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freedomfireflies · 2 months

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Remember Me*

Summary: The one where you and your best friend, Harry, reminisce over the first time he ever ate you out.

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, brief daddy kink, mention of knife kink + blood kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pre-consented somnophilia, not suitable for Ramadan!

“There you go, good girl. Just like that. Cum for me, Bee. Right now.”

You squirm, fingers curling into the silky sheets below as you suck in a quiet breath.

You can feel his lips on your neck. Your chest. Your inner thighs. Soft, gentle, devious. He’s everywhere. Purring in your ear, holding your hips in his hands. Keeping you just where he wants you like you’re nothing but a toy for him to play with.

You’ve never been so close. So satisfied, so pleasured. So ready to let go.

And then…you wake up.

Your lashes flutter as you slowly come to. The bedroom is dark. Still. You can hear the fan in the corner of the room and Harry’s soft inhales from somewhere beside you. Your heart is thumping hard and heavy against your ribcage while your dream slowly dissipates into reality. Disappearing into the back of your mind as you remind yourself where you really are.

And then you realize that Harry’s not beside you but below you. His breathing louder and heavier than it was before.

You look down.

And there he is, large body settled between your spread thighs as he holds you open and stares lovingly at the mess you’ve made.

And suddenly, your dream doesn’t feel so distant as you blink the sleep from your eyes and whisper, “Har?”

He glances up, pretty green eyes somehow bright even in the dark. He smiles and his lips glisten. “Hi, baby. Were you having a nice dream?”

You take in a sharp inhale and nod once. “Ye—yeah.”

“Good.” He dips down to kiss your hip. “Hope I didn’t ruin it for you.”

“No…no, I just…I…I thought I was…”

“I know,” he murmurs and kisses the other side. “I know, Bee. And you need me to fix it, don’t you?”

You blink.

“Kept whimpering for me,” he says. His palms dance down the side of your body. Squeezing lightly as though to reassure you. “Begging me to make you cum…to touch you…taste you. Said you needed my tongue.”

Your chest feels heavy as you watch him ghost his mouth up your stomach.

“And I wanted to help,” he tells you. “Wanted to make it better for you.”

He stops, but only to look up and find you again.

“Is that all right, sweet girl?” he whispers.

You nod quickly. After all, the two of you made an agreement months ago that waking each other up with sex was more than all right. You don’t do it too terribly often, but the times when you do…

You almost start to pant.

“Good,” he says, grinning once more as he runs his thumb along your aching cunt. “But I want you to do something for me, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

He moves his mouth to your inner thigh. “Want you…” He travels up your skin toward your pussy. “To tell me…” He brushes his lips over your clit. “What you were dreaming about.”

You feel yourself start to squirm, the warmth of his breath over your cunt enough to send shivers along your spine. “I…I was dreaming about you.”

“Yeah? Better have been,” he teases with a smirk. “What was I doing, hm?”

You watch him poke out his tongue and tease it near your hole. “You…you were doing this.”

He hums. “Was I?”

You nod. “Just…just like you did the first time.”

His eyes flick back to yours. “The first time, hm? When I asked to taste your pretty pussy?”

Another nod.

“Mm.” He shifts a bit on the bed and pushes your legs further apart. “Do you think about that first time a lot, Bee?”

You feel your heart skip. “Yes…”

“Think about how nice you were to let me practice on you?”

“…yes.”

“Cause you were,” he says softly between kisses to your cunt. Not enough to satisfy you, but more than enough to taunt you. “So nice and so sweet for me. Knew I’d never wanna taste anybody else but you for the rest of my life.”

You smile. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he argues. He sucks your clit into his mouth. “Come on, lovie, you had to know I didn’t really want her. Only ever wanted you.”

Your fingers lace through his hair, and he hums. “You knew even back then?”

“Of course.” He rests his cheek on your thigh, gazing at your pussy almost as though in a trance. “Should have known I’d get addicted. I already was, even if I didn’t realize it yet.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He starts to pull you open, just to watch the way you clench around nothing. “I’d been addicted to you for years. Just didn’t know why.”

“And eating me out helped with that?”

He chuckles. “Kind of. I really did think I was doing it for Tina, but…the second I saw you, all spread out and dripping…I couldn’t have picked her out of a fucking lineup.”

You squeeze his scalp. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean it.” He studies your expression closely. “Bee, I’m so goddamn in love with you it makes my chest hurt. I was in love with you then and I’m in love with you now. Why do you think I kept canceling on her? Why do you think I kept begging you to teach me more things?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “Cause you were horny?”

“No,” he exhales and then kisses your pussy again, groaning into you as though he’s a man starved. “No, I was fucking obsessed. And I still am.”

You whimper.

“So, I want you to tell me everything I did in your dream,” he says, his touch growing a bit greedier now as he slips his middle finger inside. “Every little thing you wanted me to do.”

You arch from the bed and try to stay still. You’re not sure how long he’s been teasing you, but it feels far longer than your dream. And you’re already shaking with anticipation as you clutch his curls and say, “You…you were touching me.”

He grins. “How, lovie?”

You reach for his hand and pull it up toward your chest. “Like this,” you pant, and he groans so lewdly, you nearly cum right then.

He squeezes your tit in his palm, kneading it between those long, nimble fingers before he pinches your nipple tight. Eliciting another noise from your throat. And you’ve never been so glad you went to bed without pajamas.

“Like this?” he asks.

You nod before you’re leading him up toward your throat. “And like this…”

You make him squeeze the sides of your neck until your eyes have nearly rolled back. He holds you gently, but with just enough pressure to make your head pound in the absolute best way.

“Yeah?” He crawls a bit higher up your body in order to get a better grip. “I remember the first time you made me choke you. Such an insatiable little thing, weren’t you?”

“Still am,” you quip, sticking out your tongue.

His smile is sadistic as he spits directly onto your tongue and squeezes your jaw shut. “Swallow.”

You do. And the taste of him—of you—is magic. Enough to have you grinding yourself against his bent leg that’s snuggled between your thighs. And he notices, but he does nothing to help you.

“What else?” he asks between desperate kisses. “Huh? What else did my dirty girl want?”

“Your cock,” you whisper. “Wanted your cock so bad, Har. Wanted you to fuck me like you did that first time. Wanted to ride you…see your handsome face when you came.”

“Yeah? Wanted to cut me up all pretty like you did with that knife?”

You pout. “I didn’t cut you up. I just wanted to see it on your cheek.”

He laughs against your shoulder, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Still can’t believe you have a knife kink. And a blood kink.”

“I still can’t believe you do, too.”

“Can’t help it. You just look so pretty in red,” he says easily. “Always have. Skin all sensitive and swollen…lips just begging to be bit…blood that looks so beautiful smeared across your chest—”

You grab onto his cheeks and bring his mouth back to yours. Kissing him so hard, he can’t speak. The image in your head is lewd and delicious and you feel his cock twitch against your hip as his body melts into yours.

“Bee,” he warns after a moment. “Bee, this isn’t about me. This is about you, come on—”

“I will. After you cum first,” you insist, reaching down between you to squeeze his tip. “My dream wasn’t just about me.”

His exhale is shaky as he closes his eyes. “Thought we were recreating the first time I ate you out?”

“Why can’t we do both?” you ask, nipping at his earlobe. “You really think I wasn’t imagining what your cock felt like as I watched you? Even back then?”

You feel his wicked grin against your cheek. “Were you?”

“How could I not? You weren’t the only one with a crush.”

He leans back. “You did not have a crush on me.”

“Yes, I did. How do you know?”

“Because you were still hung up on Eric,” he retorts as he moves down your body, returning to his previous position while you watch him go with a frown. “And I was just a convenient distraction.”

“No,” you snort, grasping onto his chin to recapture his attention. He looks at you. “Harry, you were not a distraction. Eric was the distraction. I made myself get over you by getting under him.”

He pulls his lip between his teeth, but it can’t hide his smirk. “Really?”

“Duh. You asking me to teach you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You gaze at him gently and cup his jaw. “Please don’t forget that.”

The tension between you is palpable but loving, and you giggle when he sucks your thumb into his mouth with a wink.

“Then can you let me recreate the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” he mumbles around your finger. “Because it was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I still haven’t gotten a proper taste.”

You swipe your wet digit over his lips and grin. “Then you better get to it.”

So, he does. After all, Harry is nothing if not obedient and you can’t help but feel a touch proud as he kisses his way down your body until those greedy kisses find your cunt.

He knows exactly what you like. Knows how to hold you, tease you, taste you. He flicks you with the tip of his tongue and pulls you open with his fingers. He groans every time you gasp and swallows like he’s never had a drink in his life.

And then…he blows on you. Lets his warm exhale dance across your drenched pussy until you nearly squirm away altogether. You feel as though you’re being edged. Like he’s denying you the only thing you need and you whine helplessly as you plead with him.

He merely shushes you. “You know better, Bee. Come on.”

You shake your head violently. “I can’t…can’t, Har, please—”

He spanks you. A sharp smack of his palm down your clit. “You fucking rush me and I won’t let you cum at all. Is that what you want, sweet girl?”

“…no, Daddy.”

“No, I didn’t think so. So what are you gonna do?”

“…whatever you tell me.”

He hums, wildly pleased. “Good fucking girl.”

It’s masterful the way he sucks and nips and thrusts. A combination of his fingers and his tongue that bring you closer with every curl. Because after all this time, he knows your body. He’s had a year to learn you and love you. The way you taste, the way you sound, the way you feel. He knows exactly how to treat you and my god does he treat you right.

“H,” you gasp as you reach for his hair. Clutching onto those soft curls for dear life as your legs squeeze the side of his head. “Shit, Har…I’m…”

“You looked just like this when I first tasted you,” he mumbles against your cunt. “You had this cute little fucked-out expression on your face…kept biting your lip and wrinkling your nose. Like you were scared to enjoy it.”

“Wasn’t…wasn’t scared,” you huff, but you know he’s right. “I was just trying to help you learn.”

“Mhm.” He swipes his tongue up the length of you, from hole to hole. “Loved getting to see you so vulnerable for me. And you were so eager to let me. Practically yanked me into you.”

“I did not. Not until we got that collar and leash, anyway.”

His lips pull back with a Cheshire-like grin. Another fond memory. “Speaking of, we should dig that out again. Don’t think we’ve gotten enough use out of it.”

“I agree.”

“Good.” He slaps your clit once more before spitting on it and spreading it around. “Maybe I should make you watch your dirty little videos, too.”

Your chest begins to heave. “Maybe…you should.”

“Maybe I will.” And just like that, he slips three fingers into your quivering cunt.

But the moment he reaches his knuckles and flicks his tongue, it’s over. You gasp, whine, shake. Tremble in his hands and against his tongue before you’re collapsing onto the mattress with the sounds of his grunted praise in your ear.

“Fucking shit, Bee,” you vaguely hear as he pushes your folded legs closer to your chest. “God, I fucking love it when you do that.”

And somehow, through the orgasmic haze, you realize you’ve squirted. Something else you don’t tend to do that often. But when you do…

“Shit,” he says again before burying himself back in the mess. Almost as though he means to breathe it into his lungs. He kisses it, licks it, indulges in it. Takes every last drop for himself, despite the way you whimper. “M’sorry, lovie. Just can’t help it. S’my favorite.”

And you can feel a second one already barreling toward you. You're far more sensitive now and it almost hurts to have him continue. But you know he wants a second one. Know he needs a second orgasm out of you and you're powerless to deny him.

He brushes his touch through your folds and pulls you apart just to look at you. Watching your body spasm with pleasure as your hole flutters around the emptiness where his fingers used to be.

"Harry," you plead, a pitiful mewl.

He dives in. Licking and licking and licking like you're a popsicle on a hot day. He teases your opening with his tongue before smoothing it back up. Again and again, he tastes you. Until your cheeks are stained with tears and your body unravels once more.

When you cum, time stops. You bite on your lip so hard, you draw blood. The metallic taste filling your mouth as you push him back and wiggle away from his ministrations. Nearly sobbing from the painfully beautiful overstimulation.

He laughs lightly but does allow you to rest. Pulling himself up until he can place his head on your chest and settle in your arms. “Shh. You're all right, sweet girl. I've got you. It's okay."

You only whimper.

He peppers kisses across your face until your hiccups subside. His touch is much gentler now and he spends the next few minutes speaking softly and bringing you back down to earth. Doing everything he can to remind you that he's got you. Always.

"I'm proud of you," he finally says. "So fucking proud of you, Bee. Do you know that?"

You sniffle. "Really?"

“Mhm. And not just for squirting. For everything. All the time. The way you carry yourself. The way you love your friends. The way you love me.” He nuzzles his nose into your neck. “I’m so lucky to be loved by you.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “Well, I’m so lucky to love you.”

A tender beat passes. Then, he whispers, “Do you think you’d ever wanna get married?”

Just like that, your heart stops. You hope he can’t hear it. “Um…I don’t know. Would you?”

“Probably. Only to you, though.”

“Oh…that’s good.”

He glances up. “I’m not proposing. I mean, not right now. Not like this, I just...I don’t know. I thought I’d see if you…even wanted to marry someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

He shrugs and looks back down. “Yeah. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d be very good husband material.”

Your expression drops. “Harry,” you whisper, dipping down to press your lips to his temple. “You’d be the best husband in the world. No matter the material you’re made of.”

