#also definitely not saying you can't or shouldn't feel bad for him

[dalliancekay]

Heaven vs Hell

Which is worse? Can horrible be measured?

Should Aziraphale have Fallen to be with Crowley? Is he selfish for not choosing to Fall like Gabriel when Gabriel tried to be with Beez?

Would they have a bigger chance to be together in Hell than being on 'opposite sides' on Earth?

I doubt it. Even if Crowley earned some brownie points and maybe a dukedom for dragging an angel to Hell, how free would they actually be to be together? I bet that kind of behaviour would be frowned upon and deeply disliked by all other demons and we saw that many are happy to climb up however they can. Especially over others. Besides, Crowley never wanted power in Hell and definitely didn't want to spend time there if he didn't have to.

So, was Crowley simply considerate to Aziraphale's attachment to being an angel when he decided not to take him to Hell after Aziraphale lied to Gabriel about Job's kids? Did he not take him Down just cos the angel 'wouldn't like it'?

"No more world. Just endless Heaven or, depending who won, endless Hell. Crowley didn't know which was worse. Well, Hell was worse, of course, by definition."

I feel like when I see people saying Crowley is respecting Aziraphale's desire to be an angel and avoiding/being scared of Falling; which (they assume/insinuate) would make it easier for them to be together, that they don't really respect Aziraphale's decision the same way as Crowley does (if it even is one), but blame Az for being selfish and choosing God and his angel status over his love for Crowley. Blame Aziraphale for being patronising, thinking he's better than Crowley, thinking he's too good to Fall. But also that Crowley shouldn't be in Hell and should be an angel again as his Falling was unfair. I see many takes that this is what Aziraphale thinks, but where do we see that? We only see Crowley musing on his Fall. We don't see Aziraphale, right?

We don't know why Crowley Fell.

We have only his vague words for it. Saying he didn't really mean to. We don't know if anyone Fell ever again after the War. It was very likely a threat used over the angels though. It didn't work for Gabriel. It must have been what he expected would happen. And that Beez would help him out. Other demons too scared of them to say anything. However, he was going to have his memory wiped instead. For basically a treason. Metatron, whether he suspected what was going on or not, outwitted him.

After Eden, Aziraphale MUST have expected punishment for giving away of his weapon. If not outright Falling.

How long did he spend in anxiety over this? Over what will happen to him?

And how long did Aziraphale sit here, wondering what Hell would be like and when it will arrive for him? For lying and deceiving like that.

And ok he's worried about Hell but how BAD is Heaven exactly? Is Aziraphale blind to how bad it is? Is he staying with them because he's loyal? Because he believes they are the light? The truth?

How long has it been since Aziraphale knew Heaven was not Good?

Apparently since before Angel!Crowley knew.

"You'll be amazed at the kind of things they can do to you, down there," he said. "I imagine they're very similar to the sort of things they can do to one up there," said Aziraphale. "Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly. "Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?" "Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-" "I meant afterwards." "Oh."

Crowley loves his beautiful, soft, good, brave angel.

An angel who lies to his bosses when he thinks he can get away with it, who indulges in 'gross matter' even if it's frowned upon.

Crowley can't do good things openly. And we see him struggle with that.

Why would he want this for his angel who cares about strangers shooting each other in a game, saves babies in pushchairs and doves that accidentally asphyxiated in his sleeve, who waves away months of rent.

Yes, Heaven and Hell might both be awful places.

But that doesn't mean that good and bad things don't exist.

Nobody would call Muriel evil, right? Not even Jim was bad in S2. The nature vs nurture debate has a clear winner in his case. I don't know if Free Will has rubbed off on Az and Crowley or they were always different. Made different perhaps.

Although, without Free Will, how did Lucifer make his decisions against God?

Back to our Husbands.

Crowley hates Hell. He thinks it's an awful place and the demons are terrible. He's afraid of them and avoids them as much as he can.

Aziraphale is extremely uncomfortable in Heaven. He has disagreed with many things they do for literal aeons. Has warned Angel!Crowley immediately when they met and has trusted demon Crawley with his sword story as soon as he met him even thought he lies to literal God about the very same thing shortly after.

Aziraphale lies to the Supreme Archangel and a bunch of others over Job. He's questioned them on those decisions as well. He wonders if God is really asking for what they are saying She's asking. Clearly he didn't have a way to ask Her directly back then.

And he couldn't get through to Her when the world was ending either. And he felt that couldn't be right.

Aziraphale and Crowley are nobodies in their respective jobs.

Worse, they are pitied if not worse, for having jobs stationed on Earth.

Neither angels not demons care for humans, apart from them making up their numbers of acquisitions. But our hereditary enemies are more than that from the moment they meet in Eden. And their bond only grows stronger.

The bond that brings them so much joy and so much anxiety and fear.

They stopped the Armageddon but it didn't give them the freedom they wanted, the one they deserve. They spent more time together, yes.

But. Heaven, who after all came up with the idea of Hell, found a way to separate them.

How much of this was their personal decision and how much enforced, we won't find out until S3.

But Aziraphale didn't want Crowley to become an angel because he doesn't understand or see how bad Heaven is. He wanted him to come because he does.

Yes. Of course. Aziraphale knows this. How could he not. But he also knows the boss of Heaven just told him he must return. Didn't seem like he was gonna take no for an answer. And Aziraphale tried.

Until Metatron brought Crowley into the conversation. Saying he knows about them. Their partnership. The thing Aziraphale feared more than anything else. Someone noticing just how deep their 'partnership' went.

Crowley, I really don't think that would have worked. And I know you know it wouldn't either. Just as much as running to Alpha Centauri wouldn't. You know, and Aziraphale doesn't, that Second Coming is being planned. That this is why Gabriel was fired. And this you can't escape. There's nowhere to go.

Their love is what makes Aziraphale and Crowley powerful. The love that no one, not even Gabriel and Beelzebub can understand. And it is this love that will save them in the end. What has always saved them.

Not Aziraphale's angelhood or Crowley's demon status.

Aziraphale's home is the one he built for himself and Crowley.

It's not really a place though. It's a bookshop for a while, a moment in history, but his home is them, looking into each other's eyes forever.

Because no thing lasts forever. But they might. And they will.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #heaven and hell #good omens heaven #good omens hell #good omens god #kaypost

[olderthannetfic]

The To Gaze Upon a Wicked God situation is more complicated than a straightforward "yes/no" on whether it's a colonizer romance or not imo.

I think the author wants to send an anti colonial message with the book, but it very much wants to have the cake and eat it too. It's written a lot like other "dark romantasy" and the marketing surrounding it went hard on the enemies to lovers thing (the Zutara comparisons especially was still being pushed even in late April). Iirc, the real love interest only appears for less than five scenes?

With that in mind, I don't think it's unreasonable to read the protagonist's rejection of the prince at the end as a set-up to a tortured "I love him but I can't trust him anymore because he's evil and lied to me" while Baihu simped for her in the background and the prince gets redeemed with a heroic act at the end of the second book or something. That was my impression until it was revealed that the childhood friend was the real love interest.

(Maybe I just read too many angsty "you killed my whole clan but I still love you even though I'm not supposed to" cnovels in my youth hahaha)

Imo, it was in really bad taste to do a fake out marketing, but idk if she has control over that. It feels like nobody around her understood how touchy the subject and her inspirations were, because none of these irl decisions wouldn't have happened if they did. I don't think the original anon had the right to comment like they understood everything without reading the book, but I completely get the feeling of "wtf girl you did not just write/say that." Also the writing was... not good.

I hope the "baihu cut" remedies a lot of its issues. Plenty of white authors write shit takes on history. Asian authors shouldn't be burned at the stake when they do the same

--

(Followup to last anon about to gaze upon wicked gods) One thing I forgot is that the author's notes directly mentioned the Japanese occupation and unit 731. I think it's reasonable for readers to make the connection between that and the Roman invasion + human experimentation mentioned in the book. I can't blame them from being grossed out or even outraged when everything irl points to Antony being the intended love interest even though he's the leader of in universe unit 731

I can well believe that it's mostly a skill issue.

People should be free to criticize a book for what's actually in there, but yeah, there's definitely this vibe like nonwhite authors or minority authors or whomever aren't allowed to just... not be very good.

I don't mean they should be free from all criticism, but there's a particular type of extra torches-and-pitchforks criticism that amounts to "Thou shalt be a godlike writer from birth or else!"

[doubledyke]

Do you think writters' intention was making of Eddy a woobie character?

i had to google that cuz i had no idea what a woobie was lmao. nah i don't think so... maybe a little at the end? i agree with what @mysticbeaver said here about him bordering on villainous, particularly later in the show.

it doesn't seem like they go out of their way to make us feel sorry for eddy often. most of the time i'm pointing and laughing, or rolling my eyes at him. and what @fish-bowl-2 said here is also relevant.

watching kids struggle through such a weird time in life is bound to instill some level of pity in us, especially as adults. eddy just happens to be the main character and is having a particularly rough go of it... but i do find it's mostly played for laughs.

there are certainly exceptions, like the episodes i mentioned previously, where it gets a little harder to laugh. and again, it's a bit different in hindsight after seeing bps; knowing more about his backstory casts a tragic light on much of the stuff he does and says. it doesn't take a genius to see that he's got issues, but still. seeing him face outright cruelty is made infinitely sadder when you know what he's already been through.

if we took the show alone and pretended that bps didn't exist, who knows what we'd think of eddy. don't get me wrong, plenty of people would like eddy the way he's presented at face value. relatability isn't limited to benevolent characters. i'm just saying, without the redemption arc of seeing him grovel at his brother's feet, getting his ass kicked, and then apologizing for his actions, eddy would probably be viewed very differently overall.

#i'm not the best at analyzing media so please take what i say with a grain of salt #also definitely not saying you can't or shouldn't feel bad for him #like... i eat eene angst for breakfast lunch and dinner #this is just my longwinded way of saying that i don't think they bent over backwards to make eddy a character that people felt sad for #until the final scene of the movie #which is awesome imo #text

[simpjaes]

JAKE... SLEEVELESS... IN THE POOL... pls write something i beg u

wc: 952 warnings: public fingering, ex boyfriend jake, he's kind of a dick [he didn't wanna be seen w u previously] [visual stimulation]

Water vs. wet.

You thought they were the same thing. Really, you didn't think anyone would be able to tell the difference while floating around trying not to ogle your ex boyfriend from too long ago.

It's not even that you want to fuck him, it's just that it's...him. Seeing him brings back the memories of all the wild and sleepless nights, hungover mornings, and messy afternoons.

