct style to this comic in its simplified backgrounds (which I recognize are done partly because it's way easier and also backgrounds are so time-consuming dear gods but lemme say this) and vivid, smoothly drawn characters; the simplicity lets them come to the front and gives room for those beautiful, richly saturated focal points, letting the stylized designs of the magic and characters shine. The use of distinct silhouettes is insanely good. Honestly, complex backgrounds might run the risk of making everything too visually busy in this case. It's just, augh, so GORGEOUS.

Another bit, take a look at this page (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-15-28/):

It's not quite as evident here as it is in the next page, but this one does some other fun things so I'm grabbing it. Points:

Once again, using different colors to represent different character actions. The "WHAM" of Kendal hitting the ground is caused by Dainix's force, so it's orange (and kudos for doubling the word over to add a shake effect). But we see blue layered underneath, which could be an environmental choice, but might also be because it's Kendal, whose color is blue.

And speaking off, take a look at the right-most panel on top, where Kendal grabs the spear: his motion is, again, illustrated in bright blue, versus the atmospheric screened-on orange lines that point toward him around the whole panel (I'm sure these have a name, I think they might be more of a manga thing though and the only experience I have in manga is reading a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist). Those lines emphasize the weight of the spear being shoved at him, and their color tells us Dainix is responsible for it.

One of my all-time favorite effects in this comic is the way cracks manifest across Dainix's body to represent when he starts to lose control; it is utterly gorgeous and wonderfully thematic. These are more evident in the page before and after this one, but you get a decent idea here. I love the way they glow softly, the way the fire juuuust flickers through at the start and then becomes more evident over time, and the cracks feel so realistic, like his skin is made of pottery. Additional points for how fire begins to creep into his hair.

A small detail that's generally consistent across the comic, but which I want to make note of here because you can see it pretty well: Kendal's eyes glow about the same as the jewel in his sword, mirroring his connection to said sword and calling back to how the jewel became Vash's eye temporarily and thus was once Kendal's eye. You can always see this connection (though there might be some spots where this also changes in a symbolic manner; I went through it quickly on the first time around, so I'll pay more attention when I inevitably reread this), where Kendal's always got that little shine of blue in his eyes the same as the jewel. It's a beautiful visual parallel that encourages the reader to subconsciously link them together, especially since the lines used to illustrate character movements typically mirror their eye color. It's an extension of Kendal.

Did I mention how ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL the colors in this are?

Also, the mythological/legend-type scenes are illustrated in familiar style often used for that type of story, a simple and heavily symbolic two-dimensional cave-painting-like look. They are absolutely beautiful on many levels, employing simple, lovely gradients, slightly rougher and thicker lineart that is nonetheless smoothly beautiful, and working with clear silhouettes (a major strength of this art style, but also a strength in the comic overall). But in particular, I wanted to call attention to a particular thing (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-12-4/):

The flowing symbolic lineart surrounding each character. This is actually quite consistent across characters—see also Life's typical lines and how they curl:

What's particularly interesting here is how these symbols are often similar, but not the same. Vash's lines are always smooth, clean curls, often playing off each other and echoing one another like ripples in a pond. You'd think they'd look too similar to Life's—but they don't. Life's curl like vines, and they remain connected; where one curve might echo another but exist entirely detached from each other in Vash's, Life's lines still remain wound together, because vines are continuous and don't float around. :P

Tahraim's are less continuous, often breaking up with significantly smaller bits and pieces floating around like—of course—sparks, and come to sharper points. These are also constants: we see the vines repeated over and over in Alinua's dreams of Life, and the echoing ripples of Vash are consistent wherever we encounter him. Kendal's dream of the ghost citizens of the city of Vash in the last few chapters is filled with these rippling, echoing patterns, to beautiful effect (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-14/):

They ripple and spiral, often in long, sinuous curves, with smooth elegance. It reminds me a great deal of images of space and sine waves and the like. This establishes a definite feel to these different characters and their magic. And the thing is, that's not something that had to be done—the colors are good at emphasizing who's who. But it was done, and it adds a whole other dimension to the story. Whenever you're in a deity's domain, you know whose it is no matter the color.

Regarding that shape language, I wanted to make another note, too—Vash is sometimes described as chaotic and doing what he likes, which is interesting to me, because smooth, elegant curves and the color blue aren't generally associated with chaos. So while Vash might behave like that on the surface, I'm guessing he's got a lot more going on underneath; he's probably much more intentional in his actions than you'd think at a glance, and he is certainly quite caring with his city. The other thing is that this suits Kendal perfectly. He's a paragon character; he is kind, virtuous, and self-sacrificing, and often we see him aiming to calm others and keep them safe. Blue is such a good color for him. There is… probably more to this, but I'm not deep enough in yet to say.

And here's the thing: I'm only scratching the surface. There is so much more here I'm not covering (color palettes! outfits! character design! environment! the deities! so much more!) and a lot more I can't cover, because I don't have the experience; this is me as a hobbyist artist who happened to take a couple design classes because I wanted to. The art style to this comic is so clever and creative and beautiful, though, I just had to go off about it. <3

...brownie points for getting all the way down here? Have a cookie.

#aurora comic #aurora webcomic #comicaurora #art analysis #...I hope those are the right tags??? #new fandom new tagging practices to learn ig #much thanks for something to read while I try to rest my wrists. carpal tunnel BAD. (ignore that I wrote this I've got braces ok it's fine) #anyway! I HAVE. MANY MORE THOUGHTS. ON THE STORY ITSELF. THIS LOVELY STORY #also a collection of reactions to a chunk of the comic before I hit the point where I was too busy reading to write anything down #idk how to format those tho #...yeet them into one post...??? #eh I usually don't go off this much these days but this seems like a smaller tight-knit fandom so... might as well help build it? #and I have a little more time thanks to break so #oh yes also shoutout to my insanely awesome professor for teaching me all the technical stuff from this he is LOVELY #made an incredibly complex program into something comprehensible <3 #synapse talks

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

【Synopsis】 : Hongjoong wanted your first time to be special and romantic. Soft.....this is not what he had in mind. Whoops.

『Word count』 :  5.17k

-> Genre: So Much Smut. Fluffy. Romantic.

Pairing: Dilf!Hongjoong x Park!Reader

[Warnings] : I want to make this a realistic first time. It's funny, there's jokes and mistakes. It's loving. The reader is scared but not of Hongjoong. Insecurities. Oral. Fingering. Squirting. Making out. Praise kink. Bratty sub reader. Soft dom Hongjoong. Lots of lovey-dovey shit. Cute little kisses. Confessions. Daddy kink. Pet names. Unprotected sex cause these two forgot about it until after. Whoops. There is so much dirty talk and slight degrading. This is so filthy and soft and all over the place. Listen man I’m so hooked on sappy romance. And to the bitch that hated angels outfit cause it ‘not 10pm dinner date worth’, theres a part I wrote in here just for you.

Masterlist | Navigation | Part Five | Mini Series Masterlist.

 “If you don’t get back in my car right now, I’ll drag you into it.” His words were dark, tainting on your lips. It was like a drug you’d never get enough of. Quickly, without slipping, you got back into his expensive car, your hand never leaving his thigh as he drove and your lips suckling on his neck. Hongjoong was glad it was almost two in the morning and no one was on the road otherwise he would of most likely hit someone with how fast he was going. He made it back to his apartment in no time and without another moment to spear, he dragged you towards the elevator by your hand. Fingers entangled with yours.. he pinned you against the wall in a feverish kiss, holding the back of your neck, guiding your mouth with his. This was not what he wanted your first time to be like. But god, did he need every second of it.

The way his hand crept up your dress, crawling at your hips. Feeling your frilly panties along his fingertips. His tongue raked down your hot skin, suckling a bright red mark on your neck. He was going to litter you with his marks, every part of your beautiful untouched body. Taint it like you were made for him. He was going to fuck you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do. Because you deserved every treatment he gave you.

-

You didn’t get time to take in your surroundings as you kept your lips flushed against Hongjoong’s. It was only when it was proving difficult to get your docs off when you both ended up laughing and grinning like idiots. Hongjoong was the first to pull away, pushing you slightly to lean against the hallway table so he could kneel down in front of you. You’ve never felt such a feeling like you had right now…This powerful older man, on his knees in front of you, slowly and carefully taking your shoes off. If he wanted you to feel like royalty, he was doing a bang-up job. 

“You like me on my knees, hmm? Angel?” He seemed to notice the way your mind had wandered off. Blush erupted over your face, feeling embarrassed of being caught bluntly staring. 

“I..Uh..” You looked around the hall, trying to find something to distract yourself as Hongjoong placed your right foot back carefully on the floor, having finished removing your shoes. Your sight caught the most amazing thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Holy shit…”

“Excuse you?” Hongjoong laughed at your potty mouth, but you walked down the hall, entering the large, dining, kitchen, and lounge room area. It was all opened with floor-to-ceiling windows. You could see almost the whole city. You’ve never been this high up before either, so it made the view even more grand. You watched in awe as the city light captivated you. You were so distracted you almost didn’t notice Hongjoong’s hands snaking around your waist, tugging at the strings on your corset, ever so slightly loosening it with every pull. his eyes never leaving the side profile of your stunning face. “It’s beautiful isn’t it.”

But he was not talking about the city view…

"It is..." You whisper. His lips inched against your neck, kissing down until he got to your left shoulder. Your shall had been forgotten long ago, most likely still in the car. And as you stood frozen watching the scenery beyond the thick glass so intensely, you felt Hongjoong finally slip off the belt around your plump hips, chucking it somewhere in the room. His fingers played with the fabric of your dress while you tilted your head to the side to give him better access. He could smell the sweet perfume on your skin. Feel the way he created goosebumps on your soft skin from the hot breath from his nose. His fingers would tangle, tug, and pull any part of your delicious outfit. The outfit he swooned over at dinner. The outfit he couldn’t help but smile at, thinking how sweet you looked, just like those strawberries that were embroidered on it. The outfit he was going to take great pleasure in taking it off you. Or maybe he’d fuck you in it first, watch how your nipples would peak through the layers of cotton. Feeling the roughness of the frills on his thighs as he thrusted in you hard. He’d keep those pretty little white socks you still have on as well. You’d be the most perfect little treat for him. “Hongjoong…”

He took a step back as you called for him. Standing so still, you didn’t dare to turn around. You could hear him move, the sound of fabric shifting, leather rubbed against jeans until… The clank of something metal hit the carpeted ground. 

“You wanna turn around Angel.” His voice was smooth, deep. Hypnotic. His words made every nerve burn in anticipation. This was really happening, he really wanted to have sex with you. Your heartbeats were hard, like a low base bashing on your chest. Thump, thump, thump. You could feel yourself become high head. Dizzy. Like your mind was slipping into a subspace of your mind you’ve never been before. “Baby.”

He called again but this time he was back right behind you, his hands on your hips made you take in a sharp breath. And without a second thought, you reached behind your body, pulling at the string that held the waist hem of your dress taught to your frame. Hongjoong didn’t dare take his eyes off your delicate fingers playing with the string, not until it was completely loose and the dress started to sag. Only having your shoulders keep the fabric up. Neither of you spoke, it was like you were both holding your breath. Waiting for the other to do something. You finally turned around.

His shirt was gone, the top button of his jeans was undone and his belt by your feet. You would never get enough of this man. The way he was built. The scars and tattoos decorated him like a human canvas. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. “H-Help me…”

He didn’t know he could move so fast, his fingers lacing under the cotton resting on your shoulders, slowly... go slowly god damn it. He screamed to himself as he pushed the fabric off you. The dress fell quickly, pooling by your feet. But he did not dare look down. No. His eyes stared into yours so desperately. he felt like he was in a dream and if he looked at your body he feared his cruel brain would wake him up. You took the ranes this time. Unclasping your bra without breaking eye contact with him. He could see the swell of your breasts out the corner of his eyes but he refused to look. The thump from the article of clothing falling to the floor made his heartbeat fall into his throat. And then his eyes widened, audibly gulping as you reached for his left, tatted hand. He felt your soft skin against his, and then he felt your hot plump chest in his rough palm. You hitched in a breath, feeling your overly sensitive nipples scrape along his hands. 

Hongjoong finally looked.

Taking in a big shaky breath, he saw you. He saw your soft curves, your juicy breasts. The way the balls of flesh rose and fell with each sharp breath. He made a mental note to kiss every stretch mark, scar, and blemish on your body. You are perfect. His other hand gripped your free breast, fondling your flesh. Your eyes fluttered close, tilting your head back slightly. Little pants would slip from your parted lips, as Hongjoong would start to leave light feverish kisses on your jaw, neck and collarbone. He would lower himself slightly, before slowly, pushing you backwards. you’d gasp loudly when your bare back would hit the ice-cold glass of the window. Hongjoong quickly knelt in front of you. Kissing between your breasts before latching his mouth on one of your nipples, while his free hand gripped your right thigh slowly, softly… parting your legs. You looked down at the older man, seeing his intense stare as he watched your every move closely. “Yes, I do….”

He looked confused for a moment, curious as to what you might be answering… and then you spoke out again. “You on your knees…I like it.” You felt like crawling out of your skin, feeling embarrassed at your words. But Hongjoong had a different expression. He growled, kissing down your pretty tummy, finding your stretch marks on the side of your hip, before kissing each and every one. He could do this for hours if he so wished, but for now, he just quickly pepper kisses a few before stopping just above the hem of your panties. He glanced back up at you one more time, slowly without breaking eye contact his fingers hooked under the soft cotton fabric before slipping them off down your legs. You were now completely bare in front of him.

“Fuck, angel. Aren't you the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. So soft.” he kisses your thigh. “So plump.” And gripped the flesh of your legs to move apart until he could see your dripping pussy. “So wet and ready for me.”

“F-fuck Joong!!” His name slipped off your tongue like it was your favourite thing to say. Fingers dug into his fluffy hair as he pressed his nose against your already sensitive clit and inhaled. You were the most delectable thing he’s ever had, and your taste was all he was craving. So he dived right in, his tongue flatting against your hole before licking all the way up, swiping over your nub. He did the same motion a couple of times before he shoved his tongue inside. He needed to prep you well. Get you nice and wet, and he was loving every minute of it. The way your head was thrown back against the glass, moans spilling from you, becoming his new favourite melody. 

He could feel you were close by the way your body started to shake, struggling to keep yourself up. He, without a second thought, pulled away, nearly knocking the wind out of your lungs at the sudden loss of pleasure. But before you could say anything, he was tugging you down to the soft carpeted floor with him. He wasn’t expecting to fuck you on the floor. God no. Not today anyway. But he wanted to make you cum a few times first before pounding you into his mattress. 

“There, there angel. I’ve got you.” His soft voice made your head spin as you laid on your back with your legs spread as far as they could go. You needed him in every way as he latched back onto your soaked cunt, sliding in a finger. You knew you were already falling over the edge. You’ve never climaxed so hard before, seeing white and hearing a light buzz in your ears. Those romance novels had seemly been correct when it was the right man, he would be able to give you everything. Including the most mind-blowing orgasms.

“Fuck, J-joongie I f-feel weird.” You needed to come again, rolling your hips against his now two scissoring fingers his tongue didn’t stop its desperate antics and then Hongjoong sucked harshly against your clit. You swore over and over as your legs began to shake, you cried a silent scream in the next breath as you felt Hongjoong sit up.

“Holy shit…” His deep chuckle caught your attention, opening your eyes you see in horror… Hongjoong was covered in a wet liquid. His chin, cheeks and chest dripping… d-did I just squirt? “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You felt your face heat up, wiggling a bit so you could sit up. The floor was a mess, and so were your inner thighs. But Hongjoong couldn’t care less, all he was thinking about was if he could get you to do that again. “Come on baby. Let’s move to somewhere more comfortable before I fuck you on this floor.”

He spoke so casually, but you could hear the lust dripping from his tongue. He was holding himself back, wanting to restrain himself and your little bratty attitude caught onto it quickly. Smiling, you pushed yourself up on your knees, while he watched intensely. You crawled over to him before resting your hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours. “You gonna take me to bed Hongjoong? You’re best friend's daughter?” You whispered, inching closer. “What would he think? Hmm? Tainting my innocence.”

“I’ll do more than taint your innocence baby…” He knew what game you were playing, grabbing your hair, and tugging it back, making you forcibly look up to the roof. His nose glided across your neck before he suck a harsh red mark on your soft skin. “I’m going to fuck you until your head is filled with nothing but me. My cock. The way I fuck you. The way I’d make love to you… I’ll ruin you for any other man.” He bit down hard on your collarbone surely leaving indents of his teeth. “Cause you’re mine now princess. Mine alone.”

Him saying he’d love you causes a different feeling to grow in the pit of your stomach. A feeling you know you’d have to discuss tomorrow. But for now, as he led you to his bedroom. Your wobbly legs found themselves perched at the entrance of Hongjoong’s lavish room. It was not as you were expecting. He looked like such a minimalistic man, with a simple, sleek style. But yet his room... was filled with unique forms of art, house plants—some fake and some real—an abundance of vinyls, CD’s and a beautiful vintage record player, sitting in the corner of the room. The dark brown wooden stand the record player laid on matched his spruce bed frame well, and his dark near black bed sheets screamed the mystery man you knew him to be.

There was only one thing out of place. On his desk, besides two custom-made motorbike helmets that he most certainly painted himself, was nail polish. Rows of bottles of nail polish. All different colours and brands. Who knew a big tough tattoed, ex-military businessman wore colourful nail polish. “Sorry about the mess.”

He spoke so casually as he picked up some clothes off the floor and threw them in the direction of an ensuite. His cute simple smile was so innocent as if he hadn't just made you squirt all over his floor just minutes before. “No, No…it’s perfect.”

Your smile eased his racing mind as he kicked himself for not cleaning up before. But yet again, you being here wasn’t planned. It was supposed to go so differently. But such as life goes, nothing goes the way it’s planned every time. He chuckled lightly, walking over to your figure that stood still in the middle of the room. You weren’t standing awkwardly by any means but more so like you were admiring everything. Taking in as much detail, fearing you’d never see the inside of his mind like this ever again. His hands found their place on your hips once more, tugging you lightly towards the bed. You giggle, grabbing his face with both hands, you squished his cheeks as you kiss him messily. His smile grew against your own and as the back of your knees hit the end of the bed, you fell with him causing you both to laugh. 

“God, I could get used to this.” He murmured against your lips, crawling with you until your head hit the nice soft pillows. You just hummed in approval, letting him deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but you could feel him shifting around as if he was looking for something. You had to break away from the kiss, so he could finally see what he was doing. You tilted your head back, seeing him grab a pillow, rolling it long ways until it was like a little cinnamon roll. He lifted up your hips slightly, making you eye him in confusion as he placed the pillow under your lower back.

“w-what is that for?” You help him by planting your feet on the bed before wiggling your hips into a comfy position on the pillow. 

"It's to help me fuck you better." He said with such cheek it almost knocked the air out of your lungs. He laughed at your wide-eyed expression with a slightly parted lip. "Hah, it's so you don't feel any discomfort when I penetrate you, darling. Don't worry. I just don't want to hurt you for your first time."

"Oh god." You moaned, covering your eyes with your arm. You knew he knew you weren't experienced, but him explaining the pillow made you feel like you were having an awkward sex ed class with your much older teacher. 

"Hey, It's okay. You don't know these things, Angel." He pulled your arm away from your face lightly kissing your wrist, then forearm before kissing your cheek and the corner of your mouth. "I know you're not as experienced as me. But I want you to know, baby." He gave you a peck on the lips. "I don't care. In fact, I'm honoured you want me compared to someone younger, less...me"

You knew he was gesturing to his scars. His battle wounds and how he carries a lot of trauma and PTSD from the military. You remember your father had spoken about healing and struggling with society after being in wars. But you knew Hongjoong was on the battlefield a hell of a lot longer than your father. "Hongjoong."

You grabbed his face again, gently rubbing your thumb along his rough skin. "What you went through, what you've done. It doesn't define you now. You're such a caring, sweet, sexy, and kind man. I couldn't ask for a better person to be my first."

You've never confessed such a thing a loud before. Sure you have a big crush on the older man, but you've never actually said it to him. You were falling in love with him and you wanted him to know that. He smiled, kissing you again. It was slow, passionate, and soft. You could feel his love spilling from his heart to yours, and then he pulled away. "So you think I'm sexy."