He chuckles again. “Think if we did get married, my parents would have a heart attack.”

“What? Why?”

“They fucking love you. They’ve been trying to get me to ask you out since we were kids.”

“Shut up, no they have not.”

“M’serious. When I told them we started dating, I swear to God my mom sent me like twenty links to engagement rings ‘just in case.’”

You laugh now, too. “She’s so cute. I’m gonna have the greatest in-laws.”

And for some reason, this makes him smile bigger than he has all evening.

The two of you stay like this for what feels like hours. Snug in each other’s embrace, his heart against yours. And you realize that this is where you were always meant to be. Right here, in this bed with him. From the moment the two of you met all those years ago, he was your Harry. And everything after has merely led you to this moment with him.

You often think about that fateful afternoon when he waltzed into your apartment and asked if he could eat you out. You wonder what would have happened if you’d said no. Could you have been okay with seeing him and Tina? Would you have patched things up with Eric, just to distract yourself?

But then you realize, you don’t want to imagine a world where you rejected him. It was a strange twist of destiny that you brought you and Harry together that day. In a position you never thought you'd be in. But if he hadn't, you'd have never known a happiness like this. A peace like this.

You’d never know him. The real him.

You don’t care if he proposes or not. You don’t care what your future looks like. As long as it’s with him, you’ll feel fulfilled. Happy and content in a way you never thought possible.

And the best part is…you know he feels the same.

By the time you start to feel tired again, it’s nearly morning. Soft streams of sunlight are already dancing through your bedroom window, illuminating the beautiful curve of his back. Glistening through his disheveled curls like a heavenly halo.

It nearly takes your breath away.

You count his freckles and moles like stars in the sky. Run your fingers along his shoulders and spine until he snuggles even closer. You've never felt so lucky to behold someone so beautiful.

However, just before your eyes can flutter shut and allow you to finally find a bit more sleep, your phone buzzes.

Confused, you both turn toward the nightstand where the vibration is coming from before you reach for the device plugged into the wall.

“Who is it?” Harry asks sleepily as he nuzzles his way back into your neck.

You read over the message.

And your stomach drops.

“It’s…”

“What?”

“Um…”

"What?"

You say nothing. Can't. You reread the text three more times in an effort to stall and create some sort of explanation.

But your silence piques his curiosity, and he eventually glances up. "Bee? What's wrong?"

Your pulse starts to race. Your palms start to sweat. And even though you know you have nothing to be afraid of, you take in a stuttered breath.

“It’s…Eric,” you say slowly.

And just like that…the tender moment is over.

Harry sits up, expression hard and unforgiving as he waits for the rest.

And you’re almost afraid to give it to him.

“…he wants to meet.”

I cannot believe it's been one year since the story that changed my life 🥹 And I can't thank you guys enough for what you've done for me!!! It was such a silly little story that I was sure wouldn't do very well, but introduced me to so many amazing people and gave me such a new found love for writing!!!

Thank you for being here and supporting me and Harry and Bee for a whole year now!!! I'm actually going to sob 🥹💞💞 ILY GUYS SO SO MUCH!!!

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

Amazing credit for the beautiful dividers to @firefly-graphics 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @harrysgf01 @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @vyctorya @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @wolfmoonmusic @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @itsmytimetoodream @floral-recs

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luveline · 1 year

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𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you comfort miguel when he lashes out after a memory —a ficlet featuring begrudgingly lovesick miguel and a flirty spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw implied ptsd and accidental rough handling

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel can feel your heart-eyes on him. You're sitting behind him on the floor in his office, or, as you've fondly nick-named it this week, The Control Room, humming and making little origami flowers.

So far you've made five, promising him without prompting a multi-coloured bouquet. He doesn't know why you've stopped (or why you started), but he doesn't have to turn around to confirm it. He can tell. You're shameless either way, proven when you say, "Hey, handsome?"

He sighs with more annoyance than he feels. "What?"

"How'd you know I was talking to you?" you ask, with a laugh he loves and hates at once. Loves, because it's a really nice sound, and hates, because he knows how this goes. "I could've been talking to Margo."

"She is handsome," Lyla chimes in.

"Very much," you agree.

Margo, alias Spider-Byte, looks up from her tablet screen to flash a smile. "Thanks, guys."

"What did you want, then?" Miguel asks.

He's surrounded by girls who live to annoy him —they all laugh as though they know something he doesn't, and when he turns to glare at them they laugh more. Lyla zips out of his eyeline, disappearing from view with a sympathetic, "He's dumber than he looks."

"Hurtful," Miguel says, turning back to his screen. "Why do I bother?"

You stand up with your bundle of paper flowers crinkling in your hands and approach him. You're of normal height, while Miguel is of 'ridiculous' height (your word choice), and so you have trouble looking him in the eye when you stand close. You have more trouble keeping your distance, craning your neck all the way up with your rubber capped shoes to his spidersuit ones.

"Can you lean down a bit, please?" you ask.

Margo laughs, “Oh, here we go.”

Miguel has trouble saying no to you. And by trouble, he means he finds it impossible, and he hasn't done it in a while. He leans down very slightly, worried you're going to try and kiss him in front of the others. He's kissed you already (which he hates himself for, what a stupid thing to do) (but was a good kiss, as things go, your lips soft under his, his ardency undulating in the face of your little gasping sound when he'd bitten your lip, when he'd grasped at your side like you were slipping through his fingers), and you've kissed him. But never in front of other people.

Which isn't to say they don't know. Everyone definitely knows. They're just too scared or too kind to say. Or, like Lyla or Margo, they find it funny.

Now in reach, you lift an origami flower to his ear and attempt to prop it there. He has a flash of a memory, a small hand by his face, the summer sun on his neck, and he can't deal with it. He grabs your wrist and pushes it away from him.

Your eyes widen. You're not unused to his bad moods, but Miguel doesn't grab.

You look back, and he thinks it's because you're scared, and he wishes he could take it back straight away, but you're looking for Margo and Lyla. When you see they aren't there, you take his face into your empty hand and ask, "What's wrong?"

Miguel doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say. Sorry would be a good start, but his mouth is dry. He frowns down at you.

"I didn't mean to overstep," you say, uncharacteristically serious.

"I didn't mean to grab you," he says.

"I know. It wasn't so aggressive, anyways. I'm genetically enhanced, you know?" Your smile creases the delicate skin at the corners of your eyes. "I'll make you something else. A fan, for the heat, or a jumping frog."

You turn and take a step away. Again, Miguel reaches for you, but when he takes your wrist this time it's with the kindness you deserve.

"I'm sorry, cariño," he says.

He’s embarrassed for having pushed you away, even if he couldn’t control himself. All you were trying to do no doubt was make him happy. It's usually your main prerogative besides winding him up, and he can't find any ill will in a paper flower.

"Cariño," you quote in a murmur. It doesn't take a second for you to return to your smiley, loving self. "That's definitely something nice."

"It's affectionate." He doesn't explain more than that.

You force your hand into his, twirling inward like a half-hearted dance. "I can tell," you say giddily, dropping your cheek into his chest.

He rubs the back of your hand. Sorry, sorry, it says, each pass of his thumb against your skin.

"Miguel," you say, in the lilting cadence of a girl with a favour to ask, "now you've ragged me around–"

"Not what happened–"

"–I was thinking maybe I could do something to you." You smile cheekily around your words.

He sweeps his gaze across the office to make sure there's no one here with you both, or about to be. Complicated you may be, but Miguel knows you well. Better than he should. He spent a long time denying his feelings for you, aggrieved and guilty, and a longer amount of time resenting you for being so damned enchanting. Which wasn't your fault in reality —you're a weird creature, and you can be a little off-putting; it's Miguel's problem alone that he wants you as badly as he does. To feel your neat, teasing smirk under his lips. To have the line of your jaw against his hand as you whisper flirtation or laugh at your own awful jokes.

To take your hip into his grasp and squeeze.

There have been times where Miguel wanted to press you up against a wall and kiss you into silence, quieten your taunting teasing with a bite to match his bark. And there have been times where he wanted to rub the tense line between your shoulders, having caught you in a vulnerable moment, and promise that things will be better.

He isn't making any more promises, not in this life, but he thinks that someone like you, who tries too hard to make people happy and sometimes wears two masks at once deserves to do whatever it is they want to do to people like him.

"Okay," he says quietly. His voice is rough as hewn stone.

You have a pocket full of paper stars that crunch as you lean in. "I'm gonna kiss you, if you promise not not to freak out. Is that cool?"

Okay, you deserve some softness, but Miguel would rather lead. Your hand falls to his chest, and his hands find your face. His fingers behind your ears, his thumbs aligned with your smile, he squeezes your cheeks in his hold gently, tilting your chin up, and up. The column of your throat is bared and begging to be scandalised. He can imagine it, the bruising his lips would leave behind like crescent moons and the pinprick crimson stars from his needling fangs if he were to only press down.

"We'll compromise. I'll kiss you, and you'll let me apologise again."

"I don't need you to say sorry again," you say softly.

"Then I won't say it."

The implication has heat rising to your cheeks. Your hand grabs uselessly at his suit as you close your eyes, and Miguel knows his cue. He leans down and kisses you, tender but a little rough, your lips soft and warm and eager as he encourages your head to one side. It feels like you try to say something but you don't move back, and so he doesn't either, kissing and kissing and kissing until he's sure he'll remember how it feel tonight, hours from now, when he's staring at a screen wishing you were haunting his office rather than in a doze in the girl's dormitory.

"Miguel," you say, practically into his mouth. This time he pulls away, and you take a small step back so you don't have to crane your neck. "I, uh…"

Miguel wipes the sheen from your bottom lip, not not listening but certainly not giving his full attention. He's hoping you'll let him kiss you again.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the flower," you say.

His eyes lifted to yours. "It's not that. It's not you. Don't waste any time thinking about it, okay?"

He pinches your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. You hold his eyes for a moment.

"I don't really think," you say bashfully, wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a hug he doesn't have time to reciprocate.

"You think," he says, blinking as you retreat from him completely, waltzing back to your origami station on the floor. Your hips don't sway, but there's a movement to them he tracks.

"About you, handsome? All the time."

Miguel groans and turns back to his screens. Lyla appears silently, and sticks a finger into her mouth in a mock gag.

"That's in poor taste," he says.

"I would like to hand in my resignation."

"You can't resign, Lyla. You're a hologram."

She pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose and blinks out of view, refusing to speak to Miguel for the rest of the day outside of official Society business, and even then she's cranky. You fill the void of conversation with a mixture of nonsensical and merited suggestions, and by the time you leave for the night, his desk is decorated by a rainbow menagerie of paper animals, each one made with care.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! please consider reblogging if you have the time! <;3 if you have a request of this pairing or other miguel fics and want to share, im eager to see them!

my other miguel fics

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fernandopiastri28 · 1 month

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stop to smell the flowers ❀ - oscar piastri

Oscar is so incredulously smitten for his girlfriend to the point he doesn't even know how to express it with words- so he does it through actions and gifts. ~ (self indulgent and SO short)

“Baby?” A soft echo of his voice vibrated through the eerily quiet apartment, not a single noise besides his shoes scuffling against the carpet. Oscar set down his bag on the kitchen counter, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the side.

He waited again for a response from his girlfriend- but to no avail. He raised his voice slightly higher this time, moving closer towards the shut door of their bedroom. Keeping his noise down, Oscar pressed down on the handle of the door, attempting to keep the screeching creak to a minimum so as to disturb her, or wake her if she was currently sleeping.

To his unsurprise, his girlfriend was curled up in bed, her head resting at the very bottom of her pillow. Her bottom lip was puffed out over the top one, lashes sweeping over the tops of her cheeks. The quiet whistle of breathing filled the room, cutting through the silence from a lack of a fan going in the background.

She had her arms wrapped around a teddy bear, pressed into her chest. It was a small fluffy koala, adorned in a custom made McLaren jersey, a black 81 printed on the back. She’d named it Oscar, the teddy she held close to her each night when he was away.

The real Oscar was returning home to Australia and home to his girlfriend after the Miami grand prix, almost a whole month passing since he’d seen her last on the night after the Japanese grand prix, when he’d brought her to the airport to go back to Melbourne, then flying off to China himself.

Due to her being in her last year of university, her availability to go to every race- or even just most- was limited. She came when she could, but it was more often than not that she was at home, cheering him on from the comfort of her own bed or the couch. They'd gotten semi used to the unfortunately forced long distance relationship they now had, but it didn't make it any bit easier each time they had to part. At times, it felt as if each time he had to leave was just more difficult then the last.

She wasn’t expecting him to come back so soon, and nor did he. He fully thought his flight would be the following day and he got comfortable with the idea of a cosy night at the hotel- maybe a call to her and a movie. It wasn’t until Mark had offered the option for him to fly home just a mere four hours after the race ended- he didn’t waste a minute packing his suitcase back up and boarding the flight.

Oscar peeled back the covers on his side of the bed, making sure as to not disturb her in the process. He slid his shirt off over his head, opening up the closet door to find his favourite shirt. Even after a few minutes of searching both the hangers and the drawers without a sight of it, he looked over at his shoulder, smirking when he saw that it was the shirt his girlfriend had chosen for bed today.