Sure, he's not exactly a green flag, but in the moment he doesn't look so red either. Not with the way his arms flex when he wades around with that stupid snide smile on his face, stealing glances at you just to see if you're looking at him.

The difference between this water and the difference between being wet is that...well. You're wet in more ways than one. Sure, there's cool droplets running down your shoulders, just like the ones dipping and sliding down the lines of Jake's muscles, but there's also the other wet.

You feel it between your legs. Thicker than water, slipping down your folds in these bikini bottoms in an embarrassing reminder of who it is that does this to you, warmer than the water. If anyone were to walk up behind you and cup their hands over your core, they'd know. But no one would do that.

Except, someone definitely would. You stay in the pool as long as Jake does, wading around and pretending you're not dripping. Anyone else in this water would be horrified, surely, but not Jake. Not you.

It was always fun to be messy, dirty, and unashamed of it. Behind closed doors of course.

By the time night begins to take hold and you're still wading around, across the pool from Jake and being caught in the act of staring far too many times in the past hour and half since you've dipped in, he appears to be fed up with gawking.

Fed up with putting on a show. Fed up with pretending he doesn't miss fucking around with you. The pool lights shine from under him as the sun fades, still enough light from above to give him a warm glow. His hair half dry, the ends of his strands dripping, his muscles protruding and smile glistening and wide. You can't just look away, your mind racing in the realization that he's coming up to you. Like so many times before, when it was normal and expected for him to come up to you. It feels familiar when it shouldn't, thrusting you into the mindset of the smart-girl persona you had during that first year of college. Perhaps you haven't grown as much as you thought you had, especially when he's just as bold as he's always been. He touches you before he says anything, wading around you until his chest is to your back and his arms wrap around your waist as if the two of you never broke up in the first place. "You're not very subtle about it." You can hear his smile against your ear when he says it, dropping his head to prop on your shoulder. "You miss me?" You nod to him, all while breathing out a small "no." The feeling of his arms, bigger than before, making you feel the same comfort and intense need to cling to him. "Always were so bad at communicating too." He chuckles against you, pulling you closer against him and intentionally pressing his hips up, lining his length up with your ass. He's wearing shorts, hell, he's wearing a shirt too, goddamn him. But ah, that. That's still the same delicious size. You remember how hard he'd get himself for you, letting you ride him til he's dizzy and drowsy like he had no power to stop you. He was always bold, but never this confident. You remain silent against him, trying to ignore the people all around the pool and wandering in and out of the house. These things are expected at a senior college party, but still, you and Jake never were too crazy out in the open like this. In fact, you and Jake were never even supposed to be seen as an item at all. "Oh, suddenly you're okay with being seen with me?" You bite back at him, your body still betraying you in the way you hold his arms against you like you used to do in bed when he'd cuddle you. "Mhm." He smiles, walking backwards in the water with you in his grasp, up until his back is against the pool wall. "I was still thinking like a high schooler back then, not sure why I ever broke up with you." Ouch, your heart. You'd managed you get over him months ago, still took far too long though. "And you still stare at me like you could punch me in the face." Jake laughs this time, shaking one arm from your grip to trail down, cupping his hand to the seat of your bikini bottoms. "We always fucked instead, remember?" You can only nod at his boastful reminders. All those times where he'd blow you off in the hallways that first year of college. He needed a new image after all, one that you weren't part of. But goddamn, his hands are the only ones that know how to work you, especially when he's gently slipping a finger under your bikini and sliding only slightly. "Always got so wet too, just like this." He laughs almost as if he's mocking you for being so turned on by him. "You still want me?" You shake your head, ultimately trying to pull from him now, but he slips his finger in quickly, moaning against your ear with a tighter grip. "C'mon," He encourages your deep inhale to release in any sort of sound. "I'm letting everyone see now, aren't I?"

#enhypen smut #jake smut #jake sim smut #jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun smut #ask #anon #hardthots

[formosusiniquis]

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be. 

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

-

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

-

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though." 

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

-

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

-

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic. 

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

#steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #and in 1996 when steve and eddie are expecting their first kid - a daughter #erica gifts them the barbie camper so steve has something while he waits for the real thing #listen you know that oh like barbie post with the steve speaking image below it #i saw that and this happened #i just wanted to try out a little steve and erica bonding #and it turned into steve being a bitchy big brother #steve and eddies love language is being dicks #but their secondary love language is not letting the bit die and i do believe that #so eddie had to take it up when steve set it down

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader

[theminecraftbee]

Afterwards, they do a race. They don’t talk about it, but it’s there, between them still. Something settled between them. Cleo doesn’t know how to say it; they never know how to say things like this. Still, they need to, so they wait until Ren’s race is over and then hike through the jungle to go sit on top of Etho’s base and wait for him to show up as well.

He doesn’t. He’d gone to their base. Instead of just showing up for each other, they have to somewhat awkwardly coordinate over text which base to meet at. It forces everything to feel more real.

When they finally meet up, it’s in the shopping district, leaning against the button. A dangerous game in theory, but Cleo’s not fully convinced it can explode at this point, so.

Cleo breathes. They’re both quiet for a moment.

"Okay, so like, are we doing this?" Cleo says.

"I don’t really know, uh, what this is," Etho says, "but I… care about you. I think. So I think we’re doing that."

Cleo nods once. "You know I don’t fall in love, right? I’m not going to fall in love with you, I don’t do that. Might say something about loving you, but it’s not the same thing. Different sense of the word. It’s different, loving people and falling in love, got it? And I won’t do that second thing. I’m never going to do that second thing. I don’t--"

"Okay. I know," Etho says.

"Do you?" Cleo asks.

"I mean, not entirely, but I’m frankly surprised we’re having this conversation in the first place. I never expected you to be in love with me."

"But I’m not," Cleo says. "I’m attracted to you, and I love you as like, a companion and friend or whatever, but I’m not in love with you. I’m. Ugh. I wish I knew the right words. I just--I also don’t let go of things so if we’re doing this you’re going to have to get used to that real fast. Me not being in love with you but me not letting you go, both of those things."

"You're attracted to me? Aw, Cleo," Etho says.

"Don't be an ass," Cleo says.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just, geez, this is--a heavy conversation, huh?"

Cleo sighs. "We'll work on the deflection."

Etho rubs the back of his head and looks away. "Uh, in that case. If I'm maybe a little in love with you--"

"I can't--I can't reciprocate that, Etho," Cleo says, and their voice cracks as they do.

"I know," Etho says. "I just want to make sure it's okay, then."

"You can't help that, can you? Just like I can't help that I still sort of want to kill anyone who hurts you."

Etho seems to think about it for a while. Cleo resists the urge to fidget. She's a zombie. She shouldn't have the urge to fidget; she should be too dead for that. Besides, it's hardly like it's a secret she doesn't fall in love, exactly. It's just... it's only relevant sometimes. Feeling like, as she watches Etho and Bdubs dance around each other, she's on the outside looking in. She'd kill to hold their hands, to protect them, hell, even to kiss them--but that's different. She just can't summon the same emotion of... she doesn't know.

Martyn had almost gotten it, for all he didn't get anything else, in the end. Scott was never going to fall in love with her in the first place, for obvious reasons. Whatever attraction she and Pearl have going on, it's definitely not love.

But this...

"Okay," Etho says.

"That's it?" Cleo says.

"I mean, does it need to be anything else?" Etho says. "It's not like we can just... not do this. I think it's too late for that. Whatever 'this' is. I'm in love, and you aren't, but we'd both be pretty upset to lose this, right? So I'll... figure it out."

Cleo swallows. They feel small. "Will you? Do you understand?"

Etho shrugs. "I understand that it's you, and it's you that this happened with, not anyone else."

"Okay," Cleo says. "Okay."

"Is it okay if I kiss you? Just to try it, I mean. Not like, as a--this is a bad time, actually, I don't want to try to make any kissing we do romantic, I mean, you just told me this won't be romantic, I--"

"Yeah, sure, you can kiss me," Cleo says, and he leans in to kiss them. It's nice. A little soft for what they'd want, really, but nice. He leans back. He looks them in the eyes.

"I get it a little more now."

Cleo is baffled. "How? Kissing is just like, a thing we did? How does that have anything to do with any of the rest of this."

Etho laughs. "I definitely get it a little more now. What do you want to tell the others? I know they're definitely gossiping."

"Ugh. Can we just, like, not?" Cleo says. "I don't want to have to explain it."

"I'll just be confusing then, got it," Etho says, and Cleo can't help but laugh themselves.

"This is why you're my favorite," Cleo says, and they think maybe this will work out okay, after all.

#secret life smp #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #a bee fic #cletho #zombiecleo #ethoslab #yeah this one is ALSO pretty overtly shipping even though it’s also overtly aromantic #idk man. definitions are blurry. lines are blurry. I’d call this shipping even if it’s not about being in love. #anyway. bi aro cleo is a headcanon I’m increasingly attached to so I thought I’d write this for yall. #don’t know how to explain it more than. I think it suits them. #I know this is out of my wheelhouse but I felt like I wanted it out there yeah? #anyway I’LL GO BACK TO THE FANON SWAP PROMPTS SOON JUST NEEDED THIS WRITTEN FIRST

[daenysx]

hello can i ask for another aemond hurt comfort fic (if ure still writing for him, if not thank u anyway <3) make it hurt pls thank you 😞

p.s: i absolutely sobbed reading that drabble of him getting snappy at reader bcs they wanted to go out while it's sunny + also why i went back on ur blog and coincidentally saw ur requests open lol

i don't think i'll ever stop writing for aemond, i love him too much ♡ thank you for your request, lovely, i hope you like this!

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, hurt/comfort

aemond isn't used to have someone taking care of him, not when he's like this.

his mother was doing the best she can when he was younger; holding his hand when he had an appointment with his doctor, sleeping next to him and rubbing his back when he couldn't get any rest, kissing his forehead and telling him how brave he's been. as he grew older he stopped asking for help, she had to have her own life. he did anything he can to convince her that he's fully capable of taking care of himself now. "thank you, mom, i'm fine."

alicent put her children before her every time, sacrificing her youth just to make sure they are well. aemond felt guilty when he realized how little his mother cares about her own life, only to take care of her half blind son. it pains him, still, but he's a grown man now. he'll be okay when she's out of town with her newly wedded husband.

he lies in bed for hours, waits for the pain in his eye disappear. the room is dark, it's silent in a disturbing way. aemond curses under his breath when a sudden pain flashes in his head, he might prefer dying over this.

no, he can't cry. it'll only make the pain worse. does he deserve to live his young days like that? laying in bed like a sick man, waiting for help but being too prideful to ask for it, spending hours only to be able to breathe without suffering. he's mad these days, always angry and tense. vengeful for something that happened years ago, tearing up for his wound that will never be okay.

the door creaks open slowly. you close it back to let the darkness stay still. quiet steps, almost hesitant as if he'll tell you to leave. you put on a brave face as you approach him with a cool glass of water in your hand.