"That's what you got out of it!!" You whacked his bare chest, making him huff out a breathy 'hey'. You went to hit him again, but he grabbed your wrist this time, pinning your arms above your head. Everything fell silent after that, his lips find your cheeks once again, littering your face with kisses. 

"I want to take you out. I want to spoil you." He kissed down your neck. "I want to call you mine and be with you without the thought of anyone judging." His kisses trail down to your collarbone, than the valley of your chest, kissing every part of skin he could. "I don't care about your father. If he doesn't approve then fuck him. I want to call you mine. If you'll let me."

He gave your nipples a suck each before kissing back up to your face, locking his lips with yours. You could feel him shuffling around, using his free hand that wasn’t holding your wrists to fondle your breast. You were becoming lost in your feelings. Mind spinning as you felt Hongjoong’s tongue dance around your own. Teeth clashing against teeth as the kisses become hotter… messier. Everything was perfect, letting you slip into complete bliss until Hongjoong panted against your swollen lips “Take a deep breath for me.”

You didn’t understand but followed his order obediently anyway. that’s when you felt his warm, wet tip slip against your hole. You quivered, whimpering at the feeling. You needed him so badly, that your mind was short-circuiting. “S-sir, please. Please. Put it in me.” 

“Fuck baby, you can't say those types of things.” He moaned, resting his head on your shoulder, his hand that was needing your breasts was now stroking his cock. He had pulled his jeans down to his thighs, making you pull your leg up to help push them further down until they started slipping off his thighs and pooling at his knees. He kissed your shoulder before sitting up fully. 

"Hong—fuck...." You gritted your teeth as you saw his cock resting against his leg. He wasn't huge, but his girth made you swallow a harsh ball of saliva. How on earth was that thing going to fit inside you? You couldn’t help but take him all in, eying his whole figure. This man was built like a god if you’d ever seen one.

“You like what you see angel?” he laughs, finally throwing his jeans somewhere in the room. you sat up, spreading your legs wider so he could get a full view of your soaked cunt. Your smile was devious and dangerous. Just like the one you put on the first night, you were both together. The brat in you was showing. He had to chuckle watching you intensely with a bitten lip as you touched yourself. Your hand inching slowly towards where you needed him most.

“I don’t know. Do you like what you see, Daddy?” 

He was back on top of you with a growl in his throat. His face inches from yours and his cock rubbing against your clit. Your eyebrows knotted together as he breached your hole, tip sitting tightly inside you. You gulp, trying your best to take a deep shaky breath. His eyes never left yours as he watched you come undone. Your mouth fell open as each inch slipped into your abused cunt. Your moans were weak, breaking into a cry as he finally bottomed out completely. “Fuck, your cunt is so tight baby. So warm. You are doing such a good girl. My best girl.”

“H-Hongjoong t-too big.” Your whimpers were high-pitched and whiny. Your bratty nature out of sight. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you pushed against him slightly. It wasn’t that you wanted him off you by any means but your mind was racing. From feeling so full, pleasure surging through your whole body mixing with a sharp pain coming from being stretched out by his cock. And then there was the overwhelming feeling of having failed your father, letting his best friend fuck you…. But as Hongjoong kissed your tears that ran from your eyes. He whispered back to you lovingly, tenderly.

“It’s okay princess. You are doing so well. Keep taking deep breaths for me. Relax.” What he really wanted to say was how fucking tight you were. How good you felt around him. How he wanted to bust a nut right then and there. “C-can I move..fuck…” His pants became more frantic as you nodded your head with a little ‘please’. his hands that rested on either side of your head, now one rested on your hip and the other behind your neck, holding you in place. Your legs wrapped themselves tightly around his waist, letting him thrust slowly and deeply into your wet pussy.

His nose rubbed against yours, while his mouth left agape mere inches from your own. Your breath mixed with his with each pant and battered breath. Your eyes had snapped shut, focusing solely on his cock inside you alone. Hongjoong felt like he was on cloud nine, the way you moaned his name. Hugged him tightly. The way your body needed him just as he needed yours. Everything was just as he imagined if not more. His little angel. His sweet best friend's daughter. “Fuck, angel. You feel so good. My dirty little girl.”

“D-dirty?!” You gasped as his hand left your hip to push the pillow up more so he could fuck you deeper. His chuckle felt cold, chilling and oh-so-pleasurable. 

“Hmmm yes, my dirty...” He tilted against your ear grunting with each thrust. “little cocksleeve. So tight and warm for me, fuck.” You whimpered at his filthy words, digging your nails into his skin, fearing to draw some blood as his thrusts got sharper. Hongjoong didn’t mean to slip up with his rambles but he couldn’t help it. It just felt so right. And you felt the same.

“Yes, daddy. Please. H-Harder please.” You gasped throwing your head back. Hongjoong sat up this time, hooking your right leg over his shoulder, chuckling darkly. Your smile grew feeling his cock sink deeper inside you. He held onto your plump thigh for deal life as he humps his cock into your pussy, grunting at the feeling of your walls spasming around him. He swallowed in a sharp breath, snapping his eyes shut with a loud hiss going blind by the tight feeling of your squeezing cunt. 

“Fuck, baby. How did I wait this long to fuck this tight cunt? I should have fucked you the night we screwed around.” He lent down bending your body at an odd angle but the burn made your head spin in the best way possible. He cupped your chin, pulling your focus back to him, staring into his hot, lust-filled eyes. “You would have liked that huh darling? Me fucking you while your father is in the next room.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” You snapped, yelling at you felt the tingle in your gut grow quicker. “Yes, Joong. I wanted you to fuck me then and there so so badly.”

“Ha, See you are a dirty girl. I should punish you. Maybe I’ll wake you up tomorrow to eating this deilous pussy until your screaming me to stop.”

“Yes, Yes Yes. Please.” You babbled, squeezing tightly around him. You were so close to the edge, and Hongjoong could tell. By the way your face scrunched and how your legs started to shake. He knew you just needed a little push.

“You gonna cum baby? Come on, let go. I wanna feel you cum around my cock darling.” He growled in your ear, moving your leg back around his waist so he could move closer to you. Your lips found his against in a heated moment. Passion spilling out with each thrust as he swallowed your moans.

“Joongie please come with me. Come inside me. I wanna feel you.” You mumbled against his mouth, making him let out a groan. His stomach tightened as he tried to hold on just for a little longer. He needed to feel you come first. He needed to feel you as you tightened around him. As your eyes rolled back and you finally let go. You swore over and over again as felt him empty his load deep inside you. Your scent mixing with his as his groans harmonized with yours. 

“God, I love you.” His hips stuttered before stopping entirely. Your heart was thumping so hard against your chest that you could hear it in your ears. Hongjoong was the same, panting like he had just run a marathon. He kissed your cheeks, then your jaw and lips, littering your face in soft pecks. The silence that consumed the room suddenly felt comforting, like a blanket you’d wrap around yourself on a cold day.

You could feel Hongjoong slowly soften inside you, but didn’t pull out. Your fingers raked through his hair, scratching his scalp. You couldn’t have sworn he was purring for a second. “H-Hongjoong.”

“Yes, dear?” He hummed so casually like this was just a normal night shared with a lover.

“I-I think I love you too.” You whispered unsure if it was the right thing to say. He had blurted out the words of devotion in the heat of the moment and it worried you that he might not have meant it. But it was in fact the opposite. He had to constantly bite his tongue so he wouldn’t say it. And in the moment it felt right. His smile grew, sitting on his elbows so he could see your sweaty, beautiful face, dancing in afterglow.

“I’m glad. Cause I mean it. I’m foolishly in love with you.” He tried to act dramatic which caused you to hit his chest lightly. He sat up with that action finally pulling out of you. You shivered as he did it, feeling his cum slowly slip out of you. “Sorry about…that. I should have put a condom on.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed that he, a supposably mature man, couldn’t control himself. You sat up slowly, reaching for his bicep before rubbing him lovingly “Hey, it's okay. I asked for it. And I’m on birth control so it's fine.”

“Well in that case.” He smirked pulling you onto his lap. You hissed slightly at your sore limbs and overly sensitive sex. His arms wrapped around your waist, letting your chest rest flushed against his.

“Now now soldier. I think definitely cannot go another round without some rest.” You laughed peppering his cheek slowly. He hummed knowing you needed rest and a part of you knew he was half joking about going another round…

“shower and sleep.” He mumbled against the crook of your neck, feeling his fingers draw shapes into your back. You sighed feeling so much contentment. Safe in his arms. You both knew that what had now happened was something forbidden, and you both were going to have to confront your father at some point.

But as Hongjoong helped you to the bathroom and slowly lathered you with body wash that smelt like him with giggles and laughter echoing in the spacious shower room. Neither of you cared for the outside world. Not when Hongjoong's lips brushed against you every so often as you rinse the soap off your body. Not when he put you in one of his shirts and dragged you back to bed with his fingers tangled with yours. 

And not when he held you tightly, whispering how beautiful you are. How lucky he is and now he was never going to ever let you go.

-♡

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[roosterforme]

So Fresh, So Clean | Rooster x Reader

Summary: At first, Bradley is mortified when the guys force him to stop at a carwash featuring bikini clad women from a college softball team. But when he meets you there, he starts to think he should thank his friends instead.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

I wrote this for a request and for @wicked-remarks Summer Festival! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Dude, stop at In-N-Out. I'm starving," Payback whined from the passenger seat as Bradley zipped down the road in his Bronco.

"Nah, just stop at Starbucks," Jake argued from the backseat. "I need more caffeine."

"We're going to be late," Bradley groaned, passing the fifth fast food place while Payback whined and pointed out the window. 

"We told Nat we'd be there around noon," Coyote said from the back. "I mean, if we stopped for food, we could grab something for her too."

Bradley rubbed his hand over his face, wondering why he had agreed to drive all of these idiots. "Guys, if I stop, I'm only stopping once. Then straight to the beach. So decide what you want."

Then Coyote started stuttering at the same time Payback said, "Holy shit! Pull over! Pull over!" Bradley looked where Payback was pointing, and then he saw a sign that said University of San Diego Softball along with a car wash and a lot of scantily clad women.

"Fuck caffeine. We're stopping here!" Jake said, practically climbing into the front seat. "Come on, Rooster!" He started trying to grab the steering wheel, and Bradley had to smack his arm away.

"Seriously!" Bradley yelled. "Stop reaching for the steering wheel!" He slowed down as all three of his passengers started loudly begging him. "You want to look at a bunch of college girls who couldn't care less about you more than you want burgers?"

"Hell yes!" Payback sang as Bradley put his turn signal on and pulled into the parking lot where the collegiate softball team was holding a very popular looking car wash. There were so many cars lined up, and a lot of men milling around. Bradley parked next to a pickup truck and eyed the women in wet tee shirts and bathing suits while Jake pounded on the back of his seat. 

"They are practically naked! Get out so I can get out!" Jake whined.

"Chill!" Bradley said, loud enough that he had the attention of all three of them. "You guys need to be on your best behavior. I'm not kidding!"

"Look at them," Coyote said, pulling his sunglasses lower on his nose and whistling. "These girls are hot."

Bradley groaned. "Yes, I see them. And don't call them girls. They're women. And please don't touch any of them. Oh my god, I'm already so embarrassed."

"Let's go," Payback said, opening his door. "Time to flirt."

"They don't want to flirt with you," Bradley muttered. "You're thirty five."

"I dunno about that," Jake drawled, fixing his hair. "That redhead looks like she might like a daddy."

"Oh my fucking Lord, we are going to get kicked out of a fundraiser," Bradley groaned as he climbed out of his door and was nearly trampled by Jake.

"Relax man, I'm about to pay for your car to get washed," he said, shoving Bradley out of the way to get over to the redhead holding a hose. "Hey, sweetheart, my name's Jake...."

Bradley headed in the opposite direction, cradling his forehead in his hand. The last thing he wanted was to try to chat up some nineteen year old. He was almost thirty seven, for fuck's sake. But if they wanted to humiliate themselves, that was fine with him. But it didn't mean he needed to watch.

He thought he had found a nice spot to stand and wait while listening to a car stereo blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. He was out of the way of the guys who were being roped in to helping the girls wash cars now. Jake's shirt was mysteriously missing, and Payback was spraying the hose while a few of the girls screamed.  

"Grown ass men," Bradley muttered, pushing his aviators up higher on his nose.

He heard soft laughter and turned to see you standing next to him. And of course you were gorgeous. And young. And looking up at him with a smirk that he should not have found adorable. 

"Yeah, well, the deans at the college are always amazed by how much money our car wash fundraisers make every summer," you said, smiling at him. He found himself smiling back. 

"My friends almost made me wreck trying to get me to pull over, so I guess that does make sense," Bradley replied with a nod. You were the only one on the team who was still dry, and he could see the straps of your bathing suit tied above the collar of your USD Softball tee shirt. You had on some tiny denim shorts and flip flops, and Bradley bit back a groan and forced himself to look away from you. 

"Your friends look like a bit of a handful," you told him. Bradley was treated to the sight of Coyote dancing to the music in the spray of the water. 

"Just show them women in bathing suits, and this is what they turn into." You were laughing and gaping up at him, as Bradley quickly added, "They're harmless though! I promise! Your teammates have nothing to worry about! They just like to flirt."

"Teammates?" you asked, head cocked to one side.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, really trying so hard not to look directly at you. Fuck, this was getting difficult. He could tell that your bathing suit was red through your snug fitting white tee shirt, and now he was looking at your chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose over his sunglasses and rolled his shoulders, trying to focus on the dirt being rinsed off a filthy car. "Your teammates? Uh, are you a senior? Or team captain or something?"

Your laughter rang out as you said, "No, not exactly."

"Oh. Uh, what position do you play?" He knew he was rambling now. Really, he should just get out of here. 

"I used to play third base."

And now Bradley was biting his knuckle, because he was thinking about getting to third base with you, unzipping those little shorts in the backseat of his Bronco and slipping his hand inside. "Oh god," he swallowed hard. He was worse than the rest of the guys who were currently covered in soapy water and surrounded by softball players. 

"I'm their coach."

Bradley froze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "You're the coach? The softball coach?"

"Yeah. They're not my teammates."

Bradley turned to face you and let his eyes drift down your body and back up to your face. You did look a little older than twenty two. And that's probably why you weren't actively washing the cars. He must have been staring for too long, because you were smirking again as you held out your hand and introduced yourself. "Head coach of USD women's softball."

He took your smaller hand in his. "My name is Bradley, and I'm really hoping you're going to tell me you're like twenty eight years old?"

"I'm thirty," you said slowly, still holding his hand and looking at him with a confused smile. 

"Even better," he said, smiling happily and pulling you a little closer by your hand. "So, you played third base? Which school?"

"University of Oregon."

"Shit. You must be good."

"I'm very good," you told him, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter. 

"I'll bet you are."

"Do you play?" you asked, really sizing him up now. 

"Yeah, just on a Navy rec league. But I'm very good, too."

"Bet I can guess which position you play," you told him before you bit your lip, and Bradley swore he was never going to let go of your hand. 

"Okay. Go ahead and guess."

"But...if I'm right, you owe me a drink," you said coyly.

Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "Then you better fucking get this right."

With a bright laugh, you told him, "You look like a shortstop."

"Damn. You are good."

"I'm right?" you asked, and he nodded. "You owe me a drink."

Bradley took his sunglasses off with his left hand, and your smile grew. "Listen, as soon as you told me you're not a student, I was absolutely going to ask you out. So all you did was make it easier for me."

You pressed your lips together in pleasure, and it was so adorable. "You're still holding my hand."

"I know," he confirmed with a nod. "When are you free? Tomorrow?"

You licked your lips. "I'm coaching a game tomorrow, Bradley. You know, since I'm not a student."

He smirked at the way you were sassing him before asking, "Is it home or away?"

"Home. At USD."

"You gonna invite me to watch?" he asked, and you looked so damn pleased with yourself now. 

"Would you be coming just to ogle the players?" you asked, nodding toward the soaking wet women who were now spraying the hose at Payback. "You know they wear their uniforms to the games instead of bathing suits, right?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at you playfully. "It's much more likely that I'd be ogling their coach."

"Oh, I like that," you told him. "You can come then. And we can get that drink afterwards?"

"Absolutely," Bradley said, and he finally released your hand as he added, "Can I get your number?"

"Mmhmm." 

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, unlocked it and handed it to you. He watched you enter your contact information, and then you handed it back to him, letting your fingers linger on his. "Text me later today, and I'll send you a ticket to the game."

"Sounds good, coach. I can't wait."

You glanced to the side and then met his eyes again. "It looks like your car's done. And your friends look like an actual disaster."

Bradley groaned as he saw the three of them getting the soap hosed off so they could leave. "Yeah, let me go babysit them for the afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you will." And then you put your hand on his chest and kissed his cheek before you turned away to help one of your players who was calling for your attention. 

Bradley tucked his phone away and watched you as he made his way toward the Bronco. You waved to him and he smiled back before turning to assess his three sopping wet friends. 

"Rooster, you idiot!" Coyote said, dripping water on the pavement. "You just stood there like a lump, man."

"We got phone numbers," Jake drawled, holding his wet phone while Bradley snorted. 

"Yeah, we did," Payback said, high fiving Jake. "And we're going to meet up with Sylvia and Taylor later tonight at a bar on their campus."

Bradley just shook his head. "Wring out your shirts and get in the Bronco. Nat's already going to kill us, I hope you know that."

"Worth it," the three of them said in unison. And while Bradley waited for them to dry off a bit, he sent you a text. 

Can't wait for tomorrow.

And right before he pulled out of the parking lot, you wrote back.

XOXO

And there was a ticket to the USD softball game for tomorrow afternoon attached. 

"Hey, what the fuck?" Jake said as Bradley drove down the road toward the beach. He had his phone to his ear as he added, "Taylor gave me a bogus phone number!"

Payback scrambled to unlock his phone, and a second later, he had it on speaker. "Oops, it looks like the person who gave you this number is not actually interested in you! Better luck next time!"

"Damn," Coyote said, completely crestfallen. "Sylvia gave us a bogus number, too."

"I spent fifty bucks to get this thing washed for nothing!" Jake complained, gesturing around the Bronco.

"I can't believe we all struck out today," Payback whined. "We should have just stopped at In-N-Out."

Bradley bit his lip and shook with silent laughter. "Yeah, you all struck out. What a shame." But he was already thinking about where he was going to take you out for a second date.

-----------------------------

The way Rooster flirts, just holy shit. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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[allysunny]

I'm the Lucky One

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Drunk!Fem!Reader

Synopsys: You got a bit too drunk at the club tonight. Luckily, your husband is quick to come to the rescue and take care of you.

Words: 3.2k words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and being drunk of course, drunken speeches, just a lot of fluff and a bit of crack, reader is mentioned to be quite a bit drunk. Some suggestive themes, cursing and vulgar language (not on Bruce's side). Just a fluffy, funny fic, really.

A/N: Hey everyone!!!! So, I got hammered last night and I was wondering how nice it would be if I had Bruce taking care of me,, so I wrote this. It was hilarious, I got home and got my keyboard and my tablet and just started typing away as I sobered up.

I love this man so much I wish he was the one taking care of me omg... Anyway I hope you guys like this! It's just a small fic, something short, I wanted it to be short and sweet <3

“You’re literally the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.”

“Am I, now?”

“You are. Holy fuck. I think I'm in love with you.”

Bruce chuckled softly at your words as he helped you down the stairs of the club you found yourself in. His arm was steadily wrapped around your waist, his other one reaching for the limo door.

It was a lovely night in Gotham, and you had decided to go out with your friends.

“It’ll be fine, Bruce, we’re just celebrating Maggie’s return with a couple of drinks and that’s it. No need to worry,” you had told him, punctuating your statement with a kiss on his cheek. Bruce had believed you. sort of. He'd told Maggie to warn him should you go overboard with the drinks, and two hours later, he was getting a call from her about how you were fucking plastered.

“Are you single, by any chance?” You asked, turning to him with an extremely serious expression. Bruce cocked an eyebrow and held you steadily, both hands on your hips, preventing you from swaying as obviously as you were. “There’s no way you are. You're far too hot. Fuck, you really are one handsome fucker. Look at his jawline – “ You reached to touch his face and Bruce softly caught your hand, bringing it down next to the other one and releasing it once he understood you would not try to touch him again.

“How about we get in the car, huh?” He asked, opening the door before him, and making sure you got in without tripping or falling or hurting yourself – a miraculous feat in itself.

