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#but I don’t know why he’s keeping this to himself
sluttywoozi · 2 days
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Interlude No. 9 | yjh x reader
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Interlude No. 9: Jeonghan broke up with you three months ago, so why is he at your door now?
Rating: sfw (minors still shouldn’t be here) | WC: ~3.3k
Pairing: yjh x reader | Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, a lil romance
Warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, breaking up and making up
Reader Notes: drinks wine, owns a blow dryer
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You’re halfway into your second glass of wine and fully done with your skincare when a knock sounds on your apartment door. 
It sounds familiar for some reason, and though you normally would never entertain the thought of accepting an unexpected caller after 9 PM, your gut is telling you to answer. So onto the side table your glass goes before you stand on tired legs and slowly make your way to the hall. You should grab the bat but that gut feeling is still there, the one that says you have nothing to worry about, so you pass the closet you keep it in and continue on to the door. 
Closing one eye, you sweep aside the cover and look through the peephole, gasping at what, or rather, who, you find. 
Yoon Jeonghan. 
The man you dated for two years, the man who broke up with you three months ago without an explanation. 
The man you still love. 
You can’t see much, but you can see that he looks awful. His hair is long and sloppily tied back, his glasses are low on his nose, and his eyes are red, glassy. He gnaws at his lip as he waits, his posture growing worse with every minute that ticks by until he’s all but wilted onto the floor. 
You don’t know what to do. 
You blocked his contact after he left you, swore you wouldn’t speak to him again no matter how many friends you have in common, but here he is at your door, looking, for all intents and purposes, dead inside. 
You can’t see him anymore but he didn’t walk away, which means he must have finally sat down in the hall. You’re just glad he’s not making noise, your neighbors have always been nosy and you hate the idea of them knowing about this. 
He doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere anytime soon, so all you can do is unlock your three locks and open the door a crack, just enough to spot him. 
His gaze shoots up immediately and he rushes to stand, his limbs clumsy as he picks himself up off the floor. 
“Hi,” he breathes, brushing his clothes off and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 
You ignore the way your stomach drops at his voice, ignore the way it feels like a balm to your frayed nerves, and ask quietly, “What are you doing here?” 
He glances away and pushes up his glasses, swiping a hand over his eyes and down his face before saying, “I wanted to talk to you, about us.” 
You bristle, unhealed hurt rising up within you at his words. 
“Now you want to talk? You didn’t seem to have anything to say three months ago when you left,” you remind him harshly, pretending your heart doesn’t ache at the way he flinches and tries to hide it.
“I- I fucked up, I fucked everything up, I know that. But I’ve been trying to talk to you this whole time, ever since I walked out. Please, just listen to me this once, and I promise, if you never want to hear from me again, I’ll leave you alone.”
He sounds distraught, as close to tears as you’ve ever heard him, and you know you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway. 
You open the door and step to the side, ignoring his deep sigh of relief and pushing down the shock when you smell the cologne you bought him last year as he walks past you. 
You didn’t live together but he knows where to go, making his way to your living room and settling into his corner of the couch. Maybe you should offer him something to drink, but you don’t feel like playing host right now, not when the wound you thought had scarred over has started bleeding again. 
Bypassing your spot on the sofa, you sink into the chair farthest away from him, tugging a blanket over your lap as if it could protect you somehow. 
He stares at you, his gaze a deep pool of sorrow and guilt and his fingers fidgeting in his lap. 
“Well?” You prompt him when he doesn’t speak, almost wishing you had the forethought to grab your glass of wine. You could use it at a time like this. 
“I- I guess I should start off by saying I love you and I’m in love with you and I never stopped being in love with you,” he says it like it’s a vow, like he fears you won’t believe him. 
You say nothing, swallowing around the pit of anguish in your throat. 
“When I left, it was because of me, not because of anything you did. You’re perfect, you always have been. I just- I couldn’t give you what you deserved. I saw how happy you were when Joshua proposed to his partner, and we both knew I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get married, but I knew that you were sure.”
“I wanted you to be free to find someone who could give you that, and I thought breaking up with you was the right thing to do, but as soon as I left, I knew it was the absolute dumbest and most cowardly thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“I shouldn’t have made that decision for you, I should have told you how I was feeling and let you make the choice yourself, even if the outcome would have been the same.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan chokes out, his face pinched and his eyes full of saltwater. 
Tears are threatening to stream down your face, your heart squeezing in your chest like someone is wringing it out. It’s time for you to respond to him, but you don’t know what to say. 
You’ve missed him more than you ever thought possible, and a part of you is comforted by the fact that he never stopped loving you. But another part of you is broken, your trust in him fractured and your faith in him lost. 
You feel like he’s misunderstood you on a fundamental level, like the years you spent together were for nothing because he obviously doesn’t know you as well as you thought he did. You feel like your autonomy has been stripped away, like he thinks you’re a child who can’t be trusted to form your own opinions. 
Most of all, you feel robbed, of the last three months, of the lifetime you would have spent with him, married or unmarried. 
“Why are you telling me this now?” You whisper, needing to know his angle. Is he just looking to absolve himself of guilt? You don’t know if you can do that for him. 
“Because I’m dying without you,” he nearly sobs out. “I’ve wanted to come back since I left but my texts and calls wouldn’t go through, and I didn’t want to show up at your job like a creep, and all of our friends hate me except for Seungcheol so there was nobody to carry a message for me. It’s all my own fault, and I know that, I just- I’m selfish, I can’t let you go without knowing you want me to.” 
“Jeonghan, I never wanted you to let me go. I never wanted to be free. I only wanted you,” your voice breaks on the last word, and you have to look away as you fight the urge to openly weep. 
“Past tense?” He sounds defeated, empty. “You don’t…” 
“Yoon Jeonghan, you’re a fucking idiot if you think I don’t love you anymore,” you glare, feeling like you could curse him, hex him and his whole bloodline for his stupidity. “But that doesn’t mean we can pick up where we left off. You broke us, you broke me, and I need time before I can let you in like that again.”
Finally, there’s life in his eyes again, gratitude and love shining on his face, like the fact that you’re even considering it is enough for him. 
“I’ll be here, I’ll wait forever if I have to. And I’m not saying this because I think it’ll change anything, but I do want to marry you, only you, so I mean it when I say forever,” he sends you a watery beam, his face shiny with tears. 
You can’t stop the corners of your mouth from quirking up in a smile, even if you do want to prod further into how he’s suddenly made up his mind. You fear you don’t have the energy for it tonight, not after all of this. 
You also fear you don’t have the heart to send him home alone. He looks a bit better but his cheeks are gaunt, his hair is greasy, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been doing well, and you want to feel vindicated but instead you just feel worried. 
“You can sleep here tonight, on the couch. Let me get you some blankets and pillows,” you whisper, rising to your feet and retreating to your bedroom before he can protest out of some misguided feeling of imposition. 
You gather up his favorite blanket, the one that’s been folded on the chair in the corner of your room since he broke up with you, and his preferred pillow. It still smells like him even though you’ve changed the case countless times, and you have to admit that you’ve been thankful for it. 
You also get some pajamas he left, having neglected to clear out his drawer because you couldn’t bear to open it. 
He’s right where you left him when you return, head tilted back as he dozes, and you set the bedding at the end of the couch before tentatively resting a hand on his shoulder to wake him. 
He blinks up at you and smiles his sweetest smile, and you feel your heart start to stitch itself back together. In a whisper, you say, “Jeonghan, why don’t you take a shower while I get the couch ready?” 
“Are you sure? You don’t have to do all this,” he mumbles, his eyes avoiding yours as he bites at his lip anxiously. 
“I know I don’t. Let me do it anyway,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder and reaching down for his hand to pull him up and to the bathroom. 
He follows you obediently, taking the pajamas when you hand them over and grinning shyly at you one last time as the bathroom door closes between you. 
You don't have a lot of time to think as you set up the couch, knowing he takes around ten minutes to shower. You’ll probably offer to blow dry his hair when he gets out, he hates sleeping with it wet, he always thinks it’ll give him a cold. Even after three months without him, caring for him is still as easy as breathing. 
Now that you have space to think, you’re not sure how much time you really need to let him back in. 
Of course, you’re still wounded and bitter that he left you in the first place, but you can tell he wasn’t lying, that he really thought he was doing the right thing. You think he knows now that he shouldn’t ever do something like that again, and while your trust in him is cracked, it’s not as broken as you worried it was. 
Setting everything he should and shouldn’t have done aside, you have to admit that you miss him, desperately, and that you want to be his just as much as you want him to be yours. 
But with all of your feelings so fresh, you think you should sleep on it at least one night, just to be sure you have forgiven him, that you can take him back. 
You should have a few minutes left before he’s done, so you sneak back into your room and grab your blow dryer and hair brush from your vanity, setting up shop on the chair closest to an outlet. 
Soon enough, he wanders out in his baggy shirt and pajama pants, squeezing his dripping hair with a towel and grinning when he sees you. 
“Salon time?” He asks with excitement, and you smile indulgently, waving the hair dryer at him and waiting for him to sit cross legged in front of you, his back to your knees and his head at the perfect height for you to take care of his hair. 
It’s soothing to you, carrying out this routine and having this kind of intimacy with him after all these weeks apart. 
You dry and dry until his silky locks slip through your fingers, and when you finally shut the blow dryer off, the silence in the room is deafening. Jeonghan is leaning back against your legs, his head dipped low and his neck bent at an odd angle, and you realize he’s fallen asleep. 
It must have been soothing to him too, you think, gently scratching your nails over his scalp before whispering his name. 
He stirs, looking around in confusion and tilting his head all the way back to look at you upside down, a sleepy smile stretching his lips. 
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice hushed and relaxed. 
You fight the urge to lean down and press a kiss to his lips like you used to, smoothing your finger over his eyebrow instead and replying, “You’re welcome.”
He pushes up to his feet, stretching his hands overhead and yawning loudly, before turning and reaching for you only to stop short. 
“Goodnight,” he says, folding his hands behind his back like he’ll touch you if he doesn’t. 
“Goodnight,” you whisper, trying to ignore how weird it feels not to follow it with an I love you. 
You turn and retreat to your room before the words can escape without your permission, closing the door behind you with a soft click. 
You’re already all washed up for the night so you just slide into your side of the bed, pulling the duvet tight around you to mimic the feeling of Jeonghan’s arms. 
It takes you ages to fall asleep with the knowledge that he’s just a few yards away, that you could have him in this bed if only you would ask. 
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It’s dark when you wake, your heart still racing with the nightmare that roused you though you can’t remember it. You lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to calm yourself, your eyes locking onto the blur of the fan, just barely visible with the moonlight seeping in through the curtains. 
You hardly ever got nightmares when Jeonghan slept over, but you’ve had innumerable sleepless nights over the past three months, and you were hoping tonight wouldn’t be one of them with him in your apartment. 
Maybe you should check and make sure he’s still here. He could have left, could have changed his mind, could have decided he was right to end it with you and gone home to his own apartment, and you wouldn’t even know until morning.
That anxiety is enough to make you roll out of bed and pad over to the door, your steps quiet and your breath caught in your chest. 
You turn the knob as smoothly as you can, pushing the door open and wincing when it creaks. But when you look over to check if you woke Jeonghan, he’s already sitting up, the lamp on the side table on and a book from your shelf in his hands. 
“What’s wrong?” He asks with concern, setting the book face down on the table and giving you his full attention. 
“I just wanted to… check on you,” you give him a half truth, forgetting that he always could see right through you. 
“You were scared I went home, weren't you?” He murmurs, a tinge of sadness to his voice and a remorseful frown on his face. 
“Maybe,” you fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt, avoiding his eyes. “I just had a nightmare so…”
“Was it that I left again?” He asks, pulling his legs up and making room on the couch for you before patting the cushion in front of him. You take a few steps forward and he lifts the blanket up, covering your exposed legs with it when you settle onto the sofa. 
“No, I don’t remember what happened. I just didn’t get them with you around so I thought you might not be around.”
You have to fight the urge not to crawl into his lap and curl up against him, feeling especially starved for affection after waking so abruptly. You wonder if he feels as far from you as you do from him, stuck in this limbo of being together but not together. 
You think he does when you notice the longing in his soft eyes, see the way his brows are gently furrowed and his lip is bitten between his teeth. 
“How can I help?” He wonders quietly, and you only give yourself a few seconds to think it over. 
Yes, he broke up with you for a reason that he should have talked with you about instead. Yes, you’ve missed him the past three months like you never knew you could. Yes, it’s probably too soon to let him back in like this. 
But you find you don’t care about any of that. 
You just want him close, need to know he’s here and he’s staying and he’s yours. 
So you push aside your bruised feelings and whisper in a fragile voice, “Come to bed with me?” 
He looks unsure but rises when you do, his face smoothing out as he offers you his hand and lets you tug him to your bedroom. He hovers when he crosses the threshold and it occurs to you that you might have to guide him. He was so respectful of your boundaries in the beginning of the relationship that you called almost all of the shots, and you wonder if your two years of progress have been undone over the past three months apart. 
But maybe this is a good thing, you think as you lead him over to his side of the bed and tuck him in. You’re the one who told him you can’t pick up where you left off, and you like that he’s reset a bit, that he wants to treat this like a fresh start, because it is one.  
Before, you would just crawl over him onto your side, but now you walk around the bed, climbing in and tugging the blanket over your body. You pull it up to your chin, still feeling a bit chilled, and it takes you less than sixty seconds to decide cuddling is allowed even if you’re beginning anew. 
So you roll onto your side to face him, your eyes just barely able to make him out in the dark of your bedroom. He turns his head to look at you, his hands folded together on his stomach before he reaches one out across the bed. That’s the only signal you need to close the distance and tuck yourself up under his arm, your cheek resting in the hollow of his shoulder and your hand finding his. 
He tilts his head up, pressing his lips to your forehead and sneaking a whiff of your hair as he tangles his fingers with yours. You take in a deep breath, what feels like your first since he ended things, and let your eyelids flutter shut, trusting that he’ll be here when you wake. 
“I love you,” he whispers, so low you almost don’t hear him.
“I love you, too,” you mumble back. “But if you pull that shit again, it’ll be the last thing you ever do, and I mean that.”
“Please murder me if I do. Obviously I’ve gone fucking crazy if I fuck this up again.”
You fall asleep with a smile on your face. 
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AN: yayyy i wrote something!! a randomized wheel told me to write jeonghan so i did and it turned into this and then the wheel told me to make it smutty and i was like no that is not correct! so sorry lovelies but no smut today!! it just didn't feel right after them being apart for so long and jeonghan only just starting to make it up to reader and earn her back (even if she is making it easy for him)
thank u for reading, please lmk what you think!!
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crvptidgf · 2 days
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Don’t Tell Your Brother
Rafe Cameron x Reader
➸ summary: you’re sick of keeping your relationship a secret, but rafe isn’t so sure about outing it yet
➸ warnings/notes: mentions of sex but nothing explicit, reader is fem
word count: 1.3k
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IF THERE WAS one thing Rafe was good at it was keeping secrets. Whether it be for his father, Barry - or even sometimes Wheezie. He was a master at it, which is probably why he found this arrangement so easy.
It wasn’t that he liked keeping you hidden. It was more that it was necessary. Your brother wouldn’t take too kindly to the kook prince “corrupting” his only sister. Plus, a part of him kind of loved sneaking around and having you all to himself (something he would never openly admit to).