"aemond?" you whisper. you can't see his face clearly, he doesn't react as you put the glass on his nightstand.

"i'm okay." he says. dishonesty drips down his voice.

"can i help you?" you whisper again. it's the first time in your new relationship that he's been so bad. you don't know what to do.

"i'm used to it." he replies. "you can leave if you have somewhere else to be, i don't think i can leave the bed for the rest of the day."

your heart breaks. does he think you'll leave him like this? he might prefer suffering silently but you won't let him. he seems like he doesn't even get the point of having a relationship. he treats you like you aren't his girlfriend, like you are just another person in the room. it makes you wanna curl up in bed and cry, you know you don't deserve this.

he's still in pain so you can't be mad at him. it'll only make things worse. "i can leave- if you want to be alone. i'd rather stay with you, though."

you can't see his face but you can feel he tries to decide. you like aemond too much and you think he likes you too. you know he does. it definitely has to do something with his past. you try to take a silent breath, completely still to not disturb him.

aemond doesn't even know what to say, he'd kill to have someone by his side. to have you. he selfishly wants to keep you even when he feels like he shouldn't. you deserve someone better. you deserve a man who doesn't have to stay in complete darkness because of his past. you are shining everywhere you go but aemond is dark, there's no spark in him. he likes you too much to let you go, his inner turmoil does him nothing good.

"stay with me." he says finally. "please."

"can i sit?"

"mm-hmm."

you sit on bed carefully. you treat him like he's someone delicate, like he deserves something good. aemond isn't sure how to deal with your kindness, he still hasn't found a way. he likes it too much, though. he likes everything about you.

you hold his hand gently. his fingers are cold, you rub his knuckles with a soft thumb. he lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding when you press on a tight spot, right where his thumb meets his pointer finger. it feels nice. you keep rubbing his hand until you hear a protest.

"s nice." he says quietly.

"my mom used to do this when i got headaches. i know yours is different but-"

"s really nice." he says again. "thank you."

you take his other hand, treating with same kindness. he holds a lot of tension in his body, he doesn't even know how much. a massage to his hands is a small thing to help him relax but you want him to know you're with him.

"do you want to put your head on my leg?" you ask. "maybe i can rub your temples a bit."

you are not afraid of his rejection, willing to do anything that might help him. to your surprise, he sits on bed, waits for you to get comfier. you place yourself properly, he puts his head on your leg just the way you want and you start massaging his head.

"i like your hair so much." you whisper. "so soft."

"i like yours better." he replies, whispering. "but thank you."

you press your fingers to his temples slowly, he lets out another shaky breath. "i'm not gonna hurt you, i promise. you'll feel better in a minute."

he nods slightly, feeling of your warm fingers on his skin makes him somewhat excited. he is distracted with your quiet words and kind fingers, for a moment he forgets about the dull pain in his head.

you keep rubbing his temples until your fingers go numb. you stroke his hair then, silky platinum blonde strands flow in your hands. you play with his hair, braid a little piece of it. he truly is distracted at this point, too grateful to say something.

"i think i'll fall asleep." he can say.

"that's okay." you tell him. "i'll be here when you wake up."

somehow he knows you'll be here with him until the end. he can feel how his emotions for you fill his heart and his mind until they are both full of you, only you and no one else. it's a nice feeling, having someone by his side. being someone's choice, not responsibility.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic

[torialefay]

6 with CHANGBIN…… 😩

One Hell of a Workout 💣

boyfriend!changbin x horny!fem!reader smut

✨ synopsis: your & your boyfriend's sleep schedule is fucked up, which in turn means your gym schedule is also fucked up. late night workout sessions may end up not being so bad 👀

✨ wc: ~2k

✨ warnings: smut ahead- minors DNI; cursing; unprotected sex, public sex

• you knew you shouldn't, but you couldn't help it. changbin just looked too fucking good.

• you'd gone to the gym with him superrr late. not because you were particularly dedicated, but because it is currently only 5 PM in the country you just got back from... and seeing his arms and shoulders as he worked out was never a bad sight.

• something about the smell of him and the way his little curls stuck to his head once he started to sweat got you riled up more than anything else in the world.

• as you were finishing your squat reps, you couldn't help but to watch the contour of the muscles in his back out of the corner of your eye. you were the only person bin would workout in front of without a shirt on. and god, the way he looked at the end of his lat pulldowns... let's just say you were starting to get wet, and not from the sweat.

• you weren't quite sure what it was. why you were so horny all of a sudden. you'd usually never be this side tracked about him. BUT with bin having shows every night recently, he didn't always have the time, energy, or opportunity to be intimate with you... and this was the result. too much pent up desire.

• after clearing your weights and getting a drink of water, you watched changbin as he laid down to start his bench press. the way his arms bulged just by angling them up to grab the bar was so yummy that you couldn't stand it.

• "want me to spot, babe?" you asked, trying to sound as non-chalant as possible.

• "i don't know how much you'll be able to help if i get crushed, but sure why not," he said, chuckling to himself.

• you bit your lip as you walked over, about to situate yourself over top of him.

• swinging your leg over his hips, it took everything in you not to sit down and straddle him.

• "good?" he asked.

• "you're good. you got this!" he'd already done his warming up, so he was moving onto something a bit more challenging.

• as he removed the bar and began to pump his arms up, you helped him count. "1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... 10."

• "aghh," he let out a deep breath, moving the bar back onto the rack.

• "well, this is a pretty sight," he said, moving his head down to look at you over top of him.

• 'this i can work with,' you thought.

• you smirked at him before lowering your pelvis, letting yourself rest right on top of his hips. you were hoping the contact would work in your favor.

• "babyyy, come on now," he said, throwing his head back in a tiny giggle. he definitely thought you were joking.

• "what's the matter?" you asked, big eyed, moving your hands down to rest on the sides of his torso, tight from the extra core exercises he'd been doing lately.

• "you know you can't be doing this. come on, you've gotta stand back up," he said smiling up at you. he was about to shake his head laughing in disbelief.

• "but why?" you teased, letting your hands trail further inwards and run gently up and down his abdomen.

• "why?!" he moved his head to look left and right. "because we are literally in the gym right now! in public!"

• you smiled playfully as you ever so slightly began to move your hips up and down on him. just the tiniest bit to gage his reaction.

• "technically," you started, "this is a *private gym... and who else is gonna be here at 3 in the morning?"

• when you sensed no hesitancy on his side, you let yourself grind a little harder, making full contact with what you could now feel as his bulge. you wanted to go slowly. to make sure that every last centimeter of him felt you.

• "ah fuck," he smiled while exhaling loudly. "you're not gonna make this easy, are you?"

• "if you realllly don't want it," you let your hands wander to his chest, massaging into him, "then say it and i'll stop."

• you couldn't help the smile on your face. knowing that he was putty underneath you. hoping he'd just give in already. hoping you could give each other what you knew you both desperately needed.

• bin didn't say anything. he just shut his eyes, looking like he was concentrating on some imaginary thing in his head.

• when he held that position and didn't go on to say anything, you took it as your cue to stop. you slowly brought your hands back to yourself and halted your hips from rocking on him.

• "i'm sorry binnie, i don't know what got into me," you mumbled, now feeling embarrassed at the ordeal, your own boyfriend not able to look at you. you slowly began to stand back up just over top of him.

• before you could think another thought, changbin's hands gripped hard on your hips, pushing you back down on him.

• "i didn't say to stop," he mumbled lowly, as if the words were coming from deep within his chest. it wasn't anger in his voice. it was more of a... whine? a plea? ... something that made you horny.

• with a victorious smile on your face, you reveled in his actions, taking this opportunity to get what you desperately needed.

• "feels that good, huh?" you toyed with him a bit before starting to pick up speed again, grinding back and forth over his clothed cock.

• "hush," he said, covering his smile with his hands. he felt like there was no way this was really happening to him right now. no way that this was his reality.

• you took your time, slowly and sweetly grinding on him until you felt your clit begin to throb. all of the sensation had built up, leaving it swollen and exposed to your underwear, steadily and deliciously.

• "oh fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back and savoring the way that changbin's hard shaft fit so perfectly between your lips, massaging you without even trying.

• as you heard light moans escaping changbin's mouth, you quickly slid down him slightly so you could palm him through his shorts. his cock was rock solid, and as you stroked up and down, he began to wince. as bad as he wanted to cover it up, you knew he was getting overly worked up.

• "i wanna take these off," you pleaded, pulling on the waistband of his shorts and boxers.

• toying around with them for a bit, you slowly pulled up and shimmied them down until they were around changbin's ankle, leaving him exposed.

• as you stood, you took the opportunity to slide your pants down, taking one leg out and then the other so you could throw the clothing on the floor beside you.

• changbin propped himself up by leaning his elbows on the bench. his eyes now full of light and wonder, he took in the sight of your lower body now unclothed for him in the middle of the gym. his safe haven and safe space... now absolutely stained with lustful thoughts.

• throwing yourself back onto him, you straddled his lap for a bit, letting his tip get covered in your juices. you felt your breath hitch just a bit as you rubbed up and down just the right spot.

• when you were satisfied with your plan, you quickly lifted your hips up and guided him to your entrance. in one swift motion, you removed your hand from his cock and instead left it to rest on his stomach.

• you felt yourself relax around him as you sank down, devouring every last centimeter.

• changbin sucked his teeth in slightly at the feeling of his dick pushing inside you, relaxing once he was fully in and you were finally stretched around him.

• you knew you had plenty of time, and you wanted to enjoy every last, tiny inch of movement between you two.

• as you angled your body forward, you moved both hands up until they were pressing into changbin's chest.

• you let yourself lean into the luscious rhythm you had before, slowly grinding forward and backward around him.

• as you went, you slowly built up your pace. you didn't mean for it to happen already, but with each movement of your hips, your clit began to pulse, begging for more.

• as you rocked back and forth, back and forth, you heard a few disgruntled moans from changbin, encouraging you to keep going.

• you threw your head back in pleasure as you started violently thrusting yourself up on him, the sensation becoming too great for you to bear.

• faster, faster, faster, chasing that sweet realesse until "fuckkkkkkkk" was all you could say.