Oscar settled for just a plain white top, his ‘OP’ logo imprinted over the left breast. He unbuttoned his blue jeans, allowing them to pool around his ankles until he stepped out, tossing them into the laundry basket. Now dressed in only his boxers and a far more comfortable shirt then the previous ever so itchy team polo shirt, he climbed into bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he breathed in the sweet, floral shampoo that filled his senses. It was his favourite smell- it smelt of home. He nuzzled further into her neck, pressing a few chaste, open mouth kisses to her soft skin.

Holding back from any serious marking, Oscar mouthed at her shoulder, dragging his tongue gently over the fabric on her shoulder, letting his teeth rub against it. “I missed you, beautiful,” He whispered, kissing up along her neck.

She whined, unconsciously twisting around in the bed to be facing toward him. He took the opportunity to press a few consecutive kisses to her lips, enough to settle the desperation for contact that bubbled hot in his stomach.

Her eyes fluttered, looking as if they would open. “Hi princess,” He tucked some of her hair back behind her ear, nuzzling back into said spot to re-immerse himself in the flowery scent.

“Osccc,” Her voice was thick and groggy with sleep, her eyes open by mere slits in order to block out as much light as possible. “You’re back!” She mumbled with as much enthusiasm as possible while still being mostly asleep.

“Mhmm,” A grin splayed across his mouth, burying his face further into the crook of her neck. “You smell so good,” He kissed the junction of her shoulder, leaving his lips there for a few more seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be back so soon? I would’ve stayed up,” She cupped his face in her hands, her fingers temperate against his chilly and rosy cheeks. Oscar gave a weak shrug, ignoring the question in lieu for kissing her more to warm himself up.

“It’s okay- I like this,” Oscar mumbled against her bottom lip, kissing her again and again until his jaw physically ached. “I got you a present,”

She tilted her head back, her left hand still positioned on his jaw- her thumb rubbing over his cheek. “Oh really?” She whispered, giggling as he met her question with a dopey grin.

“In the kitchen,” He rolled away from her, stumbling awkwardly back out of the bed. “C’mon, I promise it’s worth getting out of bed for,” He reassured her when he saw the displeased and unconvinced look on her face.

Begrudgingly, she followed suit- stumbling out of the bedroom door while wiping sleep from her eyes. She clung to Oscar, wrapping both of her arms around one of his, as the bottom of her sweatpants dragged along the wooden floorboard.

“It’s like a welcome home present, but for you- not me,” He handed her a bouquet of an assortment of orange flowers- begonias, marigolds, tulips, poppies. Anything that matched the same papaya colour that she wore across her torso.

Her heart pounded at the gesture, looking up at Oscar with the most fond expression. “Thank you, Oz,” She wrapped one of her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as her other hand worked on holding the bundle of flowers. “Thank you so much, I love them,” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched from one ear to the other on her face, her body alight with elation.

“Of course, baby,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rubbing her back with the hand that held her just as tight as she was holding him. “I think you deserved it with how you’ve been working,”

She scoffed slightly, looking up at him with an incredulous expression. “Me working hard? What about you, Mr ‘Four Podiums in Your Second Year in Formula one?’,”

Oscar gave another mindless shrug, laughing at her comment, “What, like it’s hard?” He teased.

#oscar piastri x original character #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #fluff #f1 x reader #f1 2024 #formula one #formula1 #mclaren #mclaren f1

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wallezhang · 2 years

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Can you wear contacts when getting eyelash extensions?

This is Our Lash.

There is a clear requirement in the standard service process: before grafting eyelash extensions to customers, be sure to remind customers to take off contact lenses, why is this?

1. To ensure the comfort of customers in doing eyelash extensions.

In the process of grafting eyelashes extensions, if customers wear contact lenses, their eyes will be dry when they close their eyes, and there is a foreign body sensation. Compared with not wearing contact lenses, the comfort is significantly reduced;

At the same time, the eye is still metabolizing and secreting proteins during eye closure, which can cause proteins to deposit directly on the contact lens, preventing the lens from permeating oxygen. After finished when customers open their eyes, they will find that the clarity of the lens is also affected.

2. The best time to wear contact lenses is 8-10 hours.

Let's say a customer goes out at 10 a.m. and comes in at 4 p.m. to do eyelash extensions, so she already wears contact lenses for six hours. After the eyelashes are finished, the customer might have a plan to dine, eat and sing with his classmates until the wee hours of the morning.

In this case, the shop is equipped with a special contact lens case, and the lash extension technicians can ask the customer to take off the contact lenses without more concerns. In about 2 hours, the customer's eyes can get a full rest, relieve the fatigue and discomfort caused by continuous wearing of contact lenses, which meets the psychological demands of the customer and increases the experience.

3. It can cause damage to the eyes if contact lenses are not removed when doing eyelash extensions.

Contact lenses are divided into hard lenses and soft lenses according to different materials. The diameter of the hard lens is smaller than the cornea (located in the front of the eyeball, is a transparent film, oval shape), which is carried on the eye, easy to move, when the eye is closed, the lens is easy to dislocation;

In addition, the hard lens is determined by the material, which is more likely to hurt the eyes. If the eyelash technician is careless in the process of operation, it may hurt the eyelid.

Soft lenses have adsorption function. In the process the soft lens may absorb the ingredients in the eyelash glue, besides the eye damage, the lens absorbs the composition of eyelash glue and probably cannot be used any more.

4. It can avoid accidents in operation and disputes with customers.

Lash technician needs to develop the habit of asking, checking and reminding, and should take the initiative to avoid customer disputes.

In daily work there’re frequently conflicts with customers because customers do not understand or for some other reasons. In fact most of the disputes can be avoided, just as what we’re talking about, if you do not want to cause unnecessary problems, reminder customer to take off contact lenses in advance.

According to the standard process of the shop to work, will avoid many problems, if any lash technician cannot explain clearly, please refer to the above content to understand and digest, and try to cause customers to pay attention to this aspect.

Ask the customer to take off her contact lenses. You can say:

Hello, when eyelashes are grafted, wearing contact lenses will cause eye closing pressure, resulting in dry eyeballs, which will be uncomfortable. The shop is equipped with a special contact lens case, which will be disinfected after each use. You can rest assured to use it.

That’s all for today post. If you need pre made fans eyelash extensions, please contact with OUR LASH.

#pre made fans eyelash extensions #eyelash extensions #lash extensions #eyelash factory #lashes extensions #eyelash #lashes #our lash

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ki-yomii · 3 months

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beg | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 1.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, mild degradation, mild praise kink, established relationship, rough oral (m receiving), throatfucking, teasing, pet names, throat bulge, studio sex, wet & messy, reader wears a necklace with yoongi's initial

➥ summary | requested from this - "Oh no, not until you beg." & "Relax your throat." With Min Yoongi :3

➥ notes | for anon~ hope you enjoy 🧡 un-edited, I’ll come back to fix things when it’s not 2 AM lol

masterlist | ask box | AO3

The low hum of the A/C unit overhead and the whir of the computer fan kicking on is almost enough to drown out the wet gags and gargled breathing but only just.

Not that it really matters - the hours had long since crept past midnight, and Yoongi was meticulous when it came to the design of his studio.

Key pad, double doored, soundproofed to hell and back; the whole shebang.

Millions of won poured into the construction of the four walls that made up his altar, his church. Furthermore, not only did others give a wide berth when he's on-site at HYBE, but even fewer have the special privilege of being granted access to his private sanctum.

You're one of the lucky ones.

Mind, it took several (long) months of veiled suggestions and cajoling to get you to where you are now, but it was worth it in the end.

Watching a man so thoroughly married to his work set aside his convictions to give attention to your relationship doesn't sit right with you. Plus, it wasn’t sustainable in the long run - even though you appreciate the effort.

No, this arrangement is much better - the best of both worlds.

Not only do you get to spend time with him, he gets to share what he loves. A win-win for everyone involved, but especially for you when Yoongi is horny and agitated.

“Mm, come on, baby,” Yoongi husks, wicking away the mascara clinging to the swell of your cheek with a rough thumb, “I know you can take me all the way. Now, stop playing, and relax your throat.”

Burning eyes fluttering open, you take in the blurry upside-down view that greets you through clumpy lashes; a sea of dark wood, the pale stretch of his legs, the pool of black basketball shorts puddled around his ankles.

Propped up as you are, head dangling over the thin leather armrest of the couch, you can't get a good angle without giving yourself a crick. Little spasms are already shooting through your neck, and down in between your shoulders because of the lack of proper support.

Something you'll definitely be paying for later.

But you're not about to stop Yoongi.

Not when he has you laid out on your back with his cock in your mouth, both of you working towards stuffing it down your throat. Even if your lips are fucked raw and swollen, your chin slick with spit and pre-cum.

Your tongue stretches out to flick over the fat head of his cock when he slides free with a sticky pop. “Fuck yeah, just like that.”

You hum low in the back of your throat, threads of arousal shivering down your spine as your belly swoops at the low rumble of his voice, the delicate trace of his fingers along the sides of your neck.

He grunts when you dig the tip of your tongue into his weeping slit, lapping and swirling around the spongy crown.

“Heh, you’re such a filthy bitch for me, aren’t you,” Yoongi says, his voice breathless and cracking around the edges. “Now, are you ready to be a good girl and swallow my dick?”

Inhaling deep, you let your breath shudder from you on a shaky moan that teases the insides of his thighs, the base of his cock, “Yes, please. Want it, Yoongs.”

Yoongi hums, satisfied.

“Watch those teeth,” is the only warning you get.

Then he's cradling your jaw with his thumbs and nudging his hips forward to grind against your lips. Eyes sliding shut, you drop your mouth open into a relaxed circle for Yoongi to fuck into.

The initial slide is smooth, aided by the strings of spit and pre-cum clinging to the lower half of your face. Though trouble begins the deeper Yoongi presses towards the back of your throat.

Your muscles tense as your mouth spreads wider and wider to accommodate his girth. An ache settles deep in your temples, little shocks of discomfort shooting down through the hinges of your jaw.

Tears leak past your clenched eyes, the renewed burn of mascara stinging your ducts as your sinuses clog. You whine - a raspy, muffled sound as your tongue wriggles along the underside of his shaft.

He hushes you, and anchors a hand on your shoulder as the other reaches down to twine with your fingers digging into his thigh. “Doing so good for me,” Yoongi said, “fucking perfect, baby.”

Your pussy clenches, your legs tensing against the leather. Sweat gathers behind your knees, your hips shivering with the need to twist, shift, and find a modicum of friction that’ll relieve the ache building behind your navel.

“Yeah, come on, that’s it. Just a little - shit - hah, that - oh fuck!”

His hips jerk forward as you hollow your cheeks to the best of your ability, hissing as teeth scrape along the sides of his shaft as he bullies his way deeper.

And then, with a pop richoetting down your spine, the head of his cock passes the back of your throat.

“Oh, baby,” Yoongi curses, his frame wracked with tremors.

His thighs shudder against your ears, his hips tense with anticipation as he holds himself still. Your throat rebels, rippling like a vice around his shaft, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Feel’s so - feels so good. You take me so well, knew you could. You always do.”

Gagging, your head goes light and floaty at the sudden lack of oxygen, tiny cavities peppering your vision.

Then you focus on breathing through your nose.

In - one, two, three. Out - one, two, three.

Over and over again until the mounting animal panic subsides, and you're left with tingling limbs and a throbbing cunt.

Yoongi groans, “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Thumbs bracketing the sides of your neck stroke over the visible bulge of his shaft straining against the chain of your necklace, the delicate ‘Y’ charm branding your skin.

It'll leave a welt everyone can see. A little mark to stake his claim. To remember him by when you're separated.

The thought gets you hotter than you care to admit.

“Can see myself in your throat, baby.”

At the praise, liquid fire pulses through your veins, and warmth blooms in your belly. Settling between your hips until your clit twitches.

Slick soaks through the seat of your panties, and you feel all at once so full, and so, so empty.

The scent of his skin - clean and clear. The musk of his cologne - earthy and masculine. The salt of him heavy on your tongue, his cock throbbing in time with his thundering heartbeat as you swallow around him reflexively.

It's enough to send you reeling with the desperation, the desire to feel him cum down your throat, to taste his pleasure.

Half feral, you try bobbing your head, fingers hooking around Yoongi’s hips to drag him into the cradle of your face deeper, faster, harder.

Only to be met with resistance as he refuses to move, to give in to the frantic movements.

Standing stock still, he lets you tug and whine and writhe until your efforts fizzle to nothing.

And only then does he respond, bending over your body to slide a hand between your thighs.

You jerk, hiccup at the feeling of his fingers inching past the soaked hem of your panties. Brushing over the silken folds of your cunt, teasing, testing the slick arousal with his knuckles.

“Oh no, baby,” Yoongi says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest into yours, “You gotta beg me first.”

#min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi #yoongi #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagine #yoongi fic

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oneforthemunny · 8 months

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friday the thirteenth |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you and eddie go to the drive in. a small blurb that's apart of the oneforthemunny's spooky story series! also eddie edit made possible by @eddiemunsonsmum :)

Friday, October 13th, 1989

“Hey, make sure you hide those snacks, ok?” Eddie muttered, a ringed hand gripping the wheel, blowing smoke out the open window.

“I don’t think they’ll all fit in the glove box.” You frown, shoving the crinkling wrappers of honey buns and kit-kat under miscellaneous papers, a few lighters that were stored away in there.