Rafe listened to your heavy breathing as he brushed his fingertips across your shoulder blade. Before he met you he would’ve never been caught dead cuddling with anyone; but that was what he liked about you. You pushed his boundaries (within reason) and forced him to see new perspectives. To become better.
Lifting your flushed face to meet his, you decided to break the silence. “Rafe?”
He shifted his gaze from the ceiling to your expectant eyes. He could never get enough of how you looked in bed with him, your hair wild and your eyes glazed over as your spent body curled into his. You were breathtaking.
“Hm?” he responded.
“Will it always be like this?”
Rafe took in your glistening skin and furrowed brows. If you hadn’t been asking him a question he probably would’ve occupied his mind with counting every mark and blemish on your face instead of listening.
“Like what?” he finally asked. He already knew where this was going. Sometimes he just liked to prolong the inevitable by acting clueless - because occasionally you would give up and switch the conversation to something more lighthearted.
“Rafe,” you groaned. “I mean all this pretending we’re doing. I hate acting like I hate you in front of John B.”
Your boyfriend sighed, dejection taking over his once calm features. When you first met him you never ever thought you could be the source of his peace, much less the one to turn him into a ball of domestic mush.
“Baby,” he started to say.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me. You’re not getting out of this one so fast,” you quickly interrupted, already knowing his tricks to try and distract you.
Rafe merely rolled his eyes as his hand lowered to squeeze your waist. “Okay, okay.”
Another sigh.
“What are you in such a rush for, anyway?” he asked, his ringed digits coming to rub at the buzzed hair on his scalp. “You were the one who wanted us to keep this from them.”
You rested your head in your palm now, elbow digging into Rafe’s impossibly soft mattress. He had offered to buy you one for your room after you complained about how much comfier his bed was - but ultimately you had to refuse. There would be too many lingering questions about how you could afford such a luxury.
Truthfully that was one of the hardest things Rafe had to grapple with. He couldn’t spoil you like he wanted to without causing alarm bells to sound in all of the pogue’s minds.
“I know. And you were the one who was against it. Why’re you so adamant on the secrecy now?”
A small glint sparkled in his eye.
“You don’t think it’s hot?”
It was your turn to sigh and roll your eyes. This man always found a way to make things dirty, even when the situation was far from it. “Are you really this horny after all that?” you asked, referring to the several exhaustive minutes you guys just spent in too many positions to count.
“What?” he queried, feigning innocence. “You don’t think all the fake hate act is hot? I like seeing you get all riled up knowing that I’m still the only one who gets to take you home that night.”
Goddamnit he was good at distracting you.
“Rafe,” you all but whined as you dropped your head into the crook of his neck, “I’m serious.”
Hands caressed the back of your head, petting your unruly hair down. “So am I.”
Your hand rested on his naked chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. There was something so relaxing and homely about this. Both of you entangled in each other under Rafe’s sheets, your hands roaming over every body part you could reach, your breaths harmonizing into one. If only this was a common occurrence - not just in the confines of his bedroom at 1 in the morning.
“You’re thinking again,” stated the man bluntly. “Don’t.”
“I should get back soon.”
Sitting up you began to look around the room, attempting to find any of your discarded items and clothes. If you left now you could still get some sleep before everybody back at home woke up.
“C’mon don’t be like that,” Rafe said as he grabbed your wrist.
You shook your head in disbelief. “Be like what? If you want this charade to keep going I have to get home.”
“Just tell them you were with-“
“With who, Rafe? Who can I force to lie for me this time?”
You knew it was unfair to get mad at him, but you just wanted to be able to stay at your boyfriend’s house without stress for once. This was getting tiring and you didn’t understand how Rafe couldn’t see it.
Pulling your underwear up your legs you moved to stand up. “I know it was my idea in the first place - but I didn’t think we’d keep it going for so long.”
Your boyfriend only watched as you paced around, grabbing your bra and t-shirt off the floor. “And anyway it’s none of anyone’s business who I date. I don’t know why I cared to start with,” you mumbled.
He knew you were frustrated. Sometimes he felt that way too, but seeing how many things you and your brother had to worry about back at the Chateau, he didn’t wanna add to it by exposing your ongoing relationship so soon.
“Hey listen,” he said, trying to gain your attention.
When you didn’t so much as spare a glance at him, he rubbed his eyes in annoyance. So stubborn.
“Babe, listen. C’mere.”
Still nothing.
Standing up from the bed, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder. It was a shockingly common occurrence. You would ignore him during an argument or disagreement and he would get sick of it and carry you to bed where he’d force you to talk it out. He insisted that he hated when you ‘sulked’.
“Rafe! Put me down!”
You landed on the bed with a bounce, your shirt half on your body and your bra still clutched in your hand. Rafe grabbed it and threw it off the bed.
His hands were at either side of your head. In any other situation you’d have started jumping his bones. These thoughts left your mind as Rafe’s next words left his mouth.
“We can tell them - if you promise to let me help you with the rent this month.”
Of course he would have some sort of stupid bargain for this agreement.
“No I can’t ask you to-“
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
He could tell you were thinking about it, weighing your options. If he could pay for this, maybe John B wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass when the eventual news came out. Perhaps he’d see how serious Rafe was about you.
Well, also, he just liked to spoil you.
You groaned. “Fine.”
With a kiss on the lips, the deal was sealed. “But only for that month, right?” you asked in between the final kiss.
Rafe nodded, letting you believe you were in control of this. What he didn’t clue you in on, however, is that he fully planned for you to move in with him after your next due date was paid. He figured he could let the surprise wait.
“Yes. But for now lemme just have you to myself,” he muttered against your collarbone.
Maybe getting home could wait for now.
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sluttywonwoo · 2 days
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joshua eating your pussy for the first time idk
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“c-can i?”
“you want to?”
joshua’s eyes get even wider, something you didn’t think was possible.
“of course i want to!” he insists. “i just, i haven’t… you’ll have to show me what you like.”
he’s already on his knees, gazing up at you with hearts in his eyes, begging you to give yourself to him.
you want him. you want all of him. you only hesitate because you know he’s never done it before. he’s new to a lot of this and you’re afraid to push him too far too fast… even though he’s the one who’s pleading asking for it.
“are you sure you want to?” you ask, carding a hand through his hair.
joshua leans into your touch as he nods eagerly, pouting his pretty lips to try and sway you. “please, baby. please let me eat you out. i need to taste you…”
you lift your skirt for him, earning a quiet gasp in response.
“yes, thank you. thank you—”
he scrambles to take hold of the fabric himself, holding it even higher than you had so that he can see more of you.
“here, let me sit for you.”
you move to the couch and perch yourself at its edge for him, spreading your legs wide enough for him to slot himself in between them.
joshua’s quick to push your skirt back out of the way and even quicker to slip his fingers beneath the elastic band of your panties.
“wait, keep them on.”
“why?”
“we’re starting slow,” you explain. “you can taste me over them first.”
“but-”
“do you want to give me head or not?”
“i do! i do, baby you know i do.”
“then be patient. it’s your first time, we’re going to take things slow.”
joshua mumbles something you don’t catch under his breath but pushes your thighs apart even further, leaning closer and closer until his nose is almost touching your pelvis.
“do what feels natural to you,” you tell him. “and i’ll guide you to what feels good to me.”
he nods, his hair tickling the insides of your thighs, then closes the space between him and your pussy. he kisses it so softly that you almost don't feel the gentle brush of his lips through the fabric before he buries his face in you, breathing you in.
he's all over the place at first, wanting to taste every inch of you. it's uncoordinated and sloppy but sensual and pleasurable all the same.
the press of his tongue is firm as he tries to taste your arousal through your underwear. you apply a bit of pressure to the back of his head, encouraging him to keep going.
"like this?" he asks, muffled.
"yeah, shua, just like that," you pant.
you didn't expect him to make you cum like this, but you're starting to think he might when he finds your clit. he knows he's found it from the way your breathing changes and the grip on his hair tightens so he doesn't let up, testing different patterns until he settles on one that has you slurring all your words.
"oh, fuck..."
"you taste so good, baby," he murmurs. his voice edges between demure and desperate, like he's trying to come off as cool but just can't control himself. "can't wait to have the real thing... if i make you cum like this can i have the real thing? please?"
your eyes are closed so you don't know whether or not he's looking up at you but you nod anyway. "mhm... make me cum and you can have anything you want."
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heytheredelulu · 2 days
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Anon request: “could you do something enemies/rivals where bucky accidentally finds out that you have a mirror kink during a training session?”
Yes, absofuckinglutely yes.
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Watch Me
Rival!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count 2.4k
ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+
C/W: Language, fingering, size kink, mirror kink, choking, degradation (Bucky calls reader a slut once), hate sex (p-in-v unprotected), one lil spank, no aftercare and Bucky’s kind of an asshole.
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“You’re distracted!” Bucky grunts, landing another painful blow to your gut, causing you to stumble backwards as he effectively knocks the wind out of you again.
“Just shut up, Barnes!” You snap back, resting your hands on your knees as you hunch over and work to catch your breath.
He wasn’t wrong, you were completely distracted. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the wall of mirrors behind him and it only made it that much easier for him to land hit after fucking hit.
You may absolutely loathed the man but it didn’t change the fact that the way his muscles flexed in his back and biceps in the reflection of the mirror behind him as he pummeled you with his fists sent your mind reeling with thoughts of how those toned muscles would feel under your hands, your lips, your tongue.
Why couldn’t this man wear a goddamned shir-
He strikes you hard in the chest despite you being bent over and at rest and you stagger back in shock, the force of it having you struggling to maintain your balance and remain upright. Your temporary disorientation allows him the opportunity to wrap his right arm around your neck and pull you into a sleeper hold.
“Wanna tell me why you keep lookin’ in that mirror?” He breathes against your ear, his tone assuring you that there’s a smirk creeping across his stupid fucking face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You pant through gritted teeth, jerking your shoulders against his arm, working to free yourself from his chokehold.
He shakes his head, a sardonic laugh rumbling up from his chest as his forearm tightens across your windpipe. “Tap out.” He orders. “You can’t fucking handle me, princess. You don’t belong in the field. You’re weak. It’s pathetic.” His voice is low and cruel as you continue to struggle. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, or worse- get one of us killed.”
Rage simmers in your belly at his comment but the shame you feel from the truth of it is evident in the crimson blush creeping across your face.
He was right again.
You were weak.
That’s exactly why Tony had scheduled you to spar with him. Had you not been explicitly instructed to have training sessions by Tony Stark himself, you wouldn’t be caught dead alone in a room Bucky fucking Barnes and his smug ass attitude. It was no secret that this man was the bane of your existence, taking every opportunity to pick a fight and belittle you in front of everyone regardless of the time, place or context.
Unfortunately when it came to hand to hand combat, he was the most skilled out of anyone else on the team. so it made sense to pair you with him for training despite how much you had protested the idea. As you spent the last hour getting taunted and insulted while simultaneously having your ass handed to you, you couldn’t help but feel like Tony was just putting you in a room with him for his own amusement.
The anger overtakes the shame and you grit your teeth, bringing your head forward before slamming it back into his face with all the strength you could muster, pain erupting across the crown of your head. Bucky releases you, stunned and furious, bringing his fingertips up to swipe away the trickle of blood that trailed from his nostril. He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his cerulean eyes narrowing.
“A fucking headbutt? Are you kidding me?” He shouts, advancing on you. “You’re supposed to grab onto your opponent’s arm, bend your knees, sidestep and roll me off your back! Have you paid attention to anything I’ve told you?” He asks, leaning over you with a menacing glare. “You could’ve given yourself a goddamn concussion, you idiot!”
You scoff, stepping up on your tiptoes in an attempt to to make yourself appear taller, more confident but you nearly shrink right back down when the scent of his cologne mingled with the musk of his sweat hits your nostrils.
Goddamnit, he smells like cedarwood and sin.
“I was paying attention! Do you really expect me to be able to roll your big ass over my back? That’s impossible!” You argue.
“Bullshit. You’re distracted. You’ve been distracted this entire time.” He growls, prodding a finger into your chest.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” You threaten, moving to swat his hand away but he’s quicker and snatches your wrist.
“Don’t touch you?”
Bucky leans down further and you stiffen at his sudden closeness.
“I think you like when I touch you.” He taunts, tightening his metal hand around your wrist and spinning you away from him to face the line of mirrors across the wall.
“Fuck you, Barnes.”
“You want to, don’t you?” He asks in a low voice as he leans in behind you, trailing his flesh hand up your abdomen and closing it around your throat. You don’t reply, unable to form a coherent thought when his body dwarfs yours, towering over you from behind. He closes in, pressing his bare, sweat slicked chest against your upper back, drawing a sharp breath from your lungs when the length of his hard cock in his gym shorts settles against the curve of your ass.
“I think you forget.” He whispers, the light stubble across his jaw brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks.
“Super soldier. I’m enhanced. My senses are enhanced.”
His hand tightens around your throat, your pulse fluttering against his palm.
“I can hear your heartbeat, princess.” He taunts, his breathy chuckle fanning against your skin before he nips at your earlobe and goosebumps prickle across your skin.
“I can smell how badly your cunt is aching for me.”
Your eyes widen in response to his brazen statement and you make a move to step out of his hold but he splays his large hand across your stomach and tuts at you.
“Don’t try to deny it.” He whispers, his metal hand slowly working its way down your body. “You know, it’s funny. You say you hate me, but your body’s betraying you.” His cool fingers tease at the waistband of your leggings and your breath hitches, your eyes slipping shut.
“I bet if I were to just-“
Your hand catches his wrist before his fingers can trek any further and you shake your head. “No.” You mumble, opening your eyes and connecting your gaze with his in the mirror.
“Why?” He asks, brushing his lips against your neck. You tilt your chin up, granting him further access and he chuckles against your skin when you avoid answering his question.
“Because you don’t want to? Or because you hate me so much you don’t want me to be right?” He asks quietly.
You open your mouth to reply but the only sound that slips out is a moan when he proceeds to dip his fingers beneath your waist band, ghosting a finger across your slick folds.
“That’s what I thought.” He whispers, gathering your arousal on your fingers and tracing them along your clit in slow, deliberate circles.
“Jesus, Princess. You’re so fucking wet.”
You groan, trying desperately to remind yourself just how much you loathe this man but every brush of his fingers against your clit pulls you further and further away from logic.
Fuck it.
You arch your back against him and hook your thumbs in your waistband, tugging your leggings and panties down and kicking them aside in a hurry. Your eyes are completely fixed on the mirror, staring at his hand cupping your cunt and you place your hand atop his, guiding his metal fingers towards your entrance.
“Oh, is that right?” He teases, his finger poised at your weeping hole but denying you of what you so desperately want.
“I had a hunch when you couldn’t take your eyes off my reflection earlier but now I know for sure.”
You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You whisper harshly, grinding your backside against his erection.
“I know.”
He sinks a single metal finger into your wet heat and you gasp at the sensation, keeping your eyes locked on your reflection as he pumps into you, his breath growing heavy against your neck as he adds a second finger, letting out a low groan when he’s met with resistance.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He murmurs, grazing his teeth along the tender flesh of your neck.
“I'm gonna have to open you up, princess.”
You whimper, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder as he scissors his fingers inside your cunt, massaging your inner walls and working to add a third finger. A cry escapes your throat at the intrusion, your hand flying up and carding in his hair to steady yourself.