“What a gentleman, holy fuck,” you slurred, shaking your head, “Mister, not only are you the hottest man I've ever seen, you’re also a gentleman. You're the whole package. You know, I think I'm in love with you. I’m so in love with you, it’s actually insane. Holy shit.”

“Well, we have been married for a couple of years. I'd expect you to at least like me.” He replied nonchalantly.

Next to him, your jaw dropped. Your mouth hung wide open, and you blinked repeatedly, staring at the man in front of you. You didn’t seem to notice the car was already in motion, Alfred looking amusedly at you through the front mirror.

“We are?” You asked, blinking a few more times, much to Bruce’s delight.

“We are.”

“We’re married!?”

“For almost three years now. Happiest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The information took a while to settle in your brain. You turned your head comically slow to the side, and stared through the window, Gotham’s city lights blinding and eternal. Then, you turned to him again. There was no way the handsome man before you was your husband, was he? He was wearing a lovely dark blue sweater polo, and dark pants. His hair was combed back, but there seemed to be no product on it. He looked effortlessly perfect, and it was hard for you to just believe he was yours. I mean, how could a man like this belong to you?

Bruce seemed to read your mind, because he took your hand in his and turned it in his palm, showcasing the pretty gold band around your ring finger. Your eyes widened even more as he showed you his own, and you looked from his hand to yours, trying to put the pieces together.

“We are married.”

“We are.”

“Holy fuck. You're my husband.”

“And you’re my wife.” The phrase was said with a soft smile that often accompanied whatever words Bruce said about you – after all, he was whipped.

You stared at him for a while longer, before bringing your hand up to your arm and pinching it.

“Are you sure this isn't a dream?”

“I’m sure. We're here, honey,” he said, looking out of the window. The car ride had felt like an eternity to you, but maybe that was simply because your notion of time was warped. In only a few minutes, Alfred had parked in front of Wayne Manor and Bruce was leaving the limo to help you out.

“C’mon, hold my hand,” he said, extending his arm to you. You looked at him, at his shiny hair and beautiful eyes and giggled like a schoolgirl in live – which was exactly how you felt. You took his hand and did your best to maneuver your way out of the limo. Unfortunately, your head had other plans. You stood up far too quickly and your head began to spin, causing Bruce to hold onto you tighter. He pressed you against him to keep you from falling, but your body swayed from side to side before catching on itself. You tripped and were quite sure that’d be your end, when you felt Bruce’s hands steading you.

“Where are you going?” He joked, turning you to face him. You gazed into his eyes, and he chuckled at the confusion and laziness laced in yours. You had a dazed look to yourself, lips slightly parted and brows furrowed.

“Think you can walk on your own?” Bruce asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

“Where are we going? Where are you taking me?” You asked, looking around. Once you caught sight of Wayne Manor, you chuckled, pointing at it like an excited child. “There’s no way. That’s where we live? We live in a freaking castle!? Can this day get any better!?”

The man before you just smiled and shook his head. Whatever you’d drunk had worked you up pretty well. He bent over slightly and scooped you up in his arms, earning a giggle out of you.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, swinging your legs slightly, before you realised just how nauseous all the motions made you, and decided to stop. “What're you doing?”

“I’m taking my lovely wife to bed, because she’s unwell.” Was his response as he crossed the threshold of your shared home, Alfred following close behind.

“Should I prepare a bath, Master Wayne?” The butler asked, glancing over at your figure, now far too busy gaping at the magnitude of your home.

“Yes please, Alfred. I'll try to get her out of these clothes.”

“Very well, sir.”

Alfred moved to your shared bedroom, and Bruce followed, albeit slower. He was afraid moving too quickly would cause you to feel sick, and the last thing he wanted, was you vomiting. Not because he didn't want your puke all over his floor or anything – simply because seeing you in pain or discomfort caused him an ache that was too big to even describe.

Once he reached your bedroom, he placed you on top of your shared bed, holding you closely.

“I’m gonna let go of your arms to take off your shoes. Think you can manage not to fall?”

“Why you letting go of me, handsome?” You pouted. It was adorable really, and it took every ounce of control in Bruce’s body not to claim your lips with his own. He wasn't going to take advantage of you, not when you were intoxicated and not thinking straight.

“It’s just for a while. Let's get you out of this dress, okay? And won’t it be nice to take off your shoes?”

“Yeeeeeeeah,” you whined, wiggling your legs in front of him. “They’re hurting me so bad. Why did I choose to wear heels?”

“Well, you said you looked, and I quote, really fucking hot in them.”

“Shit. I bet I did.” You chuckled. For a few seconds, you lost balance and fell backwards on your bed, laughing loudly. Bruce looked at you and just sighed, trying his best to avoid your legs as you kicked and wiggled around, before finally being able to take off your high heel shoes.

“Master Wayne, the Madame's bath is ready,” came Alfred’s voice as he returned from the bathroom.

“Thank you, Alfred. Feel free to retire for the night.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yeah, I'll take care of her. Just go get some sleep.”

“Very well, then. Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Alfred.”

“Goodnight, miss.”

“Goooooooood niiiiiiiiiight!” You laughed loudly.

“On second thought, could you please get her something to eat? A toast would be nice, something light. I can’t possibly give her medication on an empty stomach.”

“Right away, sir.”

Alfred left the room, and you rolled around on the bed, unknowingly scrambling away from Bruce’s body.

“Honey, please stop moving. The quicker we do this, the quicker you can go to bed. Don't you want that? To get some rest? Get into your comfy pyjamas, get under your blankets?” He tried bargaining with you, but he knew it would be heard in the state you were in. It was like getting a hyperactive child to go to bed.

“Nope,” you popped the “p” with a grin, and quickly sat up, eyeing your husband with a knowing grin. “I want a kiss from you.”

“Bath first. Kisses later.”

“No, kisses now. I want a kiss from my husband. You are my husband, right?”

“I am.”

“Okay then, kiss me.”

“I can’t. You're not feeling well, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Bruce explained calmly.

“So, you don’t love me.” The seriousness in your voice stopped Bruce in his tracks. What?

“Honey, I do love you. That’s why I'm telling you to go to sleep. Right now, you need to get some rest. The sooner, the better.”

“You don’t love me,” your lip wobbled almost comically, and large tears welled up in your eyes. Instead of being annoyed, Bruce found it somewhat endearing. He could never find you irritating, no matter what the context was. To him, you’d always be the most important person in the world, no matter how you found yourself. “You don't love me, and you don’t wanna kiss me. Is that it? Is our marriage a fraud? Did you even ever love me?”

“Darling, I do love you. Come on, let’s get you in the tub, is that okay?”

“You don’t love me anymore,” you leaned your head backwards as tears rolled down your cheeks, and Bruce was quick to move next to you on the bed, gathering you in his arms. You cuddled against him almost instantly, pressing your face against his neck and wrapping your arms around his middle. Bruce soothed you with soft words of reassurance. Yes, he did love you. Very much. You were the light of his life, and he worried so, so much about you. He never wanted to see you in pain. That was why he was being so bossy, because he just wanted you to feel better. All of this because he loved you immensely.

After a while, you looked up at him, bottom lip jutting out.

“So you love me?”

“Incredibly so.”

“Kiss me?”

“Just once. And then, bath.”

You nodded eagerly, tilting your head upwards and making kissy motions with your lips. Bruce rolled his eyes in amusement and leaned down, giving you a soft peck.

“There. Now, bath.”

“What!? That wasn't a kiss! You barely touched me! I want a real one,” you whined again, pushing away and looking at him with a scandalised expression. “A big one. And then bath. Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Bruce mumbled before cupping your cheek and tilting your head upwards so he could kiss you. This time it was longer, his tongue darted out to explore your lower lip and he could still taste the alcohol you’ve had at the club. You melted instantly into his touch, humming, and pulling him closer. However, the moment you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away and tutted.

“No. Time for a bath now. Okay?” Bruce caressed your cheek softly and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“You're a really good kisser. I want one more, c’mon.”

“No, we agreed on one kiss. Now you need a bath. After that, and only if you’re good, I'll kiss you some more. Okay?”

You gave him the dreamiest smile he thinks he’s ever seen, and sat up almost immediately, bringing your hands to your head shortly after. “'s spinning…” you mumbled.

“I know, honey. Let me take care of you, alright?”

“Alright.”

Bruce picked you up in his arms once again and brought you to the en-suite bathroom. he sat you down on top of the toilet lid, carefully helping you remove your dress and underwear and pressing kisses against the exposed skin every so often to make you smile. After you were naked, he removed your makeup and helped you inside the bathtub, where you laid back and sighed in relief. Bruce was quite sure you were getting to the drowsy state of your drunkenness, so he didn't force you to talk or tire yourself out even more. All he wanted was for you to feel good.

He helped you bathe, lathering up soap and rubbing soothing circles on your arms, legs and whole body so you could wash the day off you. Once he started washing your thighs, you turned your head to him and gave him a cheeky smile, to which he replied, “Not tonight, you need to rest”, and that was the end of it. This handsome man who happened to be a really good kisser (and apparently your husband) seemed to know what he was doing, so no matter how much you wanted him to touch you somewhere else, you’d agree with what he was saying. After all, he was right, you were already feeling much better.

Once you were done, Bruce wrapped you around in a fluffy towel, carefully drying you off. The fluffy fabric was soft against your skin, and you smiled as Bruce applied body lotion on your body. Even if you were tired and couldn't do it yourself, he would always do it for you. He did promise you forever, in sickness and in health. And he supposes in intoxication and sobriety as well.

When he sat you back down on your bed, you were wearing your pajamas and your eyes were threatening to close.

“How about you stay here while I get something for you to drink?” He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You frowned. Why was he leaving? And why was he getting you a drink? You didn't want any drinks. Drinks had made you feel like this. You wanted the handsome man to kiss you some more. Fuck, he really was a good kisser. Maybe you could convince him to kiss you in your –

“Honey? You hear me?”

“Why are you going? Don’t go. I don’t want any drinks. My stomach is hurting,” you chided softly.

“I’m getting you something for your stomach, okay? It'll make you feel better. Do you trust me?”

“I do. I think I trust you with all my life, you know. You've been so kind to me.”

Bruce smiled at your words and kissed the top of your head, whispering “I’ll be right back”.

Almost as if on cue, Alfred knocked on the door of your shared bedroom and walked in after Bruce opened it for him. He handed the Wayne heir a small plate and offered you a sympathetic smile before leaving the room.

“Hey honey, think you can eat some of this?” Bruce asked, returning to your side.

You looked at the plate in front of you and at the sheets in your bed.

“I'm not gonna eat in bed.”

“It’s okay, we’ll just wash the sheets later.”

“No, that’s – ewwww! No, I don’t wanna eat in bed. C'mon, help me up.”

Bruce only had a few seconds to remove the plate from in front of you when you threw the covers back and tried to stand up on your own, failing miserably and having to clutch onto his arm.

“I’ll do it there,” you pointed towards your vanity and Bruce nodded. He'd always comply.

Once you sat down and busied yourself with your toast, Bruce hurried towards the bathroom. He prepared a glass of water and some pain relievers to prevent a potential headache. Once he returned, you were already up on wobbly legs, doing your best to make it to the bathroom bu yourself.

“Hey – hey,” Bruce put down the glass and pill, immediately rushing for you. “Why are you up?”

“Look, you’re super fine and I totally wanna do you,” you slurred, “But you’re helping me far too much and I don’t wanna bother you. You've been like a babysitter, and I'm not a baby, and I can walk on my own because I am a strong independent woman, and I don’t need your super strong arms to carry me, even though I really like it when you do that because you’re so hot. I’ll walk on my own.”

Bruce smiled at your words. You'd always been one to dote on him and compliment him. He was used to flattery, sure, but he always knew you meant every word you said, they weren't just empty phrases to get you on his good graces. He brought you closer by the waist and caressed your cheek.

“I know you’re a strong independent woman.”

“I am.”

“And I know you can do it by yourself.”

“I can. I can do it by myself.”

“I know. But let me help you.” He kissed you softly and you sighed against his lips. There was really no argument here, was it? It wasn't a hard choice. You let Bruce help you as you walked towards the bathroom. He turned around while you peed (not like he hadn't seen you like that before, he just wanted to give you some privacy), and steadied you while you washed your hands and made your way back to bed.

Once you were comfortably sitting down (again), he brought the glass of water and the pill to you, which you took with no complaints.

“There’s my lovely girl. It’ll help you feel better in the morning.”

“Okay,” you nodded, placing the glass on the bedside table next to you. “Are you gonna go now?”

“Why would I? I'm going to bed too.”

“Here?”

“Yes. Here.”

“We sleep together? In the same bed?”

Bruce walked around the bed so he could lay down on his side, and you followed suit, although much slower.

“Every night.”

You sighed and turned to face him, a silly smile playing on your lips as your eyes fluttered close.

“I can’t believe I'm this lucky. I'm married to a really hot gentleman, my house is super big, and I get to sleep with you every night. This is the dream.”

Bruce chuckled and wrapped one arm around your waist to bring you closer to him. And something in your subconscious mind must’ve recognised his touch because you molded yourself against him, leg wrapping around his waist and head resting just under his chin. You mumbled something incoherent under your breath and were out within seconds.

Bruce could only smile. He knew tomorrow morning you might have the worst of headaches, of nauseas, and he would be more than happy to spend his day catering to you, holding back your hair if you puked, and nursing you back to full health. You were the love of his life, and you’d already done so much for him, bringing life and colour back to his once bleak existence, teaching him what true love was like, and turning his house into a home, a safe space he could always return to.

He pressed a kiss on top of your head and squeezed you tighter, whispering four words in the quiet night.

“I’m the lucky one.”

A/N: And that's it!! I hope you guys enjoyed this. I love this man so much, I wish it was him taking care of me instead of myself. Would not have tripped and swayed so much yesterday if I had his strong arms around me fr. Anyway, I love alcohol, I have zero regrets and I even got to write a Bruce fic. Win-win!

Have an amazing day, y'all!!! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x fem!reader

[sweet-lover-girl]

Abby—breeding kink

Breeding kink, that’s it.

Warnings—breeding kink(obvi), degrading, Abby calls the strap on her ’cock’ and ‘dick’, chocking, hair pulling, spit kink, Dacryphilia, dirty talk, mean!Abby(pretty much all of these are just briefly touched, except for the breeding kink, oh and dirty talk. There’s a lot of that.) also funny thing, I don’t really have a breeding kink so I’m surprised I even wrote this, but I guess now I have an ‘Abby Anderson breeding me’ kink.

This isn’t long at all, but a lot happens XD

🖤I feel like she loves the thought of getting you pregnant. Unless you aren’t into that then she won’t—but for this lets say you do. She loves to breed you and call you her little pretty slut. 

🖤She’ll lean over you and grabs your hair, tugging at the roots, and pulling your head back—making you arch your back and push you ass into her hips, every thrust of her hips is hitting your sweet spot deep in your pussy.

🖤She will also love to spit into your mouth as you are forced to lean back.”Open that pretty little mouth baby.” Then she spits onto your awaiting tongue before she places her hand over your mouth, making sure you swallow.

🖤She loves it when you are crying, you’re just so pretty with those tears running down your cheeks. She’ll lick them away before kissing where she licked you. Then she’ll move on to your neck, kissing, licking, bitting. Anything to leave a pretty little mark for everyone to see you belonged to her.

🖤Another reason why she loves the thought of getting you pregnant, is because that means you have her in you, like her cum got you pregnant and now you are gonna have her babies, and she just goes feral at the thought of fucking you while you’re pregnant with her babies. Abby knows she can’t actually get you pregnant—but fuck she was gonna try.

————

“Gonna give me babies Pumpkin?”

Abby asked you, knowing you didn’t even really hear her because you were so fucked out from her cock in you. She leans over you, and grabs you by your hair before sitting up with you and her arm now around your throat in a headlock choking you slightly. Her large bicep flexing as she holds you against her.

“Yeah, you’re gonna give me babies.” She breathes onto your cheek as she placed a gentle kiss there.

Her hips hitting your ass so hard it made a slapping sound each time they met.”Gonna fill you up Sweet girl.” Abby smiles and kisses the side of your head as you tried to talk—but all that came out was nonsense babbling and mewls of her name.

Letting go your neck she let you lay back down on your tummy and placed her hands on the swell of your ass and began to thrust her hips in deep pulses, her hips bouncing off your ass making it jiggle. “Gonna fill you up—your tits are gonna be full of milk.” She said leaning over you and humping your ass, rubbing her clit on the catch-on inside the strap. “My dick is so fucking deep, it’s rearranging your guts isn’t it.” She growled in your ear.

Your eyes roll back as she said this—partly due from the dirty words and from how good it felt. You could feel the tip of the dildo kissing your cervix with every thrust. You arch you back a little more as you feel the need to cum, trying to beg her but only getting out whine and moans. You grasp the sheets in clenched fists as your cry out,”P-plea—Abby—“

She chuckled,”Cum baby, wanna feel that greedy pussy squeezing around my cock.” Abby said and your eyes rolled back as you came hard, squeezing her strap on so hard she could barely thrust—the silicon dragging against your pussy walls, but Abby never stopped the movement of her hips.

“Holy shit— you got tight.” She laughed. You let out a pathetic whine as you push away from her weakly in your overstimulated state, and letting out a cry as she yanked you back by your hips.”Where you going baby,” she pulled your hair by the roots and pulled your head so far back your head almost touched her shoulder, making your arch your back to accommodate that odd hold she had on you, you saw her upside down; a tear dropped from your eye. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You tremble and let out another cry as she began to thrust back into your clenched cunt. “So fucking good for me, you really will just let me use you huh?” Abby mocked as she starts to pump her hips back and forth, her small tits bouncing from how hard she was fucking your wet pussy. She still had a hold on your hair and your back still arched—making all those thrust landed perfectly on your sweet spot. You had drool running down your chin and tears flowing freely from your eyes. She chuckled darkly as she stopped thrusting and leaned over you saying. “Open your fucking mouth.”

You automatically stick your tongue out as she grinned sadistically and spat a glob of saliva into your mouth. You shook as more tears fall from that act alone, making your cunt clench her around her strap again. She quickly followed up with a harsh upside down kiss, her nose bumping your chin as she sucked on your tongue—bitting and pulling at your lips.