• you immediately started twitching around changbin as you rode out your high, his hands coming around to stabilize your ass and hold you down on him until you were completely finished.

• trying to catch your breath, you leaned down onto your arms, closer to changbin's chest. your body was so exhausted, you weren't sure what to do next.

• but changbin had his own plans. before you knew what was happening, his arms had wrapped around you completely, pulling your face and stomach flat onto him as he began to violently buck his hips up and thrust inside of you.

• and jesus christ did it feel good.

• deep, guttural moans flew out of his mouth with each sharp thrust, with the sound of skin slapping following right after. the pace was quickly becoming too much to handle.

• cursing under his breath, changbin easily wrapped his hands into your hair and pulled, arching your back for him and letting him get a good look at your face.

• you moaned out as you focused on all of him. the feeling of his tip hitting your cervix repeatedly. the aggression on his face while looking at you. the one hand that was now urgently squeezing your ass, definitely leaving bruises behind.

• he was just too fucking good.

• "this what you wanted baby?!" changbin spat as you quivered over top of him.

• "ahh fuck," he bit down, focusing his eyes on your face and the way your tits bounced every time he pounded into you.

• as his thrusts got harder and sloppier, you knew he was close. with one final yank of your hair, he pulled you all the way back to arch your ass just perfectly for him. he loved the sight of you losing your breath over it.

• one, two, three more thrusts, and "oh fuck. oh fuck. aghhhhh fuckkkkk," he moaned out as he came, letting go of your hair and letting your body fall lifeless on top of him as he continued to fuck into you and ride out his high.

• like his own little rag doll, he used you until he absolutely couldn't stand it anymore. he was completely drained and overstimulated.

• you both laid there for a few seconds, panting heavily to catch your breath. laying on top of him, you heard his heart beat continuing to slow in his chest as he rested and regained his conscience.

• once you'd both calmed down, you finally got the chance to get words out.

• "that was too fucking good, binnie," you smiled, going up to peck him on the lips.

• "that was one hell of a workout," he laughed, beginning to sit up now. you, still seated in his lap, got a perfect view of his face and sweaty curls as he rested now on his tailbone.

• "seeeee," you teased, "we should do it again sometime." you coyly smiled.

• "you might just talk me into it," changbin said, leaning his forehead on yours.

• you both sat in solidarity for a moment, just admiring one another before changbin broke the peace. "i love you and all, but we've gotta put our pants back on." he looked down at the haphazardly strewn clothes around him.

• "and we should probably wipe this thing down about 5 times before we leave," you giggled before standing up.

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

✨ if you enjoyed, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging <3

✨ check out my masterlist for more

#changbin smut #skz imagines #seo changbin #changbin #changbin imagines #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #changbin x reader #changbin x you

[aeliuss]

warnings!: NSFW MDNI!!! | mentions of drinking and being high | four year age gap between reader and Chan but reader is an adult by the time any romance blossoms |

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who has known you since you were fifteen and geeky and he was a sophomore in college.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who laughed when your brother teased you but never joined in. Honestly, he kind of felt bad for you sometimes.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who brought ice cream for you with him whenever he visited your house.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who was surprised at how good your music taste was when he picked you up from school that one time and let you control the aux.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who watched you date your first boyfriend and can't help but feel protective. He definitely didn't pull him aside and give him a detailed explanation of what would happen to his limbs if he ever broke your heart.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who didn't know what to do when he walks into your living room to find you crying over your breakup. He just came to pick something up for your brother but ends up sitting on the couch beside you, handing you tissues and awkwardly patting your back as you rage to him.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who watched you graduate highschool and get accepted into your dream college overseas. Who drove you to the airport because your brother was crying so much he had to take the passenger seat because he couldn't see the road.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who slowly lost contact with you over the years as he gets caught up in his own life. Who graduated college and gets a job producing music like he always dreamed of doing. Who dates on and off but never had a long term relationship and, frankly, never really wanted one.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who didn't even know you were back until he ends up running into you at a cafe.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who sees you before you see him and almost drops his coffee because you look the same but also somehow completely different. A good different.

A very good different.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who leaves without saying anything to you because he's too flustered and taken off guard. He acts surprised when your brother tells him of your return.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who notices the way you look at him right away. Notices that you fill out your clothes better than you did four years ago.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who's heart skips a beat every time you smile. Who's heart nearly stops when you laugh.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who finds himself stealing glances at you more often than he should, trying to reconcile the image of the girl he used to know with the woman standing before him now.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who tries to play it cool whenever you're around, but his heart races a little too fast and his palms get a little too sweaty.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who starts making excuses to hang out with your brother more often, just so he can catch glimpses of you.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who tries his absolute hardest to not let his eyes linger on your thighs when he picks you up one day, per your request. You're dressed up all pretty, in a low cut top and a pretty pink skirt that leaves very little to the imagination.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who struggles to keep his composure as he feels a wave of desire wash over him, his mind racing with thoughts he knows he shouldn't entertain.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who tries to distract himself by engaging in light banter during the car ride, but every now and then, his gaze involuntarily drifts to your enticing silhouette.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who can't help but feel a pang of guilt for harboring such feelings, knowing the unspoken boundaries that exist between him and you.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who drops you off with a polite smile and then immediately calls up one of his situantionships for a quick fuck but is dismayed to find that it doesn't feel the same anymore. That he has to imagine that it's your plush thighs wrapping around his hips for him to get off.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who nearly chokes on air when you bend over to pick something up, giving him a perfect view up your skirt. And you know. He knows you know what you're doing.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who picks you up when you call him, drunk and high off your mind at the club.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who rushes to the club without a second thought when he hears your slurred voice over the phone, concern overriding any other feelings he might have.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who pushes through the crowd, his heart pounding with worry as he searches for you amidst the flashing lights and thumping music.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who finally spots you in a corner, surrounded by strangers, looking disoriented and vulnerable. Who punches a boy in the jaw for trying to pull you back onto his lap.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who takes you back to his apartment because he knows that your brother would highly disapprove of your current state.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who respectfully averts his eyes as you change into his sweatshirt, even though you were barely dressed to begin with.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who croaks "please don't do this to me" when you crawl onto his lap, whispering profanities into his ear.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who's mind is racing with conflicting thoughts as he feels your breath hot against his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He knows this is wrong, knows he should stop you, but every fiber of his being yearns for the taste of your lips, for the warmth of your touch.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who's crumbling resolve is like a sandcastle against the tide of desire as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of the moment. His hands, trembling with anticipation, find their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, his lips meeting yours in a feverish kiss, a whirlwind of passion and longing unleashed in that single moment. It's as if the years apart have only fueled the fire burning between you, igniting a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who pulls away with a gasp when you fumble with the buttons on his shirt, pushing your hands away as gently as he could because, not like this. He can't have you like this.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who tucks you into his bed and then settles on the couch furthest away from you. Who feel so so so guilty for the raging boner he has just from kissing you.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who spends the rest of the night wide awake, his mind swirling with confusion and guilt. He can't shake the feeling of your lips on his, the taste of you lingering on his tongue like a bittersweet memory.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who avoids you for weeks afterward, unable to face you after what transpired between you. Every time he sees you, his heart races with guilt and longing, a tumultuous storm raging within him.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who you have to corner weeks later in the kitchen and place his hands firmly on you waist and declare that you want him

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan who freezes in place, his eyes widening in shock at your bold declaration. His heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming desire coursing through him.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who lets out a shaky breath as he struggles to find the right words, torn between his loyalty and his heart's deepest desires. He knows he shouldn't give in to this forbidden temptation, but the pull of your touch is too strong to resist.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who searches your eyes for any hint of doubt or hesitation, but finds only sincerity and raw need reflected back at him. His resolve wavers as he battles the internal conflict between his sense of duty to your brother and his undeniable attraction to you.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who finally surrenders to the overwhelming passion that consumes him, pulling you into his arms with a fierce intensity. His lips crash against yours in a desperate kiss, igniting a wildfire of longing and longing that burns away any doubts or reservations.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who fucks you right there in the kitchen, his ears tinted red but his hands are feverish, all over your body, pulling you as close to him as you can get. Who is gentle with you even in his fervor, who you have to practically beg to be more rough with you.

Brother'sbestfriend!Chan, who embraces the forbidden love that blossoms between you, knowing that it may come with consequences but willing to risk it all for the chance to be with you.

#stray kids hard hours #skz drabbles #skz smut #straykids #straykids fanfic #stray kids smut #bang chan #bangchan smut #chan smut

[writing-havoc]

HII! HOW ARE YOU? Okay so i have a kaz brekker x reader request but it's kinda meh but i just can't stop thinking about it. And it's kinda similar to your fic 'high' (my favorite piece of media EVER)

So fem!reader (or gn whichever is easier for you<3) drunk and makes fun of the way kaz talks and his hair and the way how he's really bossy. (I would so call him emo king) and he's just trying to get her to take a bath (be a fish) and rest.

Please please don't feel pressured you can just ignore this. Don't forget to drink water. Have a nice day or night love youu<3

Loverboy

♡ Summary: Kaz comes and fetches you after you have a bit too much to drink. Getting you to bathe and rest for the night is a little more difficult than he remembers.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Alcohol, Nudity (not smut)

♡ WC: 3.5k

Hello hello!!! Thank you for your request <3 I'm doing pretty alright thank you for asking. I hope you're doing okay!

I loved being prompted to expand on this and experiment with how it would go. To be honest that's also one of my fav pieces of work that I've done, and I'm glad someone else holds the same joy for it that I do!

Anyway, here it is!! Hope you enjoy it anon, ly <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

"Oh for Ghezen's sake just put one foot in front of the other." Kaz nipped, pushing just a bit harder on your back.

Your head was lolling back and to the side, unwillingly looking at the stars. Yet your eyes remain half closed, barely a fraction of your pupil visible in the moonlight. A smile is painted on your face the whole time, lips chapped and cracked from dehydration. "'M tryin' Kaz. But my head is just, so heavy and the stars 're so pretty."

"I know I know- hold on to the cane- the cane!"

He shouldn't have let you have those last few drinks, but unfortunately you batted your little lashes and made the same little promises you do after enough time has passed for his memories to become just a little bit muddled and forget how far from the truth your promises are.

You'll say you'll be fine. You'll say you'll get home safe. You'll say you'll see him soon.

But you can't really fulfill any of those. So he at least has the foresight to stay with you, or to have someone else stay with you and come get him when you down more than your promised two or three.

And he makes a big deal out of it, saying all these things and talking like he's annoyed with you, but really?

He's not.