“I’m gonna bury my cock in this tight little cunt.” He purrs, rocking his fingers into you, his palm grinding against your clit and your impending orgasm causing your pussy to flutter around his fingers. He grips your jaw and roughly tilts your head back down to look in the mirror. “You're gonna watch me when I make you come.” He growls, fucking his fingers into you at a steady pace, your arousal creating an obscene squelch with every pump of his hand.
Your eyes trail up the reflection of your body as it writhes in pleasure under his touch and your eyes connect with his. Your mouth falls open, a broken cry falling from your lips as your walls clench around his fingers and you break under the gaze of his blue, lust-blown eyes. He hums, his grip on your jaw loosening and he turns your head, capturing your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss as he withdraws his fingers from inside you. “Take my cock out.” He murmurs against your lips, his low voice carrying demand while grasping your wrist and guiding your hand to palm the aching erection tented in his gym shorts.
You don’t hesitate to follow his instruction, reaching under his waistband and curling your hand around him, letting out whine when you realize you can’t close your hand completely around his girth.
“I told you.” He whispers, peppering kisses across your jaw. “I needed to open you up for me.”
You release a shuddered breath and he pushes down on the small of your back to urge you to lean forward, his metal fingers tracing along your shoulder and down your arm to settle atop your hand. He brings it to the mirror, interlocking your fingers with his and pressing it against the glass.
“I’m not gonna be gentle. You know that, right?” He asks in a low voice, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and choke back a moan as he releases your hand and widens his stance.
You watch as his eyes drop to your ass, his large palm resting flat against it to hold you steady while he grasps the base of his cock and presses himself against your entrance. You raise your other hand to the mirror, leaning forward with a bowed head and brace yourself against it as the sweet sting of him stretching you steals the air from your lungs.
“I don’t want you to be.” You breathe out, lifting your head weakly and connecting your gaze with his as he settles his hands on your waist.
No sooner than the words leave your mouth, he’s drawing his hips back, withdrawing almost completely before he slams back into you with bruising force. You let out a strangled cry, your eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you at a merciless pace.
A harsh slap to your ass directs your attention back up to his reflection where his hungry eyes are still fixated on you.
“I thought I told you to watch me when I make you come.” He grunts, pulling a sharp breath from you as he snaps his hips forward and kisses your cervix with the tip of his weeping cock. He slides his hand down across your pubic bone and slips it down between your folds to tease your throbbing clit. His fingers work quick, tight circles across your sensitive bud, igniting a fire low in your belly and spreading heat under your skin.
“You like that, huh?” He taunts, his voice low and husky as he fucks into you with unrelenting tempo. “You like to watch yourself when you’re getting fucked, don’t you? Kinky little slut.”
“Bucky, I-”
You lose your words in a choked sob, arching your back as your cunt spasms and contracts around his cock, your knees threatening to buckle under the wave of euphoria crashing over your body.
“That’s right Princess, come all over my cock.” He moans, his hips stuttering as he trails his fingers away from your swollen clit.
He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist, chasing his orgasm in deep, brutal thrusts, his heavy sack slick with your release, slapping against your skin with every jerk of his hips.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense.
He pulls out abruptly and you lock eyes in the mirror one last time, his brows knitting and his lips parting as he curses your name, frantically fucking his fist and painting your ass with thick ropes of cum.
You press your forehead against the cool glass before you as you work to catch your breath and it’s silent for several long, uncomfortable minutes before you hear the faint rustle of him tugging up his shorts.
You straighten up and turn around to see him moving towards you with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his t-shirt in his hand.
“Good session.” He says flatly, tossing his t-shirt at you and you catch it, your brows furrowing in confusion. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smug smirk and he gestures towards your sticky ass.
“I hate you.” You mutter, shame rising up your cheeks in a deep blush as you wipe yourself angrily with his t-shirt.
“I know.” He replies, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice while he turns to leave.
“Same time tomorrow!” He shouts over his shoulder, leaving you alone, ashamed and naked in the gym.
Goddamnit, you fucking hate him.
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A/N: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
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its44intheehouse · 2 days
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Matt Rempe - NSFW ALPHABET
Note: If you’re confused as to why this isn’t F1 related, I also watch hockey. Been watching this man for some time now and I can’t believe there isn’t more content on here for him. Guy’s a catch. But do not worry, I am here to solve that problem. Anyway, enjoy. As always this is VERY juicy 🍒😉
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A - Aftercare. (what he’s like after sex)
Matt is a big aftercare guy but now in the way you would think. I think he would be the one to receive it mostly. Yeah, he’s very considerate and caring and will always make sure that you are alright after sex, but this big guy is the one who will act like a little baby in need for affection and love. All he wants to do after sex is cuddle and put his head on your chest so you can play with his hair as you praise him for how good he was and how amazing he made you feel. Don’t be fooled by the fact that he’s a 6’7” aggressive guy on the ice because outside of it he is just adorable.
B - Bodypart. (favorite body part of his and his partner’s)
Definitely his hands and back. He takes good care of his body because his role on the ice is more on the physical side, so he has to stay fit. His hands help him at throwing the punches that everyone loves to see at the games. But they’re also one of the things that makes you horny the most, so that’s another reason for why he loves them. They’re just so big and strong that he could lift you up like you weight nothing. He knows you got a thing for them, especially when his fists are bruised and bloody from a fight. You care deeply about his well being and you’re always worried for him when he gets himself in fights, but you just can’t help but imagine his fingers in your mouth, tightening around your throat or deep inside your pussy. And he’s more than okay with that. He’ll tease you about it just to make you nervous a bit, but he’s 100% into it himself. And his back? It’s huge. He loves it when you come up behind him and press your face into it, or when he’s fucking you so good you just can’t help but scratch it with your nails, almost making it bleed. It just makes him fuck you harder, and he enjoys the sting and the pain that comes with it.
On you, he gets feral about your lips and your tits. He’s always looking at your lips when you talk and will almost always be the one going in for a smooch. He can’t resist them, especially when you use your favorite flavored lip glosses on them. He’ll pull you in for a kiss without a care in the world that now his own lips are coated in your pink strawberry gloss. To him, there’s nothing better in this world than having you all for himself. But when he has you on your knees, with wide teary eyes looking up at him, struggling to take all of him in your throat, while his base is covered in your pink lipgloss? Yeah, that’s gotta be one of the best things he ever experienced in his life. And your tits? This man worships them. Of course, he loves all of you, but there’s just something about your breasts that drives him INSANE. He can’t keep his eyes away from you when you’re wearing tight clothes that just makes them pop out of your chest, and you always have to remind him not to be so obvious, especially when you’re in public and everyone can see him just shamelessly staring and almost drooling at the sight of them. He never listens though, and he has half a mind not to just grab them and play with them in front of everyone to see. He also loves it when you let him cum on them and his seed is slowly dripping down towards your stomach. He is nasty like that. The way they’re just bouncing up and down when he’s fucking you stupid is also a big turn on for him. He’ll slap your tits, squeeze them, suck on them, bite them and leave marks, anything. He is obsessed and he has no shame about it.
C - Cum. (anything to do with cum)
He likes it messy 100%.
He makes the decision of where he’s going to cum in the heat of the moment. If you give him permission to cum wherever he wants, he turns into a maniac. When you’re blowing him, although he loves it when you swallow, he thinks it’s HOT AS FUCK when some of his cum gets on your face. It gets him hard again in a matter of seconds. And then he’ll want to take your pussy for a spin and come inside. He gets so pumped knowing that he gets to leave a part of him inside of you, it’s almost possessive. He has so much cum to give you, and he loves that you’ll take it anytime and everywhere he wants. He’ll squeeze orgasm after orgasm from you just to see both your releases dripping out of your tight pussy, making a mess everywhere. If he’s taking you doggy style, he’ll cum both inside AND outside of your cunt, sometimes taking some of it on his fingers and spreading it on your ass or making you suck on them so you can taste how good he got you.
D - Dirty secret.
Matt wants to fuck you in your sleep. Now let’s not get it twisted, he would never do such thing without your consent. He kind of felt ashamed for wanting something like that, since it’s not a fantasy that everyone has, he thinks. But he can’t help thinking about it anytime he comes home at night after a game and he finds you asleep in his bed, with just one of his shirts to cover you, leaving your soft legs bare, slightly spread and so inviting. You look so peaceful, like an angel. Your hair is tousled all over the pillow, your lips are parted just a bit and your skin is beautiful and glowy in the pale moonlight creeping through his window. He’s so tired, but all he could think about since the game was over was you. Coming home to you, kissing you, having you in his arms. He knows you have your own busy schedule and you can’t always stay up just to wait for him to come back, and he never gets mad when he finds you already fast asleep. But sometimes it gets overwhelming for him. All he wants to do then is run his hands softly on your body so he won’t wake you up, get down and spread your legs wider so he can see your pretty pussy, already wet just from his light touches. He swears he’s never gonna get enough of how sensitive and responsive you are to him, even when you’re unconscious. He’d get feral over your scent and won’t resist tasting you. He’d keep his movements slow and steady while he’d look up at you, observing every whine you let out in your sleep, every time your brows would furrow, how your breathing would pick up. And even though he would love to have you cumming on his tongue, his dick is just too hard it’s almost painful for him. He’s humping the bed as he is eating you out, desperate to feel some relief. His selfish side would convince him that you love him anyway and you wouldn’t mind if he’d just slip it in.
E - Experience. (how experienced he is)
He is still in his early 20’s so I assume he’s not had a crazy amount of experiences. That, but also because he barely even had the time to get girlfriends anyway. To him, hockey was always one of his top priorities, and he chose to dedicate himself to it, because he knew that’s how you get to the top. Sure, he did have a few girlfriends in the past, but the sex was always kind of vanilla and bland. Probably because he never felt true love before you. When you two started being intimate he wasn’t too bad, he was still able to make you cum, unlike most men before him, but you could feel that something just wasn’t right with him. So you spent more time in building up his trust and making him feel more comfortable, assuring him that you would never judge him. He told you about how he wanted to experience more but he didn’t get the chance yet, and was more than excited to hear the same thing coming from you. You two spent a lot of time after that trying new things, testing your limits, and needless to say, he gained up a lot of experience just from doing things with you.
F - Favorite position.
Doggy or cowgirl. Normally, he fucks you in any position he can, and he’s not shy in changing them frequently just to make things more exciting and pleasurable for you. This man will have you everywhere and in any way you’ll let him.
But to him, there’s just something special about you in all fours, in such a degrading position. He loves you with all his heart, but he’ll fuck you like he hates you when you’re in doggy. He goes crazy over the desperate sounds you make, the way you grip the sheets or the headboard like your life depends on it as he is fucking you hard and fast. The way your ass jiggles when he’s thrusting his hips into you. He’ll spank you multiple times just to see your ass cheeks go red with his handprints, he’ll squeeze it, pull out of you for a brief moment just to bite it. This position doesn’t give him the best view of your face though, which he hates at some point, but not to worry about that! Matt will immediately grab you by the neck and yank you towards him so your back is glued to his chest as he squeezes your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. Now he can see all of you. How pretty you look with tears of overstimulation in your eyes, your makeup smudged all over your face and your fucked out expression. His pace would never cease, only increase while he busies himself by gripping your tits or flicking at your puffy, too sensitive clit, eager to make you fall apart again. He’ll groan in your ear and tease you, praise you and degrade you, because he knows you love it when he tells you you’re a good girl and a desperate cockslut both at the same time.
And cowgirl? His go-to when he’s feeling a bit too needy and submissive. As I said, he might be a huge guard dog most of the time, but deep down he adores it when he’s being taken care of and controlled, in a loving maner. Especially when he’s tired and can barely move, but still wants you. He’ll whine and push his face into your boobs and be extra touchy, hoping you’ll get the hint. After some time in the relationship you start to pick up on this habit of his and you happily indulge. You’ll have this man whimpering, squirming and grabbing at everything he can while you ride him. You never really looked forward to being on top before Matt, but with him things changed. You feel like a goddess when you’re riding him and keeping control of the pace while he is right there in front of you, with his head buried in your tits or slightly leaned back, looking at you like you’re going to be the death of him. Like he wants to possess you.
G - Goofy.
I would say he is goofy in bed, yeah. He’ll poke your sides or your butt, will randomly bite you and laugh when you yelp and jokingly push him away. But when things get serious, he’s rather more focused.
H - Hair.
Not shaved entirely but he keeps it neat and clean, trimmed short. Anything more than that is just too messy for him.
I - Intimacy. (how is he during the moment)
BIG on intimacy. Usually the mood is set by whatever the situation might be in the moment, but he’s always romantic. Not over the top type of romantic, but you can feel it. He pours his love into every touch, every word and every gesture. And even when he fucks you rough, he’ll always do something small to remind you that he loves you, like pressing a kiss to your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, looking you deep in the eyes.
J - Jack off. (masturbation)
Matt’s the horniest bitch you’ve ever seen. It’s so easy for him to get hard if he’s thinking of you, seeing or touching you. You’re tying your hair? He’s bricked up. You’re cutting some vegetables for your dinner? He’s throbbing in his boxers. Most of the time you offer to help him, but when he’s away from you for games he’s losing his mind. Thankfully, you’re lovely enough to always send him some special material when he’s away, and now he just has a whole ass private album on his phone with pictures and videos of you that he can masturbate to. He prefers to facetime you though, so you can do it together. But if you’re not available at that moment, the videos will do.
Will 100% send you a video to show you how desperate he is for you and how much he misses you.
K - Kink. (what kink/s does he have?)
I think he would be into light BDSM. Not the hardcore shit, just a bit of restraining and discipline for the most part. He’d love to have your wrists tied up and boss you around a bit more, if you’re into that. As much as he likes when you have your moments of taking control, he loves to take it from you and have you arching off the bed and rolling your eyes to the back of your head while he’s overstimulating your pussy.
Another one would be size kink. I don’t need to explain it too much. You’re so much smaller than him, he fears he might break you in half sometimes, even when you tell him that you can take it. But it also excites him knowing how much power he has over your tiny body. He’s manhandling you in any position he desires with ease.
I don’t know if it’s a kink, but he definitely has a thing for squirting. He’s so big, in all ways. You can barely take all of him and when he’s fucking you nice and good you feel like he’s abusing every inch of your cunt, in the best way possible. The first time you squirted you were left in shock and embarrassment, because, obviously you’ve never done that before him and you thought he might not like it. But oh boy, how wrong you were. He groaned and slowed down a bit but couldn’t take his eyes off the mess you made on both of you. It was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
“Fuck. Look at that, my baby made a mess.” he smirked, tilting his head to the side and biting his lip. His eyes caught your wide ones and then he leaned closer to you, squeezing your cheeks and placing a messy kiss to your lips. “Again. I want you to do that again for me, yeah?” he said, and you didn’t get the chance to respond before he started thrusting into you again, picking up his aggressive pace.
L - Location. (favorite places to have sex)
For the most part, he prefers having you in privacy, on his bed or yours. Of course, sex with Matt will never be boring. He’ll fuck you in every surface of the apartment. But he isn’t a big fan of public sex. Mostly because he doesn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position or ruin his reputation. After all, he’s playing in the NHL and people like to talk. The last thing he wants is to have people spread word of him fucking his girlfriend for all to see. It could end bad.
Car sex also isn’t a problem, as long as you’re well hidden.