“Just put ‘em under the blanket, sweetheart.” Eddie nodded, flicking the cigarette out the window, arm craning behind him for the blankets you’d thrown in from home.

“They won’t look?” Your eyes cut to Eddie’s carefully, grabbing the aged quilt from his grasp.

“No, they’re not gonna search the van, baby.” Eddie grinned. “Just look in. Just make sure it’s covered, alright?”

Undoing your own seatbelt, spreading the blanket over the snacks, feet tucked under your legs. Eddie tapped on the cracked leather of the steering wheel with excitement, rolling to a stop on the gravel behind the line of cars. “I’m so fuckin’ excited.” He admitted, eyes sparkling through the gloom dullness of the gray Indiana sky.

“Yeah?” You giggle. His smile was infectious, made your heart warm with an overwhelming sense of adoration. “I can tell.”

“This was a good idea. Coming early, because look at this line, babe.” Eddie tilted the rearview mirror to look at the piling line of cars behind him. All swarming to the Hawkins Drive-In for the double feature of Halloween and Friday the Thirteenth… on Friday the thirteenth.

“Good call with that.” Eddie smiled over at you, heat spilling over your cheeks at his praise. Eddie’s hand fell on your thigh lightly, squeezing your thigh playfully.

“Oh, shit. Look at that guy. Shoulda brought my mask, huh?” Eddie nodded towards the teenagers parked in the back, running around in their Jason and Michael masks.

“Yeah… maybe don’t park over there, though.” You cut your eyes at the teenagers, screeching and jumping off their tailgates.

“Why?” Eddie smirked, van rolling in line slowly towards the ticket stand. “You scared? Afraid they’ll get you-”

“-No-”

“-Because I get it, babe. It is Friday the thirteenth. It’s a very scary night. I’d be scared too.” Eddie teased.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re scared, Munson?”

“Maybe. Maybe ‘m just excited.” Eddie smirked, long lashes batting at you sweetly. The van creeped towards the ticket stand. “I wasn’t gonna park there anyways, but they did take my spot, fuckin’ assholes.”

“Your spot?” Your brows lifted in amusement.

“Yeah, good makeout spot.” Eddie smirked at your scoff, stopping in front of the ticket stand.

Your head rested against the seat rest, Eddie’s curls illuminated in the bright light of the ticket stand. Rings catching in the light when he handed them the money, bracelets peeking out from the leather of his jacket when he took the tickets. He looked so pretty; so content.

“Can you put it on the station?” Eddie muttered, shifting gears so the van rolled with a low grunt over the gravel. “You wanna be more towards the front?”

“I’m fine wherever, Ed.” You hum, turning the dial slowly. “You’re the expert, right, baby?”

A huff of a laugh left his lips, curling in a small smile. “Yeah. Think there’s a spot up here if this jackass in a wagon doesn’t take it- Christ, who’s taking kids to this kind of movie? Fuck that, we’re not going there. I’m not listening to screaming the whole time.”

“Maybe they’re older kids?” You grin, the comical tune of the pre-movie show tune playing through the speakers. “Or could be big horror fans. You didn’t like scary movies as a kid?”

“Yeah, but it’s not fun going with your parents.” Eddie rolled his eyes, reversing into a back spot slowly. “Gotta sneak it or it’s not fun.”

“Like the candy, hm? That’s the thrill of it?”

“Exactly.” Eddie smirked, jamming the gear to park.

“Shit, this part is good, baby. Look.” Eddie whispered, lips still pressed to yours, hand sliding from your jaw slowly.

“I don’t wanna look, just-” You pawed at his jacket collar, pulling him closer, back into your kiss.

“-Wait, wait, this is the good part. Hold on.” Eddie muttered, eyes zoned in onto the screen, sitting back onto the van’s floor.

You huffed, pushing up on your forearms to look at the screen, lips numb from the cold air and Eddie, just in time to see Michael Myers take a victim- a brutal slashing that had the entire lot grimacing out loud.

“Oh, that’s fucking sick.” You cringe, looking at the van’s floor instead of the movie, stomach twisting uncomfortable.

“Very fuckin’ sick. Wonder how they do that, huh? Like the special effects shit like that.” Eddie grinned, body buzzing with adrenaline and excitement.

“I don’t know. They better have won whatever award there is for that, because that,” You nodded towards the screen, the dismembered, bloody body lying there. “Is disgusting.”

“Wait until you see Jason’s victims. Makes Michael look tame.” Eddie grinned, head falling against the pillow, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Can’t believe you’ve never seen these.”

“No way.” You wrinkle your nose at the screen. “More of a Beetlejuice fan or Elvira. I always liked that movie.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Eddie smirked. “Really liked that one.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course, you did.”

“I like a spooky babe. Can you blame me?” Eddie pulled you close to his side, lips smacking against your cheek.

“Oh? So you don’t like me, huh?” You glare at him lightly. “Just wasting my time, Munson?”

“No way.” Eddie shook his head, looking over at you. “You’re a total spooky babe.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing lightly. “‘M serious.” Eddie squeezes your thigh gently. “You’re doing this with me.” He nodded towards the screen. “Yeah.” You hum, eyes cutting to the screen, grimacing at the chase scene. “Guess I must love you or something to sit through two of these.”

#oneforthemunny #oneforthemunny spooky stories #eddie munson halloween #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie my beloved #eddie my love <3 #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fic

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

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For years, there wasn't a day that went by where Tommy Hagan didn't wish he'd never met Steve. They had known each other since pre-school. They weren't exactly fast friends, but Tommy noticed Steve right away. There was just...something about him that caught his attention. Maybe it was his laugh or maybe his smile, Tommy couldn't even remember. But he noticed him.

They're not best friends, but they're in the same small group. He tries to talk to him, he may even be just the slightest bit obsessed with him, but it's not easy to get close. There was something about Steve that was just... intimidating. Maybe it was because he was kind of an intense kid to begin with, or maybe it was because the sight of him makes Tommy's heart go into overdrive. But either way, he can never cross the threshold from friendly to close.

Not that it matters, because everything changes in second grade. It's stupid he even remembers that.

But when Eddie Munson came waltzing in that year, he might as well have never existed in Steve's eyes.

None of them did, despite the fact that the small group of four boys had been close for nearly four years before he came along. Because once Steve laid eyes on that little freak it was all over. They were inseparable and had been for years. It took about a week for Steve to forget his name, and Tommy didn't know what to do with how that made him feel.

Steve looked at him the same way that Tommy looked at Steve. And it made him sick.

But then five years later Eddie moved away, and suddenly Steve was all alone again. Tommy had moved on, of course he did. He had his own friends now, he didn't need Steve Harrington. But that didn't stop him from instantly trying to become his friend again. It works, it even works better than it did last time, now that they had sports to bond over.

But the feelings were worse than they were in grade school. Tommy learned quickly that he loved his smile, he adored the sweet way he laughed, and he would do or say about anything to see it. But despite the fact that they're closer, something wasn't right. They never get to where he was with Eddie, but he convinces himself it would just take time.

Time he didn't have, because Eddie comes back, less than two years later. It takes a few months for it to happen, but soon enough Steve is right back to where he was a few years ago, following his every beck and call, and Tommy is back to not existing. He can't help but lash out about it.

He corners him in the locker room one day, hissing, "When did you decide to go gay with Munson?"

Steve shrugged, utterly nonchalant at being accused of the biggest social sin, “Who told you that?”

“Why else would you abandon us at the drop of a hat?” Tommy couldn't hide the hurt in his voice that time, and he hated how it cracked at the very end.

Not that it mattered. Steve didn't care. He barely even looked at him as he left, calling out over his shoulder, “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night man.”

And just like that, Tommy was nothing again. Not that he cared. He moves on. He gets a girlfriend, new friends, and he doesn't let whatever weird feelings he has for Harrington affect him. Even if he's the one who starts off the rumor that their gay for each other. He only does it because it's true. Nothing more nothing less, and he's like his dad.

He's not a fan of queers. Not in his town. He just had to keep telling himself that. There's more than one time where he's close to proving that he's right.

There's one in particular, where he just knows he had been close. One day, right before practice he had seen Eddie damn near skipping away from the back of the school to the parking lot. He went back to investigate, only to find Steve smiling to himself behind the school, breathing all heavy in a way that just made Tommy's blood boil. There was even dirt on his knees for god's sake.

It infuriated him. But that was the closest he ever got to proving anything, and it hadn't amounted to jack shit. It takes years for it to actually really happen. And by then they're already out of high school. It's a weird night all around. It starts with Carol dumping him, at Lover's Lake of all places, not that it's surprising. He was a few days out from leaving for college, and the two of them had never discussed a future together. He doesn't even stop her when she decides that he should walk home, despite home being nearly five miles away.

He doesn't mind though, not really. The walk would give him time to think anyway. That's what he tries to do anyway, but all of his thoughts come to a screeching halt when he hears it, that beautiful, horrible sound.

The sound of Steve laughing. He doesn't know why he follows it, but he does. He follows it until he sees them, the Munson van parked in the middle of nowhere, the back door splayed open. He has a clear view of them from his spot on the sidelines, carefully covered by shadows.

They were cuddled up together, Steve heavily leaning into Eddie's side as they talked, "Y'know, it's kinda nice to get this for another year."

Eddie snorted at that, "There are stars in the city babe. But thank you for trying to make my failure have an upside."

Tommy watches, wide-eyed as Steve kisses him quiet, quickly muttering against his mouth, "You're not a failure. You're just academically challenged."

He does it so easily. Like he'd done it a million times before, and he probably had. Eddie just sighed, "Yeah, yeah. Potato, potatoe."

Steve kissed him again, and his second try was more effective at shutting him up. He ignored the comment, opting to lean back into his chest and point up at the stars, "Tell me about that one."

Eddie starts prattling off about whatever constellation Steve had pointed out, not that Tommy cared. He was still reeling from what he'd seen. Here it finally was, the proof he's always wanted. And the funny thing was, who gave a shit? He was leaving in a matter of days. High school was over, and unless he wanted to personally call up everyone in his yearbook to share the news, no one was going to give a shit.

It was over. And maybe that's why he can finally admit it to himself. He never cared that they were queer. He cared that it wasn't him. That no matter how much Tommy had tried to be close to Steve it didn't matter. He didn't choose him. He'd never choose him. All he wanted was to be in Eddie Munson's place, and he was never going to get it.

The realization isnt as shocking as he had expected it to be. Maybe because he had seen it coming. But it still makes him pissed. He hated Steve for that. Or at least he wanted to even if his stupid heart wouldn't let him.

But you know who he could hate? Eddie Munson. Because if he had never come back then maybe Tommy would be where he was right now. It would have taken more time sure, but at least he would have had a chance.

He'd always hate him for that. But one thing was for sure. Tommy was never going to let this happen to him again.

He leaves for college and tries his damndest to forget. He convinces himself that Steve was a fluke, an exception to the rule. Tommy was normal, he would be fine. With or without him.

He meets a nice girl, gets decent grades, and goes right into sales. They get married in 1990, their first kid in 1992, and Tommy has almost convinced himself that he's happy.

He doesn't see Steve again for years. Not until 1996. He's in Indianapolis for a conference, fresh off the plane. He stops off at a coffee shop, realizing too late what kind of atmosphere he'd walked into. The rainbow flags, the piercings, he'd somehow managed to walk into what was probably the only queer coffee shop in the city. Any other time he'd walked out by now. But he's tired, he's jetlagged, and there's no one here he knows to preform for. He just wants some caffeine.

He's waiting for his order when it happens. He's looking around the space, mindless and bored when he spots a couple curled up together in a booth, doing the Sunday crossword puzzle. It takes a minute for him to realize just why his eyes stop on them, but then one of them laughs. And it's that same god-forsaken laugh of his childhood, the same one that still sent shivers up his spine.

He almost can't believe what he sees. But it's them, Eddie and Steve, laughing it up while they scribbled into their newspaper. Steve turned his head to kiss Eddie's jaw once before going back to what was in front of him, playfully arguing over something he'd said. Tommy didn't know how long he had been staring for, but it was long enough to get caught. Eventually, Eddie looks up and catches his eye, his own widening at the sight of him. But besides that, he doesn't do anything. Tommy knows he recognizes him, but he doesn't nudge Steve. He just looks away and kisses the side of his head, his focus already back on the newspaper in front of them.

Tommy couldn't help but think that they looked...happy. A lot happier than how he felt. It made him feel ill all over again.

He leaves the coffee shop without his order, despite the fact that he had already paid. He opts to sleep his exhaustion off at the hotel, failing to get the thoughts of them snuggled up together out of his head.

He thought he would be over it by now. He was a happily married man. Two kids, a decent job. He was past this high school bullshit. But that same feeling was welling up in his chest again. That horrible jealousy, and a reminder that yes, he still hated Eddie Munson.

Because now he has to acknowledge it, a fact about his life that he had been avoiding for years. He's not happy. Not like that.

He doesn't see either of them for a long time after that. He's 49. Divorced. A good relationship with his daughter, and a strained one with his son. He's back in Indiana to take care of his mom, now that his dad was dead, though he at least got her to agree to move out of the pit known as Hawkins. They settle in a three-bedroom in Indianapolis, and it works, surprisingly. He had been so worried about introducing his mom to David, let alone them living together, but she adores him immediately. It took a few years for her to come around, but when she did it was complete.