Not as much as he thinks he should be anyway. If he had heard anybody else complaining as much as he does in his own head he'd stuff his own glove in their mouth and tell them to deal with their inadequate relationship elsewhere.

But it's him, and it's you, and it's different.

You're not like them. You're not violent or a verbal tyrant or negligent.

"Did I ever tell you..." You start, then chuckle to yourself when you straighten up and sway around. "Did I ever tell you that kin'a remind me of a cat with your hair slicked back like that?"

You're,,, silly. And he feels silly saying that but you are. It's the perfect word to describe you when you get like this. Light jabs at the things you like about him, your feet walking to a rhythm in your head that makes you stop and go and speed and slow at random, laughing at the most mundane things.

"I don't believe you have, no." You definitely have. But he allows you to repeat it.

The Slat is wonderfully empty as he opens the door. Only a few people occupy the tables off to the side, but they're just as drunk as you are, and he doubts they can see this far from their drooling.

"Come on." He leads you over to the stairs. "Up we go."

You lean on the rail, shaking your head, smile gone. "Mh-mhn. I can't." You continue to shake your head, eyes closed. "Your leg is bad."

Silly.

"Good observation. Your legs, however, are fine, if a bit wobbly. Up you come." He tries again to coax you up, to no avail. You lean on the rail more, even pushing into it.

He forgot how much you resemble an ox when it comes to getting you to do something. It's like you contain this ability to just plant yourself anywhere and stick no matter the force that's pulling or pushing you.

"Your leg is bad. I can't go up."

"My bad leg does not effect your ability to walk up the stairs." He says as gentle as possible.

"But it does."

He sighs. "Could you explain to me why that is?"

Your bottom lip pushes out just barely, eyes opening and looking at him through your lashes. It's a look that would have any man in Kerch on their knees, he's sure of it. "Need your help."

His heart sunk. "Just grab the railing and my cane, dove. I'll take my good leg up first."

You analyzed the stairs, scrutinizing them. "Promise?"

"You know I don't make-"

"Promise?" A hint of anger bubbled in your tone, the same firmness in your eyes when you snapped your head to look at him.

He takes a deep breath. "I promise."

And just like that you were ready to ascend the stairs. You grabbed the railing, clumsily reaching out for his cane which he gave readily.

Even in your drunken state, you knew exactly which stairs creaked and which ones were just this side of broken. You skipped a stair, glaring at it as Kaz ascended with his good leg first, then continued with your usual lax expression.

He tried to step with his bad leg, but you immediately backtracked and held his cane firmly, holding him back as well. "You promised." You bit out.

"I did." He switched back, good leg going up, slowly edging you along. "It just slipped my mind."

"Nothin' slips your mind." You pouted, begrudgingly ascending when the cane went too far to hold close.

"Important things," he corrected. "Important things don't slip my mind."

You yanked on the cane, making him look at you. "You're important."

And he... doesn't know what to do with that.

Of course in whatever realm you were occupying he'd be important. He's important for a lot of things. His businesses, his club, whatever constitutes as leader of the crows.

It's not that he thinks he's not important. He just forgets to take into account that with you, he's important in the little things too.

Pointing him where to massage on his leg when it's giving him trouble, bringing him fresh tea when he tries to drink the day old stuff pushed to the corner of his desk, at least reminding him to sleep when the clock reaches two bells in the dark hours.

And right now, when you force him to take the pressure off his poorly healed shin.

"You're right." He confirms, helping you to the top of the stairs. "I am. Now come on."

When he began to lead you to his room, you groaned and stood in place. "Noo. I don' wanna fish."

His mouth struggled to stay in a line, corners quirking up. "You have to fish. You're sweaty and you smell like alcohol."

"I's a good smell."

"You gag in the morning when you smell it."

"Hogwash, you walking shadow."

He tugged you along, walking ahead of you and up the stairs to the attic. His help wasn't much needed here with how narrow and more secure the steps were, but you needed the extra hand to coax you up and towards your inevitable bath.

His office was dark, the only thing preventing the room from being cast in complete darkness was the street lights outside pushes a faint yellow glow through the window.

A lantern was stored in a bookcase next to the door for this reason. He clipped his cane onto his belt and hooked a finger under the handle, giving you little assurances that he wasn't going to let you fall while he navigated the room he knew by heart.

He parked you by his makeshift desk, guiding your hands to the desktop for some leverage while he rustled through a cabinet for the matches.

Immediately you were enthralled with the fire. Nina thinks you were an Inferni in your past life, and he finds the idea hard to not believe as he watches your once droopy eyes widen and follow the ball of fire in his hand as it lights the lantern.

He closes the shade, putting out the match and watching you smile as the whole room lights up.

"So bright." You whisper, as if it's your first time seeing fire.

He shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of his chair. "Very. Don't touch it."

You pout, taking your hand away. "I don't know what you're referring to."

He takes the lantern from where it rests on the desk, unhooking his cane and walking to the bathroom. "Come take your bath."

"'Come take your bath'." You mock him. "You're a bossy bossy man, you know that?"

He can't see you as he hangs the lantern on a hook, but he knows your hands are on your hips and your head cocked to the side. You always became so sassy when the initial fuzziness seems to wear off.

"It's what im paid for." He calls, swirling the basin of water he had filled up before he left. It was only expected that you should get a bath tonight, and he didn't want to wake anybody now of all times to come and fill it up.

"Youre not getting paid right now."

He didn't have any soap. He used up all of his last time and you usually keep yours tucked in your room, eager to hide its existence from greedy hands.

Just water will have to do, since he doesn't trust you to not fall asleep in the time it will take to go to your room and retrieve yours from your spare set of shoes.

He exits the bathroom, coming face to face with you. "I should be with how I'm ordering you around right now."

He waves you over, and it seems at this point you're becoming too tired to really fight back. You shrug off your outer layers, leaving them in a pile on the floor that you attempt to kick to the side. It's seems you think that you did away with them well enough, but really you just kind of spread them around.

That will have to come later, he thinks, and then puts a hand on your bare shoulder as you take off your shirt, throwing it over the side of the basin. Your pants come off and are thrown at its base, shoes somehow already off in the time span it took to check the tub and come retrieve you, socks following.

"You can keep your undergarments on if you'd like." He says, resting his cane against the wall.

"Oh don't get shy on me now, Kaz. You've seen me naked at least a dozen times." You look back at him, a shit eating smirk on your face.

He's thankful for the warm lantern light to obscure the warmth creeping up his neck and nipping at his ears. "Only because we end up in situations like these. It's more efficient to just get you clean now than have you complain in the morning and almost throw up in the tub."

You moan, the sound throaty and like gravel. "I don't wanna be a fish."

"You dont have to be one for long. Just a few minutes until you're clean."

"Can' be clean if there's no soap."

"We can at least get most of the grime off. Come on, one leg over the other."

Slowly, you climb into the tub, Kaz helping you get in with minimal sloshing.

And now comes the hard part.

His gloves are made of leather. He can't dunk and soak them in the water and expect them to be fine later.

They come off quicker than last time, but just as shakey. He puts on two pairs of cloth ones he's kept in here since the third time this happened, when it became apparent that this would happen again and several more times after.

Once they're on he flexes his hand, feeling the cold unforgiving waves slosh at his knees and lick up his thighs.

It's not the same. It's a bath. It's you.

"Can you get your body?" He asks, though. Because as much as he'd like to be of some help here he can't help but need to touch you the least amount as possible.

You think it over, stretching out as much as the tub allows before nodding. "M'yeah, I can do it."

He hands you a rag, watching it sink under the water and become several shades darker.

He turns around and allows you to do your thing, but knows your routine from when you, Nina, and Jesper had a heated debate about which order to wash your body in.

You'll wash your neck and chest first, digging into your collars bones and over your shoulders, then do you arms, followed by your torso and around your back. Then you'll scrub at your legs, moving to your face, then your waist, then your feet.

It'll take about ten minutes to go over every part, scrubbing in places you think have the most grime, and all the while having your shampoo already scrubbed into your hair so that you can rinse everything out all at once.

But you're tired and drunk, and he doesn't know how far you'll make it down your list until you eventually get frustrated or too exhausted or both.

He listens to the water in the tub move as your scrub yourself beneath its surface. A throaty hum emanates from your throat, a tune oddly familiar to the song that plays in the club filling the room.

Every once in a while you'll sigh, the water halting. He'll lean back and ask if you're alright, and you'll hum and get right back to scrubbing.

It's fifteen minutes before you say anything.

"You alright t' do my hair?"

His stomach churns, acid bubbling at its entrance.

"Ill be fine."

He turns, gesturing with his finger for you to lean your head into the water.

There's a pause before he reaches into the cold depths, wondering if he actually /will/ be fine.

When you look at him, eyes rimmed in red and glassy, he scrounges up whatever stability and modicum of the word "cope" he has and dunks them in.

Immediately he finds your hair, burying his fingers between the strands and finding your scalp.

It's hard to feel anything besides temperature with these gloves, and your head is practically burning against the cool water.

You're definitely cold. He can tell by your flushed cheeks and the way you curl your arms around your waist, goosebumps littering your arms. Yet you remain warm under his touch.

He watches the little hairs on your arm wave in the bath current as he scrubs, almost hypnotizing in their back and forth movement as you move to let them rest against your thighs.

But it's not enough.

He's scrubbing your hair, trying so hard to just focus on the grime under his fingers as his hands make the cold water slosh. The feeling is oddly familiar to the waves coating his hands as they dunk half under as he clings to blue flesh.

But you look at him, and your giggle is like little bells that keep him above water, just for the moment.

"You know what you look like?" You ask. "You look like- oh, what's that new style they got goin' on?"

He has no idea what you're talking about. Fashion trends are far beneath his radar unless necessary for a job.

You snap your fingers, pointing up at him. "Emo!"

That makes his eyebrows raise. Because he is familiar with Emo, because a bunch of kids called him that when they were out much past their bedtime. They found it necessary to shout it at him while he was passing by, laughing as they ran into an alleyway.

"I don't think that's accurate." He manages to get out, dunking your head a little further to cover your ears and get the wisps of hair in front of them.

"It's sooo accurate." You draw out your o's, blinking slowly and out of sync. "Emo king."

He sighs. "Whatever you say, little fish."

You pout, moving away from him and turning belly down, chin dipping into the water. "I thought I was your dove."

Again, thankful for that warm light. It makes his stomach feel all twisty the way you say "your". For just a moment, he let's himself smile, really smile, and puts his chin on his hands. "You are. But right now, you're a fish."

You huff, turning back and putting your head within reach. "Okay, mister emo cat."