M - Motivation. (what gets him going)
Like I said, you could do any random thing and this man will get bricked up, and that’s because he’s just obsessed with you. But what gets him going the most is seeing you get all dolled up for him and admitting that the effort is all for him, while you’re touching him teasingly with your hands and batting your eyelashes innocently at him. Or when you’re attending his games and he can spot you for a brief moment in the crowd, cheering and wearing his jersey, his number and name on your back. You wear it with such pride that it’s making him burst. He fucked you a few times while you were wearing it, by the way. ;) . And he came hard.
N - No. (turn offs/things he wouldn’t do)
Nothing disgusting or that can hurt you in an unpleasant way. He would never.
O - Oral. (how good is he at it? preference on giving/receiving)
Man’s a munch. You can’t tell me otherwise. Y’all seen the videos of him sticking his tongue out after punching the shit out of the other players? Yeah.
And when this man eats pussy, he eats pussy. He won’t back out of it even when you’re pushing his head away because you’re too sensitive from all the orgasms he already pulled out of you. He loves to overstimulate you because he knows that it’s only going to make you cum harder. He’ll suck on your clit, he’ll push his tongue deep inside your cunt, he’ll spit on it, he’ll add fingers, anything to have you shaking and screaming in pleasure. He gets off on making you feel good.
When he’s receiving head, he gets animalistic. He won’t force you to take all of him in your mouth because he knows it’s too much for you and it won’t fit without a struggle, but if you’re freaky like that and tell him that it’s okay if he wants to fuck your throat, he will. He’ll still be careful though. He’ll push his hips into your face or wrap your hair in his fist and make you take him deep, fucking your mouth hard and fast, until you’re left gagging and crying. Happy tears of course.
P - Pace.
Going with the flow is his motto when it comes to sex. If the atmosphere is more romantic, he’ll make sure to give it to you slow and seductive. He’ll make love to you.
If you’re being a brat though, he’ll treat you like one. Disobedience needs punishment. And he’ll edge you for hours, deny you orgasms, just to teach you how to behave next time. It boosts his ego so much when you’re begging him to let you cum. He loves it.
When he’s mad and needs a way to relieve some stress or anger, he’ll also go for a more aggressive sex session.
Q - Quickie.
Not a big fan. Will not refuse it, but he prefers to take his time. Taking his time in making you feel good is one of his ways of showing his love to you.
R - Risk. (how risky is he?)
Living on the edge is what pumps him. He’s convinced that life is made to experience things. So if something pops into his mind and it excites him, he’ll want to give it a go. With that being said, he’s game for taking risks.
S - Stamina.
Matt has a lot of stamina. His workouts and his hockey career are always pushing him to do better, to endure more. And when it comes to sex, as long as he has the time, he could fuck you all day.
T - Toys.
He’s interested in them. He’s thinking of buying you a vibrator so you can use it when he’s away or if he wants to make things a bit more spicy when you’re having sex.
U - Unfair.
The thing about Matt is, he likes to tease you. He loves playing with you because he loves the look on your face and how whiny you get when you’re frustrated. He thinks it’s cute.
V - Volume. (how loud is he in bed)
He’s not making as much noise as you’d like. He’ll moan, groan, even whimper sometimes, but nothing more than that. It’s not because he doesn’t enjoy the sex though, he just gets too focused on his job. All this man wants is to make you feel good.
W - Wild card (random headcanon)
Wants to try cockwarming. There’s nothing better for him than being buried in your tight, wet pussy. He knows he’s probably not going to resist for too long before he’ll start fucking you. But if he could, he’d have you staying on his cock all the time.
X - X-ray. (what’s under)
No one can tell me he doesn’t have a huge cock. He’s easily above average, with a juicy mushroom tip. Girthy. Will have you struggling to sit down or walk for several days.
Y - Yearning (sex drive)
His sex drive is through the roof. In general, he enjoys sex. He’s not crazy about it, he will still live if he doesn’t get it But if he loves the person he’s with, he wants it all the time.
Z - Zzz
Dead asleep as soon as he pulls out and crashes beside you. He always gives it his all, but when he gets tired he is knocked up. He’ll put his hand on your tits and sleep like that.
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azullumi · 3 days
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“under the burning hill” ; aventurine
premise — you say you know him, what will he choose?
tags — angst, with comfort if you squint, mentions of death, a lot of metaphors, spoilers to his backstory, i seriously don’t know how to tag this one, not proofread, 0.9k words; ficlet
tagging — @toorurs
note — i once cried to those tiktok slideshows that are like “if you really know your mother/self/father/sister/brother, what will they choose?” and then this fic happened. this is NOT my celebration fic for getting him, i have different one in my drafts
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you say you know aventurine, what is he choosing?
a chance to be with his family again
he dreamt of flowers and gardens, of empty fields and large floating clouds, of tears and warmth, and he knelt into the dream where he felt the warmth of his sister’s hug and the soothing melody of his mother’s song. he buries his corpse who knew his father’s voice and how he would hold his child. in his dreams, he is good and he is loved.
he had nightmares of blood and fire, of wounds and tainted, dirty clothes, of screams and cries, and he’ll run away from the blades that will chase him, his body will become a corpse along with many others as he hides in the bloody waters. he has known death even before he saw his reflection.
and when he awakes from this, he’ll find himself in an empty bedroom despite the corners and the walls adorned with furniture, decoration, and dust. he’ll find himself alone—waking up yet he’s still in a nightmare. his family isn’t there.
for his shackles to never exist
the chain suffocates him—there’s the harsh smell of rusting metal and the cold tug of the chain when he moves his hand. his clothes are tattered, the collar and the hems burned off, and he stands before the eyes that scrutinizes and looks down on his existence. their gaze leaves letters that burn on his skin and it forms into a scar that will never heal, a reminder of what he is meant to be and will always be.
but he walks in the streets in flamboyance, the chain never seen on his wrist and neck as if it never once touched him. he treads the line of freedom and restriction recklessly and like a bird who has never known how to spread its wings, he could never reach far into the sky.
the form of his shackles have changed; it doesn’t mean he also has.
to stop the tremble of his hands
he fiddles with his fingers, adjusts the way his watch rests on his wrist—he keeps his hand busy and hidden. he wears a smile on his lips and utters such words filled with confidence as he places his bet, as he gambles his life, yet he desperately tries to conceal the way his hands tremble as he clutches on to his chips.
he wagers his life as if his existence was only a mere chip on the table, but it’s the only control he’ll ever have over himself.
an apology
he has dealt with scornful gazes and harsh remarks, has dwelled on the hidden meaning behind people’s words. he’s all too familiar with the cruel and unkind thread that weaves into their tongue as they speak—some may sing praises to him yet their eyes would harbor only hatred and disgust.
he wishes someone would ask for his forgiveness, but why would he even deserve one? what did he even do to deserve one? what did he do? does his existence outweigh the heaviness of a single syllable the word carries? was he worthy of one? does he even have any worth?
he can only let their gaze taint his skin, rearrange the letters of the words they utter into the one he will never hear.
(he has never forgiven himself either.)
to finally let go
how bruised are his knees and how long will he repent for the sins he has never committed?
he holds on to his burden as if it was a part of him, as if he’ll be nothing but an empty vessel if he loses his hold on it. he knows it's holding him down, knows it's making his hands bleed but it’s everything and the only thing he has known for—the thorns has been engraved into his palm and became part of his skin. he’ll stuff his mouth full of rotten food and leave his stomach empty, and he’ll believe this is what he’s made for.
perhaps when he'll finally find a place to put everything down, he’ll learn how it feels to live for himself and not for the things he carries.
you say you know kakavasha, what is he choosing?
to never have to say goodbye
farewell is a form of poetry and he is a poem.
in most days, he’ll hear his sister’s voice in the empty corridors of his home, he’ll hear the echoes and follow him into places she could never reach (his wishes will never be enough to save her). he’s haunted by the unspoken farewells and the goodbyes he is forced to make, watching their backs as they leave or his own.
(he wishes he never knew the word.)
(his child self) having a conversation with future him
children are bound with endless dreams and light to see into the dark as they walk into their future—he was (once) one of them. he’ll stay up at night wondering what’s ahead of him, grasping on to what little left of his hope that things will become better, and when he sleeps, he’ll dream of talking to his future self.
“are you happy?”
if he’ll have a conversation with his future self, he’ll tell him everything and anything, make him recall the memories lost when growing up, trace the stars with him as he asks him the questions he’s curious to know the answer to (his future self will know him inside out but he, the child he once was, will never know him). and maybe he’ll put their palms together once he notices his agitation—and he’ll see the differences of their hands and notice the dying light in their eyes—as they ask for their god’s blessings.
he’ll tell him: everything will be okay, even when he’ll only be met with silence.
(get onstage 
fear not
never look back.)
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© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.
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sweetestdesire · 4 hours
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THE SILENT TREATMENT
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WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.
PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes forgets about a date night.
Jack was smart, he actually liked to think it was one of his best strengths. In fact, he liked to take pride in his capacity to always come up with a quick solution to most of the things life threw at him, except maybe this. Y/N was pissed and for the first time in what felt like his entire life, his brain failed him on how to fix the issue at hand. Perhaps that was largely because he didn’t quite know why she was mad, but there was also the fact that she refused to be rational and discuss the problem, and that wasn’t his fault.
Expressing as much landed Jack on the couch for the night, and now not only was Y/N even more upset with him, but his back hurt, too. It had only added insult to injury that Luke found this ordeal thoroughly amusing, and Jack thought it was times like these that throwing out the leech of his brother was his best option. The guest room could be his right now if not for a certain irritating younger brother, and the bed would be much better for his back, too.
“Still getting the silent treatment, I see.” Luke grinned, a little too enthused for Jack’s liking at his predicament.
Jack glowered, taking a sip of his much too bitter coffee. Usually Y/N made it for him, but between the sharp look she sent him when he approached and her insistence to avoid him, he safely assumed coffee was out of the question to ask of her for now. And because he didn’t need Luke to have more leverage to laugh at him, he forced himself not to make a face as he swallowed the bitter drink in his mug.
“And I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” Jack grumbled, watching as Luke rummaged through the fridge.
“It’s not.” Luke hummed, pulling out ingredients that he most certainly had not paid for with his own wallet. “But it’s definitely entertaining to witness. If I were you, I’d already have figured out why I’m on the couch by now.”
“You’d have to actually date someone before you can be sent to the couch.” Jack raised an eyebrow, feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction as he watched Luke’s features twist into anger.
“Well, I know why you’re on the couch.” Luke interrupted, crossing his arms as he glared down at Jack. Now that? That caught Jack’s attention. Why did Luke know why she was mad at him? Why had she told Luke and not him? And why hasn’t Luke told him by now?
“You do?” Jack blinked, staring at his brother in bewilderment before scowling. “So then tell me, you dipshit.”
“That’s for you to figure out, and him to keep to himself.” Y/N interrupted, making both heads turn to her as she entered the kitchen.
And truthfully, as pathetic as it might be, Jack was slightly relieved she’d spoken to him after days for the first time, even if it wasn’t exactly the words he hoped to hear. Jack eyed her as she walked into the kitchen, watching as she pulled out two mugs and walked to the coffee machine and then he paused. Why did she need two mugs?
“Luke.” Y/N said a little too sweetly. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Almost like he knew, and Jack was sure he did because of the amused glance he spared, Luke nodded with an appreciative smile. “I would love one.” He grinned, and Jack glared daggers at him, tightening his grip on his own coffee mug.
“Okay.” Jack set down his drink, staring intensely at the back of her head as she pretended not to hear him. “What’s got you so mad? It’s been days, and it’s honestly not the answer to avoid the problem.”
“You’ll have to figure that one out on your own.” Y/N said coldly. “You should know what you’ve done wrong. I’m not spelling it out for you.”
“You should be quite the spelling expert by now, right, Jack?” Luke added, and there was enough mirth lacing his tone that it took Jack everything from splashing his coffee at his brother’s face.
At that, Y/N snickered and Jack turned to look at her with slight betrayal in his features, watching as she slid what he was sure was a delicious and not bitter mug of freshly brewed coffee to Luke. She wasn’t supposed to side with Luke, and she certainly wasn’t supposed to make him coffee in the mornings, yet here she was, doing everything in her power to remind Jack that she was still angry. It’s been days, and he was still as clueless today as he was the first day, still just as confused with what it was exactly he’d done to upset her this thoroughly.
And then, like the Gods have blessed him through a certain big mouth, he heard Luke’s loud voice, “You could certainly take a few notes on how not to forget about dates, you know.”
Oh, right. Jack was supposed to take Y/N for a date, the first date since his schedule’s effectively became a lot less flexible and a lot more difficult to squeeze in a moment with her outside of collapsing in bed beside her after a long day. Jack watched as she shot a sharp look at Luke, shutting him up with just one look as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Luke.” Y/N hissed, cutting him off and glaring at him as he shot her an apologetic look once he realized he’s accidentally spoken too much. But it was too late, Jack seemed to blink in realization, slowly rising to walk over to her across the kitchen.
“So that’s why you’re mad at me.” Jack mumbled. “I didn’t mean to forget our date, baby. I promise I’ll take you on one tonight.” He said, making her raise an eyebrow unimpressed.
“And?” Y/N pressed, making Jack’s eyebrows furrow.
“And I won’t forget again.” Jack nodded slowly, as if sure of himself and his ability to finally fix the situation.
Y/N, however, only scoffed, rolling her eyes before shoving past him, making him blink in surprise as she hissed, “You can stay on the couch in that case.”
“You’re supposed to say I’m sorry, dumbass.” Luke called from the side, and only because Jack didn’t want to sleep on the couch anymore, he grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her against his chest.
“I’m sorry, pretty girl.” Jack said, and it was gentle and sincere as he pressed a kiss against her forehead. And much to her dismay, Y/N couldn’t stay mad no matter how hard she tried because it was Jack, and he was difficult and in a world of his own, but he was her Jack, somehow lovable underneath all that irritating know-it-all attitude of his. “I won’t forget again.”
“You better not.” Y/N grumbled, letting him wrap his arms around her waist, reluctantly letting hers snake around his neck. “It won’t be the couch next time if you do, I’ll make you sleep outside.”
“Honestly, it’s what he deserves for taking my keys.” And after days of tolerating Luke’s amusement at his expense, Jack thought it was sufficiently satisfying watching his brother go silent after the harsh look she sent him over her shoulder, quickly leaving the kitchen with an excuse to leave mumbled under his breath.
“Can’t we send him outside instead?” Jack mumbled, burying his face into her neck.
Y/N only hummed, threading her fingers through his hair and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. “If anything, I should send the both of you outside.”
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rafesfavgirl · 2 days
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her lips on your neck — j. maybank
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meant to have this up last night, but i got fucked up lolz
❝ since you admitted it, i keep picturing her lips on your neck, i can't unsee it ❞
pairing: cheater!jj x fem!reader
context: late at night, you get back to the obx from a week-long trip to new york with your parents and decide to surprise your boyfriend and best friends.
words: 1.4k+
warnings: cheating (i don't condone it!!), might break you, no happy ending, ANGST ANGST ANGST
"what the fuck are we suppose to tell y/n?" you hear pope mention your name, as he sat with john b in the enclosed back porch of the chateau and immediately stop yourself from joining them, curious as to what else they had to say.
"dude, i don't know," john b shrugged at him, the expression on his face looking as if he was torn between some hard decision.
what could they possibly be talking about?
"i mean, it's not like they meant for it to happen, right?" john b continued, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of something.