Tommy loved her for it. And for the first time in a long time, he's happy.

It's a pretty snap decision to get tattoos of each other's names. But he did promise David he could have whatever he wanted for his birthday. It's silly and corny and something for people who were twenty years younger than him. But fuck it. You only lived once, right?

They pick a random shop walking him together one day, both of them laughing with each other as they picked out a book design. By the time they're up next, Tommy is in high spirits, which is maybe why he's so unprepared for who comes waltzing up to them.

It's fucking Eddie Munson. He introduces himself as their artist, eyes narrowing at Tommy. It takes him a second to place him, but Tommy recognizes him straight away. Despite being 50, the guy looks startlingly similar. The same long hair, now with streaks of gray. The same cocky smile, the same confident walk. There are some crow's feet and laugh lines on his face now, and maybe he moves a little slower, but it's Eddie Munson through and through.

With a brand new ring on his left hand.

Eddie doesn't come to the full realization until he has David set up in his chair, and he's literally sketching out Tommy's name onto the back of his neck.

He mumbles to himself, "Well who would have fucking thought?"

"What was that?" David asked, completely unaware of the history between the two men. Of course he was, Tommy wasn't exactly bursting at the seams to tell his long-term boyfriend about what a massive homophobe he used to be.

"Think I might know your boyfriend from high school is all," Eddie answers for him, eyes on Tommy while he disinfects the skin, "Though he was closer to my husband than he was to me."

It shouldn't have been surprising, but the question still escapes from Tommy's mouth regardless, "You guys still together?"

Eddie gives him a long look as he answers, "Since we were 16. But you knew that, didn't you?"

David grins at that. Of course, he does, completely lost to the tension pulsing between them. He's a hopeless romantic to the letter, "You've been with your husband since high school? That's so sweet!"

Eddie breaks eye contact, face relaxing, "Thirty-one years. We're one of those. But enough about me, how about we get started?"

Eddie makes small talk as he works, which just makes Tommy tense up even more, waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop, "How long have you two been together?"

"Four years," David says proudly, "Living together for two."

"Well isn't that sweet," Eddie mumbles as he changes the ink color, taking a quick chance to raise a brow at Tommy, "Who would have thought that Hagan would settle down."

"So what was Tommy like in high school?" David asked, clearly excited to meet someone from the past that he refused to talk about, "Were you guys, friends?"

"Not exactly," Eddie says, casual. Like Tommy isn't on the edge of his seat waiting for him to just say what he wants to say, "Like I said, he was closer to my husband. But they fell out of touch. Life after high school and all. Though I know he was a hell of a basketball player."

He leaves it at that, plain and simple, like his kindness for keeping his mouth shut wasn't leaving Tommy reeling. They finish their appointment in relative silence, though it ended up being less awkward than Tommy could have prayed for.

He doesn't say anything until David goes to the bathroom and he's left to pay, raising a brow at Eddie, "You didn't have to do that you know."

He snorted, "Is that your version of a thank you?"

"I am thankful but-"

Eddie interrupts him, "Look man, I just figured that over the past thirty years, you managed to change. None of my business to try and mess up what you have now." He says it with a tone of finality. Not necessarily forgiveness, but it's definite.

It doesn't stop the apology from coming out of his mouth though, "I appreciate that. I do, and for the record, I am sorry. About everything. I know it doesn't really mean shit but I am."

Eddie's face remains impassive as he hands him back his card, "Okay."

"And uh, could you tell Steve that for me too?"

That made him crack a smile, "Oh don't worry, he's gonna hear all about it. I'll let him know."

David was walking back to him by then, bright and happy while he saddled up to his side. Tommy waved as they left, hands interwoven when they went to walk home. He felt a lot of things in that moment.

Ashamed of the past, embarrassed for his behavior, and grateful that Eddie kept his mouth shut about what an asshole he had been. But there was something missing. That familiar feeling of jealousy and loathing was gone completely. He tightened his hold on David's hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his fingers, just to hear him laugh.

One thing was for sure, he didn't hate Eddie Munson anymore, not one bit.

a cut interlude for this fic that i thought i'd post here. It ended up closing too many doors of where the story should go, but I think it's still interesting.

#internalized homophobia #tommy hagan #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #wooooo sadness #angst #steddie childhood friends au #the universe trapped in your skin #tommy pov #it works out though #steddie fic #secret relationship steddie

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slvthrs · 1 year

Note

picture perfect part 2 🤍🙈 i wanna know what vinnie would say and do after the onlyfans suggestion HAHAHAHHA also more vinnie smuts please 🫶😉

ofc babes

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION | vinnie hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, making a sex tape, degradation n and praise kink, brat taming, oral (f and m receiving)

word count: 1.2k

The idea of an only fans had been plagging Vinnie’s mind for a week now, he knew he was famous and it was gonna be fucking stupid of him to jepordize his carrer like that but god he can’t lie, the idea of you putting on a show for him made him feel some typa way.

You looking up at him with your doe-y looking like innocent girl whilst you were begging to be fucked like a slut on camera… It made him hard just thinking about it so after careful deliberation and a long talk with you he decided he wanted to make sex-tape.

Not for anyone to see, only for him, only for his girl. He wanted something to remind him of you when he was far away for weeks at a time, he needed a token of your affection, and this was it.

So as he pressed the start record button on your phone and settled back into your shared bed, you could both tell both of you were excited.

This was new, it was different and it was a reminder of who you guys belonged to… it turned you on.

"Hey princess, you ready?" He said with his raspy voice, snapping you back into reality.

Imagine if his fans, no, his friends, saw him right now. He had just ended one of his streams, so his voice was fucked due to all the yelling and laughter and it made him sound that much more enticing.

You swallowed all your nerves and looked at the blonde boy's eyes searching for what he was feeling but all you could see was admiration mixed with potent lust.

With one last word of encouragement you said to yourself you started palming his dick through his boxers causing a low groan to stumble out of his lips helping you gain some confidence as you picked up the pace causing more disgruntled noises to slip through his lips.

As you pulled your hands away, you replaced it with you mouthing at his aching cock through his boxer causing a wet spot to pool on his boxers with a mixture of pre-cum and your spit whilst you look up at him through your lashes.

"F-fuck stop being a bitch and teasing me" He throws his head back and as much as you want to be a brat you know if you act good the results are usually a lot better for you.

You pull down his boxers in a swift motion and start jerking off his dick while rolling his tip with your thumb. You re-adjust so the screen can see his leaking tip.

As you pick up the pace he pulls your face up and kisses you and whispers in your ear, "Good girl keep going for me" the words of praise are clearly meant for just the two of you softening the crudeness of the scene.

You fall back down to your knees with a thud! and start kitten licking his tip lapping up the salty cum. He tries pushing you to take the whole length in your mouth but you move his hands and run your tongue along the bottom of his dick from the base to his tip and place a kiss on the top of his cock.

You're playing with fire because Vinnie is reaching his tipping point and it's evident as the look on his face is morphing from one of pleasure to one hiding the pleasure with impatience.

You tease him for just a little longer until he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your mouth to take the entire length causing you to gag.

"God can't you every just be good" He says while fucking your face hitting the back of your throat every-time.

As tears start to from in your eyes he keeps using your throat as a flesh light, your spit coats his dick and some of your makeup is starting to get fucked up.

"My stupid little doll, you love my dick so much don't you? You're such a whore" The mix of degradation and possessiveness causes you to man on his cock sending vibrations up his body and gaining you an airy moan.

He keeps going, making sure you know who you belong to and fucking your throat absolutely stupid- you're not gonna be able to talk for days.

"My silly little bitch, i've fucked you dumb haven't I?" He asks but he already knows the answer.

With a few more thrusts he finishes in your mouth but pulls out midway so his cum splays all over your face.

While you try to catch your breath he readjusts the camera so it has a better view of what’s about to happen.

When he returns to the bed he pulls you onto his lap and kisses you completely not caring he just came in your mouth. But the kiss deepens and he pushes you onto the bed with him hovering over you and putting both your hands together above your head.

“More, please” you whine out.

His eyes blew wide and he surged forward, this kiss was a fucking mess, too much teeth, so fucking sloppy and your sure you tasted blood and sweat but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on the inside of your thigh and looked up at you “You want this baby?” It turned you on more than you would like to admit.

“Oh god yes please” It came out as a breathy whine

As soon as he heard it, he stood up pulling your lacy bra off of you and manhandling you onto his bed and pushing the short skirt up to reveal your while little panties and how fucking soaked they were by just him hovering over you, “Fuck you really want this don’t you slut” he chuckled and you fucking moaned at that.

“Oh yeah you like that whore, you like being this easy for me?” He breathed out as he made contact with your soaking pussy.

“Oh fuck Vinnie, right there, fuck please right the-” Your blabbing was cut off with a moan as he made contact with your clit swirling his toungue in circles it was so so good it’a so much and fuck your close and he barely started.

“Vinnie I-Im close” you muster out threading your hands in his hair you feel so fucking good you could die here him around your thigh eating you out like your a rare delicacy.

“C’mon cum for me doll” he chuckles out and goes back to pleasing you.

You completely bliss out and roll my eyes out to the back of your head and your legs throb and you finish all over his face. You stay like that for a bit completely on cloud 9, you're both soaring and god you never wanna come down.

He steps up, shutting the camera off and picking it up and walking to you.

He starts playing the video before you quickly grab the phone out of his hand and smack him on his chest, “Hacker play this shit alone no with me here!” You whine and pout

He just laughs at your reaction and squeezes your thigh before placing a chaste kiss on your lips,

“You have no idea how many times I’m gonna cum to this video babe”

#bella's full works #bella fawns over vhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagines #vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker oneshot #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker x reader fluff

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kenslilove · 11 months

Text

᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Happy Birthday, Shoei

a.n. Yes, I’m obsessed with barou n yes ofc I had tu write him a birthday piece. It’s funny bc I always seem to get bursts of creativity whenever it’s my favs bdays. They just— deserve to be celebrated yknow? Anyway, this is self indulgent, enjoy <3 Reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

W. Somnophilia, sloppy head, spit, gagging, female pet names, barou n his big phat cock <33

Barou was a heavy sleeper. Once he found himself comfortable in clean sheets, feeling you curled up into his side, not much could wake him up from slumber.

This morning was no different; sleep was heavy in his head, yet consciousness was coming to him slowly and groggily. His body seemed to be awake before his brain, because his hips were twitching, muscles in his abdomen and thighs tightening up, flexing under soft sheets.

Your palm was the next thing he felt. He’d recognize your touch anywhere, even in this half-awake state of his. Small and delicate fingers smoothed over his hip bone, traced his adonis belt before travelling down, down…

“Fuck–” The groan bubbled free from this throat, low and raspy and still full of sleep. Your hand had cupped his balls, massaged them and circled them in the base of your palm as if you were luring him from sleep. Now that he was becoming more coherent he could feel your sweet, warm pants against the vein that ran up the underside of his cock, the air conditioning hit his already wet and very swollen cockhead.

“Mornin, King.” You murmur, voice still sounding a bit far away to his ears. Shoei wasn’t sure now if it was because he wasn’t entirely out of dreamland, or because you wrapped your lips around him again, suckling on his tip like a pacifier.

“God fuckin’ damn–” His head tilts back into the plushness of his pillows, black hair fanning out around him as his Adam’s apple bobs with the force of his low, baritone moan. His muscles loosen enough for him to finally lift his head, hair momentarily in his eyes which were still slit with sleep.

He’s met with your beautifully flushed face, plump lips wrapped over his cock, palm fisting at his base to keep his heavy cock upright. Your chin was shiny with spit, knelt between his flexed thighs, ass swaying a bit as you pulled off him with a wet pop.

Shoei could have sworn he saw little hearts in your gaze as you pressed your cheek against his cock, and nuzzled the hard flesh while pumping him slowly.

He had them too, those heart eyes, though he’d never admit it.

“Mornin, Princess.” He sighs, lifting a palm to rake it through your hair. He cups the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing up against the soft spot behind the back of your ear. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, a little hum leaving your lips as you left open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along his shaft. In each one he felt the warmth of your tongue, felt dribbles of drool pool at his balls, and it only made his cock ache further, twitching and quivering under your touches.

It was times like this Barou did not mind a mess.

“Happy–” You let your tongue run through his slit, refusing to let his bead of pre-cum roll down his length. “Birthday.” You finished softly, batting your lashes at him. “Happy Birthday, Shoei.”

He huffs fondly, palm tightening on your nape only to guide your mouth back to his tip. You open up without any fuss, sinking on his cock until your cheeks feel puffed. Until he sits snuggly in your throat and leaves it bulged out. Until your nose is nestled up in his well-trimmed and manicured pubic hair.

You sputter a bit, gag even and choke just a little. And yet you stay right there, mouth full and eyes watery. He continues rubbing that gentle flesh behind your ear, his elbow now wedged behind him and keeping his upper half upright.

“Thanks, little love.” His voice is still deep, and low, although sleep has fully faded away now. When he feels your fingers start to twitch on his balls his index finger taps at your jaw, your cue that you’re allowed to finally raise your head.

Drool connects your swollen lower lip to his dick in strings, some of them snapping back and sticking to your already messy chin. You suck in a few quick breaths, your sweet little hand massaging your saliva into his shaft and Barou expects to exchange a few words with you before you get back to it. He was ready to tease you about how long you had been sucking him off in his sleep, or if this might have been a birthday present.