He sighs, beginning to scrub at the parts of your scalp that he already got but feels he needs to do another once over for. "I am neither emo nor a cat."

"Tell that to your hair, loverboy."

Loverboy.

He scoffs, taking his hands from your hair. "Your hair's done. Get out so you can dry off."

You laugh at your accomplishment, sitting up and scrunching your hair as he discards his wet gloves on a towel rack and dries himself off.

Honestly, loverboy? He's not some lovesick puppy. Loverboy applies to those who are unfathomably whipped, wrapped around their partners finger and touching at all times. It has no place being in the same sentence that his likeness occupies except to say that he is not a 'loverboy'.

He hands you a towel as you get out of the tub, heading to his closet to fetch you some of his clothes.

"An old one, please?" You yell out to him.

"I know." He calls back.

If he can help it he replaces his button ups every few months. But you like the ones that are just around that area of wear and tear. In your words, they "ain't tight and smell like him. Win win."

He doesn't bother with pants, but grabs a pair of his underwear for you to change into instead that he knows you'll find more comfortable.

As he limps back to the bathroom, he halts as he analyzes his thoughts and actions.

Fuck. Maybe he /does/ deserve the name Loverboy.

The realization almost makes him groan and sit down on the floor right then and there.

Can't he just carve his heart out? Isn't that what the poets and song writers do?

Alas, he is neither a poet nor a musician. So he will instead take the long way out, and bring you his clothes and get you into into his bed before the third bell chimes.

He hands you the clothes, watching your face light up for a moment before he exits to his office to clean up the mess you made.

The beak of his cane hooks under your coat, dragging it up and into his hand which he then throws onto the chair. You hate getting it off the coat rack, half the time pulling it with you when you take your coat back. So he sets it here for now, and takes your shoulder bag and shoes and organizes them around the chair just as you usually do.

"I think I found my new look."

He turns around, seeing you trying to pose against the wall. It's supposed to be sultry and sexy, but it definitely does not read that way with your soaked hair, stiff back, and uncooperative limbs.

"If you think so." He nearly chuckles, taking his gloves from your hands and slipping them onto his own, and then retrieves the lantern from the bathroom. "Come to bed."

Thankfully, you seem to love the idea of the bed. It doesn't take much to lead you to the little nook he calls his bedroom. He hooks the lantern to the wall as your body slumps onto his partially eaten sheets.

"Mmm." You hum, smile hidden under your squashed cheek. "Warm."

"Doubtful." He jabs, unfolding a blanket at the foot of the bed and draping it over you.

"It really is. Should try it sometime." You poke at the space beneath your eye, tongue sticking out.

He assumes you're referencing the eye bags that have taken permanent residence on his face, to which he rolls his eyes and hikes up the blanket to cover your back. You hate the cold creeping in.

If you wake up cold in the morning, you will be cold for the rest of the day. And unfortunately for you, you have a job in about six hours.

The less you have to complain about, the better.

"Ill try it later." He promises. "For now, you need it more."

You mumble something, but with the way your eyes are drooping he figures you're not even aware you said anything at all.

As you doze off, he half sits on his nightstand, and watches your breathing begin to slow and even out. It's loud at first, but eventually you grow quieter and quieter, muscles relaxing as you sink into his hard mattress.

Your hair is thrown about everywhere, still wet from your bath, and you'll need Nina to remove a kink in your shoulder in the morning. But for now, you're calm, and safe, and that's enough.

He takes a deep breath, just the same as you do, and then sighs.

"Goodnight, little fish." He mumbles, and then stands, off to collect the ingredients for a hangover tonic and catch up on paperwork.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

#ask #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows fanfic #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #six of crows imagine #fanfic #anon

[lunarw0rks]

gaz definitely likes to eat you out when he’s stressed or needs to blow of steam <33

he’d be so gentle with though..and i swear he has the softest lips everrrrrrrrrrr

a/n: ughghhhhh hmmm sorry, i moaned, my bad. i love his lips, and i think you're extremely right, anon <33 i got carried away...... im ovulating.....

─── Gaz who occasionally enjoys fucking you relentlessly to blow off steam; his cock abusing your core until the stress has diminished after release. bruising your hips, slamming into you in the ways and positions only you can take.

» but what's better than eating you out, using those otherworldly oral skills? it's the definition of a win-win scenario. typically, he won't even say a word. he'll just kiss and nibble his way down your chest until he's peeled your bottoms off. whether you're in the kitchen and he kneels on the tile, or you were laying in bed, and he's slid down between your legs — it doesn't matter.

» usually, it's when Gaz comes home late after a long day. pitch black outside, hours later than he wanted to arrive back; when you shouldn't have been up in the first place! so you're getting used in the best way now, enjoy it!

» whatever you were doing, scrolling on your phone, reading a book, watching TV — it's snuffed. the device or object tossed aside. his silence, paired with his scowl, it's downright concerning how arousing it is for you. part of his foreplay is verbal, so the temper-driven vow of silence makes him a whole new man.

» his mouth attacks your cunt, smooth lips suckling and running along your heat. he looks up, watching you writhe and moan from the sudden aggressive attack. all that roughness, except for when he laps at your clit, which he meticulously stimulates. gentle enough to stimulate the bundle of nerves properly, but also just gentle enough to drive you insane.

» everywhere else on you, is fair game for his mouth's abuse. his tongue drills into your slit until you're pulsing around it — bites and nibbles on your inner thighs purely to edge you longer.

» but he can't edge you very long, can he? that requires patience he just. doesn't. have. today.

» even after you cum, he doesn't stop; doesn't even pause briefly. after the first finish, his eyes flutter shut so he can focus on being even more orderly with his tongue. and now, you're moving too much — disrupting his flow.

» his fingers aren't hovering on your thighs now, they're forcing them open. as wide as they'll go, spreading your slick pussy for his use. the more you squirm against his mouth, the more insistent he is on prolonging your blissful torture.

» eventually, you're too overstimulated to writhe or speak in full sentences. your legs shake, but they're too strained to close around his bobbing head again. it's like you're frozen with your thighs parted, too reliant on his every lap and suckle to question him.

» he looks up again when he slips his middle and ring finger inside your slick cunt, watching you cry out when he curls it against your g-spot. it's all too much for you — but nowhere near enough for him.

» Gaz doesn't ease until you cum so many times you squirt; your wetness flows down his fingers and down his wrist until it's coated his swollen lips and the sheets you're being pressed against.

» his eyes roll slightly when he feels you pulse around his digits violently, watching the euphoric tears flow from your eyes. "such a messy cunt f' me, sweetheart. that's it, fuck my fingers... don't you dare fuckin' stop." you feel like you can't; his long fingers are too addictive. you rock and wiggle your hips down on them, shaky, whiny breaths echoing off the bedroom walls.

» you've earned this now — making yourself cum, whilst his kitten licks on your clit assist you. he's so hardened today, yet gentle with you, and only your well-worshipped body.

// bonus; him making you sit on his face when he's especially beat after a hard day. and he's not asking again, nor was he even asking in the first place. Gaz lowers your cunt onto his tongue, rolling your hips manually with his hands, until you're trembling desperately. until the sounds of his wet laps and your whimpers fill the room. until you're babbling incoherently from countless climaxes, coating his lips and chin in your sticky cum <3

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 x reader #gaz headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick smut #gaz smut #gaz x you #gaz x female reader #gaz x y/n #141 headcanons #tf 141 x reader #141 task force #tf 141 #cod x reader #cod x female reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod headcanons #mw2 x reader #mw2 headcanons #mw2 smut

[bigbadvoxbox]

Helllooo! I'm back with another ask

I was thinking a vox getting jealous because Valentino was being Valentino and flirting with (fem) reader and vox marking her up or something like that to just prove that reader is only his- sorry if this sounds confusing lol if it ain't coherent feel free to delete, hope u have a nice day tho!!

-🎶

I love this! I wish bad violent things on Valentino so getting to write him getting rejected and shit will be fun!

warnings: nsfw. possessive sex. also unprotected sex, which u shouldn't do. semi-public/public sex (in a limo). also valentino exists in this. i hate valentino, so im gonna warn u that he's even here. fuck u valentino. marking + biting. vox has kinda like an ownership (?) kink idk what the word is but he likes the concept of you belonging to him. also warning for valentino being a gross pervy scumbag who flirts with anything with a hole.

- It was meant to just be a quick drop by with Vox, as he had to quickly stop by Valentino's studio for a quick discussion. This was your first time actually meeting the infamous Valentino. Vox had never really wanted you to meet him, for reasons unknown, but today he had no choice but to bring you along to his brief meeting.

- It went exactly like he was dreading it would.

- "Where you been hiding this little chula, huh?" Valentino asked, taking the back of your hand, and planting what started off as a light kiss, but very quickly became a long lick, leaving you feeling confused, as well as a bit mortified.

- Vox was very quick to take a step between the two of you, his eye twitching as he tried his best to keep that smile on his face, needing to keep up his stupid little act of respect so that this obnoxious bastard of a man wouldn't throw a tantrum. Valentino has power that Vox can use, so he can't just yet show just how much he dislikes the moth-demon.

- The rest of that quick little chat felt like eternity, and Vox could not WAIT to get the fuck out of those studios. Hell, he was considering fucking the shit out of you right then and there just to show Valentino that he needs to fuck off. He wouldn't outright say anything, but he sure as shit would show Valentino who you belong to.

- You barely got out of the studio and back into Vox's limo when he pounced on you.

- "That prick. He needs to learn to keep his hands off what isn't his." he grumbled to himself as he made quick work of laying you back against the seat, hovering over you. Within no time, your neck was littered with marks and bites, Vox making an effort to make them as visible as possible. Bright and clear enough for even Valentino's blind ass to see.

- Pure jealousy was fuelling him at that moment, as well as possessiveness. He was gonna make sure no other lowlife fucker ever DARED to even think about touching you ever again. That was his job alone. You were HIS girl.

- Part of him considered leaving his name on you somewhere, somehow, but no. That could wait. It would be too rash a decision right now, he should wait until you could both decide on such a thing together when you were thinking clearly. He didn't know if you'd be okay with that, so he decided against it, but the thought definitely lingered in the back of his mind.

- While his hands trailed all over your body, touching and groping everywhere, feeling what's HIS, he revelled in the feeling of your hands on his body too. He knew you only had eyes for him, and that you were just as irritated by Valentino's actions as he was. That only spurred him on, and next thing you knew, the two of you were barely even clothed in the back of his limo.