"do you really think she'll see it that way?" pope asks him. "jj just slept with kie."
john b winces at pope's words like they were too hard for him to hear and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, your eyes becoming blurry with tears as anger starts coursing through your veins.
"we gotta tell her," pope adds.
they didn't even hear that you'd entered the porch, now only standing a few feet away from them.
"you just did." the sound of your voice causes them to snap their heads towards you, both of them now completely at a loss for words. "is jj here?" you speak slowly to stop your voice from shaking.
when neither of them reply and just exchange glances, you repeat yourself. "where's. jj."
"y/n…" john b starts to stand from his seat, but you don't let him finish or get any closer, before you're barging into the chateau.
you feel your body shake as jj comes out of one of the rooms chuckling and pulling his muscle tank down.
"you didn't," you shake your head as he looks at you.
"y/n…"
when kiara comes out of the same room and steps up behind him, you get your answer.
"you did," you say, your eyes shifting from kie to jj.
"babe, i-" jj begins, taking a step towards you.
"no," you immediately cut him off and hold a hand out in front of you to stop him from getting any closer. “we’re done.”
that was two weeks ago. you hadn’t seen jj, or your friends since then, actively trying to avoid them as much as possible. that didn’t stop them from texting though.
john b and pope have checked in every now and then to make sure you’re doing okay, while kie and jj blow your phone up 24/7 with empty apologies.
j<3: i’m outside. please let me explain.
you stare at the text on your phone for a second and hop to your feet to peek out the window, where surely enough, you saw jj perched against his bike on the curb of your front lawn, waiting.
letting out a deep sigh and against your better judgment, you walk towards the front door and open it, only to find that he had walked up your front porch and was about to knock.
“hey…” his voice is small, and his baby blue eyes light up at the sight of you, making your heart ache.
by the prominent eye bags under them, you could tell he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. but wasn’t that how it should have been? he was the one who cheated on you.
you don’t say a word and just turn to walk further into your living room, jj following after you and shutting the door.
“i know you don’t owe me anything,” he continues, as you turn to look at him again, your arms crossed across your chest.
“you’re right, i don’t,” you say, trying to be cold.
it was hard, though. there was a piece of your heart that still yearned for him. a piece that you had a feeling would love him forever. no matter how badly he’s just screwed you over.
“why’d you do it?” you ask.
“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “i don’t know why i did it. we were drinking… and talking… you weren’t here, and i- i guess we just…”
“what?” you feel your hand start to shake as he tried to come up with an excuse. “got caught up in the moment?”
“y- yeah…” he glances down, and you scoff.
“god, i am such an idiot!” you run your hands through your hair and take a seat on the armchair behind you.
“y/n that’s not…” he slowly approaches you while you shake your head at him.
“i should’ve known,” you say. “it was her before me.”
jj shakes his head as he closes the distance between the two of you and crouches down in front of you, a hand landing on your knee. “baby, that’s not true.”
you glance at his hand on your knee before looking at him again. “but it is.”
“look, i fucked up, okay?” he said, his tone desperate now. “i know that. but please… please believe me when i tell you that it was a mistake. and it’s never going to happen again.”
“how can i believe that?” you ask, tears threatening to brim along your lower lashes. 
“just trust me,” he tells you.
a bitter scoff falls from your lips as you stand up and cross the room, half angry and half confused, not knowing what to think or believe.
“i did trust you, j!” you say, turning to look at him again with tears in your eyes as he gets up from his crouching position and faces you. “and you screwed me over anyway.”
“y/n…” he walks towards you, and you feel your weight shift to one foot, your body feeling a little limp. 
there was a part of you that still loved him—feelings don’t disappear just like that—but you knew you deserved better. that there was someone out there who wouldn’t even think about doing what he did.
"i love you…" he brings a hand up to caress your cheek and push your hair back, your first instinct causing you to lean into his touch, a sad smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you lock your eyes with his. "pretty girl." he closes the distance between you two, his forehead resting against yours, a tear trailing down your cheek as you closed your eyes. "i am so so so sorry. i promise— i promise, i won't ever hurt you again."
you wanted nothing more than to believe him. to forgive him. to forget. but you knew, deep down, that wasn't possible.
you shake you hear against his, sniffling. "j, i can't…"
"no, no, no," he replied. "you can. you— you have to, i can't-" he tilts his chin upwards to kiss you, and though you want desperately to let him, you push him away.
"no, jj!" you shout. "you— you can't just kiss me and think it's all gonna go away!"
"okay, okay, i'm not," he backs off a little, and then takes your hands in his, baby blues pleading. "but you need to forgive me. i could never live with myself if you didn't. i— i can't go on without you… without…" he brings your hands together and clasps his hands around them as he brings them up to his lips to kiss them softly. "your touch…" he moves a hand towards your cheek again, caressing it just like last time. "your smile…" he trails it across your collar bone and down your arm to place it on your chest. "your love… god, y/n i’ve never been loved by anyone like you."
his face falls limp against you and he drops to his knees, arms immediately locking around your hips as he rests the side of his head against you.
"please… please forgive me," his voice sounds desperate now, breaking your heart even more.
"i— i can't…" you wrap your hands around his arms and try to pull him off you, but it doesn't work—he just clutches onto you tighter. "you're just not the same person to me anymore…" you shake your head. "the jj i fell for would've never ever done anything to hurt me, but now…" you bring your hands up to your head, trying to keep it together. "god! every time i look at you… all i see is her and what you did… i— i just keep picturing you guys together and-"
"and we can fix that," jj pulls away and gets back on his feet to look at you. "i mean, it's gon' take time, but eventually… you— you can forget it, right?"
there was a hopeful look in his eyes, but you knew that wasn't enough to fix things.
you shake your head and sigh, the hope in his eyes immediately diminishing. "no, i don't think i can."
"but that— that would mean that this…" his voice cracks, his mind clearly in disarray as he motions a hand between you two. "no. this can't be over."
your watery eyes lock with his, which were now red from holding back tears. "then why is it?"
if you happen to also be a rafe girl, consider this part 2 & part 3.
reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33
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You don’t get to tell me about sad
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a/n: blame TTPD for this… idk why I keep doing this to myself.
summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.
warnings: past trauma, mean people, age gap but everyone is of age so calm down.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Azriel wasn’t sure who or what he was blaming for the situation that was unfolding. He could blame Rhys, who had put him on this duty. Could blame himself. He had been sloppy during his last assignment and nearly died in the middle of it. Meaning that he had to knock it down a tad. Just until he was fully recovered. And then he could raise his middle fingers at fate. Because she was laughing at him now. He should have just stayed put for a couple more months. Keep it to himself that he was itching to do something. Not sit there practically begging for an assignment. Well, now he dug his own grave, and he was forced to lay in it. 
Letting out a deep sigh, Azriel pushes back from the outside wall. Fluttering his wings a couple of times. A short-term thing, Rhys had said when he slipped the document onto the table. It had taken one glance for Azriel to feel the bitter taste in his mouth. But he hated saying no. Even if babysitting wasn’t on his list of duties.
"Ah, sir, it’s so lovely to see you. It is an honor to have the shadowsinger in our presence," an unfamiliar voice pulled him out of his thoughts, making Azriel’s head spin to the side. He had truly been just standing outside the villa for way too long. “Azriel will do just fine," he breathes out, turning to who he assumed was one of the servants. The sweet older man smiles, “I assume you are here to see the high lord." There’s no bitterness in his voice, and there's a true sense of pride there. “Unfortunately...", Azriel grunts, making the male practically gasp under his breath before he quickly pulls himself together. A fake version of the smile he had given Azriel, now neatly plastered on his face, “This way, please.”
Azriel doesn’t let his eyes wander as he walks through the halls. They were never familiar to him, and he doesn’t plan on changing that ever. So he strides along with the servant, wishing he could walk just a little faster. But by the sudden sharp turn, Azriel is quick to realize that no one is taking him to the belly of the beast. A side sunroom. That almost makes Azriel smile. He liked that he wasn’t trusted enough to be greeted in the main office. 
"Azriel," a voice that never failed to make Azriel frown, greets him as soon as the wooden door opens. "Eris," Azriel says, fixing his eyes on the male in front of him. A male who looked surprisingly awful. Eris loved looking good and not letting others see the real thing hiding behind the fox mask. "Sit," the new high lord gestured to the plush armchair, but Azriel shakes his head, “I rather not.” Eris lets out a sigh. “I’m sure you’ve seen the request," he says, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Bald of you to request anything truthfully," Azriel crosses his arms over his chest. A slight smile tugs at the fireling lips, “Maybe I like stooping low from time to time.” 
But Azriel refused to let on, “You hid her. You went behind the law." That was the first thing he had said to Rhys as well. But, of course, there were exceptions for the royal families even there. “I didn’t hide her," and here it was in that much firmer tone, one that always jumped out when one accused Eris of anything, “Beron did. Used her to control me. Too many souls know that she is a weak link”, “Surprised you didn’t just leave her by the border the way you did with Mor" Azriel cut in, letting that bubbling frustration ooze out. Even if he had promised himself he wouldn’t stoop so low, “She was also a weak link, wasn’t she?”, he jabbed, making Eris clench his fists. From the fire burning in his eyes, Azriel knew that the bite back would be as lethal as it probably would have been if not for the noise outside the room. The sound of feet and a figure practically falling through the door. 
"Eris," the voice was breathless, notes of laughter still on it. Tapping of the paws followed suit. As two hounds brushed past the folds of your skirt, rushing towards their true owner, "Eris, look..." your voice hitched as your eyes landed on Azriel. His face remained as cold as it was before, but he had to admit it. Azriel was waiting to see a scrawny girl. Not a young and mature female. Sharp autumn features. And those breathtaking green eyes...
“Oh, I...”, you quickly lowered your head, “I will come by later," but before you didn’t even turn, before Eris grunted, “No, come in, YN." You blinked a couple of times, clearly confused as to why you might be needed here. “What’s going on?", the question was practically a whisper as you wiped the dirt-covered hands on the skirt that looked nothing like the kind a princess should wear. 
“There will be changes happening," Eris said, placing his hands on the table, “You’ve been misbehaving." A light chuckle slipped past your lips. “What?" you breathed, shaking your head. “I do not have the patience nor time to run after you," the high lord said, waving his hand in the air. And that was all it took to make your shoulders droop. Your big eyes staring back at your brother, but Azriel sensed the shift in your energy. He saw the twitch in Eris’s hands, but he didn’t back down. “The spymaster will be taking you with him. You’re to behave accordingly,", “I will not go anywhere with that… tree of a man," you hissed, pointing to Azriel, who almost laughed at the insult. If one could even call it that. “What is this nonsense you’re weaving?”, you stepped forward, demanding an answer. 
“Mind your tone, young lady," Eris growled, pointing a warning finger at you. The room grew quiet. You could hear the flickering of the candles. A heartbeat. One, two, three. “I will stay in my room; I won’t go anywhere, I promise," you begged. Desperation. A nice weapon. But Azriel doubted that it would work on Eris. “You said that the last time and then proceeded to sneak out with Makoa."  Eris reached for the glass bottle, pulling a glass out. He had already settled on his decision, and he was showing you just that. “That was one time," you whispered, desperately trying to catch your brother’s eye. 
“Don’t lie to me," Eris chuckled. “I’m not," and you weren’t. Azriel felt it. He knew that Eris felt it too. “Pack what you need. You’re to leave as soon as possible. Further instructions will be given to you through the spymaster," and that was it. Dismissed. For a moment, Azriel thought that he would have to watch you cry. Beg maybe. “That’s all?”, you hissed through gritted teeth. “You want me to kiss it better?”, Eris asked. A breath hitched in your throat. Knuckles turning white from how hard you clenched your fists. You just spun on your heel. Candles dancing in your movement. A harsh slam of the door. 
Eris let out a shaky breath, but Azriel couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from his lips. “You are a different breed," the spymaster said, shaking his head. “It will be easier this way," Eris muttered, not taking his eyes from the door. “I beg to differ," Azriel pointed out, turning to leave as well. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, shadowsinger," the fireling bit back. Azriel turned to face him once more. “But you asked for my help," and he knew he had a winning card in his hands. “I’m not doing this because you asked. I'm doing this because she is innocent in all of this."  That was the last thing he said before he stepped out too. 
He had barely made it to the outside terrace when he saw you practically stomping toward the woods. “Mother, give me patience," he muttered under his breath before leaping into the sky. “Where are you going?", he called out. But you didn’t stop. Your steps didn’t falter as you pushed past another branch. “To your fucking court," you hissed, taking your anger out on the poor bushes as you stepped over them.
“Are you sure it’s that way?”, Azriel called out, landing just a couple of feet behind you. You halted, turning left. “Save us both the trouble and let me winnow us there," he said, reaching for your hand, but you turned so fast, pulling a shining dagger from your belt and aiming it at Azriel’s throat. “If you touch me, I will skin you," you grunted angrily. Azriel lifted his hand, pushing his fingers beneath the blade. “You would have to aim a bit higher, princess; you wouldn’t hit the vital artery." He watched the way your jaw practically grinned your teeth to the nerve. 
“Don’t worry, I can always aim for your balls," you snarled back, turning away. Azriel rubbed a hand over his face, letting you walk a few feet ahead. “So, the plan is to walk through Autumn, Winter, Dawn, and Day, and let’s not forget the under-the-mountain part," he pointed out. You stopped once more. Even with your back turned to him, Azriel could tell the way your chest was rising and falling rapidly. 
Turn around; he practically begged in his head; don’t make me regret this even more. But just as he had concluded before, this was Mother’s way of making him pay for everything bad that he had done. Because you stepped forward, inching deeper into the forest. Azriel shook his head. For a moment, he considered letting you walk away, but he took to the skies instead.
You weren’t even sure if you were mad. Were you sad? Annoyed? Confused? It was all fine. Just last week, you were both swimming in the lake. You and your brother. Laughing. He had even pulled out his carving knife. It was fine. Lucien was going to come back, too. Angry tears rolled off your cheeks as you push back another branch, ducking under it. At least that winged bruit had chosen to leave you by. But they all do. A bitter laugh slipped past your lips at the thought of it. A burden from birth—that’s what your father told you day in and day out. Maybe if he had finished what he had started that night...
That thought snaps the same way as the branch beneath you. Your feet twist, making you yell slightly as the pain shoots up your leg. But that’s the least of your concerns, as your weight makes you topple over, hand-breaking the fall as the edge of the dome looms closer. Maybe fate has decided to give you a helping hand. But before you can blink, a strong hand wraps around your middle, pulling you up. 
“So you actually can’t be left to your own devices," a deep voice mutters, and you are cursing Mother once more because she could have sent anyone else, but no, that winged male had to be the one. “No one asked for your interference," you grunt, trying to push out of his grip. “Your manners are shit for a princess," he says, and you can’t wait to put him in his place, but the moment you manage to wiggle out of his grip, putting all of your weight on your feet, shooting pain rips through you. You hiss, stumbling over. The spymaster grips your elbow, steadying you. 
“What hurts?”, his voice is solid, but there’s no anger in it. "Nothing," you say through gritted teeth, thankful for the sunset that had already draped the forest in shadows, letting you hide your splotchy face. “Nothing?”, he asks again, “So, if I were to let go?”, “I said nothing.”You pull your hand away, turning back. You can hide a limp. You’ve hidden worse. Right? But you don’t get to take a single step back. Your ankle betrays you as a pained cry slips past your gritted teeth. 