But Shoei didn’t get the chance. Your mouth was back on him, lips pushed out on either side of him to suckle his tip comfortably. Your eyes are wide and watery, looking at him all doe-like, soft and gooey. This time, he chuckles, his hand finally moving from your nape to pet at your hair and make your lashes flutter. Your cute whines vibrate all the way through his cock, waves of pleasure making him swallow hard, roll his hips just a bit so his cock could feel every corner and creves of that mouth he loves so much.

“Eager little thing…” He simply murmurs, allowing you to continue to bob your head shallowly, suck and slurp at his dick like it was your favourite thing. “Gunna make me cum for my birthday, are you?”

You nod, because there was no way you were disconnecting from his lenght again. Not when he started leaking more pre against your tongue, and defiently not when you started to feel his balls twitching for release in your hand. Instead, your words are grabbled around his girth, a semblences of words that make Shoei smirk.

“Mhm, first present of the day.” <3

#blue lock #blue lock fanfiction #bllk smut #bllk fic #bllk drabbles #blue lock drabbles #shoei barou x reader #shoei barou #barou smut #barou shoei smut #barou x y/n #barou x reader #barou fluff #barou x you #bllk barou

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luveline · 11 months

Text

𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you get embarrassed and miguel won’t let it go —featuring a smug miguel and a pining spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"This is super, uber bad," Lyla drawls lightly.

Miguel waves an annoyed hand at her, gaze on the orange monitor in front of him. You shift from foot to foot beside him, neck craned to watch in tandem.

"Like, so bad. Maybe you should go help."

"I can't intervene now," Miguel says.

"How come?" you ask, pulling at the tips of your gloves one at a time as you worry, until the whole thing is slipping off and onto the floor.

You make no move to pick it up. Miguel glances down at it, then the screen again before saying, "Because they'll never learn. And because there's too many fingers in the same pie."

"Pie?" you ask.

"You don't want that?" he asks, pointing at your fallen glove.

You blink, pulled back to the present from your stewing anxiety. It's hard seeing people you care about getting their asses handed to them and knowing you can't help.

Miguel rolls his eyes, only half-making fun as he leans down for your glove. You lean at the same time, almost knocking your head into his as your fingers brush. Miguel looks up, suddenly face to face with you. Your breath catches in your throat at the proximity. You can see every dark lash hedging his eyes, feel the fanning of his exhale as it kisses your top lip.

His confusion is obvious. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

"Uh– it’s nothing."

His eyes narrow, your heart skips a beat, and while Miguel might not have a spider sense he's still enhanced. He must hear it. Something in his eyes changes, the smallest flicker of amusement relaxing his brow.

You wince and stand up rigidly straight, face to the screen again so he can't see your flustered expression head on. "Nothing."

"Sort of felt like something."

"It's nothing, Miguel."

"That why you forgot this?"

You look down at his offered hand, your glove bunched up in his big palm.

Your lips part of their own accord, any effort you've made to appear unaffected by him, his stature, and his general imposing demeanour now worthless. Too quickly, you snatch the glove from his hand and yank it back over your fingers, your pinky bending uncomfortably from the sheer force of it.

"It's nothing," Miguel repeats without inflection, though he crosses his arms and chuckles a second later.

You squirm beside him. "I– I'm distracted."

"I can tell. Something caught your eye?"

The urge to cover your face with both hands reaches an all time high. You settle for covering one flushed cheek. "Nothing interesting."

"No? Well, we can change that."

"Would you stop?" you ask, trying to sound furious but definitely bordering pleading.

"I'm not doing anything. Nothing happened."

"I wouldn't take that, if it were me," Lyla chimes in.

"Good thing it's not you," Miguel says.

Things are quiet for a while. Miguel refocuses on the fight unfolding on screen, and you try to calm your beating heart. The embarrassment refuses to wane, your pulse too stubborn to slow, and eventually Miguel must take pity on you, leaning toward you with arms crossed over his chest. "It wasn't that bad," he says.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm trying to make you feel better."

"You– I– you were so close to me, I got nervous, it– it has nothing to do with you."

Miguel raises his eyebrows. "Oh, okay." He straightens up. "Nothing to do with me. You know I can hear your heart, right?"

"Wow. Is that unique to you?" you ask scathingly, knowing every Spider in the whole headquarters can likely hear the drum of your heart right now.

You know he's teasing because he finally managed to catch you in a moment of awkwardness rather than the other way around, and because he's an asshole —you think that part hard, hoping his enhanced hearing has improved to include telepathy. Like he can tell, he grins, and he nods at nothing in particular.

"Don't worry, Spider-Girl. I won't hold it against you."

"Generous," you say.

His voice drops to a rough, lilting murmur, "People have said that about me. Tall, handsome, generous." It's impossible to miss the implication.

Your heart rockets and you have to turn away from him entirely to maintain any dignity you have left.

"You know what else they say?" Lyla asks. "That he's a smug, tightly wound control freak who's too busy being a bad sport, totally missing Jess' call for backup."

"What?" Miguel asks, all smoothness dropped from his voice. "Respond!"

"Say sorry to Y/N."

"Lyla!"

"Say sorry–"

"I'm sorry," he says to you. You're happy to find genuine apology in his gaze, if only for a second. "Lyla, respond."

"Already did."

Miguel gets so immediately angry that his head tips back and his eyes screw closed, grunting his dissatisfaction. You send Lyla a grateful smile, smothering a wave of laughs with your gloved hand.

"Don't worry, Miguel," you say cheerfully. "I won't hold it against you."

"...Thank you."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks for reading! i hope u enjoyed, pls reblog if u have the time! <;3 my other miguel fics

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lipstickghoulie · 6 months

Text

Reconciliation

(Astarion/female reader)

This was written because of the breeding kink challenge on an Astarion server!

Mature content, minors DNI. Mentions of the ascension ritual and Astarion ascending, breeding kink, unprotected p in v, cum and pre-cum, praise and more.

It’s over. The city saved, the nether brain defeated, good prevails over evil yet again… Blah blah blah. Revelry has consumed the city for the past week, celebrations overtaking the streets before the rubble even cleared and before most repairs are even under way. Hells, there’s still chunks of mind flayers tentacles littering the gutters and pieces of destroyed nautiloid ships bobbing up and down in the murky, Foundry-polluted water by the docks and yet, all that anyone can seem to focus on is celebrating their near-brush with death and the glorious aftermath. Not that you can blame them, exactly, especially when even your most stoic companions seem to be embracing the excuse to unwind and accept the accolades from the citizens of Baldur’s Gate.

But you? You’re numb to it all, have been even before the last killing blow to the brain. You’ve lost too much, been fighting for too long and you feel like you’ve made too many mistakes as a result of being bone-tired and mentally exhausted for weeks. Why else would you have gone along with it when Astarion wanted to ascend? At the time, when he was looking at you from underneath the fan of his lashes, imploring you with that soft “please” that spoke of the years that he had spent helpless and afraid, it had seemed like an obvious choice. Like when you had given him the book of necromancy at his request; you had only ever wanted to help him, give Astarion every tool he needed to feel less scared and like he could defend himself against anyone who ever wanted to hurt him again.

The reality of letting loose seven thousand spawn that seemed more feral than anything and who seemed to have a personal grudge against your lover seemed like the frosting on the cake of personal justifications to let him go ahead with the ritual.

In the aftermath though, when Astarion suddenly seemed so distant when he wasn’t spouting off his cartoonishly terrible plans for the future, when he was suddenly rambling about taking over the city and even the world when this power was just supposed to be about keeping him safe… well, suffice it to say that with every passing moment, your stomach sank further and you had started to realize that you had made a huge mistake that you couldn’t fix or take back. That maybe in the process of making sure that he could never be hurt again, you had hurt him worse than anyone by giving someone who was not ready for it such dark, terrible power.

You tried your best to ignore it, ignore him and focus on coming preparations for the coming battle but Astarion made that impossible when he cornered you after dinner one night at the Elfsong and started doing that voice that you hated, the one that harkened back to when he had seduced you in the first place. All brittle performance, trite lines and paper thin smirks, no sincerity. It made your skin crawl and itch like being caught under a locust plague spell. How could he think that performance was what you wanted, especially after all this time and everything that you two had been through together? How could he think that you’d want this fake imitation of Astarion instead of the real thing? Even when he was moody, whiny or short-tempered, at least it was real.

Your irritation with the terrible play acting of seduction of love almost caused you to barely pay attention to the words themselves and when you did finally tune in what he was trying to convince you to do, you felt a trickle of ice ooze down your spine. He wanted to make you his spawn. Despite Astarion waxing on and on about how terrible it was to be a spawn since you had met him, despite you never showing any interest in being a vampire whatsoever, he wanted to shackle you to him as his slave. This was horrifying to the utmost degree. Needless to say, but you had refused most sternly and things had escalated into a cold and heartbreaking end of your relationship. You knew that he had a terrible propensity for cruelty so in the scheme of things, you felt like you had gotten off fairly easily since Astarion just rambled on about how you’d regret this and how ungrateful that you were. His tongue could cut and wound worse than any blade so you hoped this was a sign that the prickly but loving man that you had been so fond of was still buried in there somewhere but really, you suspected that maybe Astarion just truly didn’t care about you now that he had the power he always had craved. Maybe you really were just a means to an end all along. The thoughts made tears sting at the back of your eyes but there was no time to let them fall and be self indulgent in your grief.

Thankfully, you hadn’t had much time between the breakup and the final battle to think about Astarion and your future without him at all. He seemed unaffected and snarky about it, still declaring loudly how excited he was to create his army of spawn and coat the city in fog, how no one would ever be able to tell him what to do ever again. It quieted down slightly when Karlach remarked that it seemed like Astarion was happy to follow in the shoes of his former master and that she was glad that you had gotten out while you could, though his face was murderous even while his mouth remained shut.

He was useful in the coming fights, you’d give him that much. Still always protecting your blind spots as well as he had when you were together, still quick as lightning to slip his daggers in between the ribs of any enemy who let their guards down for even a moment. Astarion’s new powers seemed to fill him with a childish glee even in the midst of destroying the Emperor and fighting off the group’s former dream guardians.

Still, he had disappeared before the smoke had even cleared when the nether brain was slain and the city saved. You imagined he was probably out having reckless nights of debauchery, creating spawn from the beautiful and grateful Baldurians out there celebrating the end of the apocalypse itself. While the thought filled you with no small amount of jealousy and sorrow, you hoped that he was happy… if Astarion was even capable of it, in his current state.

You certainly didn’t feel like you were capable of happiness, at least not right now. You had the use of the rooms at the Elfsong for another couple of weeks, at least, so while your friends headed out on their respective journeys (or engaged in their own small amounts of celebration before doing so), you mostly stayed in bed or the bath, alternating between staring blankly at the ceiling or slipping into bouts of fitful slumber.

You were trying to fall into one of those such sleeps now, facing the wall with your back to the rest of the room, tears trailing silently down your cheeks as you finally let yourself mourn. Mourn the end of the only love that you had ever known, the one that you had looked forward to spending the rest of your life with. You and Astarion had never discussed the future since even killing Cazador had seemed like such an impossible feat for such a long time to him but secretly, hadn’t you thought that you’d adventure together or at least be together in some capacity when this was all over?

You had presumed too much and now it felt like losing a limb, like-

The bed dipped as something, someone, pressed down on the mattress behind you. You freeze but the familiar scents of bergamot, brandy and rosemary clue you in to who it is before you have to worry about any bold intruders. Arms wrap around your midsection firmly as they have dozens of times before. As if they’d never left at all.

“Missed me?” Astarion murmured into your ear before burying his face in your hair and taking a long, shaky exhale, as if the smell of the shampoo you used would help ground him. “You should be flattered to know that I missed you, little love.”

His voice had an air of practiced airiness, like this is just a normal conversation between two lovers. But the veneer was brittle and so thin that you know you’d see through it easily if you turned to look at him. You don’t though, a bit at a loss for how to handle this. There wasn’t a Volo guide on what to do if your powerful vampire ex-boyfriend tried to snuggle with you.

You finally said evenly and wryly, “I’m surprised you thought of me at all. I thought you’d be out creating an army of spawn across the city so they could build your murder pits and do your bidding.”

“Hmmm, yes, well, I would have done that but it’s such slim pickings these days, what with so many casualties from the battles and all-“ Astarion began to say, voice as sardonic as always but maybe you’ve had enough. You’re not in the mood for wordplay and dancing around subjects that make him uncomfortable, not any more. If you don’t owe each other anything, if you’re not together any more, why should you let him have humor and sarcasm as a shield like you always have?

You interrupted him sharply, your voice ringing out as true and cutting as any paladin’s shining sword, “Tell the truth or leave. I mean it, Astarion.”

The heaviest kind of silence stretched between you both for what felt like several minutes before Astarion sighed in resignation, his grip tightening on you as if he was scared that someone would try to take you away.

“I tried to make some moves to sire some spawn the first night that I left. I went to a tavern across town, found someone who seemed like they wouldn’t be missed. Easy, right? The sort of thing I’ve done so much that I should be able to do it in a trance. However… they tried to kiss me before my fangs ever got close to their neck and I couldn’t do it. My stomach rolled, nausea took over and I… threw up,” Astarion admitted hollowly, shame and disgust coloring his tone. You didn’t have to look at him to know how embarrassed that he was, both at the event itself and at having told you about it.