Pulling away from your - kissed til they were red lips. Abby leaned back up and flicked her hair over her shoulder and began to move her hips back and forth slowly, really dragging the cock along your walls, you let out a whimper and your arms collapsed under you. She quickly let go of you hair with a sharp laugh and you could feel yourself blush from embarrassment. “We’re not done till I’ve fucked a baby into you, you got that?” She growled and began to fuck your sore pussy once more, you nodded your head quickly as you whimper and feel drool run down your chin.“Good girl.” Abby said as she pat your ass and got back to work.

~~~~

Fuck, she makes me dizzy, I got dizzy as I was writing some of this and I blame Abby Anderson.😅

I wanted to add more, but I’ve been working on this for so long now like—

Aaaannnyyywwwaaayyyys, I hope y’all liked it!🖤

#abby anderson #abby anderson/reader #wlw #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #abby anderson x female reader #abby x reader #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson smut #abby anderson/you #abby the last of us #Abby Anderson Blurbs

[katsukiizmoon]

Katsuki Bakugo x F!Reader | 18+ | Royal ! AU

Synopsis: The years have flown by with Katsuki, who fills your body and mind with fire. You'll keep him with you till the day you die and then after that, thanking whatever deities there are for him. Maybe you were put on this earth to love him, like every other lifetime.

Tags: Prince!Bakugo, Characters aged up, Reader & Katsuki are sexually inexperienced, Virginity loss, Smut, Unprotected sex, lovey dovery, mushy gushy, parents don't approve, kissing, flirting, general cute shit, fluff, happy ending, praise

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Holy fuck I wrote this in one day. I don't even know how I just kept writing and writing. I need to go get food now because I forgot to eat. This is so sickingly sweet your teeth are going to rot man. One suggestive scene, one smut scene, and a lot of praise. Kinda wanna do a part two to this...

Your feet press into the grass below you, twisting as you turn to view Katsuki. His face glows in the morning sun, specks of what looks like stardust grace his cheeks and  your breath catches in your throat. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on in your twenty-three years of existence. For a moment, you truly soak in the idea of being put on this god forsaken planet just to meet him. Him, who sweeps your feet out from under you and lets you fall instead of catching you. There’s something otherworldly about his entire being and you’re positive you’ve loved him in every over life you’ve lived.

You run, feet digging into the dirt and thin dress bouncing as you do so. And you turn again, just to look at him. Who stands tall and broad, shoulders square and eyes forward at all times. Who raises a brow at you with a scoff as your hand reaches toward him. And your feet catch up under you, tripping on one another as you plummet to the ground. Dirt smears onto the side of your leg and a sprig of grass presses into your nose. Air knocked out of you, you lay heaving and looking up to where the stars once were and where they will be again.

“Goddamnit! I told you not to go running around, clumsy ass.” Katsuki hurries over in a few quick strides and peers over at you.

And god may the heavens, the hells, and anything between save your poor soul. His hair falls from his forehead, deep garnet eyes bore into your own and you think you’re going to die. You’ll do anything for him, in any moment, for just a taste of his partially chapped lips.  His teeth dig into his bottom lip, then he releases the poor flesh, and his mouth opens. Then closes. Then it opens again and closes. This time, however, his jaw clenches as he does so. A thick palm reaches towards you for a moment and you take it.

“That was fun.” You gleam, with a toothy smile.

“No, honey, that was you being a dumbass.” He reminds.

“Oh yeah?” You grin, teeth dipping into your bottom lip as you ponder a thought. His brows raise before his eyes narrow.  The cherry irises dig a hole in your soul and call it home, planting little seeds of wanderlust there. He knows you’re planning something.

Katsuki can tell by the way your fingers twitch like you’re resisting an inch, the uncontrollable grin spreading across your face. What he doesn’t know is what you’re planning. The gods have truly blessed him with a wild one, he thinks. Of all the rules he is expected to follow within the kingdom he lives, you are not one of them. His parents threw a toddler sized hissy fit when they started noticing the blush spreading across your cheeks when he was around. Their voices raising in anger, fists smacking down on the thick oak table that was meticulously crafted for only the most exquisite dinners. He denied it over and over, still to this day does, swearing on every book of worship he can that there’s “nothing there”.

But you both know it’s a lie. Hell- everyone- knows it’s deception. His mother, who cannot for the life of her understand, and his father- whom pinches his nose in stress every time he gets home late. They can see it in the glances you steal from the world towards one another. Or the extra plate he fixes himself, only to excuse himself to his “room” and not return for another three hours. After what felt like decades of fighting, it seems they’ve began to give up, on him. On the idea that he would drop your fragile, beautiful beating heart to the ground and allow it to weep and mourn the death of your blossoming union. As he’d rather kill them both, stealing the crown for the two of you, than he would lose your trust.

Within the few seconds he spent, gawking at the beauty of your everything, he forgot something important.

You were planning something.

Were.

Your hands grip onto him, foot, sliding to the back of his ankle to sweep him off his feet and onto the ground. Katsuki lands hard and you fall atop him. With a yelp and a groan, he looks at you incredulously.

“What the fuc-“ Katsuki starts.

You do not budge, allowing your body to lay between his bent legs, pressing your hands on his chest to keep him still. Your palms slide over the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the muscle underneath, and up towards his throat. Your fingers make claim around his jaw area, two behind his head and thumbs directly on his jaw. It is there that your lips and teeth profess their yearning for every piece of his beautiful being. Every part of him, you want to drown in. You breathe in his essence and soak it deep into the marrow of your bone, where it will stay forever. Traveling up your lovers throat and jaw, you make your way to his lips.

Neither of you thought you’d crave someone saliva so much in your life. But his lips, his tongue- your lips, your tongue- is sweeter than any syrup made from flowers and honey. It is a miracle the two of you have not simply passed away from being without one another. It has only been a week since you’ve kissed, only one. He swore he’d be back and you swore you’d kill him if he didn’t show. And when his tooth nips the right corner of your bottom lip, something feral and raw bubbles up in your blood. It’s hot and thick and makes you want to cry and beg and confess your love all at once.

Something about it drives you crazy and you truly feel like banging your head against the thick, stone walls, of the castle would be of use. Maybe it would soothe the ache that wells deep within the pits of your  tummy and rushes down your legs and up your spine like fire. Where it controls you, takes over you, consumes you. And you’ve felt it once before, when he’d pressed you against a castle wall near the kitchen and kissed you so hard your lips felt like they’d bruise. Before he stalked down the hallway, head high, shoulders back, nodding to the person rounding the corner. He left that day, for the week- his mother sending him somewhere for swordsman skills.

A moan bubbles in the back of his throat when your hands lay purchase in the tufts of his thick hair. You pull, wanting him to be closer than ever before. His solid arms wrap around your torso and squeeze  as the two of you begin huffing thin breaths of air into your lungs. You still feel as if you cannot get enough of him, like something is missing, and you’re going to go insane. The stars above have graced you with a lot of things- patience is not one of them and never will be. So your lips begin to suck on the crook of his neck, wanting to live there for eons.

Blue and purple blossoms against the skin and electricity shoots through the marrow of your bones when a groan escapes his pretty lips. Fuck. You want to do it again, and again, and again until your lips are sore and cannot go on. So you start again and relish in his fingers pressing future bruises into  your hips. The charcoal grey top he has on turns a deeper shade, almost black, with the sweat from the both of you.

“Oh god-“ He whimpers out, as you pull your body up closer to him, thigh dragging across his crotch. His hips buck into the touch and you squeal, pulling back to take a breath.

With that, the two of you begin to call it quits, laying between the grass and stray dandelions, heaving. Your chests rise and fall sporadically and Katsuki is spending an extra moment gathering himself. The sun his high in the sky and when you straddle him he thinks he’s in heaven with the glow around your figure.

“Told you it was fun!” You giggle out, thumb grazing over his jaw as you marvel at his beauty.

Katsuki thanks the stars, the moon, the grass, the sun- everything for you. The wild spirit that told him to “take it easy” and shoved him down on the ground to claim his soul as hers. He’d spent hours training, doing anything and everything his parents asked of him. Sit up, walk straight, elbows off the table. But there was something burning in his core that begged to be fed, to be given just a twig here and there, something that allowed him to feel free. Then you, you came strutting through the castle with a basket of his clothing already folded. Muttering to yourself about how stupidly big the place was and how he was an asshole for not knowing how to “fold his own fucking draws”.

When you yelled at him for messing up your pile of neatly folded clothing, he thought he was hearing things. At first he was angry, as the prince, it was not your place to speak to him that way. But the other part of him wanted to worship you for seeing him like any and every other human being on the face of the earth. So he requested you more and slowly the bickering between the two of you became play fighting. The play fighting made its valiant transition into a peck on the lips here or there, or red cheeks while the other did even miscellaneous tasks.

His mother and father had always urged him to find love, offering him suitors of all shapes and sizes and races and kingdoms. They were all pretty in some manner, like Lillia, who made a crown of flowers for him as a gift. But he couldn’t bring himself to be anything other than angry with them. They wanted a spot on the throne, which was okay, it was the way of the people. However, Katsuki felt nausea bubble in the back of his mouth like acid reflux any time they did anything for him or attempted to get near him. Eventually, family determined he would just be without marriage, and would be required to lie with someone eventually for grandchildren.

You, however, oh lord, you. With angry words and a quick temper, soft plush lips and eyes that made him feel small. You were wild and broke every fucking rule set in front of you. He begs, for you, and only you. He’d break every bone in his body thrice and be confined to mashing grapes for the finest of wines for eons if it meant you gave him the time of the day. He’d do anything.

Later, the two of you are minding your own, going about the day without worry. You’re tending to some treats he requested for the room, a platter of sweets and fresh tea. When he waltzes into the room in a daze, amazed at your skill in pastry making once again. He checks behind him and closes the door.

“You, my love, will be the death of me.” Katsuki sighs, taking a bite out of a fresh fruit tart. He begins placing three sugar cubes into the glass to his right and one in his own, with a clink. You’re a sweet thing and your taste in tea is no different.

“Hmm? How so?” You ponder, stretching your shoulders.

Katsuki pulls off the shirt he’s wearing, a new one, to reveal multiple splotches of red and purple across his skin. Your mouth falls agape, in awe. You reach out to him, lightly smoothing the pads of your fingers over the bruising. Part of you feels guilty while something crude in your mind grins at the sight.

“Oh- fuck- I’m sorry! I got carried away.” You mumble, making a note to receive a fresh pack of ice to tend to it soon.

“It’s fine, asswipe.” He rolls his eyes.

It wasn’t the normal for the two of you. You’d never done that before. A peck on the lips here or there, occasionally if he was leaving off somewhere he’d kiss you harder, but you’d never gone that far before. Never had you’d allowed the beast in your soul to begin taking over, for a short amount of time. But god, you craved it again, again, again. He’d never find that out though, certainly. As you’d keep it locked away tight in the confines of your mind.

You return back to your duties for the day and do indeed make sure he receives a pack of ice for the bruising. He thanks you with another eye roll but you miss the way he stares at your body as you walk away. The day is filled with miscellaneous tasks such as tidying your own cabin, clearing plates and dusting the halls of the castles. As you approach the dining area, tea cups and kettle in hand, you overhear conversation.

“And what in heavens name is that on your collar, Katsuki?” His mother inquires, clearly unhappy. The metal clinks against the glass plates as someone sets a utensil down.

“Burned myself when I was working on blacksmith skills, damn.” Katsuki bites back.

“Uh-huh. I don’t believe you, have you been with Lillia?” She wonders loudly, taking a last bite of her dinner.

Your chest stings at the thought but you remind yourself that it is not your place. The dining area smells of fresh roast and potatoes, drizzled in gravy, and light dust from workers walking in and out of the room.

“Now why the hell would I be with her? I told you, I don’t like any of them, fuck off.” He grits, taking a gulp of water as he does so.

You take this as your chance to enter the room,  tea tray in hand. As you do, you give Katsuki a pointed look, before placing the tray on the center of the table and grabbing any excess dishes to hand off to the dishwashers. Katsuki grabs a sweet off the tray and places it, not so gently, onto the smaller plate in front of him.

“These are amazing, my favorite.” He murmurs, grabbing three sugar cubes and placing them in the tea cup.

His parents watch in awe as he does so, only to see him realize his mistake and take two out, putting them back in the glass container full of the little cubes. He grabs the fresh mesh sachel of herbs, tossing them into the ceramic and slowly pours piping hot water over them. The small spoon to his right is used to stir the sugar in and he waits for it to steep.

“Thanks, y/n.” He says, and you begin walking away with the dishes after a quick nod of your head.

“Dear god the tension in this room is so thick I can cut it with a fucking knife!” His mother gawks, flabbergasted at the sight in front of her. Her own tea has began to steep by this point and you continue making your way to the exit of the dining hall. As soon as you walk through the door, a sigh of relief escapes your lips and your mouth speaks without your permission.

“Fuck.” You groan, leaning against the castle wall.

It is later, with the sun saying goodbye as it sets across the horizon, you sit after a fresh washing in a floral nightgown. A knock at your door startles you, until you hear the familiar grunt of Katsuki’s presence. Swiftly, you make your way to the door and open it with a creak.

You couldn’t really complain about your job, working at the castle. You were provided with a cabin, with all the essentials and excellent thick blankets to accommodate for winter. Your pay was small, but gave you more than enough to buy necessities and some amount of décor to keep your humble home looking alive. Possibly the best part, however, was the small garden like are that came with the cabin, fenced in. You spent all of your first pay, years ago, buying essential seeds and garden accessories. It truly helped more than anyone could ever imagine when times were tough.

Katsuki steps in, taking care to lock the door behind him as he kicks his shoes off and begins taking the unnecessary items off of his body. He keeps the earrings, though, that are shaped like moons and cling to his ears in a cuff. The thin gold chain stays wrapped around his neck, but everything else is taken off and tossed to the side. He pulls down the backpack like tote from over his shoulder and places it on the floor, along with a big paper bag that crinkles as it sits.

“Whatcha doin?” You wonder, reaching your hands around his back to pull off the thick belt his parents make him wear.

“Brought a couple things, wanted ta see you. We only got a couple  hours today and I’ve been gone for a fuckin’ week.” He grumbles and begins reaching into the bag.

You head to the small sofa to your right, picking up a steeping cup of chamomile tea off of the coffee table in front of you and sitting down.  The sofa is a little rough, but you bought a nice throw pillow or two and some plush blankets to increase comfort. You take joy that Katsuki has never mentioned the state of your home, except when you first began living there. He was an ass about it, then, but only because you had no allowance for food in your budget that week and he thought you were god awful at budgeting due to it.

He sits with you, propping his feet on the table and pulls out a fresh container full of pot roast for you to eat. Next, a bunch of seeds and fertilizer for your garden. Finally, he reaches deep into the bag and pulls out a thin, long box with velvet across the top of it. His name is engraved atop it, in gold lettering.

Your brows quirk up at that, body perking at the idea of what could be in that box. Your prayers to the stars are answered when he opens it to reveal a thin, dainty anklet. Gold, like a chain, with rubies in the shape of diamonds grace it.  There’s a thin plate, with his name engraved into it on one side and on the other, it says “to eternity”. Your jaw begins to drop as confusion and shock spreads its wings across your face. He picks it up with thick fingers, and then grabs the inside of your calf, pulling it to the side and lifting up your foot. It’s subtle, the anklet. Not many will notice what it is, or care enough to see that it’s even there.

His fingers fiddle with the little piece of jewelry and you realize he is nervous as he fixes it around your left ankle.

And oh, Katsuki is. He’s so fucking nervous he feels like his heart is going to explode. None of his lucky stars told him it would be this terrifying to do something like this. No one warned him about the way his palms would sweat, the room would heat up, and his heart would lurch into his throat and make him want to run. But you’re everything he’s ever wanted, ever needed in life. He’s never been good with words, never been affectionate, and god he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you’re around. His soul suddenly feels fragile, like it never has before. As if it is a thin cylinder of glass in the palms of your dainty hands, that could shatter at any moment. You’re looking at him, confused, pretty little mouth open and cup of tea still in hand.

When he finishes, he thinks about saying he’s going to take a bath. But his hair is still wet from the one he just took in his own home. He only had all that junk on because his mother didn’t want him walking out of the castle without it.  So when his eyes meet yours, he croaks. He means to speak, means to tell you all the things he loves about you. From your hair, your nose, lips, personality, love for nature- everything. But he doesn’t, he just wordlessly gawks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

Your lips are on his, hot and heavy. Your cup of tea is all but forgotten as you smacked it down on the table. It has taken you both 8years to get to this point, four to be exact. Never did you think you’d be launching yourself onto the princes lap and trying to press your very souls together. He gasps out in shock and you lay purchase on his chest, sliding your hands under his shirt and up, touching anything you can get your hands on. Your lips trail down his jaw, behind his ear, and the expanse of his neck.

His throat feels like it’s going to close up, blood hot from your body pressing against his. One of your legs swings over onto each side of him, pressing your middles together while you leave more purple bruises up and down his throat. Both of your middles are hot, you think you might melt into him. Like hot lava, that same electricity jolts through your body as you’d accidentally pressed your crotches together and rocked forward. And oh, that felt good. He’s making noises underneath you, fingers digging into the skin of your plush bum and he thinks he’s going to hell in a handbasket.

And he’ll do it happily if he dies like this.

Your nightgown leaves little to the imagination, which certainly doesn’t help him out in this situation. He’s as hard as a rock and never experienced pleasure on this plane of existence before. Typically pleasure for him was spending a little time tucked away in his bedroom, with his hand and his imagination. He never really thought about anything, though. Occasionally he’d think about the way your lips felt on his and begin to wander with those thoughts, before calling  himself a an uncouth man and avoiding it. His parents never really talked with him about.. pleasure so to speak. They spoke of lying with someone as a chore, a duty, never mentioning that it could be pleasurable even once.

But now? He’s addicted to you. His body feels hot all over as you lightly grind the your clothed crotch against his own. His trousers are thin, as are your undergarments and he thinks he’s going to explode because you’re wet. You’re so wet you’re beginning to seep through the thin fabric of your plain, cotton panties and he thinks he’s on fucking fire. He can feel it. Your lips and tongue are all over his neck and he’s breathing heavier than he did when training for hours in the summer heat.

He’s spent his entire life chasing a high only to find that his one and only drug is feeling in love. And god, he needs his fix of you, or he’ll go mad and destroy kingdoms until the day he dies searching for you. His body feels like it’s been pulled on a string, the center of his chest lighter than it has ever been in his twenty four years of life, may he forever feel this.

Your break away from him to take a moment to breathe and in the process yank off his shirt. Muttering “I need to see you or I’ll die” and he swears he hears you whisper the words “so beautiful” when it finally comes off. Your arms wrap around, up under his own to drag your nails down the planes of his back. He lets out a gasp, sitting up and flipping you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head so it doesn’t hurt. You look at him like he created the constellations in the sky and he almost cries when you moan. His cherry eyes, deep and startling, rake down the picture of you and focus on your lips.

They’re puffy, slick with spit and he needs a taste or he’ll starve to death.

By the time his lips are on yours, your lips flutter shut and he’s muttering out praise between kisses. Your nimble fingers slide into his hair and grip like you’ll float away without it. His hips kick forward at that, sliding against your covered and slick folds in the process. A moan falls off your lips and it wraps its lustful embrace around his throat because he makes a strangled noise. The deities, whomever, whatever they are must be real because he’s experiencing euphoria and heaven and hell all at once and it must be punishment and reward for his past lives.

“You’re so fucking- fuck” He gets out, and when you hear a whimper leave his lips something takes a hold of you like you’re a puppet.

Your hands move on their own, reaching down between you,  for you to do something licentious, that if anyone in the kingdom knew about they’d call you names. And they make their way between your bodies, gripping onto his erection and moving your palm up and down a little. It isn’t a lot but it’s enough that Katsuki moans like he’s desperate and almost in pain. His fingers find stability in the plush blanket beneath you and he grips for dear life.  And oh, my god, you feel the electricity in the air now. You can almost see it.