And in a heartbeat, he is there. His big palm once again splayed against your stomach as he steadied you against his chest. Your heartbeat jumps up, but you don’t even get to gasp when he turns you around, lowering you to the nearest fallen trunk. You watch him with a frown. But don’t dare to fight anymore. What’s the point anyway? 
He kneels, his hands moving towards the hem of your skirt. You expect him to just lift it, but his hands halt as he tilts his head up. You can see that he stutters slightly at the sight of your puffy eyes. “Can I?”, he asks. You grit your teeth, “Don’t you own me now? You can do what you want." He frowns. True confession there. “I don’t own you. I am here to protect you. A bodyguard if you will," he says, and even if you want to call him out for lying, something tells you that he is not. “I don’t need protection," you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Considering that you just nearly went flying over the edge," the spymaster gestures over his shoulder. You huff, lifting your left leg. Wincing from the movement alone. 
He reaches for it. His hands… Your heart skips a beat at the scars all over them. You can’t see much, considering that he’s wearing long-sleeved leather, but his whole hand... “You sprained it; it’s already puffing up." His voice makes you jump slightly as you nod along. He glances at you. “I’m afraid your journey through the five courts will have to be cut short, princess." He tries not to show it, but the bastard is practically oozing satisfaction. “Don’t call me that," you say, pulling your leg out of his grasp, cursing under your breath. “Princess?”, he asks almost smugly. “I still have two hands, you fuck," you grunt, trying to stand up, but the spymaster works quicker. His arms snake over your legs and back, and you’re up in his arms in the blink of an eye. You cross your own arms over your chest, refusing to hold onto him. “A tree, a fuck. All very original insults," he says drily, “Try Azriel next time, though. We’re trying to be professional about it after all.”
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squirmhoney · 3 days
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honestly just the idea of aegon being obsessed with reader is just insane. like he’s fully obsessed with her, he doesn’t want anyone else to have her, and she’s seemingly innocent so he wants to teach her how to do things and gets angry when other guys make a move on her. idk if this makes sense??
Warnings: Dark. Dub con. Pervy men. A lot of smut. Incest implied but not stated. Public sex. 18+ A/N: Ahh I'm loving obsessed Aegon and want to make him a bit softer. However, I hope you're okay I made it into more of a head canon/drabble and added a little bit of Aemond at the bottom because I miss him.
Aegon
Obsessed!Aegon who wakes up wrapped up in his sheets with you, bodies pressed so tightly together. This could have been such a sweet moment, the early light of the sun beating down on your skin, but Aegon’s perverse mind never allowed him a moment's peace. It’s what you woke to, Aegon kissing underneath one of his t-shirts you wore, positioned between your legs as he tried to wake you. You could feel his hard dick pushed up to your damp panties, rubbing slowly against you as he tried to get off. You whimper at the feel of him, mumbling his name to get his attention. As soon as he realised you were awake, his head is popping out of your t-shirt, asking if you wanted him to make you feel good. One nod and that man is grinding against you, making you both whimper and moan in bliss.
Obsessed!Aegon who comes down for breakfast a minute later than you, not wanting to draw attention to the both of you if you came down together. However, he can’t help but eye you up as he makes himself a coffee, wondering why you look so good. As soon as he sits next to you, he’s asking you these questions. Which leads you to reply with an “are you joking?” look as you raise your brows at him. But he’s insistent and all you can do is laugh pointing out your bed head, the baggy t-shirt of his and joggers that you are wearing. He still swears you look good and to prove that he places your hand over his boner, thrusting his hips up into it for a tiny bit of release. You quickly steal it away, ducking your head away as you try to hide your flushed face from the prying eyes around the table. 
 Obsessed!Aegon who literally feels like just touching you isn’t enough. He is the kind to be so obsessed he needs to be under your skin. Being buried inside those velvet walls of yours will just have to do. You’re literally trying to get ready, putting your makeup on at his desk with your little setup but he’s so damn needy. He’s literally got you on his lap, holding you a few inches above him as he fucks into you. You’re scolding him for his behaviour at first, telling him he needs to get his head out of the gutter. But then his cock is hitting that spot inside of you that has you biting down on your lip, hand falling onto one of his thighs as your nails dig in. It’s a few seconds later, when Aegon is kissing you, practically shoving his tongue down your throat to keep you quiet, that his mum knocks on the door, asking if he knows where you’ve ran off to. With his hand pressed against your lips, he’s saying he has no idea, drilling into you harshly. 
Obsessed!Aegon who admires how dressed up you got for your date with him even if it took longer than expected (because of how much of a horn dog he is). Who is cursing in his head though that you had to wear that sundress he loved so much, especially when it had the man at the ice cream stand eyeing you up so much. But he’s later thankful for it as he pushes you down into the grass behind some trees, kissing down your body as you try to push him away. He pouts up at you, with a darkened gaze as he asks, “you love me, don’t you?” That’s all he needs as you spread your legs, allowing him to hike that sundress up to your waist, wasting no time as he attaches his mouth to your soaked panties, only moving them to the side when he thinks your moans aren’t loud enough for him. 
Obsessed!Aegon who grins proudly as you stumble back to his car, making sure to pass the ice cream stand on the way. The man from before is now staring at you with wide eyes,  noticing your fucked out expression as you practically cling onto Aegon. He makes sure to park the car somewhere a bit more secluded, knowing he won’t make it back to the house in time to have you. Within seconds he has you bare in the back seats, legs pressed between the pair of you as he folds you in half. You whine at him afterwards, telling him he ruined your makeup and hair but he soothes your sadness with a featherlight kiss on your cheek, telling you that he likes you better just like this. 
Obsessed!Aegon who didn’t even realise that you had spent all day out together, not answering a single call from your parents. They’re waiting for you, being instantly alarmed by your appearance. You’ve ruined your dress with grass stains, there are leaves in your done up hair as well. Aegon is quick to joke about how you fell, because of how clumsy you are and they eventually believe him, even if they don’t want to. 
Obsessed!Aegon who waits impatiently for you to make your way to his bedroom. Honestly he is thinking about going to find you and dragging you here himself. But then you’re poking your head through his door, slipping in quietly in that matching set and silk robe he loved so much. You’ve moisturised as well, easily being able to glide his hand up your legs. He’s biting on his knuckles, trying to restrain himself from marking up every part of your body. The only thought that stops him is the idea of you bouncing on his cock, eager to teach you the new position as he strips you of your clothes. He guides you up and down, letting you take full control as he just lies back to watch your tits jiggle as you ride him. But he doesn’t last long, hands having to grope every part of your naked skin, mouth attaching to one of your nipples as he takes control, fucking into you. 
 Obsessed!Aegon who knows he puts you through a lot with his constant needs but does really care about you. He shows you that as he bathes you with affection under the steam of the shower. He doesn’t try to fuck you or get himself off in the process. Instead he rubs your back soothingly as he holds you in his arms, telling you how good you are to him, how he wouldn’t have you any other way. 
Aemond
Obsessed!Aemond who is slightly different in the way he treats you. Waking you up with his mouth attached to your folds, licking and drinking you so you wake up already moaning as your day begins. He wants you to know how much he cares for you, how much he desires you, pushing two fingers into you as he licks at your swollen clit. You looked best like this, strung out on noises of pleasure as you laid in his bed, completely forgetting where you are as you become louder. 
Obsessed!Aemond who swears he hasn’t got a super high sex drive but does find you incredibly divine in the morning. He can’t help but press a soft kiss to your cheeks as you eat your breakfast, not caring who sees. He also can’t help but deny how much he enjoys how you smother him in kisses when you’ve managed to get away from your family, returning the affection ten fold as you cuddle into him.
Obsessed!Aemond who can’t deny you when you touch him. He knows your kisses and cuddling was only meant to be innocent but you don’t understand how badly you drive him wild when your tits press up against his chest or the way you press down on his crotch. He’s indecent he knows for taking advantage of the situation, turning your playful touches into a full make out session. The kisses are sloppy as he looks to have you a pathetic mess on top of him, guiding your hips to take your own pleasure as you grind your hips down and onto him. 
Obsessed!Aemond, whose jealousy is twisted and cruel, that burns within him as he watches another man at the shopping centre trying desperately to flirt with you. Of course you don’t flirt back, you’re too innocent to know what’s going on as you smile at the man. He’s dragging you into the nearest bathroom, making it clear to the man what he’s about to do, while all you can do is follow him. The floor of the bathroom is dirty but Aemond doesn’t care, shoving you to your knees in front of him as he whips out his cock from the restraint of his jeans. His hand is tight in your hair as he groans, fucking into your mouth without care for how your jaw aches or for how you gag. You’re a drooling mess around him, eager to please as you hollow out your cheeks, only to cry and try harder when he hisses that you can definitely do better. 
Obsessed!Aemond who cleans you up, cleaning you up with wet wipes from that dirty bathroom. Even promising he’ll shower you and take good care of you when you get home, trying to make you stop pouting at him with those wet eyes. He pushes you out of the bathroom, lacing his hand with yours as he guides you to your favourite shop, hoping that maybe a nice treat would get him back on your good side again. 
Obsessed!Aemond who gets you guys home at a reasonable time to avoid any confrontation with your parents. Only for your mother to eye him up as he notices the bags of shopping you had got all on his credit card, not understanding why she was so disapproving of it all as you tried to show her. 
Obsessed!Aemond who makes good word of his promises, already having a hot bath waiting for you with him inside of it. Lathering up your body with soap as he takes his sweet time caressing every single inch of it. He doesn’t want you to think this is just sex between you so he doesn’t push it any further even when he feels his cock get hard being pressed against your ass cheek. It’s you that’s insistent, guiding his hands to where you need him while you work your hand against him. Both of you cursing into each other's mouths as you try to keep quiet, you rubbing his cock while making good work to slip your thumb against his head, him rubbing circles into your clit, nibbling at your lip as he does so. 
Obsessed!Aemond, who pats you dry with a towel, moisturises every inch of your body with lotion, even taking time to braid your hair when you’re finished blow drying it. He places you down onto the bed gently, more than ready to go to sleep but you’re not that tired yet, so he settles for a bit of pillow talk instead. Aemond who can’t help but adore every part of you as you tell him stories, listening to every word as he gets lost in the sound of your laughter. Who couldn’t help himself but kiss you when you looked and sounded so sweet, only meaning to show you how much he cared but within minutes has your leg hooked around his hip as he fucks into you. He takes it slow, apologising that he doesn’t mean to be this way but it’s what you do to him. 
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rosedom · 2 days
Text
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"you have invited AETHER to play . . . genshin "impact"
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✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!ftm!aether, (gentle) spanking, daddy kink, begging, gratuitous praide + pet names, aftercare .
A/N : haha get it . . . genshin impact . . . impact . . . spanking . . . anyway.
"is that correct, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to confirm."
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Aether’s soft, in every sense of the word. 
“You're tickling me,” he mumbles, batting away at your hands. You only laugh, returning with a vengeance to palm at the soft fat of his thighs. “I told you—”
“Hush, honey,” you coo with a squeeze to his legs. Aether’s soft, but he’s strong, too, all limber muscle and sweet honey scent. 
He's butter in your hands—and he wants you to spank him. The good boy, the sun in the sky; and he wants to be spanked. 
“This isn't a punishment. You know that, right?” 
His smile turns syrupy, and he pushes himself up—as he was, before, laid astride your lap—and twists, a rather silly position that leaves him half-turned up and reaching up to cup at your cheeks. “I know,” he murmurs. “I—I just—” he averts his eyes.
“You what?” You press him back down lest he hurt his back too terribly; he goes easily, letting you maneuver his body however you see fit, malleable as anything. 
He reaches for a pillow, too, shoves it under his head where it lies atop his folded arms. “I—” he coughs and smothers the sound into his elbow. “I know,” he repeats.
You hum, quiet, and take to smoothing the palm of your hand over the swell of his ass. It's a testament to the trust, to his relaxation, really, that he doesn't so much as flinch. 
He continues with the gentle coaxing of your whispers, of your gentle petting, “I don’t want it hard.” 
“I know,” you echo. “And I won't do them in succession.” 
Minutely, he nods. “You’ll be gentle?” 
“I'll be gentle.”
“Okay.” He seems soothed by that. Body melting further into yours, he sighs and huffs, then he says, all whisper-soft, “I want you to show me that—” he hiccups, “—that I’m yours.” 
“Of course you're mine,” you murmur. You pet tight yet gentle circles across his ass, the skin pillow-soft beneath your palm. It's a contradiction, how he begged you so sweetly to spank him; but you suppose, now, seeing the way he’s limp across your lap, that you understand why.
He wants to feel owned, protected, by you—wants to know that not every touch is meant to mar, meant to scar. But you still ask, “Are you sure?” 
“I—please,” he says instead. Okay. 
“Alright, honey.” You lift your hands, much to his chagrin as he whines pitifully at the loss of your heat, but you quickly soothe his sounds as you thread a hand through his hair. He lets you lift him, making another sound—albeit one of confusion, this time—when you tap at his folded arms. “Gimme your hands?”
He nods within your hold, shuffling around ‘til (with your help) he gets his arms and hands readjusted: now, they rest behind him, wrists crossed at the small of his back. “Okay?” 
Testing your hold, he swallows, heavy. “Okay,” he whispers. You grin. 
“Good boy. Do you need another pillow?” 
He’s silent for a moment, contemplating, before he quietly says, “Yeah, please.” 
(It took him so long to feel safe enough to tell you what he needs. Your heart swells—just like his ass does, so tantalizingly plush so close to where you can touch.)
You smother another “Good boy” into his back before you straighten yourself out and grab the pillow next to you to slide under his head. He burrows his face into it before he turns it to the side, breathing hotly into the air next to him. 
He whispers, “Okay,” again once he is situated. He’s tucked the two pillows under his ear; you gently pull the hair he's got mushed beneath him out, running your fingers through the curled strands until the braid’s fully unraveled. 
“There we go,” you coo, softly chuckling at Aether’s own small giggles. Soon enough, he’s making grabby hands for you—gestures for you to reinstate the hold you had of his wrists. You take them in hand and squeeze, once, a tender thing, and relish yourself in the goosebumps you watch erupt over his arms. “Are you ready?” 
“I’ve been ready,” he huffs; you snort at his antics. 
If he's gonna play it like this, then you're gonna play dirty. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweet thing,” you murmur, pitching your voice down low and seductive, the drawl heavy across your tongue. “Has daddy been neglecting his good boy?” 
Holy hell, does that get a reaction out of your good boy. He gasps, loud, and he pulls at your hands like he's making to get away—presumably to cover his face. Like this, however, he's stuck, held down; and where it should be fear that crawls up his spine, it's only molten, liquid heat. He stutters out your name, but—
“Ah, ah,” you tut—not unkindly. You spread your fingers wide over the expanse of his right asscheek, thumb and pointer dipping just-so into the cleft of his ass. “What should you be callin’ me right now, honey?”
(For a boy so soft, so shy, it is obscene, the next words to fall from those pretty, pretty lips.)
“Daddy,” he cries out, “spank me, please, I asked so—so—” His words hitch off into a hiccup, those strong hands of his curling and uncurling as he grasps at nothing but thin air. You coo once more, sliding the hand you have wrapped around his wrists to instead intertwine between the fingers of each hand; he’s kept pinned, still, but now he can hold onto you. “Please, daddy!”