Your former paramour seemed to be waiting to see if you’d laugh at him or say something insulting but you don’t, feeling a stab of pity for Astarion despite everything, despite how difficult he could be. You hadn’t really relished the idea of him creating a legion of vampire groupies in general but it still must have been humiliating for him to vomit in front of some stranger.

When you didn’t comment on it, Astarion carried on his tale, his words reverting back to their usual sarcasm a bit even as he tried to be sincere. “So, two centuries of trauma doesn’t disappear overnight, as it turns out. Who knew? Anywaaaays, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past couple of days and I realized that I’ve never had that reaction with you since I trust you, since I lo… like you. And maybe I didn’t truly want spawn after all.”

Clever fingers that could take apart the most intricate of locks at the Counting House in minutes moved from your sides down to your hips, rubbing circles there through the thin material of your nightgown. You shivered and you felt him huff out a chuckle before he continued talking, “Maybe what I don’t want is servants and people who will tell me whatever I want to hear. Maybe what I needed all along was the one woman who I could believe in, who believed in me enough in return to give me all of this power. You and I are destined to be together, to make each other happy…”

You’d relaxed under Astarion’s touch, your spine less stiff and defensive as you listened to his rambling. You were still angry at him but gods, you’d missed him after all. And despite his obvious attempts at flattery, he still sounded like the man you had fallen for. Maybe it wasn’t the ritual that had changed him as much as it was Astarion’s own hunger for power and arrogance at finally having it.

“We did break up though,” You couldn’t help but point out in a quiet murmur.

Astarion seemed to choose to ignore that.

“You know, what I really think would be better than an army of spawn is fucking a baby into you,” Astarion remarked almost idly. As if he was suggesting something as mundane as popping down to the shops. “That’s a better legacy than having to teach some simpering nobodies how to hunt and make sure they don’t kill the wrong people. I know that you and I would both enjoy it more-“

You shot up in the bed and finally turned to face him, your eyes wide and disbelieving. Astarion looked as beautiful as he ever did, hair perfectly coiffed and and his heavy brocade outfit without a thread out of place. The only sign that anything was remiss was the even heavier bags under his eyes that spoke of days without rest and filled with an insurmountable amount of stress.

“What are you talking about?! You are undead, you can’t have a child and we are not together!” You rattled off in succession, your tone disbelieving at Astarion’s audacity. “Did the ascension scramble your fucking brains?”

The idiot has the nerve to bat his eyelashes at you as if you’ve offended him and as if he’s the injured party here. Gods alive, you wanted to strangle him more than you ever had before and that was saying something.

“Language, my treasure,” Astarion admonished lightly, though he changed tack and went on to explain quickly when he saw signs of your temper rising in your expression. “I’ve spent some time skimming Cazador’s notes and, it seems that an ascendant vampire should be as virile as any man. Maybe even more so…”

His hands gently pushed you down onto the bed as he moved to lay nearly on top of you, Astarion’s eyes turning from nervous to sultry in an instant. His head moved forward enough to press slow, lingering kisses along the edge of your face and jaw until his mouth was near your ear. He muttered softly, “Don’t you want to put it to the test with me? It’ll be even better than old times. My stamina is improved with my new powers and I imagine that extends to the boudoir. I could leave you sore and leaking my seed, stuffing you full over and over again until it takes… and even more after that just to be certain…”

For a moment, your face flamed with heat as you considered it. You didn’t know that you might have a breeding kink before this moment but hells, you hadn’t known you had one for praise either before you had bedded Astarion. You almost let yourself imagine it for a moment, being taken and stuffed full of his cum repeatedly, your core practically pulsing with sheer, unadulterated need at the thought of it. But then you backed away, as much as you could with Astarion crowding you in on this bed, and shook your head slowly. He frowned deeply and pulled you back down so your back was to him again, his arms restraining you in a fierce hug.

You couldn’t see his face but this was a small sacrifice. You hoped this meant that Astarion had given up on this harebrained idea for now, had settled for cuddles instead. You had no such luck though as he started up the conversation yet again less than a minute later.

His voice had some of that wheedling tone that it used to take sometimes when he wanted something and you were being difficult (which, in Astarion’s mind, was seemingly whenever you wouldn’t give in to his demands immediately and enthusiastically).

“And why can’t you give me this? You’ve been saying you love me for ages but you wouldn’t let me turn you into a vampire and now you won’t even let me breed you,” Astarion whined against the back of your neck, his arms closing in even further around your midsection as he grinds himself against your back. Even through all of your layers of clothing, you could feel him, hard and needy. You almost felt like you could feel the faintest hint of dampness, like he had precum soaking through his breeches, as if his cock was trying to convince you to give in too. If you weren’t so annoyed, it would be enough to make your own body respond in kind but as it is, you just huffed out an irritated sigh. How was he so turned on already just at the thought of this?!

“We are broken up-“ You stressed again, voice firm and cold, but the words cut off when one of his hands slipped underneath the waistband of your underwear and beelined for your center. Astarion gathered some of the wetness that you hadn’t even realized was there on the pads of his fingertips and smoothly worked it over your clit as you choked on a very undignified and startled sputtering noise. You couldn’t see his reaction but you could feel his pout morphing into a smirk against your skin before he planted a very smug, sensual kiss next to where your pulse was jumping wildly in your neck.

Airily, Astarion replied, “Are we, darling? Doesn’t seem to be the case right now. At least your body seems to want me, despite your silly little protests.”

You opened your mouth to argue further but the words fled from you in a hurry as Astarion reached down with his other hand and tore the fabric of your simple cotton panties away, the sound of stitches ripping unbelievably loud in the near quiet of the room. The fingers that were massaging your clit moved down to your opening and sunk in, two of them, your pussy offering no resistance at all. They sunk in as if to a warm bath after a long day; all liquid, welcoming heat. You whimpered and found yourself spreading your legs so he could thrust them in more easily.

How quickly you had given in to him! After everything he had done, after all of the stupid things that he had said. All it took was a few muttered words in your ear and his fingers delving into you and you were Astarion’s again. You’d be ashamed if you weren’t so eager to feel him making you feel amazing all over again.

“Please, please,” Astarion rasped desperately against the shell of your ear, one of his fangs glancing against the skin as he humped more furiously into your lower back. You could definitely feel more damp; his dick had to be dripping pre-cum by now and absolutely ruining his pretty clothing. “Please tell me that you want me, want this. That you want me to fuck you so thoroughly that you forget what it’s like to not be dripping my cum. Need this, need you, tell me that you need this too.”

Both of you were losing any semblance of composure so fast that it’s like it was never there at all. Astarion prodded at a spot inside of you that made you keen and grab at one of his forearms hard enough that it would have hurt him before but he didn’t even acknowledge it now.

You barely had time to gasp out a “yes, I want this, want you” before Astarion was yanking his fingers back out of you unceremoniously. You looked at him with eyes brimming with upset at the loss but you were soothed by him manhandling you onto your back, treating you with the sight of him lapping away at the digits that had been inside of you with a pleased expression that would be more at home on the face of someone enjoying their favorite meal. You watched, spellbound, as Astarion licked your arousal off of his fingers and leaned forward to introduce your own taste to your waiting mouth. The tang of it didn’t phase you and you met his lips eagerly, kissing each other as if you’d spent decades apart instead of mere days. You feel him rucking your night gown up further until it’s uselessly over your stomach and during this time, Astarion must have undone his breeches since you jolted as you suddenly felt his cockhead slap wetly down on your clit.

A groaning sound broke out of you at the motion and Astarion grinned, his teeth showing as ferally and triumphantly as if you had begged him and not the other way around. He gripped the base of his shaft hard enough for you to be briefly concerned about his penis and slowly trailed his cock down to where your arousal dripped and beckoned him in, tracing the slit at the top of his dick teasingly over your lower lips.

“Aw, looks like you did miss me,” Astarion crooned condescendingly, his eyes bright with a mixture victory, relief and desire so wild and powerful that it would put druids to shame. “Don’t worry, I’ll always take care of you, my pretty girl. You know you’re the only one for me, forever and always.”

You didn’t get much more warning than that before he pushed into your pussy, every vein and curve of his cock dragging along your sensitive walls the whole way in. Your hands scrabbled at his back, mindful of the raised lines of his scars under your fingertips, as a gasp punched its way out of your lungs at the forceful but arousing entry. Astarion pulled his body back a little to watch his cock bully its way into you, his gaze heated and enraptured, mouth agape a bit at the beautiful sight.

“Gods, you feel good. I was so stupid for letting you end things. This is where my cum belongs,” Astarion groaned out, voice cracking as pushed forward into you again easily. You’re both so wet from your combined arousal that the lewd noises coming from your coupling are almost loud enough to drown out his words, his balls moving against your skin in another cacophony of carnal noise.

You squeaked as he reached down and rubbed at the ridge of your clit again, the sensation nearly too much as he fucked you into the mattress. Your back arched underneath him, Astarion’s dick plunged into you as your juices slicked your upper thighs and still, he wouldn’t stop talking.

“Going to fill you up so well, darling, we’ll never be apart again. You’ll be so stuffed with me, forever, always at my side and being such a good fucking girl for me,” Astarion growled, his eyes flicking up from where your pussy was getting thoroughly rammed by him to make intense eye contact instead.

This should scare you. It should freak you out a bit how possessive that Astarion is, how afraid that he is that you’ll leave him or go somewhere where he can’t reach you that he’d anything to keep you shackled to him. It occured to you now that he’s probably spent this time apart anxious and worried over what the next steps could be to wriggle his way back into your life and bereft of any other ideas, he had arrived on knocking you up. You should probably be more annoyed than you are but right now, your lust is running the show and besides… you always knew that your love wasn’t good at planning.

A few more presses of his cock into you, the veins on the shaft shiny under the torchlight in the room on every pull out of your cunt, and you’re orgasming violently, your blunt nails scraping up his spine as he didn’t slow down. Even as you clenched and trembled around him and cried out his name, Astarion increased his pace until he was panting and near to cumming himself.

“So fucking good for me, so good to me. I love you, I love you-“ Astarion gasped loudly, his hands leaving angry-red bruising imprints of his finger tips on your hips as he thrust into you. Then you felt it, felt the hot ropes of cum splattering the insides of your cunt, the temperature change jarring compared to the coolness of the vampire’s flesh. You flinched at how long the act of cumming seemed to go on, the extreme volume of it making it so that you felt the pearly drops spilling out of you around where you both still connected even before he pulled out. You were truly flooded with his seed now, able to feel it painting the soft skin of your upper thighs as well as the sore but happy sleeve of your pussy.

Astarion slumped over you after he carefully disengaged his cock from you, his breath hitching as he did so even though he didn’t need to breath. His forehead bumped against yours and he hummed for a few moments before he asked you, unsure and needy for reassurance, “Are we… okay? Are we back together now?”

You sighed in a way that showed that you were exasperated but you pressed your forehead back against his regardless. Who were you fooling? Ascension or not, this moron was yours and you were his. You’d always figure things out with him, one way or another. You loved him and maybe that was enough.

“Yeah. We’re back together.”

Astarion’s face brightened at your words and his head dipped down to kiss you, languidly, his lips and fangs rubbing against your mouth in a way that showed his contentment now that things were settled.

“Good. I’ll give you a few minutes and then I’m fucking my cum back into you,” Astarion said without preamble, a smirk as slow as a grease cantrip taking over his face.

Ah. It seemed that he was serious about trying for a family. Your cheeks turned a rosy, pinkish hue at the thought all over again.

Well, what was the worst that could happen? The chances of this actually happening were probably low anyways, right?

…right?

#astarion x female reader #astarion smut #Astarion breeding kink challenge #astarion fanfic #my writing #my fanfiction

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wallezhang · 2 years

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Cluster Lashes VS Premade Fans

With the continuous development of eyelash industry, new eyelash extension styles are popping up all the time. Though traditional classic eyelash extensions and volume lash extensions still dominant, there’re many lash artists and consumers are curious & confused about the multifarious kinds of eyelashes, today I’m going to talk about the premade fan volume lash extensions, it’s becoming increasingly popular with novice eyelash technicians.

Premade fans lashes, simple to understand, the fans are premade in production chain before it comes to the market. It saves the time of lash artists making fans by hand, so it’s novice friendly.

For lash extension purpose, premade fans mainly have two kinds: bonded premade fans and tied premade fans (Individual Flare Cluster Eyelash Extensions or called ribbon lash extension).

So what’s the difference between Cluster Lashes VS Premade Fans?

1. Manufacture craft

Bonded Premade fan volume lash extensions are usually glue bonded or heat bonded in the root, finished products are usually cluster by cluster, hairs are combined with helps of molds and glues, also need more labor handling than traditional volume lash extensions.

Ribbon eyelash extension need workers to tie the hairs on a strip to form a cluster, it’s a fully handcraft fan. Finished products are usually in a strip, so also called ribbon lash extensions.

2. Material & Price

Premade fan lash extensions are made of milling PBT fibers, each hair in the fan are tapered off into a point to achieve a more natural effect.

Ribbon lash extensions are made of common synthetics fibers, all hairs in the fan are of a same thickness from root to tip, no more complicated procedures. Though fully handcrafted, ribbon lash extensions are quite cheaper than normal premade fan lash extensions.