You’ve never wanted something so bad as you want him. In every meaning of that word, you want him. You yearn for him to claim your body like it is his, and only his, and you’d die happy. His fingers release their death grip on the blanket and instead, one hand trails up your night gown while the other props his thumb on your cheek. Your body is hot all over and you already need another bath after this, you think. You’re not thinking clearly, fog clouds your discretion and you begin acting rather than thinking. Inhibition lowered, you guide his thumb to your lips and palm at him a bit more roughly.

His jaw drops open at the sight in front of him. Your hair is a mess, nightgown hiked up, and you begin to suck on his thumb with spit slick lips. Your eyes peer into the depths of  his soul as you do it, half lidded, and intentional. It is lewd, provocative, and he’s on cloud nine. Your ministrations are becoming more sure, more certain with every second that passes by as sounds leave him. But he’s always been a bit competitive, a little proud, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you feel good, too.

Your lips forget their task when his fingers press between your soaked, cloth-clad, folds. A sound you didn’t know you could make tells him he should keep going and he begins testing the waters. First he moves up and down, from the top to bottom, in the center, and you respond okay to it. It feels good but like something is missing. So, he tries something new, using two fingers to work in circular motions, feeling around. Something about it feels right even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

Your hips jolt, legs shaking and you begin singing expletives in response to his movements. His cock jumps in his pants with every sound you make and it takes everything in him not to jolt forward and press the tip of it against the heat in front of him. At this point, you’re biting on your lip, when you use your hands to yank him closer to you, nails digging in. He continues working you and you find sanity by biting as hard as you can into his shoulder, hiccupping from pleasure that is so good it almost hurts.

“Fuck- I love you. God I love you .” Katsuki pushes out, voice hoarse and searching for your response.

When you say it back, you repeat it like a broken record. Hiccuping, as a tears begin to well in your eyes from how good you feel. But you could feel better and you know you could. You both know you could and fuck it. You both need this. You’re addicts who can’t stop getting high off of one another’s scent and existence. Inhaling sweet fruit tart like aromas you both can’t get enough of. Your lungs burn when he isn’t around, your body aching and begging for the love of your life to come closer again. You’ve never been a romantic, never in your life, but this has to be love because you’d rid of every star in the goddamn sky to make room for him to be the brightest.

The sun pales in comparison to what happens next.

You squirm under his touch and remove his hand, he pauses, confused. Worry walks its way across his face and his mouth opens to say something until you hook your fingers into your panties and begin sliding them down. The moment he realizes where you’re taking this, he loses all control of himself and rips the side of them so that they hang off of your right ankle. You take pride in how desperate he becomes when he searches your eyes for an answer. You confirm and he is holding onto his sanity with a very thin string.

The string is going to snap one day, and, when it does, he’s going to take everything his kingdom has to offer and give it to you. He’ll search every corner of the earth and give you anything you wish for.

“I want you inside me, Katsuki” You whimper out and the string gets pulled a little tighter, a little closer to snapping.

“Oh my god.” He groans, yanking his own bottoms off and crawling between your legs.

Katsuki figures you’ve never done this, like him, but he read a book once that said it can hurt if you’re not prepared. So he starts slow, with one finger, sliding it in and out. One finger becomes two and he begins feeling around until a certain “come here” motion has you throw your head back and gasp. Your legs begin to shake and he’s so unbelievably in love, he realizes. Because as much pleasure as it brings him, he thinks about getting you another pillow so your head won’t hurt.

“You’re-“ You gasp, and he sits back on his heels.

He grip his cock with a firm hand at the base, pushing the tip in and he’s big. He’s so much bigger than you’d thought. You’re so full, to the brim, going to spill over if he keeps going and it stings but you don’t want him to stop. You can’t fathom this high ever ending.

He begins talking you through it, while he tries to grab onto the last little inkling of his sanity.

“Such a good girl- so good- you can do it baby you can do it.” He mutters out, kissing all over your face.  When his fingers come down to work in circular motions, you’re done for. Something has you pulled up by rope and everything goes black for a moment, and you’re floating. Nothing in the world matters as much as him, to you. Nothing matters except here and now where he’s got his length fully pressed to the hilt in side of you.

When you start squeezing inside of him, repeatedly, his hips speed up, and he realizes he’s going to cum. His mouth betrays him and he starts rambling on, desperate for release. His hips frantically smacking into yours as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. You keep saying you love him, that he’s good, that he’s perfect, muttering it all to yourself and you don’t realize he can hear it all. The praise fills his veins and courses through his heart like it is made to be there. It has made itself a home in his soul and he will never let it go. He doesn’t care if he has to lock it down in a cage and throw the key away.

“Gonna make you mine-you’re mine. My pretty girl, my love, g’nna steal the stars in the sky n give ‘em to you- fuck, you’re so pretty, I love you, love you.” He rambles, filling you to the brim with cum.

The pair of you sit after and bask in post-sex glow. You’re going to take the water from the sea and find a way to turn it to wine, so he’ll understand how drunk you get off of looking at his eyes. You’re going to give him anything and everything he’s ever wanted in this world because he is all you have ever wanted.  The moon sits high in the sky, watching over the two lovers she blessed herself, gracing them. You’re going to start a shrine out of gratefulness, for him.

His hair looks like the sunrise and his eyes remind you of cherries straight off the plant, attitude like fire and chili peppers, and his body is made of only the most beautiful minerals.

He looks like he’s going to cry when he has to leave early that morning, to tend to all of his duties. But he kisses you hard before he goes, saying he’ll miss you like the stars miss their loved one when it goes nova. And when you watch him walk away flowers bloom in your chest. The thorns prick at your heart and you tell them it’s okay. He leaves straightens his shoulders, keeps his eyes forward and walks  through the castle halls later that day with a grin. His parents begin to chastise him for being out late again and he promptly tells them to kick rocks.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugo smut #royal!au #bakugou x yn #bakugou x you #bakugo x yn #bakugo x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x yn #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugo fic rec #peaches masterlist

[harmonictechnicality]

*wrote this for @vecnuthy's birthday, so here you go babe! i baked you a word cake 🥰🎂* *ao3 link here*

Nobody gets cool shit on their birthday after the age of sixteen - Steve stands by this statement firmly. That year, he got his permit. And by yuppie parent default-mode, he also received his first car.

He almost, almost had a quarter-life crisis on his twenty-fifth birthday. Steve was seconds away from buying a motorcycle. Robin was very dramatic about this decision, kept threatening to order his gravestone if he followed through on an impulse purchase. 

This, however, would’ve nullified his Adults Get Lame Birthday Gifts theory entirely. So Steve apologized to the salesperson, and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. Robin canceled the order on his gravestone as well, thank god.

Gifts have continued to be lackluster every year since then. And his 30th birthday is no exception to this rule.

A gift card from his parents. A pair of athletic socks from Dustin. And a t-shirt from Robin. Essentially, the starter pack of Welcome to Adulthood. 

Except for one minor detail:

The shirt from Robin is exceptionally soft. Bamboo fibers or something, he wasn’t really listening to her description. Even the color is soft. Muted red, almost pink. Everything about it is soft. Airy. 

Touchable.

Okay - that’s not an observation Steve makes upon receiving it. But it’s one that Eddie Munson will never let him forget. 

The first time it happens is a week after Steve’s birthday. The two of them hit up a bar on the outskirts of town. A place Eddie frequents a lot, occasionally dragging Steve along as his Token 9 to 5 Friend.

“Welcome to the Dirty Thirty Club, man!” Eddie crows, already diving into Steve’s atmosphere for a hug. 

“Thanks! Good to see you, Munson.” Steve chokes out, returning the massive hug with a single pat on Eddie's back.

The guy always gives the most suffocating hugs, fucking cages Steve into his arms and steals the breath of out his lungs with one squeeze. Steve has to inhale through his nose, smells the soapy steam rolling off Eddie’s skin.

Shower. Eddie just showered before meeting him here. It’s so fucking clear by the way he feels damp, smells clean.

Steve hates that he notices that. Wishes he didn’t care about Eddie’s hygiene schedule. But the scent of shower gel is addictive, breathing it in fast. Big gulps of fresh air. Lungs extending like they can capture Eddie's atmosphere and keep it there.

Okay, seriously. Steve thought his Eddie Munson Crush had been buried with the rest of his trauma back in 1993.

“Dude. This shirt is so soft, holy shit.” Eddie is rubbing his hand all over the back of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pushing into the fabric.

“Uh yeah. Sure is.”

Eddie must’ve blazed up back at his place, it’s the only reasonable explanation as to why they’re hugging for this long. Gotta be some strong shit too - strong enough to make him sound completely blissed out over a damn shirt.

He’s is humming now, both hands petting Steve’s shoulders, one on each side. Pinching the material, twisting it till it curls around his index finger.

“Gotta get me one of these bad boys.” Eddie chuckles, turns it into a playful growling sound. “Could touch this all day.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve does an awkward wiggle out of the embrace. He looks down at his shoes, cheeks growing warmer as he continues to take Eddie’s words entirely out of context. 

Look, the sensible part of his brain knows that Eddie is talking about the shirt. That’s it. But the insufferably needy and more prominent part of his brain wants Eddie to be talking about himself in general.

That he could touch Steve all day long - shirt or no shirt.

Right. Steve needs a splash of water on his face. Could use a splash of water on his goddamn imagination too. Dilute the delusion for christ’s sake.

It happens again about four months later. Lucas invites the whole crew over to throw a surprise party for Max’s promotion at work.

Of course, Eddie is running late - he didn’t fail senior year twice solely from his shitty GPA. But showing up late to a surprise party? That’s a new level of risky. Not everything has to be a thrill-worthy adventure. Ugh.

“Max should be getting off work right about now.” Lucas explains, peering around the living room. “So everyone should head to your designated hiding spots.”

Nobody budges, just carrying on with their conversation.

“Alright, asshats - you heard Sinclair!” Steve snaps at each of them, glares for good measure. “Find a hiding spot or get the fuck out.” He gives a quick nod to Lucas, who still looks severely stressed, eyes ready to bust out of his skull any minute.

The coach-esque threat does the job. Everyone, ducks into place, voices descending into whispers. Whispers descending into shushes as the minutes draw closer to Max’s arrival. Steve is folded up behind the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. 

There’s a small creak coming from the front door. A few people yell 'surprise.' Steve peaks to the side to see Lucas shaking his head at them.

“No, nobody move.” He instructs, voice caught between a yell and whisper. “I was just letting Eddie inside.”

Instinct takes over. Steve twists around the corner of the couch, needing to see for himself that Eddie is here. That he really came.

Clearly, he didn’t move fast enough. Although he could’ve sworn he moved so embarrassingly fast that the vertebras in his back sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies (post-milk). 

But no one is there. No Eddie. No Lucas. No one.

“What the-” Something grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling at his collar. A few people start aggressively shushing him.

“Chill out, Stevie.” Eddie is right there, meeting Steve’s face with a lopsided smirk. He’s close, way too close. Still holding the collar of Steve’s shirt with one hand, stretching it out. Keeping them close.

“Just trying to check the tag,” He releases Steve just an inch or so. His voice is so hushed, the quietest Steve has ever fucking heard it. “Wanted to see where I might be able to purchase such a godly article of clothing.”

“Ever heard of a thing called boundaries?” Steve hisses, swatting a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

They haven’t talked much since that night, barely any interaction for four months. But watching Eddie lean in, angling his head lower to study the tag on Steve’s shirt, hot breath on his neck…

It resets the clock. Flips the hourglass on Steve’s feelings for him.

He’s infatuated all over again, and all it took was Eddie invading his personal space. Just like he always does.

“You’ll have to ask Robin.” Steve whispers. Tries not to flinch when Eddie smooths Steve’s shirt collar back into place. “She’s the one that bought it for me.”

“Damn. Buckley has good taste.”

“Sure does.”

No distance is created. Neither of them move away. Eddie’s eyes continue to sketch over every stitch in Steve’s shirt, every hemline. He seems hyper fixated on it, too fixated to notice Steve’s pink-ish cheeks, thank god. 

If it weren’t for the shirt, Steve would assume Eddie is checking him out, looking him up and down with a heavy gaze. Dark pupils, casted darker by the dim lighting.

“Can I?” Eddie raises a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He pauses, lifts an eyebrow at the end of his question.

Steve’s jaw is too tight to answer or counter back with a joke about how Eddie never asks permission before popping personal bubbles. All he can do is nod a little too eagerly.

Eddie reaches into Steve’s sleeve, rubs the material from the inside. A small grin forms on his face. He looks so pleased, purely amused. That’s enough to untangle Steve’s muscles, relaxing under Eddie’s light touch. 

But that’s the other thing. He’s barely touching Steve. Every now and then, his knuckles roll over Steve’s skin. Really, that’s it, that’s all he’s doing. And god, Steve craves more.

Eventually, Eddie switches it up, pinching the material between the pads of his fingers. He scoots closer to Steve’s side to do so. 

Time feels paused. Time feels rapid. It’s going nowhere and already slipping through his grasp. All Steve can think about is placing his hand underneath Eddie’s chin, bringing his lips up to his own. Kissing him till the clock stops ticking. Till the sand stops running.

“Softest shirt ever.” Eddie gives the material a slight tug. Smiles wider.

Steve gulps. “If you say so.”

“I mean, seriously - it must be made from the glow off an angel’s halo or something, cause damn.”

“You’re a trip, Munson.” 

Steve has to keep telling himself that Eddie is obsessed with touching his clothes - he’s not thinking about taking them off of Steve. No matter how much he wants that to be the reality of the situation. 

It’s not.

They stay like this till the doorknob clicks, turns. Steve almost forgot that he was at a party, surrounded by other people. 

Immediately, all of his senses flip back into Extrovert Autopilot. Everyone jumps out, yells a combination of surprise and congratulations (because they failed to coordinate that apparently).

He stays in this zone for the rest of the party. Talkative and breezy. Charming the pants off Max’s coworkers with silly little anecdotes about her as a kid. 

Steve is damn good at hosting. It’s probably in his white-collar bloodline or some shit. Still, anytime Eddie walks by, he glitches up. Temporarily out of sync.

He doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Eddie ducks out early, waving broadly before slipping through the front door.

Time does that weird thing again. Feels paused and rapid all at once as he watches the door shut behind Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Lucas nudges him.

“Yeah.” The gentle gesture returns time back to normal. Brings Steve back into this moment.

“Doing just fine.”

It’s all he thinks about for weeks. Anytime there’s a lull at work or a commercial break on television, Steve drifts. Pictures Eddie is in his shirt, the one he’s so obsessed with.

At first, it’s just that. Basic. Eddie standing in front of him, wearing that muted red, almost pink, shirt. Sometimes smiling, sometimes expectant. Either way, it’s always enough to make Steve’s neck feel flushed, creeping up to his cheeks.

Gradually, it evolves into something more complex. A fantasy, almost dreamlike. He imagines Eddie running his hands all over himself, his torso, his chest. The thin material of the shirt moving and shifting under his palms. His head tipping back, lips plush and red from where he’s gritting down, biting hard. Holding back sounds.

Those images get Steve in trouble. Panting on conference calls and boners at his work desk. 

He’s alone in his apartment when it grows, branches off into darker urges. Desires. Steve glances down at the floor, can’t help but wonder what Eddie might look like down there, staring up at him. Wearing Steve’s clothes. Begging Steve to take them off. Rip them, ruin them.

“That fucking does it.” Steve scolds himself, scolds his dick too. He’s calling Eddie Munson right now - before he has time to overthink it.

His hand is trembling as he picks up the house phone, dials out the number he didn’t even know he had memorized. The trembling thing is kinda embarrassing, but it's still better than sticking it down his pants and jerking off while the Cooking Network plays reruns in the background.

Every ring feels drawn out. Stretching time like taffy. 

Eddie picks up on the fourth taffy-length ring. “Eddie here.”

“Hey, man.” His voice comes out all strained, bone-dry.

“Shit. That really you, Harrington?” 

Apparently his voice comes out unrecognizable too.

“The one and only.”

Eddie snorts loudly into the phone speaker. “Doubt that very much - seems like a common enough name.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, smartass.” Steve rubs his neck, scratching his skin. Working his way to extracting the words out of his throat. “So um… you busy tonight?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers.

“Cool. Me neither.”

There’s silence after that. Well, almost silence. Just a slight hissing sound from the phone line can be heard. Not enough sound to make things less awkward though.

Steve has no good reason to be so antsy, so wired with anxiety. They’ve been friends since metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan back in ‘86. So being outwardly weird around Eddie? It’s too damn fishy. 

“Is that it?” Eddie says. “Did you just want to bond over our empty schedules?” 

Of fucking course, Eddie would call Steve out on his weird bullshit. Doesn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass. 

Bad time to think about Eddie’s ass.

“Come over.” Steve blurts out. Needs to say something before a parade of ass-centric images start back up in his mind. “I ordered way too much takeout and there's a stack of movie rentals that I need to binge to minimize those late fees, so yeah… come over.”

No response, even the background hissing from the speaker cuts out. Maybe the phone line went dead. Or maybe Eddie hung up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abruptly ended a conversation, perpetually flouncing to whatever is new and shiny. Always distracted. 

“What kind of takeout?” He finally responds.

“The Greek place with the kickass tzatziki sauce.” Steve smirks, already knows the answer before Eddie can utter another word. 

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Eddie arrives in less than an hour, actually. Knocks on Steve’s door exactly 51 minutes after Steve gets off the phone with him. It’s slightly disturbing that Steve suddenly turns into a math whiz when he’s fawning over someone.

Someone that fawns over his clothes more than him, but who gives a shit about logistics?

“Fucking starving.” Eddie says, slamming the door behind him. 

Steve smiles, motions his head toward the kitchen. “Help yourself, dude.”

The plan is so stupid. Half-baked at best: get Eddie out of his shirt (and jacket), and into Steve’s shirt instead. That’s it. That’s all Steve’s got so far.

But it’s better than nothing. So what the hell? It’s worth a shot.

He waits until Eddie has stuffed his face with a decent amount of spanakopita, fully reclining on Steve’s couch. Looks incredibly comfy, too comfy to move.

Good.

Steve grabs the strawberry sorbet from his freezer, the one Robin forced him to buy after going vegan last spring. He scoops a bowl for himself and a bowl for Eddie. Exhales the last bit of his self-respect before returning to the living room with the most boring dessert option ever.

“Here you go.” Steve says.

Eddie scrunches his nose at it. “The fuck is this?”

“Sorbet.”

“Why am I not surprised that the former rich kid prefers sorbet over ice cream?”

Steve sputters, takes the bowl back before it further offends Eddie somehow. “That’s not… I didn’t… it’s actually-”

“Deep breath, Stevie. I’m just teasing you.” Eddie yanks the bowl back, shovels a brain-freezing amount into his mouth. “Far too easy, by the way. Give me a bit of a challenge next time. Makes it more fun… for one of us, at least.”

“Fun. Sure.”

“The one of us being me.”

“Got that.”

Steve decides to take Eddie’s ‘challenge’ remark as the perfect cue to set his stupid plan into action.

Steve pretends to shift around on the couch cushion, getting situated. Does this until he ‘accidentally’ fumbles the sorbet. Spills it all over Eddie’s clothes, his distressed black shirt, his dark gray sweatpants. All of it. Makes a much bigger mess than he intended to.

Eddie jumps up. “Goddamnit, Harrington!”

“I am so sorry!” No he’s not. If anything, his apology is more smug than sincere.

“This shit is sticky as hell.” 

“Really sorry, man.” Steve hands Eddie a few stray napkins, like that’s going to make a difference.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one of the most juvenile tactic that Steve has ever pulled. Truly, it tops the overused movie theater-yawn tactic.

“Here - let me get you a change of clothes.” Steve offers, already heading to his bedroom. He’s walking and talking and fucking fidgeting. Suddenly paranoid that Eddie can see right through him, see all his desperation on display. Splattered everywhere like strawberry sorbet.

He turns back around for a split second. “I’ll throw those in the wash. Have them dry and ready to wear again by the time you head out.”

“Oh…” Eddie keeps patting down his clothes with a sopping napkin, barely listening. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His acting performance is fucking dismal. Over the top. Porno-level obvious. Must be karma for all of those times he gave Robin and Eddie shit about being in an improv club. Makes a mental note to never mock their nerdy hobbies for the rest of his life.

“Well, it must be my lucky night.” Eddie calls out from the bathroom door, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume.

“What makes you say that?”