You hum, and you tack on another “Good boy,” just for safe measures. (Is it such a crime to want Aether to know this fact—to want to hammer it into his skull, spank it into his pretty lil’ ass? All ‘til he knows nothing but the sweet, subtle burn of his skin, the gentle petting of your palm against his blushing rear... 
Ah. You’re getting ahead of yourself.) 
You retract your palm—awfully slowly, if Aether were to say—, and you almost have half the mind to tease him about the way your thumb comes back barely slick from where it had brushed his cunt. Feeling merciful—or perhaps eager—, you forgo it; instead, you murmur, “Tell me when it’s too much.”
He has only the time to nod, once, before your hand is upon him.
Aether jerks in your lap—more-so at the suddenness of it rather than pain. (You’re not here to hurt him, tonight.) A light rouge springs up across his skin from where you spanked him, and he’s already squirming, making breathy pants into the pillow. 
“Good boy, Ae,” you murmur, petting across the swell of his ass before you’re bringing your hand up to do it again—this time, his left cheek. He doesn’t move as much this time, now anticipating the touch against him. “You’re taking my spankin’ so well.” 
A third time, and his fingers squeeze yours. 
Four, five, six; Aether’s squirming anew, and your hand comes down a seventh time before you stop, taking hold of his hip to still him. “Easy, honey, you’ve been so good for daddy so far.”
“I—” He looks up at you then, his golden eyes wide and brimming with tears. You take once more to cooing at him, letting go of his hips—yet keeping both his hands held in your one—to cup his cheek, wipe away the thick, dribbling tears. He nuzzles into your touch, and he fucking begs, “harder? Please, daddy, I—I want it harder, wanna—wanna feel it t’morrow.”
“Oh?” You grin, dipping down to bump your head against his before immediately straightening back out, immediately bringing that hand away from his face to land hard on his ruddy ass. He yelps, back arching and toes curling, and you are back to soothing his skin with gentle strokes of your palm. “It’s okay, honey, I’m only gonna give you what you can take.” When he looks like he’s about to refute—and, really, it’s a pathetic look on him, all teary-eyed and blushing and meak—, you tut, murmur, “and nothing more, okay? This isn’t a punishment.”
He nods, and he whispers, “Not a punishment.” 
“That’s daddy’s good boy.” As a reward, you swat at him harder, just like he asked. Each spank is still endearingly tender, hitting against his ass evenly and distributed in such a way that no one spot will hurt more (or less, now that you think about it) than another. 
Nine, ten, eleven, and by the twelfth Aether begins to bawl. 
“Daddy,” he sobs, arms beginning to tug against the snug grip of his hands, pulling desperately at your five fingers twisted through his ten. “Please—please, hold me. I want to hold you!”
His words hardly have the time to settle in the air around the two of you as you release him and tug him up, turning him around and bundling him into your arms. He whines when his sore, swollen ass touches your thighs; you can feel the heat of his skin burning a warm brand into the tops of your legs. 
“I've got you, daddy’s got you,” you soothe, hugging him while his arms come up to clutch desperately at your upper back. 
It's then that you feel something... sticky, smearing itself into the thigh Aether’s favoring, the solid weight of him concentrated across your one leg. “I've got you,” you repeat, wondering if the play is over, now.
But Aether whimpers out, “Daddy—” this real meak, quiet lil’ thing, and you know that you're not. You're done spanking him, but you've yet to melt his body in abject pleasure. 
“Okay, okay, daddy’s got you,” you repeat before you nudge a hand down, falling between your bodies to the thatch of blond curls between his own thighs. Petting at his wet cock makes him jerk, belly arching into your own. “Good boy, does it feel good? My sweet boy.”
“Feel so good,” he whimpers, hips humpin’ your gentle finger. You give him what he wants readily, letting him chase his pleasure on your hand ‘til you slip in two fingers—an easy stretch, both gone right to the hilt and your third knuckles—as he curls his body into you even further. “‘m so close.” 
Curling your fingers into his g-spot, you coo, “Already?” He nods vehemently into your throat, hands shaking where they clutch at you. “C’mon, then, cum for me, sweet thing. Cum for daddy.” 
Like his spanking, Aether's orgasm is an easy, gentle thing. 
It runs through his limbs syrupy slow; it starts at the epicenter, his small cunt, and spreads out across his body in a way that makes him melt into you.
And, God, his sounds. He makes these lil’ whimpers that he smothers into your skin, each one a hot gust against your throat. He's mumbling incoherently, too, quiet Daddy’s that get lost in his heavy breaths. 
Pitching your voice soft—soft as cotton and smooth as butter—, you coax him down from his high: one that he's already falling off from like waves against the shore. 
(If he was the ocean, his orgasm would be the tide: an expected thing, slow n’ steady that covers the sand in its blanket and retreats, leaves the beach uncovered and bare. 
The sand is exposed, vulnerable. Small shells washed ashore, clams and the likes out in the open without the water to hide them.
You find the beach at its most beautiful, like this: your Aether is no different.)
He finds the wherewithal to murmur, then, his voice still damnable meak—meak in a way that makes you want to protect your sweet boyfriend, your heart all twisted in knots at the trust he gives you—, “th’nk you, daddy.” The way he says daddy, though, is what makes you laugh softly, kiss at his forehead.
“Of course, sweetheart,” you say. You’ve got your fingers already slid out from the grip of his swollen cunt—swelled up in arousal, in the rush of blood from his orgasms: not so different from the ruddy swell of his ass, reddened by the spanking—, soothing his lil’ mewl at the loss of being filled (even just slightly.
After all, it was only two fingers you had pressed into him, unraveled him with.) “Up you go, c’mon,” you tack on: rhetorically, of course, because you’re wholly in control of his lax body. “Let's get you cleaned up, hm?” 
He nods minutely into your chest, curled up in your arms akin to a small kitten. He’d purr if he could, wrapped up with you, pressing littering kisses across your collarbones. 
Into the bath he goes, too, the tide left to lap up at his body as you set him in. He whines when you part from him—a sound you soothe with a promise of, “I’ll be right back, honey.” 
That right back is only a minute’s time, if that—enough to set aside a soft, fluffy towel and grab Aether’s favorite soaps—, but you return to see him with his head perched above crossed arms, pouting up at you from the lip of the tub. 
Laughing lightly, you poke at his nose with the bottle you hold, the glass cold against his still-blushing skin. His face scrunches up, but he doesn't move away; he's still floating, all sex-drunk (finger-drunk? He didn't take cock, tonight) and content. 
You place your other hand on his shoulder, kindly pushing him back with a whisper of, “Scooch.” 
The water of the bath sloshes when you get in—some of it surely falling back the tub's lip and splattering on the ground—, but you make no move to clean it yet as Aether immediately falls back into the spread of your legs, his back a warm brand to your chest. 
In the end, it's a lazy bath. You tenderly run a cloth between his thighs, kiss at his temples when he quietly whimpers at the oversensitivity; and, after it's all said and done, he's wrapped in that fluffy towel, dozing off in your arms right there on the ensuite's floor.
Daddy's here; and he's staying here. 
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nnnnn pretty boys who wanna call me daddy <33
17 APR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .
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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 days
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Could you maybe write something about Daryl with a reader who’s similar to him and has also experienced physical abuse from their father and they just comfort each other and bond over their scars please
Reminders
Note: My laptop cord broke so forgive any formatting errors :( I toyed with a. Few ideas for this but settled on prison era Daryl with non established relationship fem reader. Def some chemistry, but nothing established. Enjoy!
Warnings: mentions of past abuse, light profanity
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        Daryl squinted in the sun as he chewed on a freshly picked tomato from the garden. The prison yard was busy, buzzing with activity as people focused on their tasks and socialized amongst themselves. He watched them, studied them. It was new territory for him to feel so important yet so alienated at the same time. Sure, the alienation was mostly his own doing, as he wasn’t much of a social butterfly. He considered himself to be more of a moth, fluttering around on his own in the dark, avoiding the sun. Still, with so many people relying on him and admiring him, it felt unnatural to just walk up to somebody and chat about mundane things as if the world were still turning at its normal pace.
        Then, his eyes found you. He never knew what to make of you. You were new — even fresher than the ex-Wooburians. He was the one who found you alone in the forest, yet he had never had a full conversation with you. You were timid and rough on the exterior, never keeping eye contact with anyone unless the sole purpose was intimidation. They almost didn’t let you stick around. It wasn’t until you had a one-on-one with Hershel, where he found you were not all bad, that he talked the rest of the council into keeping you around.
        You proved yourself pretty useful, too. You knew a thing or two about gardening crops, you were good with knives and guns, and you were fast. You were never afraid to do what needed to be done, even if it put your own life at risk. You were sent on a lot of runs for that purpose. With people like you and Daryl out on those runs, casualties were few if any. You were both natural protectors.
         Some of the kids had taking a liking to you, namely Carl and Mika. You liked them, too, if for different reasons. Carl was strong, and he had an understanding for the world and it’s workings. He impressed you. Mika was sweet, and even if she seemed to sweet for the world, you knew there was a part of her that had potential. She was sure to figure things out, maybe even kick some serious ass one day.
        All that aside, Daryl couldn’t read you. Or, maybe he could, and that was the problem. He wasn’t willing to accept how similar the two of you may have been. Hell, he had barely accepted that maybe, somewhere inside him, he was as good as any of these people chattering around him. 
        “Stare any harder and you’ll melt a hole through her head.” Carol’s voice pulled his gaze away from you. He glared at her.
        “Wha’d’ya mean?” 
        “Oh, come on. You’ve been watching her every move this morning.” She nudged her shoulder against his. “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”
       “Hm.” He grunted with a shrug. “Ain’t like that.”
       “Why not? She’s cute.” Carol persisted. “She’s like you, but pretty. You’d get along.” She teased.
        “Pfft.” He tutted. “She ain’t like me.” 
        “Whatever.” She chuckled. 
        Days would go by where he’d watch you from a distance in between his own tasks. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice or feel his eyes dancing over your skin. It was just that you didn’t know how to react or respond. Daryl wasn’t an ugly man by any stretch of the imagination, and unlike him, you could read him all too well because there was something about him that you recognized in yourself and you were willing to accept that similarity. 
        You snuck your glances in, too. You’d watch from the corner of your eye as his hands gripped the steering wheel on a run, or you’d allow your vision to follow him as he stalked through the gates and into the trees to hunt. You often wondered if he really cared to hunt or if he just wanted to get away. Probably both.
        All in all, it was a sad case of two idiots who couldn’t see past their own insecurities and fears far enough to make a move. And it stayed that way, longer than it should have. 
        One night, when the air was particularly hot and thick with humidity, and he got tired of flipping around on his cot trying to find a cool spot on the sheet, Daryl went outside for a smoke. The prison was fast asleep, save for him, and apparently you. He was about halfway through his cigarette when he noticed a small orange light on the other side of the yard. It would move up and down every so often. He quickly realized it was the cherry of another cigarette. 
        He couldn’t make out who it was in the darkness, nor could he think of anyone else he’d ever seen smoking. So, he strolled across the grounds and decided to make himself known, so that the other smoker could be known to him. Somehow he was shocked to know it was you.
        “Hey.” Your soft voice said casually, not offering even a glance in his direction. You were leaning one shoulder against the chain link fence, watching the quiet forest on the other side.
        “Didn’t know ya smoked.” He commented, gluing his eyes to the tree line as well.
        “Found the ones I like on our last run. Had to grab ‘em.” You shrugged, taking a long drag and enjoying the cooling menthol as it coated your throat.
        “Which ones?” He asked. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
        Instead of telling him, you just held up the pack. 
        “Didn’t take ya for the menthol type.” He mumbled. You sent a quick glance his way.
        “What kind would you take me for, then?” You wondered. 
        “Mm-mm.” He shrugged. “Marlboros. The gold pack.” 
         “Ew.” You chuckled. “I’m a Camel Crush girl, through and through. You?” 
        “Don’t matter.” He admitted. “Just the strong ones.” 
        You nodded and hummed and allowed the silence to creep in. You two stood that way for a few minutes, the only sounds being the noises of puffing and exhaling over a symphony of crickets and night critters. 
        “Why Crush?” He finally asked. “Why not just menthol?”
        “I like having choices.” You said simply. 
        A slight breeze picked up and chilled your sweaty skin. You wore nothing but a tank and shorts, given the boiling temperatures inside. You ran a hand over your arm to combat the chill. His eyes instinctively flickered to the movement and focused on your hand first, then the flesh beneath. Where he expected to find smooth skin, he instead found a rough terrain of keloid scars. 
        He had never noticed them before because your sleeves always covered them.
        “What happened?” He asked. 
        “What?” You looked over to him and realized he was looking at your arms. Your hand impulsively moved and covered the ugly reminders of your past. “Oh. Nothing good.” You said vaguely.
        “Mm.” He nodded, wondering if it was the same kind of bad things that left him with his own scars. 
        “Shit.” You mumbled, realizing that small gust of wind blew the cherry off your cigarette. “Got a light? I used my last match for this.” 
        Wordlessly, he dug in his pocket and handed you his zippo. You lit your cigarette back up and passed his lighter back. More silence followed before he broke it again. 
        “Was it your mom or your dad?” He bravely questioned. 
        Your eyes darted to him harshly, but they softened. You considering not answering him, but decided there wasn’t much of a reason not to.
        “Neither. It was my step dad.” You confessed.
         “My dad was a dick too.” He related.
         “Mine wasn’t. His replacement was.” You sighed.
        “Mm. Merle — my brother — usually just ran away.”
         “From what?”
         “My dad.” He said quietly. 
         “Was your dad like my step-dad?” You asked.
         “Mm.” He nodded. 
         “What was his poison?”
          “Whiskey.” 
        “Oh. Mine liked meth.” You admitted. “Must be a stepdad thing.”
        “Nah.” He shook his head. “Just an asshole thing.” 
        “Sounds right.” You huffed a fry laugh. “Your daddy mark you up like me?”
        “Why?” 
        “How else would you know someone else did this to me?”
        “Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah.”
        “I’m sorry to hear it.” You sympathized the best you could.
        “Don’t matter. It’s in the past.”
        “Yeah, I tell myself that, too, but… It’s hard to leave the past where it belongs when you’re covered in reminders. Tryin’ to hide ‘em all the damn time.” 
        “Yeah.” He agreed. “Maybe they’re just there to remind us we survived.”
        You held onto his sentiments, toying with the phrase, spinning it around in your mind and locking it into memory.
         “One way to put it, I suppose.” 
        “It’s the only way to put it. Only way to move on.” He argued. You took the last drag off your smoke before tossing it. Your eyes caught his and stayed there for some time before you offered a soft smile. 
         “See ya around, Dixon.”
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obeymematches · 2 days
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Hi! How about hc of mc getting pursued by another demon to be with them instead since the demon brothers ignores them and doesn't treat them that well connected to their avatar (like how belphie ignores you 24/7 for sleep) I just wanna see possessive demon brothers please! 🥺
ahhh i remember the guy who i was _just_ talking to on tinder say i needed to have his name painted on my nails... what a funny guy he was
also i'm having this in several parts, it's gonna be that long.
Possessive.
Prolouge;
You supposed you and him had a special chemistry between the two of you. It is hard to describe what it was like but you felt it everytime you looked into his eyes, heard their voice, felt their touch. To your best knowledge the feeling was mutual, he did ask you out on a couple of dates. Until he stopped texting you (if you texted him he didn’t even open your messages) and sometimes you didn’t even see him for a day or two despite living in the same house. You didn’t want to make the situation more awkward than it already was , so from your point of view you made the most realistic decision. Catching another fish from the sea seem like a great idea.