- Vox had you practically in every position in the back of that limo. At first, he was hovering over you, and it was sweet, close, passionate, then, he turned you two around so he was drilling into you from behind, rough, sinful, and messy. He liked this position, it gave him the perfect view of your bodies joining together as he gripped your hips, while you gripped the car door for stability, your shared heavy breaths fogging up the windows.

- Finally, he had you in his lap, riding him. He sat up, your chests pressing together as he took this opportunity, so close to you, to leave deeper bites and marks, now extending from your neck to your jaw and shoulders, even low enough to your tits.

- The limo was definitely shaking.

- After a couple rounds, you both decided you had made enough of a mess for one day, and had successfully gotten both of your frustrations out of your systems.

- A knock at the limo window caught Vox's attention, and he rolled the tinted windows down a tad, quickly covering you with his shirt. It was Valentino on the other side.

- "You've been parked out here for a while. Thought you were busy?" he said in a snarky tone. Vox couldn't help but smirk slightly, quickly looking for your approval, before rolling the window down a tad more, exposing the mess you two had made, as well as you, now only covered by Vox's shirt, which thankfully covered enough, only leaving you exposed from the collarbones up and the thighs down, but left just enough on display for Valentino to very clearly see the art gallery of hickeys and bite marks that littered your body.

- "We were busy."

#hazbin hotel #voxbox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel smut #vox #i hate valentino #vox smut

[qaxqxd]

I Didn't Get To Say I Love You. <3

♡Pair: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mention death, blood, and slight depression.

A/n: felt emo so wrote this shit at 2 am (not proof read typed this all on phone 😭)

Summary: You and your roommate Ghost got into a bad argument. This leads to him ignoring you and regretting it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Ghost have been roommates for a couple of years now. You two were quite literally made for each other. You guys have gotten into fights before, but they were usually small and stupid. They were never as bad as today.

You took a huge risk on their latest mission. Which almost jeopardizes the whole mission. Everyone made it alive and safe at least.

"Bloody Hell, were you thinking (Y/n)?!" Ghost shouted glaring straight down at you.

"You're still on about this?" You frown your brow slightly.

"Absolutely, you jeopardize the mission." He spoke roughly. His British accent would get thicker as he was pissed.

"I didn't jeopardize it! We all made it out alive with Intel." You spoke with more force.

"Almost. We almost died." His hand crossed.

"See, but we didn't-" "Is this a joke to you?" He cut you off. "I did what was necessary-"

"(Y/n). I'm asking you. Is this a joke to you?" He slammed his hand on the table.

"No, but-" "It's a simple YES or NO." Ghost's voice was getting louder.

"No." You spoke a little defeated.

"Goodness, I can't believe they put me on a team with you." He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ouch.

I don't think he knew that you heard him. But you kept quiet either way.

"Goodnight, (Y/n)." Ghost said, heading into his room and shutting the door.

You really did it this time. Ghost wasn't usually the type to get pissed off so easily, but you managed to do that.

You sighed to yourself. You definitely weren't going to get any sleep tonight.

The next morning

You got up from your restless night. Walking out of your room. You didn't see Ghost.

Strange wasn't it? Usually he'd be on the couch reading a book, and greeting you with a 'Good Morning.' But he didn't. Or rather he wasn't there.

You ignore it though. 'Maybe Ghost was busy this morning.' A little disappointed. You went on with your morning routines.

As you headed down to the cafeteria for breakfast. You notice he wasn't there either. You saw Soap and Gaz, but no Ghost.

"Morning," You greeted the two.

"Morning," They both replied in sync.

"Have you guys seen Ghost?" You asked a little worried in your voice.

"Oh, he's just showing a new recruit around." Soap spoke with a shrug.

New recruit?

"Oh a new recruit?" You asked with a little excitement.

"Yeah I think you'd like her too." Gaz added.

And it was a girl too? You were glad that there was finally another girl on the team, but you couldn't shake the feeling.

With Ghost? You couldn't help but feel a twig of jealousy rise a little. It was no secret that you had a giant crush on Ghost. I mean the whole HQ probably knows.

Soap was the first person you told. He wasn't surprised. You and Ghost were close buddies. Soap thought you two were secretly dating one time.

"Oh? You know where they're at?" You asked softly.

"I think they should be around the training parts." Soap said, waving his fork.

And immediately you left the cafeteria. Heading straight to the training grounds.

You found them a minute later. You heard the new recruits' soft laughter as well as Ghost's laughter too.

"You're great, Ghost." The new recruiter chuckled. "Thanks, Katelyn." He chuckled slightly.

You were glad Ghost was laughing. He rarely does, but you couldn't help feeling a little sting in your heart.

You told yourself that you shouldn't bother them and you should leave them be.

But how could you? How could you ignore them, when they both were everywhere. The only place they weren't there was you and Ghost's quarters.

You've also noticed that Ghost has been going home later than usual or he's not home at all. Was he still mad at you?

Maybe.

You thought. He was a man of action rather than words. Maybe he was just still mad at you.

The only times you would see him was at training or at mission briefings. Katelyn wasn't a bad person.

She was pretty sweet. She was also gorgeous. Most of the rookie trainees fell head over heels for her.

You would see her and Ghost pair up. They hung around each other a lot lately.

But, why does that get you work up? It's not like you and Ghost were together or anything. He has the choice to see other people, but he wasn't the type to look for love.

So you don't get it.

It's been months. And he still hasn't talked to you. Not a single word. He's been pretty distant.

"Maybe he's still mad?" You asked yourself. You didn't have the guts to talk to him. The stinging in your heart grew.

You couldn't fall asleep at night anymore, unless you cried yourself to sleep.

The person who usually is right beside you. Comforting you and saying sweet things to make you feel better. Wasn't there.

He wasn't there. You cried into your pillow. Sobbing silently not wanting to disturb others.

The next morning You couldn't bare yourself from getting up, but you knew you had too. Or else others might think something was wrong, and you didn't want them to carry your burden.

So you had to get up.

As you realize you had a mission today. You really couldn't afford to waste time.

You got dressed in your usual uniform and headed out.

-

You were dropping down from your parachute. Everyone decides to group into twos. Apparently there was an uneven number of soldiers. You agreed to be the alone soldier.

Heading down to enemy territory was tuff. Shots fired everywhere.

The main goal today was to find out what the drug cartels were hiding. Easy enough, you say.

Your radio would be filled with a bunch of code and confirmation. You continue to shoot at the enemy. As backup.

You would watch other soldiers moving in closer.

As you saw an empty way being closer to the cartels. You took that route. Moving in closer.

What you didn't know was that.

You were surprised by the attack.

A couple cartel men tackle you from the behind with their knives.

You yelled in agony. Quickly trying to fend them off of you. As you do that, you quickly notice you were stabbed in the thigh.

Making it harder for you to escape from them. You rolled down a small hill, limping away from them.

You were then able to hide behind a broken down building. The part you were in was nowhere close to where the mission was at, but there were still gun firing where you were at.

You collapsed against a wall, taking cover for a bit. You look at your wounds. They were bad, as in. Really bad.

"Shit." You cursed under your breath. You could hardly breathe even.

You were stabbed multiple times in the legs and sides. Shoulders too.

You knew for a fact. You weren't going to make it.

"(Y/n) to Katelyn." You spoke a little shaky.

"This is Katelyn to (Y/n)." She spoke.

"Could you take care of him for me?" You said with a cough.

It went silent for a bit.

"(Y/n) where the fucking hell are you?" Ghost asked with a sharp tone.

You heard footsteps behind the wall, and turned the radio all the way down. Those footsteps were definitely not your teammates.

You were holding onto your wound on the side. Wincing at the tremendous pain.

You felt so tired.

You couldn't escape from here and get back onto the aircraft. Your legs were too wobbly to crawl even.

You thought about it. Would this have ended in a different way?

Maybe Ghost would be a little happy that you were finally gone. It would mean your annoyance would finally stop bothering him.

Maybe he could even be a little happier without you screwing things up. I mean Katelyn is a great girl. She'd be perfect for him.

Another thought crossed your mind.

"I didn't get to say I love you to him." You mumble. You knew he'd probably turn you down, but it would have been nice to say it once.

Well it was too late anyways.

You could feel yourself collapsing. Your breathing is getting shallow.

-

"Where the hell is she?" Ghost continues searching for her signal. Panic rose in him.

He couldn't lose her. No way it was happening. He wasn't going to let it happen.

He eventually found her. With a pool of blood around her.

He scrambles to check her pulse. It was low. Too low for comfort.

"(Y/n) open your damn eyes." He grasped onto her.

No, no. He wasn't going to lose her. No fucking way. His everything.

He quickly carried her back to the aircraft. The medics took her away from his hold.

He stared at his gloves which were stained with her blood. He held the gloves close to him.

-

Ghost sat there. Watching over you. He held your hand. Never leaving your side.

You would eventually flatline.

He blamed himself. He should have spent more time with her. He shouldn't have distanced himself from her.

He should have spent every last moment on her.

The nurses let him back in to say one last goodbye.

He held up your hand. Brushing his lips onto your wrist.

"I- I'm so sorry..." He repeated out multiple times.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n). I'm really sorry, I didn't get to say I love you." He mutters breaking into tiny sobs.

As he watches the nurses wrap a blanket over her.

-

W.C 1.6k

#simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n

[bambisnc]

he's the one that's livin' in my system baby! [04]

pairing : roommate!sungchan x reader genre : sickfic n fluff nawt smut im sorry about the opening line i js thought it was funi ,, cw/tw : food mentions + hes sick bc he looked after the reader too well D: wc : 0.4k ishh

you've discovered over the past 2 weeks that your nights are spent significantly more productively when sleeping with your roommate.

as in literally sleeping with your roommate i.e. just lying in the same bed (usually his).

you did start out with a well defined list of rules the most highlighted of which was to ensure a pillow boundary between the two of you at all times.

sungchan always somehow ends up going against it thought, much to your delight dismay.

and as you woke up one day in the middle of the night, the clock displaying an even 4.00 am, with his limbs fully entangled with your own in a way you would not have thought was possible; the only thing you can think about is how hot he feels against your skin.

....he is quite literally burning up. and you can almost swear his heart seems to be beating a little too much faster than normal (given your position with your face dangerously close to his chest.)

he's sick.

the idiot's sick.

after the multiple times he insisted he'd be fine and made the extremely clever decision of forgetting all constraints of personal space because he's jus' taking care of you :( pshh obviously no he won't catch your little cold but if you cuddle with him you'll feel soo warm and comfyy~ <3

... you'd hit him if you didn't feel really bad right now; especially because sungchan's intentions were never bad, if a little stupid. he's always looking out for you.. and the one time you tried doing something for him you ended up with prescribed bed rest.

the least you could do was take care of him.