“Bestowing the holy grail of shirts upon me? Allowing me even one hour in downy-soft paradise?” Eddie is using that tone, the one that’s boozy and savory. Borderline mean. Equally hot and annoying. “Possibly the greatest of olive branches you could’ve offered up.”

“Christ, you’re dramatic.” Which is so hypocritical after the stunt he just pulled.

The bathroom door swings open and nothing could’ve prepared Steve for how good Eddie looks in his clothes. The shirt is snug through the sleeves, loose through his chest. Makes Steve realize how differently built they are. The waistband on the athletic shorts is sitting low on his hips, maybe a size too big. If they were any bigger, they’d slip right off. Landing all tousled around his bare feet…

Okay, Steve has got to snap the fuck out of it. He rubs aggressively at his eyes. Needs soap or military-strength detergent to fucking cleanse whatever is going on with him lately. 

“We could watch something.” Steve says, even though that’s exactly what he’s already doing.

Watching.

Eddie shrugs. Leans against the wall. “We could.”

“Or… I don’t know.” Steve can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s arms. His pale skin looks even lighter against the reddish tones. The waves and curls of black ink look even darker. Just a splash of color has turned him into a landscape of extremes. 

“You don’t?” 

“Um…” Steve flops, flounders. Scrambling for an idea. A coherent thought. Anything. “Cards. We could play cards.”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkles, then quickly straightens back out. Nodding politely. “Sure, we can do that. If that’s what you want to do.”

Steve mumbles something about grabbing a card deck from the storage closet, although he’s pretty sure it’s unintelligible. Makes a quick escape, jogs at the weirdest tempo known to mankind. 

Flirting with a longtime friend is throwing him for a loop. Many loops actually. Theme park amount of loops. All of his usual ease and charm are being denied access. Not tall enough to ride this ride.

The closet is packed with junk, so finding a deck of cards is obnoxiously difficult. He’s tossing coats into piles and shoving shoes into corners. Between his nerves and his determination, Steve is working up a goddamn sweat.

“Need a hand in here?” Eddie’s voice startles him. Steve jolts backwards, straight into a shelf of puzzles. Tons of pieces go flying, some landing in Steve’s hair. Redecorating the fucking closet with tiny bits of colored cardboard.

Fantastic.

Eddie backs away, arms crossing into his chest. “Jesus, man. You’re freaking me out.” 

“Sorry.” Steve says. Shakes the puzzle pieces out of his hair.

“Is it the shirt?” The question sounds genuine. No jokes, no sarcasm. “Does it look that bad on me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t know how to respond. The shirt looks amazing, that’s not the problem at all. It’s just… “Um, actually-”

“Look, I know I’m not a pastel heartthrob.” Eddie gestures directly to Steve before waving his arms around. He starts pacing in the tiny closet, just ranting away. “And let’s fucking face it. I’m not getting any younger, so I doubt I can pull off this slim-cut style the way I used to… but come on. It can’t be that repulsive, right?”

“Eddie.” Steve frowns. 

“Shit, that bad?” Eddie smacks a hand to the top of his hand. Grabs a fistful of his hair and looks down at the shirt, still rambling. “We’re using first names now? What’s next? Gonna bust out my full legal name? My birth certificate? Then we’ll really mean business.”

Okay, yikes. And Steve thought he was the stressed one. This is going south very, very fast. He needs to curb the self-destruction that’s happening in front of him. Just… reach out. 

“Hey.” And Steve does. Literally. He places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sucks in some courage. He waits until Eddie makes eye contact, breathes at a less neurotic speed. Then he exhales all the courage. Turns it into honesty instead. “You look… you look good.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“No, I mean it. It’s different. But in a good way.” Steve skims his nails against the fabric, drawing shapes into Eddie’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“You do?”

Steve nods. Bites down on his lip, flicks his eyes to Eddie’s mouth. “Like it on you.”

The energy between them is thick, clinging to Steve’s skin. It’s new except it’s not. Steve has felt it before. At the bar, the party, that random Thursday in 1993. He recognizes the flex and curl in his stomach as Eddie takes one step forward, then two. The feeling is familiar and strange combined. Knotted tight.

Eddie raises an eyebrow before taking another step. Like the day behind the couch. Quiet permission, one he doesn’t ask for often. Only when it means something.

Steve lets the hand on Eddie’s shoulder fall slowly. Catching the material at the bottom, tugging it forward. Prays to fucking god that’s all the permission Eddie needs.

“You were right.” Steve lets his hand drift back up, landing in the center of Eddie’s chest. Wrinkling and smoothing the fabric underneath. “It really is soft.”

Eddie’s breath hitches up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice drops lower, richer. “Could touch this all day.”

Eddie thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drifting into the small space between them. He places both hands on Steve's cheeks and kisses him firmly. Steve presses in deeper, breathes out through his nose so that he doesn’t have to break away. 

It’s so good, kissing like they’re teenagers behind the bleachers. So swept away in the heat and hunger that they’d be late for class. Showing up to study hall with blotchy skin and achy lips. They keep kissing just like that. Feeling, exploring. Lingering in all the areas that seem to make the other person hum or gasp.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers. His hands push up into Steve’s hair, combing it back, pulling in down with an edge. Hard enough to make Steve tilt his head, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah?” Steve replies. Barely a question, too lost in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his neck. 

Eddie rubs his mouth over the edge of Steve’s jaw. “You’re so…” 

The sentence stops right there, never gets finished either. He nuzzles over the wet spots of skin covering Steve’s neck. Marks them all up with a gentle nip, not enough to leave bruises. Just enough to make Steve shiver.

Steve is making so many breathy noises, which should be humiliating. Pathetic for someone who’s had fucking loads of first kisses, even more makeout sessions.

But none of that really matters, his age or experience or slutty track record. Nothing counts when being kissed like this. Nothing can stop Steve from taking this moment, eating up all of the sounds and sensations. 

Fuck, he wants all of it. Wants Eddie closer somehow, on top of him, beneath him, surrounding him.

He can’t stop tugging at Eddie’s shirt, well… his shirt. No doubt that it’s stretching out, close to ripping it. Keeps pulling it anyways - dragging Eddie into him till Steve’s back is pressed up against the wall.

“Come here.” Steve curls a finger under Eddie’s chin, brings his face back up to him. Not nearly done kissing him stupid, square on the lips. His mouth is warmer now, a few degrees hotter from sucking Steve’s neck. Licks into Steve’s mouth, gets him to whine at how good it feels. 

The washing machine timer goes off, buzzing throughout the whole apartment. But Steve can’t let this end, he can’t.

Except for the buzzing won’t let up. Continuously interrupting all the delicious noises that Eddie makes whenever Steve bites over his bottom lip, gets it nice and puffy between his teeth. 

“Should we...?” Eddie smushes his nose into Steve’s before motioning to the door. 

“Yeah probably,” Steve unclaws his hand from Eddie’s waist. Kisses him once more before sliding out of reach.

As he walks down the hallway, heading into he laundry room, he hears it. Eddie’s voice, still inside the closet. Chanting the same phrase over and over again:

‘Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Holy fucking shit!’

Steve cracks a smile. Kind of hard to believe his heart is chanting the same damn phrase. So full of adrenaline, fucking crumbling under this wave of raw emotion.

Really, he never thought he’d find himself in this situation. Holding Eddie’s clean clothes in one hand, thumbing over his kiss-bitten lips with his other hand. Impatiently craving to get back to where they left off, hopefully on the couch or bed or floor this time.

“Hurry it up, will ya?” Eddie whistles behind him.

“What’s the rush?” Steve tosses the clothes into the dryer, doesn’t turn around because his self-restraint will be fucked if he does. 

“My lips are getting cold.”

“That’s the best line you got?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie says. “You sucked out all of my brain cells with your mouth. Can’t expect me to be Swayze-level smooth after something like that.”

No way he’s allowed to be so damn cute comparing himself to Patrick Swayze. As if they're even in the same league. Endearing, really.

“You can head back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve pushes a few buttons on the dryer. The timer starts, another reset on the clock.

Feelings that flip the hourglass once again. 

He really fucking hopes it never runs out this time. 

Eddie is perched on the floor, flipping through the channels on the tv. He's squinting at the harsh light because for some insane reason, he always insists on watching the tv in total darkness.

Even that’s cute now. Annoyingly cute.

Steve joins him on the floor, instantly slouching into Eddie’s arms because he can do that now. Completely allowed to be sweet and gross and smitten. 

“Guess my theory was wrong after all.”

“Hm?” Eddie replies, still mindlessly channel-surfing.

Steve gives Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek (because he can do that now too), and looks at the shirt. Muted red, almost pink. Soft and touchable. “Apparently, you do get cool birthday gifts as an adult.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

This thing between him and Eddie. It feels longer than running sand or ticking timers. Longer than their years of friendship. Maybe not timeless…

“I’ll tell you later, Eddie.”

But pretty damn close.

#steddie #steddie fic #Steve has a really soft shirt and Eddie can't stop touching it #that's it. that's the plot lol.

[dakotalun]

hi!! I just read both parts to your series ‘You Belong With Me’ and holy shit it’s so good!! I wanted to ask if I could request something maybe?? :)

i was thinkin something where Eddie and a super shy girl are dating. They’re only like three weeks into dating but they love each other so much. Reader’s parents fight a lot (maybe Eddie knows), and she randomly shows up on his trailer doorstep crying one day cause of it…sm fluff plz😭🙏

omg I love this prompt! I wrote this in one day because I simply couldn't stop thinking about it!!

Words: 2.2k

Eddie is the best thing to happen this year. I never thought that I would be dating the town “freak” but here I am. The only thing is that he’s not a freak, well in the ways everyone describes him as he’s not. He’s got a very sweet and loving side to him that if you just gave it time he would show.

It became apparent how much of a caring side he has when I told him about my parents.

“They hate each other! I never understood why the hell they got married in the first place. I mean if two people hate each other so much why be together?” I was ranting and pacing about the most recent argument my parents had.

“Sweets, you gotta calm down, please. Come sit,” Eddie motions for me to sit down on the bed next to him but I keep pacing, there are too many emotions for me to be still right now.

“I can’t calm down, I mean they do this all the time! They act all fine and loving around me but then once they think I’ve gone to bed they rip each other’s throats out. I can’t fucking deal with it anymore!” I can feel the tears welling up at the corner of my eyes, but I refuse to cry over them, over this.

Eddie gets up and stands in my path, “Move,” I look at him waiting but he doesn’t budge, “Eddie move. Please.”

“Nope. Not until you take a deep breath and calm down. This is too much for you right now, you just need to sit with it, trust me. If anyone knows fucked up families it’s me.”

“Don’t say that,” My heart breaks hearing him say stuff like that,  “You didn’t choose for your parents to leave you.”

“And you didn’t choose for yours to hate each other,” He places his hands on my shoulders, “If anything else happens just know that I’m here for you. If they start fighting and you need a place to crash come here, Wayne won’t mind and if he does then I’ll kick him out.”

I laugh at his joke, knowing that he would really do it if it had to be done.

“Okay,” I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him tight, “Thanks Eds. I love you.”

“Love you too honey.”

That was last week. Only last week when Eddie said I could come over any time they were fighting and I didn’t wanna hear it. So when I heard the screams come from down the hall I started getting dressed, but then I stopped. It was only last week. Was it too soon to come over and sleep at his place?

We’ve slept in the same place before but it was merely by accident, either we were watching tv in my living room and we fell asleep or we were cuddling after school and fell asleep. Never was it purposeful, until now.

Another scream comes from my parents room, followed by a crash. I have to leave. I can’t deal with this, so I continue getting dressed and pack a small bag before sneaking out of my room. The worst part is that I can’t even jump out of my window like most teens, I have to actually use the front door if I wanna leave. 

Quietly I open the door to my bedroom and slink out of it as quickly as I can without making noise. Their shouts are louder out here, no cushion protecting my ears now. This also means I can clearly hear what they are yelling about.

“DAVE I HAVE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES BEFORE-” My mom’s voice coes riquseing down the hall.

“AND I’M TELLING YOU THAT I. DON’T. CARE! WE DO NOT HAVE THE MONEY FOR IT AND THERE IS NO WAY TO GET IT!” My dad’s voice follows close behind.

“WHY NOT? IS IT BECAUSE YOU KEEP SPENDING IT ON HOOKERS AND DRUGS? ARE YOU TRYING TO BREAK UP THIS FAMILY?!”

“FAMILY? FAMILY? YOU THINK THIS IS A FMAILY? THIS IS TWO HUMANS WHO HAD A KID TOGETHER FAR TOO EARLY AND NOW HAVE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO TAKE CARE OF IT!” 

It. He referred to me as an it, not a she, or a they, or hell even a he. A fucking it! I’ve been their kid for 17 years now and they can’t even pretend to love me. I guess I was never their kid, I was just a burden for them. Well now they don’t have to worry about me.

I rush towards the steps and out the front door, not caring to be quiet anymore. I can feel the raindrops on my skin as they mix with the ever flowing tears. But I don’t care, I need to get as far away from that hell hole as I can, I need to be somewhere safe. I need Eddie.

---

I’m walking for what feels like hours, the rain now completely soaked through my clothes. My feet and hands are frozen but I can’t turn back now, I’m closer to Eddie’s than I am home anyways.

Walking through this part of town at this time of night was always peaceful, it would help me clear my head of all the things it was holding on to. The pain, anxiety and depression would slowly fade away as I walk, left, right, left, right, left, right. Until there was nothing to think of anymore, nothing to worry about.

Now, as I walk the familiar route to the trailer park, my brain can’t seem to shut up or shut off. The screams and yells from my parents flood every corner of my brain, never letting go. No matter how hard I try to get rid of them, they stick like super glue.

I look up from the sidewalk noticing the world around me getting slightly brighter than it was before. Eddie. My heart flutters at the thought of him, the way I know he will hold me and kiss my forehead. I turn into the trailer park, now only a minute away from the one I love.

I approach the doorstep and before I can knock I take a deep breath hoping it will make it less noticeable that I was crying the whole way here. But it doesn’t.

So I knock anyway. Knock, knock, knock. The sound rings through the small home like a pen dropping in an empty room. There’s shuffling on the other end and then the click of the lock. The door swings open to reveal Wayne, Eddie’s uncle. He’s standing there in his work clothes, one shoe on the other sitting by his recliner.

“Oh honey,” He steps aside and ushers me in, helping me take my coat off, “Did you walk all the way here?”

I nod, not trusting my voice just yet. Eddie calls from the other room, “Who is it? I just ordered pizza so it really shouldn’t be here ye-” He talks as he walks out of his room, cups and plates sitting in his hand.

“Shit.” He rushes over to me and cups my face in his hands, “What happened? What’s going on?” His eyes are frantic and he looks back and forth from me to Wayne, hoping someone will answer.

“My-” My voice cracks as I try to speak so I take a moment to think of what to say, “Parents.” I finally settle on. 

Eddie just nods and pulls me in for a hug, not caring that I’m soaked from head to toe. Wayne finishes putting on his other shoe then walks over to Eddie.

“She can stay as long as she needs, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring some stuff home after my shift.” Then he pats him on the shoulder and heads out into the pouring rain that you just escaped from.

Eddie keeps holding me while I cry into his chest, wishing that this nightmare of a life was over. As I calm down I can hear him spftly whispering things to me.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe here. I love you so much baby.” The words fill my heart with warmth and happiness that I can’t help but to stop thinking about my parents.

I sadly pull away from Eddie, missing his warmth and look up at him, “Thank you.” My voice is still weak but it’s less strained than before.

“It’s nothing. I told you I’m always here for you, I don’t care when you come over as long as I know you’re safe.” He plants a kiss on my temple, “Can I start a warm bath for you? I don’t want you to catch a cold from these wet clothes.”

This. This is the Eddie everyone needs to see, if they did they would understand him the way I do. This sweet and caring boy who only wants the best for those he loves and cares for. I couldn’t have wished for anyone more perfect than him.

I nod my head and follow him as he leads us to the small bathroom next to his bedroom. He turns the faucet on and tests the temperature before turning back to me.

“I’ll set out some clothes on my bed and here,” He grabs a towel from the hall closet, “Is a towel for when you’re done. I’m just gonna be in the living room, so call if you need anything okay?”

“Thank you.”

“You already said that sweet girl,” A smile spread across his face, showing off his signature dimples.

“I know, but I want you to know that I really mean it,” I give him a quick kiss before he’s heading out into the living room again.

I quickly strip down, tearing the wet clothes from my body with some struggle, before finally getting into the warm water that Eddie prepared. The heat immediately starts to soothe my aching muscles and joints, the feeling bringing a wash of relaxation over me.

I wash myself off and clean my hair with Eddie’s coconut shampoo and conditioner. I always love the smell when he’s fresh out the shower and the scent is the strongest. After I’m thoroughly cleaned I get out and dry myself most of the way, only missing a few spots on my back.

I exit the bathroom and am blasted with a wave of cold air, sending shivers up my spine. I head into Eddie’s room to change and dry my hair. I walk in and notice that he left out his favorite Hellfire short and some grey sweats for me to wear, even if they both are over sized I love the gesture. I throw them on and admire the fit in his mirror before heading out to Eddie in the next room.

“There she is!” Eddie says, opening his arms wide, “How ya feelin’?” I walk over and snuggle up next to him, engulfed in the scent and warmth of him once again.

“Better. Still a little cold though,” I nuzzle further into him, not that there’s much room between us already.

“Well you’re in luck. I looked in the pantry and found some hot cocoa mix and mini marshmallows. I got your mug sittin in the kitchen,” Before I could even try to get it myself Eddie is up and off the couch and in the kitchen warming up my cocoa. He comes back only seconds later with a large mug topped with far too many marshmallows.

“Thank you,” I say as I reach out and grab the mug with both hands. I take a sip and feel as the warm liquid heats me from the inside. “DId you add-”

“Peppermint and cinnamon, yes ma’am. I know what you like,” He winks at me. A blush creeps up my cheeks at the words but I hide my face in the delicious drink before he can see. Eddie turns away from me to grab a nearby blanket and toss it over my shoulders, but he doesn’t go back to his seat.

“Come back! I miss your warmth.”

“Yeah yeah in a minute I gotta put this movie on first,” He’s crouched in front of the tv shuffling through disks and tapes. A minute later he finds the one he was looking for with a triumphant “Here it is, that little bastard.”

I just roll my eyes at him as he sets up the movie. Finally done with that and anything else he might need to do, Eddie slides in next to me and cuddles in the blanket as well. We watch as the screen brightens and the opening scene of my favorite movie starts to play.

“Wait, how did you?” I look between the tv and the man next to me, who just has a smile on his face as he looks at my shocked expression. “I bought it a while ago, figured you’d be over a lot so I might as well start making it more homey for you.”

I am in too much shock to utter any words so I opt for smothering him in kisses instead. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me and I can’t imagine anyone else sitting here next to me other than Eddie. We both burst out laughing before settling down and watching the movie before both of us drift off to sleep.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn @meanlilbean @sonnyahngel @corrodedcass @pigwidgeonxo @marsmunson86 @lottie-90 @figmentofquinn @sareim123122 @eddies-puppet @gvf23 @kennedy-brooke @rocklees-wife @emma77645 @cherris-n-peaches @breehumbles @joequinn-love @anyoddthoughts @aysheashea @eddiesskittle @uncxmfxrtablex @cherrymedicine13 @mrsjellymunson @shotgunhallelujah @bambipowerblueaddition @hexqueensupreme @josephquinnsfreckles @harrysgothicbitch @paleidiot @smurfflynn @lilyungpeanut @selena-rocker27

#eddie stranger things #munson #eddie munson #eddie my love #eddie my beloved #female reader #oneshot #smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie x reader

[xalicitie]

Take Care of Me — Paul Maud’dib Atreides (smut)

Leila is Chani’s trusted crony. While Chani and Paul share a passionate and intimate love for one another, as Paul embraces his role as Lisan Al-Gaib, Chani encounters detrimental trouble in dealing with his new persona and thus turns to Leila as a channel for her frustration. Leila has been Paul’s own medic for a day, and returning to his chambers to treat an opened wound, she takes her frustration out on him. And yet, she finds out he’s frustrated, too.

The full story will be posted on AO3–HAHA. Just kidding. I have no fucking motivation anymore and it’s killing me. If I manage to fill in a few scenes on this story, then it will make it onto AO3. The full story starts a few scenes ahead of this.

Also, this is based on the movies. I’m reading book 1 now, but I wrote this pretty early on. A lot of the stuff probably won’t make sense in the Dune world. If u have a problem suck my cokkk

Isn’t it obvious I like medic smut scenarios

Also if u want the ending of this tell me! idk if the Dune fandom will welcome me here🙏

I enter Paul Maud’Dib Atreides’ chambers for my second round—and yet within my circumstance, and the unfortunate display of events that have fallen into place, instead of knocking, I barge through.

I find Usul confined to his bed, blood gushing through his white garment.

“Leave.” I pronounce with an impatient tongue. The nurses at Usul’s side take a look at me, and with silent agreement, rush off and through his grand doors.

Usul dons a blank countenance, slightly embellished with the graze of concern. More prominently, however, I can see physical pain in his eyes. I try not to let him uncover that this deeply perturbs me.

“Now why in the fucking world would you do this to yourself?” I demand. My footsteps boom through the lifeless room, my lips stiff with inhibition.