3. Shapes

Premade fan volume lash extensions have 2D to 20D options, roots can be trimmed in long stems or short stems, tips can be made in same lengths or camellia lengths, there can be many variations according to customer requirements.

The ribbon lash extensions have a relatively simple choice, 10D &20D are the most ordered and usually 60 fans on a ribbon with uneven tips.

4. Applying way

Ribbon lash extensions can be called semi-finished products compared to normal premade fan lash extensions. Because they’re tied on a strip so before apply ribbon lash extensions, lash artists need to trim them out one by one while premade fan lash extensions only need tweezers to take fans off the tray just as traditional lash extensions.

#Cluster Lashes #ribbon lash #ribbon lashes #cluster eyelash #premade fan lashes #pre made fan lashes #pre made fans lashes

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dooberific · 9 months

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❝ 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘨 ❞

pre-release wriothesley x afab! reader

-> can be read a gn save the like, last line oop

genre: hurt w mild comfort tbh

been eating up that rough boxer wrio tbh <3,

It was uncharacteristically quiet as you stood there in the kitchen, your hands balled into fists. The only sound was the shrill hum of the box fan in the window desperately trying to circulate the hot air that seemed to pervade the shitty little apartment you called home. You were so angry you were practically shaking, a tremble not unlike that of his bandaged hands as he raised the cigarette back to his lips.

He looked like hell. The gentle slopes of his tanned face were blotched with ugly blooms of black and blue. Butterfly stitches held his skin together in places that were sure to scar, weeping with antiseptic ointment and drying blood. There was a new crook to his nose, a new cut opened on his lower lip, a new wince to hide with every movement of his arms that you knew looked no better under the loose sweatshirt he wore.

He may be the one beat all to hell but you felt it too.

“Wrio.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the peeling linoleum floor.

“Wrio, look at me.” You hissed, your voice cracking.

It was a hesitant action, the turn of his head. Maybe it was for the best, his blue eyes ringed with a spider web of burst blood vessels.

“Don’t go back there, not tonight.” Your tone was blunt and angry, as if hoping to convince him that he had toed the line and pushed things too far with your words alone. There was no such thing as safety when it came to ring fighting for money, yet the sheer brutality you now saw inflicted upon a seasoned fighter was enough to make your gut twist sickly.

He stared up at you blankly, a hand rising to rub his stubble lined lower face as he sighed. “You know I can’t do that.” Came his quiet response as he took another drag off the cigarette between his fingers, his eyes breaking contact at the hurt look that burned onto your face. You were never angry, let alone with him. It was a foreign and hollow feeling that stabbed into his chest at the sight.

Your mouth opened to retort only to shut and open once more as you floundered with the anger that burned in your veins and the distress that tingled up your spine and drew tears to your eyes.

“Fuck!” You yelled, turning away quickly as you felt tears breach your lash line and creep down your cheeks despite your efforts. “You stupid fucking boy, why can’t you just listen for once?” You mourned aloud, storming out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

You could hear the scrape of chair legs against the floor, his heavy footfalls trailing you down the hall as you quickly turned into the bathroom to make a futile escape. You couldn’t even close the door before he had shouldered it open, cornering you in the tiny space.

“Get out.” You hissed, your hands flat against his chest as you tried to force him back. It was like pushing against a brick wall and hoping it would move, another act of your frustration manifested.

“No, I’m not letting you run away from me. Not now.”

His voice was so gentle it hurt. It was a gentleness that seemed out of place for a man who seemed destined for the ring, for fighting, but it was achingly familiar to your ears as the tone that seemed reserved only for you.

He took a step further in, and you stepped back, your calves meeting the cold porcelain of the toilet. There wasn’t much more distance to be made, yet you tried your best even as he reached out and caught you in his arms despite your thrashing refusal.

You hated the feelings that seemed to overflow, the tightness in your chest, the stinging in your eyes. You hated the weakness that seemed to burn you to the core, and you hated the pitiful look in his tired eyes as he caged you in his arms against the wall.

Your fingers sank into the rough wallpaper as you turned your face away, wishing he would just leave you to be ugly in peace but knowing he wouldn’t.

“(y/n), baby, talk to me. Please.” You could faintly smell your cheap detergent mingling with the scent of smoke on his clothes as he wiped your tears with his sleeve, prodding for you to acknowledge him as if he wasn’t surrounding you with himself already.

You mustered up the courage to look back at him, your cheek pinched firmly between your teeth as you tried to collect yourself. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.” You blurted out, your brow furrowing. “They won’t fight fair and they are gonna kill you and I am gonna have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“It’s not about you letting it happen. It doesn't have to happen at all. The money isn’t worth it, please Wrio, just stay.”

He was quiet for a long moment, leaning forward to press his forehead flush to your own. His hands cupped your cheeks, rough thumbs brushing over your cheek bones. Your sweet boy, so tender and kind yet so bruised and beaten from circumstances he should have never had to deal with. It broke your heart nearly as much as his reply.

“I wish it was that easy.”

Your knees buckled as you slid to the floor, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over you. Money and debts be damned, they could all burn in hell for all you cared, yet your tears had dried and were replaced with a bitter emptiness that glossed over you eyes and filled you with an indescribable numbness.

He was silent as he joined you, his legs crammed up nearly to his chest in the floor of the small bathroom as he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Even without looking he could easily find your hand, small and delicate intertwined easily with his own, a thumb running over your knuckles in a circular pattern.

“Are we okay?”

His question was simple, yet it hung in the air like a lead weight. You squeezed his hand.

“No, I don’t think so.” You murmured, turning to look at him only to be met by his own intense gaze. You scooted closer to his side, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “I haven’t been okay in a long time, Wrio.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I knew what I signed up for.” You stated plainly, fingers splaying under his palm for a moment.

“Promise you won’t get yourself killed?” You offered into the air, turning to bury your face into his side. He smelled like home.

“Promise,” He replied softly as a smile teased the corners of his lips, “Who would take care of my girl if I wasn’t around?”

Rey, 2023

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #hurt comfort #genshin au

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keicordelle · 2 months

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The Secret Sweetness of Slumber

Genshin Impact | Kavetham | 2.8k | Explicit established relationship, consensual somnophilia, pre-negotiated kink, mentioned switching

In which Kaveh wakes up before Alhaitham for once and decides to take advantage of the situation

The soft puff of Alhaitham's breath tickled Kaveh's cheek, the quiet sound of his snoring still an even rhythm in his ear. A rare occasion indeed, for Kaveh to wake before his bedmate. Usually by the time Kaveh awoke, Alhaitham had already finished his morning run and was curled up in his favorite chair with his coffee and a book.

Kaveh cracked open an eye, taking in the play of early morning light over Alhaitham's features. He looked so much younger like this, the stern set of his face softened into something kinder, more vulnerable. His secret sweetness shining though in his sleep. The golden light turned his grey hair to brass and caught on the fan of his lashes, fluttering ever so slightly as he dreamed. His parted lips looked particularly inviting when they weren't downturned at the corners, even if a thread of drool dripped from one side. Even that was endearing — it was rare to see him look anything but his best, even when he was drenched in sweat and exhausted. But this early in the morning, his hair stuck up funny and his breath smelled, just like anyone else's. It made him seem more approachable. More... human.

Kaveh's eyes trailed lower, down past the sharp jut of Alhaitham's collarbones and over the plush mound of his chest. He'd thrown off the blankets again at some point in the night, but for once Kaveh didn't mind. It meant he could drink in the marvel that was his body as much as he liked. He dared to reach out and brush his hand down Alhaitham's abs, revelling in the softness of his skin and the dense muscles beneath. Sleep turned his hardened body soft, muscle made lax and pliable beneath Kaveh's fingers, and he indulged himself in gentle touches along the velvety skin of his stomach. Kaveh could labour for years and never create anything half as radiant as Alhaitham was without even trying. He was a living statue, an eikon of beauty and grace, and Kaveh couldn't quite believe he got to touch him like this.

Below the slender V of his hips, the half-filled swell of his cock drew Kaveh's attention. Thick and inviting even at half mast; Kaveh's mouth watered to look at it, hungry for a taste. He hesitated, fingers curling in the fine hair over Alhaitham's stomach. He'd said it was okay, but...

Alhaitham sighed in his sleep, utterly relaxed and lost in the realm of dreams. Even if Kaveh did indulge himself, he might not even notice. And he had been trying to encourage Kaveh to try new things lately... Besides, Alhaitham was a man of his word. If he said it was okay, he must have meant it. And if he was wrong, then surely Alhaitham would stop him when he awoke. They'd fight for a while, sulk for a week, and then never speak of it again outside of their mind shattering make up sex.

[Read the rest on Ao3!]

[Kofi/Commissions]

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t1sunfortunate · 2 years

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the unfortunate reality is that sns just isn’t that good.

sure, it could have been good if this or if that or the other thing, but the fact of the matter is that it’s not, and the main reason it isn’t is actually touted by a lot of sns fans as one of the central pillars of the relationship.

when kishimoto retconned naruto and sasuke’s relationship to state that they always understood each other, he undermined an entire series where the central conflict was about the two of them not understanding each other. to read from the beginning with this interpretation requires you to cast a ridiculous, needlessly complicated filter over all their interactions, giving them the character of a pair of chessmasters, rather than young boys. naruto and sasuke, if you throw out the retcon, read as a perfectly comprehensible narrative about two children who (realistically!) can’t see past the intricacies of their sociopolitical situations to understand that they have a lot in common. over time, their emotional maturity grows, allowing them to begin to realise this.

this is why the “i’ll bear the burden of your hatred and die with you” scene is so weighty; naruto is acknowledging that it is the realities of their circumstances that keep them apart, and he wants to meet again in another life where none of that exists. this scene is the canary in the coal mine, letting us know this relationship is going to end in tragedy; they’ve chosen separate ways, paths which are inevitably fated to cross, and the only way for them to meet again as friends is in death. he’s finally come to understand, but it’s too late. when faced with the choice of sasuke or konoha, naruto chose the village. that’s a huge choice that should, realistically, come with a consequence. even if this ends, somehow, with the both of them alive, the memory of that choice, and the circumstances that created it, remains. because naruto (the manga) is an immature narrative, however, there are no realistic, interesting consequences. sasuke is made to give up and magically let go of his grudge against an institution which murdered his family and destroyed his life, of his pursuit of justice, which, from the very start, defined him as a character, so naruto can have both his friend and the admiration of said institution. the end of the series is the death of sasuke’s character, and i could go into an in-depth analysis of chapter 699 and how i think kishimoto knows this on some level, hence why sasuke never truly returned to konoha (ergo, to naruto, since, in becoming hokage, naruto becomes synonymous with konoha). sns is depressing. i see the tongue-in-cheek posts about the sns affair, the sns divorce arc, and all i can think of is how bleak an ending this is for sasuke, and how out of character it is. what i wouldn’t have given for him to hear “i know your heart, and you mine” and lash out with a resounding “no you don’t”.

but the late series, and shippuden as a whole, more and more as it drags on, is synonymous with predetermination superseding free will. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that i don’t see many sns fans talking about the first part of the series, where naruto and sasuke are actually forging this relationship. sns would be nothing without the story pre-timeskip, but people tend to focus on shippuden-era sns, which, to some extent, i understand. this is the era most fraught with emotional tension (and where naruto spends the entire time with a thought bubble that says “sasuke”, because he lost all of his depth as a character from part 1 in favour of that, but i digress), but when it comes to looking for the core of their bond, to the actual raison d’être, the entirety of part 1 gets far less press than the scenes of them as young children in the academy – scenes which were introduced extremely late in the series as brief flashbacks. kishimoto’s fixation with destiny invalidates the themes of part 1 on all levels, and the sns relationship is in no way exempt.

so could sns have been good? yes, as a tragic relationship, disregarding the retcon. except, from what i see, people who like sns seem to really, really like it. they take the overly-complex retcon interpretation and use it in support of a “naruto and sasuke always loved one another” or “naruto and sasuke had their positive feelings for each other twisted by their martial society” reading. it’s not even that these are inherently bad takes, in a literary sense, it’s simply that they don’t hold up to the rest of the manga. asserting in the very late series that these two characters have been watching each other for some time doesn’t hold up with the reality of the story, which begins on naruto and sasuke having no thoughts or opinions of one another beyond their surface-level feelings towards a classmate they don’t particularly like or understand. the growth of this into their genuine bond is much more meaningful, because it occurs textually. it is a true show of increasing mental and emotional maturity, rather than a frustrating wait for the characters to stop dancing around the conclusion of their emotional journey, which they already know, for some reason, from the beginning. that’s the core of it, really: the retcon puts the end at the beginning, making the entire story a pointless exercise in futility. destiny is wholeheartedly embraced as romantic and self-evident, rather than the death of narrative and interpersonal complexity, and the fundamental truth that love is a choice – the continual, conscious decision to choose each other, day after day – and we already know what naruto’s choice was.

(you might say, well, I think X or Y should have changed; naruto should have learned about the destruction of uzushiogakure and understood he and sasuke came from a very similar situation, – which, itself, rests on another late-series destiny boner retcon – naruto should never have become loyal to the village after the way he was treated, naruto should have joined with sasuke to tear down konoha – but that’s not the way it was written, and if this is your justification, you admit it is a relationship as flawed in its narrative as the ones it is so often purported to be so much better than.)

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