(and there was also the whole him saying he wanted to get ice-cream with you thing which could totally just be you over thinking but sungchan and you definitely did need to work that out. eventually. a couple of months should be ideal...)

you lay a cool, damp washcloth on his forehead; brushing away the messy hair which sticks to his skin slightly.

and you really, really shouldn't; but you can't help gently placing a feather-light kiss to his temple.

but hey. idiots don't get sick right?

or do they..? yeah you honestly can't recall what the lesson supposed to be learnt from all of this was...

-

later, when you're able to pull yourself away from your roommate's bedside and make your way towards the kitchen to whip up some porridge (light on the stomach, warm for the throat); a little sniff tells you that you are not alone.

and there stands sungchan, busily rubbing out the residual sleep from his eyes, managing to still look annoyingly adorable - which is a great feat considering his height.

scolding him for getting out of bed gets you nowhere, he only declares that he wouldn't have been able to rest anyway; not without you there..

notes : my god how do phone users do htis my laptop isnt laptopping v well so im doign this from via a phone and ouch. + [series m.list] [m.list] (will edit in links later)

song rec : sugarcoat by natty. No i wont be inserting a link.

#order's up~! 📋⋆𐙚 #cookies.♡︎🍪 #[he's the one that's livin' in my system baby! 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐] #pic creds : lovekuns ! #sungchan x reader #jung sungchan #sungchan #riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize fanfic #riize fluff #riize fics #jung sungchan x reader #riize sungchan #jung sungchan angst #jung sungchan fluff #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop scenarios

[yanderepuck]

THIS???? THIS RIGHT HERE?????

I'm writing this. Meet you down below you horny shits.

School is dismissed for the day but you stated after to get homework done. It's much easier to concentrate in the library than it is at home.

As you are walking through the aisles of books singing catches your eye. You reach out for a book on a higher shelf when you suddenly get your sides grabbed.

"Ahh!" you scream, jumping, and swatting at whoever is behind you. You turn and pout. "Charles!"

He has a big smile on his face. "Not too loud, princess," he teased you. He grabbed the book for you and handed it to you. "What are you staying after for? Shouldn't you be headed home?"

You take the book and hold it against your chest. "I stayed to work on my essay. It's quieter here. Why are you still here?"

"I have to study for a test but I really don't feel like it," he let out a sigh and steps closer to you. "Maybe you could help me."

"My grades might be good but they aren't that good," you start walking back to the table your stuff is at, Charles following behind you.

You sit down and open your laptop to start your paper. Charles sits right next to you as if he's going to watch you type this whole thing.

"What's the essay on?"

"Charles... we're in the same literature class."

"Oh right."

You sigh and start typing. He watches for a few minutes, saying nothing and also doing nothing. He really doesn't want to study for his test.

Finishing your first paragraph, you feel something against your shoulder. You turn your head and just see fluffy dusty pink hair.

Your cheeks start to heat up. "Charles. Shouldn't you be working on something."

"But I don't want to," he pouts.

You two share a few classes, but you aren't particularly close. Youve done a few group projects together but that's all. So why is he being so clingy to you?

During group projects he did tend to stay close to you, and when then you thought it was odd. It's not like he isn't a social person so she had no reason to act shy with others.

You look back at your laptop and try to relax. Your heart is most definitely racing. Charles is cute, he's funny, he's very kind, but it's also very flirty with everyone.

"I need to work," you hope it'll get him to back off. You really did need to get this done.

"Can't we just talk?"

"Talk about what?"

Charles sets his chin on your shoulder. You look at him again. But he's really close. Very close. Maybe too close for someone you are just classmates with.

"How cute you are?" He smiles while your face goes all red. You? Cute? Compared to him? No no no. If you held a baby kitten up to him you aren't sure if you could say who was cuter.

You can't get your lips to move to get him to stop. He puts an arm over your shoulder and you think you just felt his hand rest on your thigh.

"I keep catching myself staring at you in class. Maybe that's why I'm doing bad. Since you're the reason you should help me study."

His voice changed. At first it was all cute and bubbly, but now it's deepened and gotten softer so you're the only one who could possibly hear.

"Charles I don't think-" he cuts you off his voice sounding a bit more bubbly, he sounds curious.

"Do you think I'm cute?" His head tilts.

What kind of question is that? He's beautiful. Gorgeous. You could get lost in his eyes so easily. Everything about his looks is literally perfect.

But you hesitate. Mainly because you are confused. Your head and heart are going a thousand miles a minute.

Charles starts to frown when you don't answer, snapping you out of it.

"You're beautiful!" You say that a little louder than you meant to and cover your mouth. Do they really have to be doing this in the library. There's not many others there, but you aren't alone.

"Awe. Tell me more," his voice got softer again, going back to being flirty.

You bite your lip not knowing what to say. Do you have a crush on him? Maybe. But who wouldn't? How could you look at him and not have your heart flutter.

"Do you like me?" Could he read your thoughts? This has to be a prank. There's no way someone like him could like you. "Because I like you."

He gets closer. Close enough to kiss.

He what? No no. You had to have heard that wrong. "W-what?"

"I like you," his fingers brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

Could you be any redder? Any more anxious?

"Do you like me back?"

You are hoping no one is watching you. He is practically on your lap, his hands on you. Is he trying to make a move? You wouldn't be upset if he was.

You start by nodding your head "I-I do. I really like you," your voice is so low, a little raspy, almost scared to say it out loud in case someone hears and it turns out this is all fake.

Charles just smiles. He's not blushing at all but seems very happy. "Do you really?"

You guess you didn't sound too confident when saying it. "Yes. You're very kind to everyone and you're really attractive."

"Why don't we find an empty classroom so I can show you how much I like you," he purrs.

You freeze up again. He wasn't just saying all that to get you to go off with him was he? "I-I don't think that's a good idea."

"Aww, why not?" he starts to play with your hair again. "Don't tell me you would rather me kiss you in front of every one here. You're naughty," he chuckles.

You push your chair back to force space between the two of you. "I-I need to get my paper done," you try to say it as firmly as you can.

He starts to frown. Oh no. Why does he look so cute when he frowns? He's got cute puppy dog eyes. No! Don't let him try to convince you otherwise. You need to get this done.

"Fine... I'll leave you alone," he gets up from his seat and starts walking to the door to leave.

You watch him, not sure if you feel more guilty or more curious. You do in fact like him. He's beautiful, he's kind, he's so gentle. Maybe he really has been hiding his feelings about you like you have about him.

You look at your laptop and see the little bit that you've written and quickly shut it. You gather up your notebook and papers and shove them into your backpack and rush after him.

"Charles!" He was just walking into the hallway. You get next to him and immediately held his hand in yours. "I know the one math teacher never locks his door."

He smirks and pulls you along. "Let's go then!"

~~

You're sitting on top of a desk, Charles standing between your legs kissing you. He has one hand on your thigh and another massaging your boob. Your legs wrap around him to keep him there. You have one hand on his cheek and another on his waist.

Both of you moan as the kiss gets messier. His hand slides up further, squeezing your thigh and the other is trying to get your shirt open. Your hand slides up into his hair while your other reaches around to grab his ass.

The kiss hasn't been broken yet. You haven't had a chance to breathe. You don't want to think about what you're doing. There's no way you could say no to someone as beautiful as Charles. You wouldn't have given anyone else the time of day.

Charles gets your shirt open and yanks your bra down to get a firmer grip on your tit. You moan louder and grab his hair to keep his face close as you kissed harder. Both of your lips were going to be bruised after this.

He moves your skirt further up and presses himself against you. The harder his erection is pressing against you the wetter you get. Your hand on his ass moves to the front, palming him through his clothes.

The gasp he made nearly broke your kiss, good thing you're holding him there. The last thing you want is to come to the realization that this is a horrible idea.

The more you touch him the harder of a time he has keeping up. He whines and starts rubbing you between your underwear. Your body jerks and then you moan.

Letting his hair go, you use both hands to get his pants open, taking his cock out to rub.

Having your skin on his he breaks the kiss to whine.

"Ahh-hh," you both pant. You rub his tip and he follows with sliding two fingers into you

"I need you," he whines and starts to kiss your neck. Your moans hitch and he takes his fingers out of you. "I promise I won't get your uniform dirty."

You move closer to the edge and let go of his cock. He pulls your underwear to the side and slowly slides into you. You hold onto his shoulder, biting your lip as he stretches you.

He gives you a moment to adjust before he thrusts into you.

"Ahh!"

He starts kissing you again and holds your legs apart so he can get deeper. You grip his hair, tugging it, moaning into his mouth.

The more he moves the easier it gets for him. Your hole is stretching to the perfect size to fit him inside you.

The kissing gets rougher so that neither of your moans escape. People are still in the school so you can't be too loud.

It seems that the harder you tug his hair the harder he slams into you.

The desk under you is shaking. It would have been better to have you bend over but that would have meant the kissing would have had to stop.

He squeezes your thighs before moving them to grab your ass, slightly lifting you off the desk. You wrap a leg around him and feel him get deeper.

Now you don't know what's worse. How loud your moans are getting, or how loud your skin is hitting against each other. If anyone walks by they are going to hear.

Your nails dig into him as you are edging closer until you finally break the kiss to yell. "Charles!"

The feeling of you tightening gives him the push he needed to speed up to get himself close.

He pulls out just in time, leaving a thick stream of cum on your thigh. Both of you pant heavily, pressing your foreheads against each other. He makes sure to keep your skirt pulled up so it doesn't get dirty.

After a few moments he stands up straight.

"Hold your skirt," once you take it he fixes his pants and goes to the other side of the room to grab some paper towels.

He comes back and wipes your leg clean, making sure to get it all. As he does you fix your shirt. He helps you down from the desk and makes sure you're okay to stand before going to the trash and burying the paper towels at the bottom.

You fix your skirt, making sure it's laying flat, then run your fingers through your hair. Charles messes with his hair when he comes back over to you, kissing you again. You straighten his shirt and make sure everything on him looks fine.

"Now I really won't be able to concentrate in class," he purrs.

"You better! I'm not going to help you with studying," you huff and grab your backpack. Guess you're going to have to write your essay at home after all.

~~

Tag list~

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @xalxtusxiao @namine-somebodies-nobody @ana-thedaydreamer @evil-quartett @ameyoruakiikemenseries @yrenesposts @tele86 @damekathearasi @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @nightghoul381 @vampiricpancake @lulu-the-smol-floof @tako-cafe @floydsteeth

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp charles #smut smut smut