He sits there for a second, gaping up at me slightly, plainly confused.

“Excuse me?”

I know this is the Messiah. And I understand that he could have me thrown off the planet for speaking to him in such a wretched way. But with this, I uncover in myself boiling rebellion.

“Damnit, don’t gape at me.” I snarl a bit. I can feel my indignation running wild, through a pounding chest and through my mindless mouth.

“Sit up.”

He does, silently. I’m grateful.

“Take this off.”

I gesture to his shirt. He does this, too.

I come around with a cloth. Staring down at him, I survey the image—he’s bleeding out. Quickly, at that. He messed up his stomach wound considerably. His toned stomach is scaled with blood, a red, filthy gash on his left side. My heartbeat chases a pounding rhythm. Holy shit: he might fucking die.

My inhibition snaps.

“Nevermind. Screw it. Lay against the headrest. Be careful, you damned fool.”

Usul groans as he backs into his bed. “I was told I was getting nursed, not chastised.” He seethes through a set of clamped teeth.

“Yes, well, you managed to ruin your binding. I can see it took an incredible amount of effort, too.” I climb into the bed. Barring off any uncomfortable undertones, I crawl towards him.

“Yet I also don’t need a fucking coach right now, Leila. I need a medic.” I feel his hot breath lingering in the air near; I snap my face towards his. His gaze is unwavering, and I can see his studying gaze, his brow twitching calculatingly.

I’m a frazzled mess—I can tell as my eyes twitch that’s it’s painfully obvious.

I flinch suddenly. My gaze wanders, and I find warm, masculine digits consuming mine.

“You need to stop shaking, damnit.”

His quiet yet pregnant words resonate with me and into my weak, distressed body. I fall still. With his palm against my aching fingers, I find the quickest respite.

“Focus. I will not die.”

“Did you prophesize that, hm?”

“No. I trust you.”

My eyes flutter shut. I inhale a tremulous breath. He’s right—I can’t work in my state right now. But if I want to do as much as merely stopping the bleeding, I’ll have to shift my attitude. Swiftly.

My mind doesn’t dare wander towards Chani. It would be custom for me to turn to her for strength, but the mental image of her mainly brings about animosity. Instead, I focus here, now—on Usul’s palpable heat, in his hands and in the heavy scent of his presence.

I take a moment. A moment, quietly finding my peace and my lost, inner instinct.

After many prolonged breaths, I sit up.

And I get to work.

“This is going to hurt. You might want to lay down.”

Silently, he obeys me.

My skills succumb to my mind. I work intensely—I dab the cloth into his thick blood, which stains his alabaster skin. As I work, a few meager thoughts roam my mind: I doubt no Fremen wouldn’t pay their wage for a touch of his blood, I ponder. Being so intimate with his mortality brings everything into scope; Usul has a power only rivaled by Emperors, Kings, and Queens, however any hit can be fatal. Without Paul, the Fremen lose their symbol and their incentive. But, well, no pressure.

On the other hand, I’m notably grateful for his compliance. And I’m even further impressed with his determination too, in refusing to speak a single word nor a mere sound. As I uncover my own tenets, and I come out of Chani’s shadow, I’m starting to realize.. my favor isn’t entirely for Chani.

A bowl of water arrives with a nurse. Thanking her and sending her off, I near Usul again.

“Does this have to do with Chani?”

As I begin to clean his wound, I talk pointedly, inquiry woven into my tone.

His voice comes eventually, but he groans when I pour the sacred water directly onto his gash. His bony fingers twitch and attach onto the mattress, grasping lightly.

“-Did she tell you anything?” He utters begrudgingly.

“Mhm.” I answer.

“Is that why you’re in a mood?”

Water pools onto his stomach, which is hard with muscles, rising and falling with his trained breaths. It slips onto the bed, wetting it gradually by the second.

“I questioned you first.” I demand.

I can smell his eyes rolling a mile away.

“Yes. I attempted .. reaching her. She’s more stubborn now than I recall.”

I nod involuntarily. Stubborn was a nice word.

“So, you’re not her minion anymore?”

My focused brows shoot up. I drive my mien into his.

“Do you want me to screw up your wound?”

“Leila.”

Trickles and little indications of nerves meander through my body. I realize I’ve paused my work, and with a surge of purpose, I return.

“I don’t dislike the change. You’re finding yourself.”

I bite my gum. “So I have been a nobody until now?”

“No.”

I draw a cloth, lathered with soap around the borders of his wound. He mumbles something, maybe a curse, before speaking again.

“It’s gratifying to see you.. not so impressionable.”

I really do hate being timid and gullible sometimes. Thus, the reason Chani’s been such a magnetic force of my life. She has stiff, ardent opinions, and a defensive stance. Her caution keeps her ready to strike.

But I know this persona is who I am. Even now, with a callous expression discoloring my soft features, I understand—this isn’t me.

“Well, I can’t take care of you forever.” I speak with disdain, brushing away my probing thoughts. “Whatever you do in your pastime isn’t my business, but if you manage to break through this dressing a second time, for whatever reason, I’m getting another nurse to manage your carelessness.”

I hear a smile. “Yes ma’am.”

“Do you know what it is to be a nurse?” I begin. “No. You fight, and you thrust your blade at any living thing. We clean up. We witness the rubble of war, and we tend to the malignant products of violence.” I set the now empty bowl aside, my eyes cast far into the monochrome walls.

“You can’t afford to be careless. You’re the Messiah, Usul. And I surely cannot, either. I mess up, and you’re blood’s on my hands.” I pause. “In this very moment, we’re linked—so I just want you to do your part, as I do mine.”

“So I’m the source of your ire.”

My face scrunches into a frazzled frustration. “Did you hear anything I just said?

“I won’t mess up again. You can trust me.” I rest there, sitting above his body as my fingers dress his wound with ointment, a stone-cold countenance on my face. “What bothers you?”

I bite my gum grimly. “Don’t provoke me.”

“But if you keep your anger confined, what else might invoke it?”

“This isn’t the time for this, Usul.”

“-Paul.”

My fingers halt, propped against his warm skin as I meet eyes with Usul.

“What?”

“I would rather you call me Paul.”

I search my mind. Does anyone other than Chani call him Paul? His mother, of course. And Gurney, obviously. But the list drags to a stop there.

Is he marking the enhancement of our friendship? Maybe he’s egging me into transferring information. Altogether, it puzzles me.

Alas, I disregard my selfish thoughts. It’s foolish of me to pleasure myself with the thought that I might mean something special to the Lisan Al-Gaib. Sighing, I rise from my position.

“Okay, Paul.”

I turn to the table at my flank, taking up a pristine, fresh sheet of dressing into my hands. “Sit up against the headrest. ..Please.”

He does so without complaint once again. I approach him apprehensively. The silence is disarming. I can feel his gaze on me like a cool, unshakeable breeze.

As I begin my work, I succumb to his request.

“Counsel-Member Sarat has been my patient for the past week.” I swallow my shame while my fingers press into Paul’s stomach, attaching the covering gingerly. “He died today. Of infection. And .. and the counsel thought it fit for me to be demoted from my position as head nurse since, inherently, the war has ‘dulled my senses and muted my skills’. They’re rather unyielding in their blame, which they’ve..” I laugh dully. “..brutally pinned on me.”

“They’ve stripped you of your title as head nurse?”

“Mhm.” I confirm gently. It feels that, if I speak a decibel louder, I might crackle and fall apart.

“Give me an hour; I’ll give you your title back.”

“..Paul, it is not your place.” I tell him with warning eyes.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“I-“ I grunt out an intermittent groan. “Do you really care if I’m head nurse or not?”

“You’re the best in your field. I’ve seen it, I witness it this very moment. Ignorance runs through the council, it’s rather obvious.”

If my complexion warrants it, I blush. I haven’t heard kudos of such high acclaim of late, or.. ever, perhaps. Hardness and disdain may have encrusted my heart, but his words seem to chip at the layers with ease.

“Just, don’t act yet.” I say carefully. “Today has been enough for me. A prolonged night of sleep might just be enough to relieve me of this stress.”

I apply one last morsel of pressure into his side with my palm, scrutinizing the dressing. Immediately, the strings of responsibility lay off of my shoulders. He’s alive, breathing, and his stomach is marked by white linen rather than the thick, maroon tints of his precious blood.

“And you. Our deal?”

I look for understanding in his face, yet I’m met with gentle confusion. I roll my eyes.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t fuck your wounds up, and I don’t have to stress about you.”

“Mmm, because you care so much about me?”

He says this blandly and with a husky tone. I chuckle, falling cocky. “You know what I mean-“

Something warming creeps up my waist. My eyes drawn to the sensation, I look down to see Paul’s hand at my side.

I lift my head. I’m met with his eyes—blue and slitted, brushed by the shadow of the dim light at the end of the spacious room. The cold throb of the air suddenly becomes terribly tangible.

Suddenly, I know. As he holds my gaze, as he holds me, I know. Every stalking thought of my intuition was valid—the prickles of tension were never figments of my wild imagination. That look, that look of his is polluted with infatuation.

I press myself away from him. “What is—what are you-”

“Just stop, Leila.”

His fingers dig a little into my skin. Suddenly, my walls are up. My shoulders surrender to stiffness; my breath refuses to release.

He leans in closer, stealing meager inches of the mattress.

“Isn’t it easier this way? We’re both stressed out of our minds, it hurts, I know. I can relieve you of your pressure, Leila-“

“You jest!”

I push him away with incredulous palms. This shocks me just as much as it does him.

“Chani. We both care for her—is this what you imply?! For two of her loved ones to betray her in one night?-”

“What is there to betray?!”

With a quickness I’m unable to fathom, we are then a mess of limbs; his legs have crawled forth and are propped onto mine, his arm bridging the distance, deft fingers bordering the brink of my neck and shoulder.

Not a wisp of breath sprouts from inside of me.

“She is frustrating. I know you’re angry with her, with how you so unabashedly project. You’re awfully transparent.”

“You are a cocky bastard.”

“Mm.”

Paul tilts his head, as if saying ‘see?’. I stifle a curse from spilling out, off my flaring tongue.

Warmth spreads like wildfire at my hip, as his left hand claims its spot. The thumb of his right ventures over my jaw and to my cheek, while his remaining digits curl around my neck. I repress a shudder, as well as a susurration at my mouth—one that would surely betray me.

“Don’t you see?” He says it so low, his voice crackles in its sudden baritone as he speaks. “Let me take care of you.”

My eyes flutter shut. My mouth gapes slightly; he leans closer and closer.

“You are Chani’s. Chani is yours.”

“You know that's not true.”

My breath trembles audibly. I can hear it in the thick air.

“Why don’t you act on your own desires?”

“How arrogant do you have to be? I do not desire one morsel of you-“

“Ah, I’ve yet to see you pull back.”

My lashes flutter, opening my eyes so that I can witness a peek of the image in front of me: he breathes me in like oxygen, as if he might suffocate any moment. I can see two slits of blue, their light dawning on me and onto the amalgamation of our intimate shadows.

“I'm afraid I know you better than you know yourself, Leila..”

I breathe in, desperately attempting to sort out my visceral thoughts. Maybe a mere moment of preparation, maybe just a little time ..

Yet he denies it. I breathe in, and Paul Atreides has ensnared me with his lips.

The power he has over me is, in itself, terrifying. I mold underneath his touch, every contiguity setting my skin aflame. Paul kisses like a savage—as we sway, his tongue slithering hungrily between my lips, our mouths a battle of uncertainty and voracity, I see him in a different light. The stiff, self-controlled, solemn boy stripped of his armor is revealed to be an animal, just like any other man.

He must be stressed out of his mind. His movement is desperate, his lips feral. His body snakes over me as my hands brush against his skin—each finger passing a rib one by one, drinking in his warmth. Skin of the Messiah.

Even if I refuse to merge with the Fremens’ united belief, I understand well, with awe and terror, Paul’s title and his power. It chills me, through flesh and into the cavern of my soul: I contact the armor of a royally begotten warrior, and I am all the same groped by the hands of a mighty killer.

Chani. Chani. Chani.

I miserably try to redirect my focus. It shocks me how insanely hungry I am for him—it never occurred to me that I had affection for Paul, but my desire flows copiously. I think back on Chani. I attempt to meditate and recall their love and what strife I’m paving.

And yet my body betrays me, These thoughts, even further, backfire.

I am angry. I am tired, and worn from Chani’s groping. The circumstance is rousing something in me—a beast of a feeling, a pit of animosity. Without caution, I shove Paul into the headrest.

“Stay still.”

I climb onto him. I look down, and find his glimmering blue eyes consumed with startled shock.

“Don’t you care about your wounds at all?”

I kiss him. I trap him against the head of the mattress, letting my hands run wild. With his waist bearing my weight, I begin to steadily ride his crotch.

Paul isn’t mine. In a perverse way, this motivates me further—he could be using me as a channel of relief or as a source for his irate, and he might even be infatuated with me. Yet once I’m immersed in my drive, and I’ve established a tantalizing pace to bounce over and over on his hard-on, I realize: I don’t really care. I want this, and I’ll take my goddamn share.

#paul atreides #paul atreides smut #dune part two #dune #timothée chalamet #Paul Atreides fanfic #Paul Atreides fanfiction #dune fanfiction #Paul Atreides x oc #fanfiction #oneshot

[ashersanity]

Ngl I'd love to smack Whitney back for all the times he's been a little bitch./hj -Newcomer anon.

newcomer anon, don’t give me ideas now..

too late.

content warning! (dub-con/non-con, spanking, lots of degradation, exhibition at the park, lazy writing, whitney accidentally cums like a pathetic bitch from getting his ass spanked)

pairings (low dom m!whitney x sadistic gn!pc)

ain’t no way I actually wrote something for this shit. did I? yeah. yeah, I fucking did. can’t stop my sadistic urges.

also, hope you meant spanking cuz that’s what I had in mind. this was rushed, sorry.

SLAP

“Are you—“

SLAP

“going to-“

SLAP

“fucking apologize to me now?”

You gritted out between clenched teeth, palm unrelenting on the poor bully’s ass, Whitney’s normally dominant form now reduced to a complete and utter mess over your lap.

How the fuck did this even happen? Didn’t even know you had it in you to stand up to the delinquent like this, but everyone had their boundaries and he had crossed yours, causing you to snap.

The blond could only manage a weak whimper and a curse beneath his breath, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill down over his flushed cheeks. Fuck, he was going to kill you for this, mark his words, he was going to—

SLAP

“Fuck!!” He yelled out.

“Apologize.” You repeated, palm lifted over his reddening behind, ready to strike another blow if you had to. Dammit, you weren’t kidding around. Unable to meet your gaze, the stubborn little shit bit his lip, turning his face away from your prying eyes in attempt to hide his humiliated expression and.. something else.

Whitney wasn’t ready to admit it, no, he was never going to, but each and every time you’d smack his ass— bare skin on display for anyone to see at the park, pants pulled down to his ankles, revealing his weeping cock, cold air hitting the flesh. Not to mention how he’d flinch at each oncoming strike, tip of his flushed cockhead nudging at your lap, practically grinding against the fabric of your shorts and smearing pre-cum all over.

Oh god, he was getting hard.

“You getting hard from this?” You taunted, noticing the little friend poking at your crotch repeatedly, lips curling up into a smirk. He groaned, swearing again, confirming your question.

What a goddamn slut he was. Getting hard from this.

How pathetic.

How fucking funny.

“F-fuck..”

If this kept going on.. Shit, the troublemaker didn’t know how much more he could take. Sure, he had a good pain tolerance though he couldn’t say the same for the leaking dick between his legs, impatiently begging for release at every rub.

“Fucking whore.” You sneered, raising your hand one last time and delivering the finishing blow.

SLAP

Receiving that last smack to his ass, that all the bully needed, muscled framed seizing up and cumming hard with a loud curse. Hot ropes of cum came spurting out right out of his cock, staining you both all at once, splattering down onto the park bench and landing pathetically at your feet.

Holy shit, did he just fucking cum from that, from getting his ass spanked?

“Nevermind.” You mumbled, stunned. Half-shocked and half-amused. “That apology will do, Whitney.”

Looks like you’ll have to do a bit of laundry once you get home.. - - - Whitney’s dominance | + + Lust? | + Arousal?

#uhhh #sorry I guess #was that too much? #rushed writing #dol #degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #insane asher #feral asher #newcomer anon #asher writes #asher gets asks

[the-iceni-bitch]

I Swear I Won’t Tease You

Pairing: mob boss!Lloyd Hansen x femme!reader (le grand homme and coquinette, Poison Paradise AU)

Words: ~2.1k

Summary: Lloyd is fascinated by you from the start.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (public sex, minor degradation, lil bit of choking, pussy petting, over the panties stuff, Lloyd’s filthy mouth, some biting), alcohol consumption, thievery, lots of French pet names, mentions of violence, Lloyd is a charismatic asshole, mentions of prostitution, klepto reader, meet “cute”? SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Holy shit, I’m in love with Lloyd Hansen. That psycho woke up my muse in a big way, so be prepared for a bunch of shit starring this asshole for the near future. I literally wrote this in one day and I don’t know how long it’s been since that happened!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!!

Lloyd cracked his neck as he walked into the packed Paris club, rolling his head on his shoulders and growling to himself as he made his way to the bar, his two bodyguards trailing after him. As much as he loved his work, sometimes he hated the travel, especially when it came to having to deal with the unwashed, stuck up frogs in this loser of a country. If he hadn’t desperately needed a drink after slicing that asshole's face off, he would have just made his way back to the hotel and planned on taking the jet back to the states first thing in the morning.

“Find a goddamn phone and let Fowler know Jeanette’s gonna be sending the new batch of girls out in a week.” Lloyd nodded at Brutus after ordering himself a Glenlivet, hissing when he took a gulp and felt the warm liquor burn his throat. “And if Walker is there, tell him I don’t want to see his face for a fucking month and that his twat of a gun contact is now a dead twat.”

“Walker’s not gonna like that boss.” The giant meat head shrugged uncomfortably when Lloyd turned his glare to him before ordering another drink.

“You really think I give a fuck? Do your damn job.” Lloyd snarled as the dumbass finally walked away, sipping on his second scotch slowly and leaning against the bar as he surveyed the crowd that was packed into the club. “Morons.”

Even as the liquor started to relax him he was regretting his choice of venue for his drink, especially when some dick in a white suit knocked into him and almost made him spill. Maybe he’d just find some desperate thing to take back to his hotel and break the bed with, since he hadn’t gotten to test out the new whores like he normally would and filleting that cunt hadn’t gotten out as much aggression as he had expected. He wanted to ruin something, and there seemed to be plenty of dumb little sluts here that were just ripe for the picking.

Oh, wait just a fucking minute. Who the hell were you? In that sweet little pink dress and those heels that pretty much guarantee you couldn’t run away from anyone, though you were still managing to put off every single douche bag that was coming up to you with a shy little smile and big eyes that made you look like the picture of chaste innocence that would be perfect to ruin. Yeah, he was going to make you cry the prettiest fucking tears he’d ever seen.

“Foutez le camp d'ici.” Lloyd growled at the dumbass who was trying to put his hand on your arm as he flirted impotently with you, scowling at him until he scurried away before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Bonjour, chérie.”

“Bonjour.” You tilted your chin down and gazed at him through your lashes as you bit your lip, and holy fuck did he want to watch you choke on his cock. “Je suis désolé…”

“Vous êtes américain?” He wasn’t going to let you finish that thought, twirling his ring around his pinky as he grinned when you gave him a small nod. There was no way he was leaving this club without at least tasting your lips, and you seemed like the type who just needed to be told what to do. “Ah, me too. What are you doing in Paris, pretty girl?”

“Just… seeing the sights, taking in some culture.” You let out a small sigh as you watched him carefully, cocking your head when he lifted his drink to his lips and the ruby on his ring caught the light. “Enjoying the beautiful things the city has to offer.”

“Hmm, as well you should, chaton.” Lloyd dragged his tongue over his bottom lip when the press of the crowd forced you to step closer to him, reaching out to slowly trace his fingertips along the curve of your shoulder and down your arm. “A course, there isn’t anything here as beautiful as you.” The way you giggled and batted your eyelashes at him let him know he had you, he wondered if you were a virgin, god that would make it even better. “Finish your drink so you can dance with me, poupée.”

You purred when he took your glass from you and set it on the bar once you had finished, sighing softly when he grabbed your hand and pressed some kisses over your knuckles before leading you towards the dance floor. As soon as the two of you reached the floor he was pulling you close and sliding his hands down your back until he was squeezing your hips, letting out a soft growl when you gasped as you braced your palms against his chest, scowling at his remaining bodyguard over your shoulder and jerking his head at him so he would fucking get lost. Lloyd couldn’t believe how goddamn soft you were, he was gonna bruise you the fuck up.

“What’s your name, ma douce?” He ducked even closer to you and groaned appreciatively when you told him, dragging his cheek over your temple and fighting the urge to smack your ass at the feeling of your hips rolling against his. “Mmm, that’s lovely. My name’s Lloyd, sweet thing. I want you to remember that when I make you scream later tonight.”

“Lloyd, you’re so forward.” You gave him a teasing pout before whining softly when he turned you around and wrapped his arms around your waist, winding your fingers through his and gasping when he pressed his lips to the side of your neck. “But I have such an early tour tomorrow, I have to go soon.”

“Oh non, mon ami.” His voice was a soothing purr as he started guiding you towards an empty corner of the club once the song changed, trailing his lips up your jaw until he could bite your ear. “No, I’ll make you feel so good, ma chére. Need more than just a taste of you.” If he didn’t get to at least finger you he was gonna be in a mood tomorrow.

“What if I… hmm.” You moaned when he cut you off by gripping your jaw and tilting your head back so he could smash his lips to yours, pressing your body against the wall and sliding his other hand down the curve of your hip until he could grip the edge of your skirt and start to drag it up your thigh. “I can give you my hotel’s number and we can set something up for later this week.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me, darling.” He slid his knee between your legs to force them open while you planted heavily into his mouth, swallowing your soft whimper with a grin when he brushed his fingertips over the damp lace that was covering your core. “I just need one, promise I’ll be quick.”

The only response you could give him once he rubbed your clit over your panties was a tiny moan, your mouth falling open when he started circling your swollen bud harshly and letting him shove his fingers between your teeth and press on the back of your tongue until you were drooling all over his hand. Lloyd watched your face with a wicked glint in his eye while he watched you fall apart under his touch, cooing demeaningly against your cheek when he felt you shaking in his arms and tears started leaking from the corners of your eyes, his achingly hard cock pulsing in his slacks as he ground it against your perfect ass.

“Look at you, I thought you were a good girl, ma douce. But here you are about to come like a little slut in front of all these people just from having this sweet little pussy pet a tiny bit.” He bit your cheek and groaned when you sobbed around his fingers, your cunt throbbing under his hand when he gave your clit a sharp smack. “So fucking easy, you gonna cream your pretty panties, chérie? Do it, I want you to come for me, ma petite pute. Make a fucking mess of yourself, come the fuck on.”

The sudden dig of his fingernail against your clit through the lace had your eyes rolling back in your head as your legs almost gave out, your pussy clenching and fluttering around nothing while cream flowed out of you and soaked right through your panties, staining Lloyd’s fingers as he growled against your skin. He pressed you closer to the wall as your body vibrated with pleasure, caging you in his arms and burying his face in your hair as his cock throbbed and twitched until he was filling his briefs with a snarl. You swallowed thickly when he finally pulled his fingers from between your lips, looking at him with glassy eyes as he dragged his nose over your cheek with a deep purr.

“What a pretty thing you are, can you even talk, ami?” His chuckle was dark when you just panted and licked your lips as you whimpered for him, giving your cunt a pat like a good bitch before pulling your skirt back down. “Poor baby, you’re gonna give me your number so I can ruin you again next time I need a good fuck and I’m in the area:”

“O-okay.” You gasped when you turned around and pulled a card out of your clutch, giving it to him with a trembling hand that he gripped to press kisses over your wrist as he tucked the card into his breast pocket. “I-I really do have to go.”

“Alright, chérie, you take care.” Lloyd leaned close and kissed your cheek almost tenderly. “I hope you think about me next time you touch yourself. I might even think of you, petite colombe. You’re almost too sweet for your own good.”

You just swallowed thickly when he finally let you go, wiping the back of your hand over your ruined face and squeezing your thighs together as you walked away after giving him a quizzical smile. Lloyd found something about you puzzlingly endearing, like he’d only barely scratched the surface of what you would let him do to you, maybe even of what you could do to him. He didn’t feel like you were just a typical pump and dump, he actually wanted to see your pretty face again.

“Ready to go boss?” Lloyd actually didn’t feel like tearing the man’s throat out when he opened his stupid mouth, how refreshing.

“Yeah, let me just pay.” He frowned when he reached into his back pocket and didn’t find his money clip, the furrow between his brows deepening when it wasn’t in any of his other pockets either. “What the fuck? Where’s my damn money?”

“Your ring’s missing too, boss.” Brutus took a step back when Lloyd snarled at him, his magnanimous mood evaporating when he looked at his hand and found that the signet ring that never left his pinkie was in fact gone.

“What in the… oh ho, oh shit!” Lloyd couldn’t help himself, he started laughing when the realization hit him, cackling wildly and doubling over for a minute before he finally got himself under control again. “Oh, that tricky little bitch, she fucking robbed me! Fuck, she’s got some balls on her. Change of plans boys, looks like we’re gonna be sticking around Paris a little longer. I’ve got a pretty little thief to track down. Ooh, this is gonna be fun. I’m fucking excited.”

You grinned to yourself as you reached your motorcycle you had parked a few blocks away, spitting the ring out from where you had it tucked under your tongue and admiring it before sliding it onto your ring finger. The fact that it fit perfectly was like fate, making you wiggle your fingers so it caught the light as you sat on the bike. You plucked the money clip from inside your bra and flipped through its contents, giggling at the size of the bills and the Eurocard. The ring was what you couldn’t stop playing with, though, that had caught your eye and made you let that gorgeous but intimidating man touch you however he wanted. ‘Lloyd Hansen’ sure seemed like he could be a lot of fun. Too bad you were never going to see him again.

A/N: Don’t worry, she’s definitely gonna see him again 😘

#natalie writes #poison paradise #le grand homme and coquinette #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #eighteen and over #eighteen plus

[bloodandtime]

savage good boy

uhhh inspired by this post of eddie wearing a skirt!! everyone say thank u @eddiemunsonwillbethedeathofme! wrote this in just a couple hours so this has not been edited whatsoever so have fun!! wc: 7.3k

cw: 18+ mdni, oral (m receiving) fem!reader (actually could be gn!reader i don’t think there’s description of r other than having hair!!) eddie wearing a skirt, ass smacking, bad writing, too many uses of the word ‘you’, too many pet names, weed, cum sharing, i think that’s it?

“Hey, Edwarrrrrd,” you say, letting yourself into the trailer. The music that was playing decreased in volume, “You in your room?” you call out, toeing off your shoes at the door.

You can hear Eddie grunt followed by an expletive before he calls out, slightly pained, “Yeah! I’ll be out in a sec!” Not feeling the need to respond you take a familiar path to the kitchen to grab two waters and back to the couch.

You’ll for sure be smoking, which means coughing so water’s always essential to have at your fingertips when you’re with Eddie.

You’re settled when his door creaks open, Eddie’s nervous voice rings out,

“So, I’m wearing something new.” He’s still hidden in the hallway, “Will you tell me if I look stupid?”

Your heart aches at the nervousness in his tone, “Eddie’s there’s no way you look stupid. You know I love your style.” smiling, even though he can’t see you, you continue softly, “Please come out, Eddie.”

Eddie steps around the corner and you gasp, warmth already spreading in your lower belly, and down, down, down. You grip the arm of couch, tight.

“Holy Shit, Eddie.” You sound breathless, looking him up and down, slowly drinking him in.

Eddie’s got a cropped faded black sleeveless shirt on, the exposed skin shows his happy trail leading down to a black plaid skirt that ends mid thigh, with a chain on the waistband. His pretty pale thighs are covered in fishnets that lead into his black biker boots.

His hair is in a half up half down do, with space buns. Dangling from his ears is a cross earring and two gold hoops.

You’ve been quiet a little too long and now Eddie’s nervous. One leg crossing in front of the other, closing in on himself.

You immediately stand up and take his hands, asking him to look at you. Once his watery brown eyes meet yours, you let it all out.

“Eddie, you look fucking insane.” You breathe out, he flushes a deeper red, “Like… un fucking real. You’re so beautiful.”

Eddie all but beams, finally squeezing your hands in return. He pulls you into a warm hug,

“Thank you,” he whispers, breath warm on your neck he continues “you being so kind, means a lot to me, loser.”

Pulling away to meet his gaze, you say, “I’m not just being kind, dummy” pulling on a strand of his hair teasingly, he glares but a smile is glued to his lips “you know I wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass, Eddie.”

You maneuver so you’re standing beside him with an arm around his waist and decide to be bold.

The smack you land on his ass honestly kind of stings your hand but look of shock and indignation on Eddie’s face is worth it, “Now let’s smoke sweet heart.” You smirk and move toward the couch.

“You just smacked my ass.” He deadpans.

Sitting and smiling up at him, “I did. Don’t act so scandalized, you’re a grown ass man.” Eddie finally sits, still pink in the cheeks and clearly shocked, “You’ve definitely slapped my ass too, so I really don’t know why you’re so shocked.”

He shakes his head and laughs, curls bouncing, “Why’d you smack mine though?” He presses, as he sits down, close but not touching.

You smile, shy. “I dunno, you just look cute, I felt the need to.” You finish with an embarrassed laugh, heat rising up your neck burning your cheeks.

Eddie splutters, “I am not cute. I am hot and sexy,” he finishes with a wiggle of his eyebrows and you laugh as you lean back into the couch.

You watch him roll, his long fingers make quick work of producing two joints, your eyes glued to his hands the entire time.

Watching him light up is a treat. Something about Eddie manspreading in this particular outfit sends your brain haywire. You’re usually better at hiding your crush on your best friend but today is going to be unbelievably difficult.

Eddie leans his head back on the couch as he releases the smoke from his mouth and passes you the joint, you’re too stuck in your head to notice him staring at you.

He’s curious about your reaction, smacking his ass and you really truly looked like you wanted to eat him alive when he first stepped around the corner.

Christ, if he knew this was all it took to get you going he would have bought a skirt a long time ago.

Eddie is ashing the joint and you’re both now thigh to thigh on the couch. Eddie had moved closer after he had put a movie on. Which you haven’t paid attention too, alo you can focus on is Eddie’s tummy sticking out of the crop top, and taking in every inch of his thighs that’s exposed when adjusts in his seat.

Watching him ash the joint pushes you over the edge, your self control vanishing.

“Eddie, can I suck you off?” He chokes on the exhale of his last hit, his brain just a little fuzzy so he’s worried he misheard.

“What did you say sweetheart?” He asks, brown eyes wide staring into yours. You want to fold in on yourself and run out the trailer door but you’re already in this deep.

“Can I suck you off?” Reaching out to run a hand on his thigh, you continue “I’ve not stopped thinking about it since you came out in that skirt.” You sound desperate, Eddie’s cock twitches at your tone.

“Please, Eddie.” You slide down to the floor between his legs, kneeling with your hands on your thighs.

Eddie can barely breathe, so he musters all his courage to nod his head. Placing your hands on his ankles you run them up to his thighs so slowly, then back down again, then up again, repeating. He thinks he could cum from the sight of you on your knees and the feel of your hands on him alone.

“Need your words, baby.” You say as you squeeze his thighs.

He inhales, “Please. P-please suck my cock.”

You press a kiss to the inside of both of his thighs right where his skirt ends, soft and sweet. “Good boy.” He whimpers in response and you flip up his skirt.

You gasp again.

He’s not wearing anything underneath other than his fishnets. His hard cock is stuck to his thigh, pointing up to his belly.

You groan, pressing your head against his other thigh as you look up at him. His pupils are blown wide, his cheeks are flushed and his buns are starting to fall out. He’s stunning.

“Eddie, I can’t believe you’ve just had your cock out this whole time.” You mouth at his thigh, nipping at it as you pull away and he sighs.

His cock is pretty, long and thick. It would be a stretch but you know if would feel so fucking good.

You lean forward to mouth at one of his soft balls, his cock still stuck under his fishnets. He gasps and lets out a long fuuuuuuuck as his hands find the back of your head.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” you say as you pull away and rip his tights, his cock springs up finally free. Eddie gasps, jerking his hips as you take the head of his cock in your mouth, tongue laving over his frenulum.

Eddie tugs at your hair with a long lew moan followed by, “Holy fuck, babe.”

Relaxing your jaw and pressing forward, you take him deeper. Eddie’s right hand travels a path to your cheek, his thumb stroking the apple of it.

“Look at me.” He says, voice strained.

You look up at him and he’s even more of a mess than before. You want to wreck him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” His thumb strokes your cheek as you bob up and down on his cock, gazes locked “taking me so fucking well. You like sucking your best friend’s cock?” You groan around him and pull off.

Gasping, you agree, “I do, Eddie. Always want your cock” One hand goes to massage his balls and you lick long languid strokes up his shaft. “I especially love sucking your cock while you look so pretty in your tiny little skirt.”

He grasps at your roots and tugs. as you place your mouth back on the head of his cock and hum. You press further down on him, trying to reach the base.

What you can’t reach, you’ve started jerking off. The shlick sound of your hand loud in your ears, but all you’re really focused on is Eddie’s whimpers and moans and sweet nothings he keeps saying.

“Baby, baby, baby” he bables as you swallow around him, “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

You hum in response, pressing further down.

He’s a whimpering babbling mess above you, gripping tight onto your hair he starts to jerk his hips up, fucking your throat.

He’s cumming in your mouth soon after, with a long pretty whine and sweet call of your name.

He yanks you up off him, and kisses you full on the mouth. You settle in his lap with a thigh on either side of his as your hands find their way to his hair. He moans as he tastes himself on you, practically licking your mouth clean of his essence.

Pulling away he licks up the rest of his cum that had leaked out and down your chin and neck. He pulls you back into a bruising kiss.

You both pull away to breathe, warm in the face and chests heaving. Eddie has both of his hands on your face, his thumbs take a gentle path back and forth on your cheeks. Closing your eyes you sigh happily and lean into his touch.

You feel his lips on yours once again and your grips tightens on his shoulders where your hands have made home.

Eddie pulls away, just enough thar you can hear him say, his lips still brushing yours with every word, “Give me 10 minutes, sweetheart and I’ll show you just how good I look in this skirt while I’m fucking you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcannons #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson smut headcannon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x reader smut #stranger things smut #alright lets see if it shows up now #title is a japanese breakfast song

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 3, Poll 13

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus-The Locked Tomb

Qualifications:

She's a lesbian and the author Tamsyn Muir has confirmed she's written as schizophrenic, based on her own experience.

Okay SO Harrow is a necromancer nun who is also a huge lesbian. She spends the books of TLT series being super gay and repressed about her emotions for 1. Butch lesbian Jesus and 2. Human Barbie the death of God. She narrates the second book (Harrow the Ninth) and is author-confirmed schizophrenic. She experiences hallucinations thru the whole book and has since childhood. She’s also WIDELY headcannoned as autistic by the fandom (me too) because. Because she IS SO FUCKING AUTISTIC (source: I am autistic too)

Schizophrenic lesbian with a traumatic brain injury

Schizophrenic and sapphic

canonically a schizophrenic lesbian. neither word is used in series, she isn't in a position to get a diagnosis and queer identities are so normalised in the universe that labels just don't get mentioned, but she is written as both by an author who is also both.

Canon schizophrenia

Canon lesbian with canon schizophrenia

She's a schizophrenic lesbian with a traumatic brain injury

Propaganda:

The Locked Tomb is pretty popular on tumblr but I might as well submit her anyway

She’s a lesbian necromancer nun. She’s a saint and also woke up the death of God, who is a human Barbie, who she is in love with, tho she’s also kind of married to lesbian Jesus. She’s schizophrenic. She’s scrungly. She puts bread in a drawer. She’s even autistic

Harrow first started hallucinating (visual and auditory) when she was ten years old! The traumatic brain injury and seizures are much more recent. Unironically gotta love a pov protagonist who makes you struggle along with her in sorting out hallucination and false memory to figure out what's going on. Also while Harrow's disability shapes the narrative, the book isn't at all about her being disabled. It's a fantasy/scifi gothic horror novel about being trapped at a work retreat with God.

so many women want her but she’s determined to be in love with the soul of the dead earth trapped in a 10ft barbie doll instead. she’s a lesbian disaster and is trying to deal with both schizophrenia and over 200 actual ghosts haunting her.

a schizophrenic lesbian, written by a schizophrenic lesbian! she's in love with multiple dead women, but she's also a necromancer so that's not as big of an obstacle as it sounds. weird little bone-obsessed necromancer lesbian. I care about her deeply

Author Tamsyn Muir has discussed how Harrow's schizophrenia is modeled after her own experiences. It matters a lot in her eponymous novel, where her inability to trust what she sees and hears is compounded by her self-inflicted lobotomy to save her girlfriend's soul from getting absorbed into her own.

Harrow is one of the protagonists of her series & both her lesbianism & her schizophrenia play major parts in the story. The author has spoken about how she wrote Harrow based on her own experiences, and the authenticity comes through strongly. Beyond that, she's a teenage gothic nun in love with a holy corpse & she's the greatest bone magician ever born. What more needs be said.

She's a lesbian, she's psychotic, she has seizures, she faints regularly and can't rely on her own memory worth shit. And the only reason she's not going to kill god is so she and her girl can escape the cycle of violence. Basically, Harrowhark Nonagesimus is the entire package.

Anything Else?:

Listen. Listen. I’m not doing Harrow justice here. I LOVE her (Submitter 2)

The author is also schizophrenic! Which is pretty cool. (Submitter 3)

The author of the series is openly schizophrenic, and has mentioned in interviews that she's drawing on that experience when writing Harrow :) (Submitter 8)

Tokito Minoru-Wild Adapter

Qualifications:

Experiences flashbacks in response to auditory triggers (including his own name, implied PTSD), allegorical medical condition (his animal hand - canonically progressing in severity, canonically caused by a drug, canonically causes chronic pain), canon amnesiac. Wild Adapter originally began publication in a Boys Love magazine, and Tokito has an ambiguous relationship with his roommate Kubota; they share a bed and are shown to be physically affectionate toward and extremely protective of each other. There's also a couple of mini albums with character songs (some with lyrics by the author) that imply their relationship. Also I'm pretty sure this is official art https://www.zerochan.net/1163520

Propaganda:

He is the world's most pathetic wet cat of a man (he's actually compared to a cat by multiple people in canon), he walks through life with near childlike wonder and immense barely suppressed rage, he thinks about cutting off his own hand, he loves video games, he kills people, he is incredibly traumatised, he has a weird codependent gay thing with his equally traumatised antisocial roommate. There's official art of him handcuffed to a bed.

#polls #poll #disabled characters #lgbtq characters #disability #lgbtq #lgbtq dcs round 1 #lgbtq dcs wave 3 #harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb #tokito minoru #wild adapter

[alexthesillybilly]

What if springtrap x reader but I write it from springtraps POV idk I wanna study him this is rlly similar to another thing I wrote btw if it feels familiar :P idk why but I love writing this exact scene lmao

God, how long has it been? Months? Years? Decades? How was I supposed to know? I haven't spoken to anyone since I was left in here, and I probably never will again. I'm still trying to figure out what to do to pass the time. At first my methods were a little more about escaping, but clawing at the walls and slamming my self against the door was both very painful, and was also not doing anything for me, so I stopped doing those pretty quickly. Then I remembered there were arcade machines in this room! But then I remembered that this is the parts and service room and they were out of order. And very unplayable. But that didn't stop me, I ended up disassembling and putting them back together a few times.

That got boring, too.

Now I'm not really sure what to do. I spend a lot of my time either fidgeting with loose wires or pacing around like some kind of scared animal. After I stopped having the indescribable dread of realizing I was trapped here, it changed to craving something. Anything, really. Whether it was hearing music from outside, seeing a color other than pitch black, feeling anything other than the freezing cold tile floor and my own pain.

I think I mostly craved company, though.

I was never into psychology, but speaking from experience, I'm pretty sure that completely depriving a human of any communication or entertainment for years (decades??) will fuck someone up.

There's some sort of noise around the door. It's happened a few times, usually someone who broke in trying to get into the room before discovering it's boarded up. I don't know who boarded up this room, but I'd like to have a talk with them. Only a little murder included. So I don't get my hopes up too much. They're not going to get in.

So maybe I get a little excited when for the first time, I actually DO hear the door crack open and light pour in.

Holy shit, it's happening.

I can finally get out of here.

I felt nearly manic at the sight. So imagine my thoughts when someone walked in.

I freeze. What do I do?

There is so much I want to say.

Can I even talk?

I don't know anymore.

Who is this?

I try to look at them without moving. Nobody I recognize. That's probably a good thing.

If I move, I might scare them.

On one hand, then I'd be able to leave.

But on the other hand, I need to talk to someone, ANYONE, so bad that I can't let then leave already.

So I stay still while they approach.

They must not be deterred by the sight of me, surprisingly, because they crouch down beside me like I'm not... like this.

"What the hell are you?" They laugh under their breath. Wow, okay. First words spoken to me in this long. I deserve that, though.

I need to talk so bad but how am I supposed to talk to anyone now? I don't even remember how it works, let alone if I physically could. I pray they'll ask a yes-or-no question soon.

They stand back up.

No. No, no, no, not already. They can't leave. I have to risk it.

I try my best to tell them not to go. It comes out as more of a noise you'd make on your deathbed, but it's enough to get them to stop in their tracks.

"No. Nope, I am NOT being your horror movie protagonist who dies first, nope. Not today." They turn to run out the door. This time I'm prepared. Kind of.

"No-" I manage to choke out before realizing how much it hurts to speak, and very pathetically falling against the wall in pain. I have to get the message through, though. "Don't go."

"Hooly shit." The person stares at me in horror. "I have so many questions."

Talking hurts so bad, but nothing hurts worse than my indescribable loneliness, so I'll just have to deal with that later. I have to say something.

"Me too."

#springtrap #fnaf 3 #springtrap x reader #self shipping community #fnaf f/o #fnaf #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #yooo im writing!! #girl talk