Lucifer: He saw you from a distance as you were having a chat with Lord Diavolo himself. At the time he preferred not to think much of it. Not that the idea of you falling madly in love with the prince didn’t cross his mind; of course he did consider that a possibility. He knows Diavolo the best and he also knows he’d adore you if he got a chance to. The next day you and Diavolo walk by, completely unnoticing him. He didn’t eavesdrop; what would be the point of that? But he, or to be more specific, this side of the RAD building could hear Diavolo joking about and laughing with you. It was most unusual! Especially in public like this, Diavolo would normally keep it lowkey, it would be too risky to let anyone know he enjoys your company.
That’s when The Avatar of Pride had the idea to check the message you sent him ….. almost 3 weeks ago.
Was telling you he was busy be good enough? Would you buy that? Most likely not. It was a shame he let the situation escalate like this, however it’s been decades or maybe even a century since he felt chemistry with anyone the way he did with you. Of course he can’t tell you like it is, otherwise he wouldn’t be the Avatar if Pride but the Avatar of Bluntness.
As much as it hurt his ego to admit it, he did grow fond of you.
„Meet me in my office, 3PM today.”
As you read his message your little human heart almost skipped a beat. It’s going to be awkward assisting him after you started growing feelings for him, feelings which he pretty clearly never reciprocated. You don’t really feel like meeting him, quite honestly.
So you didn’t meet him. He could call you if it was so urgent anyway.
The next day he made sure to run into you when you weren’t in the company of his friend.
„We must talk. Are you free now?”
„I am, for now. I have a class in 20 minutes.”
„I am sorry I did not talk to you about it sooner. Our last date was everything I could ask for. It would be a shame if you were seeing anyone else now. Are you free this afternoon?”
„Oh…um…how should I put this… if you really enjoyed it that much how come you were avoiding me for weeks?”
„I will tell you everything later. I promise.”
• It is up to you to accept or decline him now, however his possessivenes will get the best of him in the following days. He’ll be waiting for you after classes just to talk to you. Sometimes he even gives you a rose. Why is he being so desperate now? Thankfully his pride doesn’t allow him to talk to Diavolo about the situation.
Mammon:
There you are, in his favourite pub, playing pool with two attractive demons plus a duo who appears to be a couple. He knows you can’t play pool very well; it was most definitely not your idea to come here and play. Then who’s? Are you on a date? That cannot be happening.
Yes, he stopped spending time with you but it hasn’t been that long, has it??
He checked your message which you sent about 4 days ago. Surely not much time has passed since!
He ordered himself AND YOU a drink and didn’t hesitate to go up to you.
„Heyy, watcha up to? This ones for ya.”
„Thanks Mammon-„
„So who’re ya here with?”
„I’m with my friend” you look at one of the members of the couple.
„And who’re these losers? Lemme join ya!” he said as he put his arm around your waist.
„Well actually we don’t know them. They were just here, playing.”
The night went by, Mammon did provide you support in the game, although he is not much of a pro himself either. He did his best.
„Sorry I didn’t text ya. I was hustlin at Hell’s Kitchen ya know, givin me sweet money for working nightshift.”
You didn’t really reply as it was still a bit hard to believe him.
„And I also got me a second hustle for the day. I needa get more money! I wanna take ya on some nice ass dates, not a stupid coffe from the machine again.”
• Even if you tell him so he won’t leave you alone for the night. • Which is nice as the unknown demons left already! Now you are for sure for him only!
Part 1.
Tumblr is out there making me fight for my life as I'm trying to edit this post
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beenbaanbuun · 1 day
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hi i wanna ask if dove ever fought with seonghwa or hongjoong like full on disagreeing and just arguing? and what was it like ^____^ i really love ur Addams!Matz fic and seeing you post smth new related to it makes my day!
darling has tiny arguments with hongjoong on a semi-regular basis. despite her tendency to roll over and submit, she’s actually surprisingly hard headed and if hongjoong claims that she broke a rule that she doesn’t agree with, then she is going to give that man hell. the problem is, hongjoong is equally as stubborn and it sometimes ends up with the house being a full on war zone. snarky comments over a game of chess, silent glares over dinner; it’s just an all round hostile environment and seonghwa just tends to be on the sidelines watching it all go down.
“you can’t move your piece there,” hongjoong deadpans as he watches you do an illegal chess move. normally he’d just laugh it off and gently correct you, but he can’t find it in himself to do that when his blood is still boiling from that mornings conversation.
“well if you can make up rules, then so can i,” you fold your arms in defiance and hongjoong finds himself seething. if he were calmer, he’d drag you over his lap and teach you a lesson about being a brat, but just like you had your rules, they had theirs. no punishments out of anger was a pretty important one; they didn’t want to end up hurting you whilst getting their frustrations out. “and i say i want to put my castle there…”
it usually ends up with seonghwa having to step into the metaphorical firing line, because hell below, he and yeosang are sick and tired of it! the constant back and forth has driven the two of them to insanity and if he has to put a stop to it himself then he absolutely will. seonghwa isn’t a believer in anger, and so he will make them sit down and air out their grievances in a calm and collected manner. he’ll even implement a talking stick of absolutely necessary. as long as the two of them aren’t at odds by the time they slip themselves beneath the comforter or their bed, seonghwa will be happy.
for that very reason, darling and seonghwa almost never argue. if she doesn’t agree with seonghwa on anything, he will just nod and offer to talk it through with her when he’s less busy. sometimes she agrees and step down, but sometimes it’s clear that she’s looking for a fight and she tries to push it further. it’s infuriating because no matter how hard she tries, seonghwa just keeps his cool and answers her as if it’s any other conversation. he knows she only does it when she’s in a bad mood, so his first port of call is usually tackling whatever it is that’s getting you down.
“but i just don’t understand how it’s fair,” you snarl, your pacing coming to a stop right in front of where he sits on the chez. he doesn’t even look at you as you growl out your words, and it drives you mad. you stomp your foot in frustration, the loud noise irritating the man just ever-so-slightly. he lets out a deep sigh.
“i said we’ll talk about it later, lamb,” he hums with disinterest as he flicks over the page of his book. you’re fuming above him, chest rising and falling heavily as you glare at him. he lets his gaze flick up to your face, an unimpressed look resting on his features. “what? are you looking for an argument or something? you know i won’t give you one so why don’t you come and sit with me until you’ve calmed down.”
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steddieas-shegoes · 3 days
Text
if you want to use me, i could be your puppet
for @subeddieweek day four with the prompt edging
rated e | 2,505 words | please check ao3 for tags
Day one:  ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr
⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕
Eddie didn’t think this through.
Running from Steve’s bedroom, naked, meant he would have to find a hiding place.
He did not want to have to deal with this right now.
He didn’t need Steve seeing the way Eddie’s feelings would no doubt show on his face, how he’d be quick to brush off Steve’s apology.
How quickly he’d agree to continuing what they’re doing so he had something rather than nothing at all.
The house was quiet, dark, a reminder of how lonely Steve probably was when he wasn’t busy with the kids or Robin or him. No wonder he was always so quick to jump in bed with Eddie; He wanted a warm body to keep him company.
“Eddie! Wait!” Steve’s voice came from the top of the stairs, but Eddie didn’t turn.
Maybe if he locked himself in the downstairs bathroom, Steve would give up and he could sneak out to his van wrapped in a towel or something. He’d done worse.
Unfortunately, Steve was much faster than him, probably due to the whole jock thing. Eddie had no chance.
Steve’s hand burned where it touched Eddie’s arm, trying to make him turn around and face him.
“Please, Eds. Please look at me. Let me-”
“I don’t want you to explain, Steve.” Eddie turned to him, suddenly angry. How dare he ruin what they were doing? How dare he take something that was so precious and send it careening off the road so quickly? “I want to pretend it never happened. I want to go back to letting you touch me and kiss me and hurt me just right. I want to know you don’t mean it.”
“Why?” Steve sounded angry. “Why would you want that? Is it that bad? What is it about me loving someone that makes them wanna run in any other fucking direction than to me?”
And Eddie wasn’t really prepared for that.
He didn’t really know exactly what happened with Nancy or any of the other girls Steve had been with in high school. He didn’t really know much about any of his casual hookups. He just knew that Steve gave so much to anyone he cared about, and many people took more than was fair of him to give.
“Why can’t I love you, Eddie?”
Eddie looked at Steve, really looked at him.
His eyes were watery, red-rimmed as if he was doing everything he could to resist letting the tears fall. Eddie could see his flush cheeks, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to hold back a sob. His hands shook.
Eddie recognized this for what it actually was. Sure it was emotion, and maybe Steve felt it was genuine emotional turmoil.
But it was also the start of a panic attack, one that would quickly escalate to something Eddie wasn’t sure he could help Steve through.
“Steve, hey-”
“Don’t fuckin’ pacify me, man.” Steve’s breathing picked up and Eddie had to shut this down. “I can be upset.”
“Yes, you absolutely can. I’m not gonna tell you how to feel, but you definitely need to breathe, nice and slow.” Eddie put his hand on Steve’s bare chest, forgetting for a moment that they were both still naked, both still sweaty and sticky from everything they did in Steve’s bed.
“I am breathing.”
“You’re panting. You need to sit down.”
“I’m not sitting down-”
“Red.”
Steve froze.
Eddie immediately regretted saying it, hated that he was using this in a situation outside of their agreement.
He just needed Steve to stop and take care of himself for a second.
“That’s not fair,” Steve’s voice was shaky, unsure. He’d never heard it like that, not even when they first started this, not when they discussed the difficult things.
“It may not be fair, but neither is what you said.” Eddie looked behind him at the couch, the same couch Steve had held his hand while they talked about what they’d be into trying together. “Can we sit?”
“I dunno, are you gonna run again?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, which would be a hilarious image any other time, but was currently just really sad.
“No. I’m not gonna leave.”
“Yet.”
“Yet,” Eddie agreed.
They both sat down on the couch, shifting until there was enough distance not to touch, facing each other.
Steve threw the blanket over their laps to at least make an attempt at being serious.
“I’m sorry I said it like that.” Steve sighed as he put his head back against the couch. At least he seemed to be holding himself together better now. Maybe Eddie could have a turn at a breakdown. “I shouldn’t have said it when we were still…”
“You shouldn’t have said it at all, Steve.” Eddie watched as Steve ground his teeth together. “I know you may think that’s what you’re feeling, but you were on a sex high.”
“I can see why you’d think that,” Steve sounded like he was doing his best to stay calm. “That’s why I shouldn’t have said it then. But I did mean it. That hasn’t changed and it won’t change.”
“Steve, be serious.”
“I am! I need you to be serious! I love you. I’ve loved you for long enough to know that’s what it is.” Steve turned his head and gave him a sad smile. “I know it wasn’t supposed to happen, and I know you don’t feel the same, but I’m glad I said it, even if it wasn’t how I planned to.”
Eddie had to remind himself to breathe as Steve’s words sank into his brain, consumed his chest and stomach, made the nerves in his body spark with a combination of hope and fear.
“How long?” Eddie squeaked out.
“You remember that night when we talked about our limits?” Steve grinned.
“That was…so long ago. What the hell?” Eddie slapped Steve’s knee, but didn’t pull it away fast enough. Steve’s hand grabbed his. “We’ve been around each other almost every day since then.”
“And I thought about it every day,” Steve admitted. “I was gonna ask you on a date first and make it a big romantic thing. I had a plan.”
“Steve, I-” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to say these things to me to keep me around. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s lining up at my door. I wouldn’t trust anyone the way I trust you with all this. I kinda figured you’d be the one to call it off soon.”
Steve moved the blanket for a moment, tugged Eddie into his lap, and tilted his head to the side.
“I’m not going anywhere, Eds. You’ve got me and I’ve got you.”
How did he do that? How did he sound so sincere, so charming, after such an emotional admission?
“You’ve got me?”
“I’ve got you,” Steve surged forward, lips crashing against Eddie’s as his hands left bruises on his hips.
Eddie would be an idiot to let him go.
He would have to trust that Steve meant it, and he’d have to trust that his heart would be safe in Steve’s hands.
He already trusted him with everything else.
The blanket that had barely been around his waist slipped, half pooling on the couch next to them and half falling to the floor.
Steve pulled away, breathless.
“Will you?” He asked.
Eddie had no idea what he was actually asking. “Will I…?”
“Go on a date with me.”
“Yeah, Stevie. I’ll go on a date with you. You’re buying, though,” Eddie winked.
“Of course,” Steve nodded, leaning up to peck him on the lips. “I was thinking about a road trip. Heard there’s a new record shop opening in Bloomington if you wanted to check it out.”
“Fuck, you really do love me, don’t you? You know I could spend hours in there, right?” Eddie’s heart couldn’t handle the soft look in Steve’s eyes.
“Yeah, I’ll bring a cooler with drinks and snacks. It’ll be fun,” Steve shrugged.
Eddie inched back the tiniest bit and was suddenly reminded that they were very naked. And Steve was getting hard again.
“You know…this house is kinda quiet. Maybe we could…”
“Oh, you wanna be loud?” Steve raised his brow. “Hm. I guess I should give you a reason to be.”
The tone was different, not quite his usual teasing demand, but something that left Eddie wanting.
“Please. God, Steve, I need it, need you,” Eddie had no idea where this begging came from, or why he suddenly felt like he would die without Steve’s hands on him.
“I know what you need, baby,” Steve kissed his jaw, soft for what Eddie knew was coming. “But I need you to tell me your color first.”
“Green, so green.”
“Hey.” There was the demanding tone. “Look at me.”
Eddie had no choice but to look.
“I need you to think about it. Don’t think about how desperate you are. Are you okay with everything we talked about? Are you okay with me loving you?”
Eddie thought about it. Was he actually okay with their short conversation, the feelings Steve admitted to, what that would mean going forward for them? Or was he desperate in more ways than one?
No, no he definitely was okay with this. He’d been so worried that his feelings would never be returned, that he’d be in an endless loop of unrequited love, that he’d do what Steve did and let it slip while he was in space.
Having the guy he loved love him back was a best case scenario for him.
“Green.”
Steve’s lips were back on his, hungry, rough, almost more than Eddie was prepared for, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He sunk into the feeling, let himself drift into Steve physically so he could carry him away mentally.
“Wanna get my fingers in you. Think you can handle just spit?” Steve said as he nipped at Eddie’s neck, leaving red, leaving teeth marks. Eddie wished they could be permanent. Maybe he’d get them tattooed.
“Mhm, please,” Eddie nodded, ignoring the tiny part of his brain that was telling him to be responsible and get the lube. He’d be sore if they didn’t.
The louder part of his brain didn’t care about that, wanted to be sore. He could feel good now and deal with the limp tomorrow.
Steve’s fingers ghosted over Eddie’s lips, pressing down until his mouth opened. He sucked them in, three of them, moaning around them as he made sure they were slick enough to get inside with little resistance.
They were both impatient.
Steve pulled his fingers from Eddie’s mouth only a few seconds later, gently patting his cheek with his other hand when he whined at the loss.
“You’ll have me inside you again, baby.”
Steve didn’t waste another second.
His wet fingers rubbed against Eddie’s entrance, fingertips teasing along his rim and just barely pushing inside one at a time.
It was too much, not nearly enough, and almost exactly what Eddie needed all at once.
He was so close already, teetering on the edge of coming without a hand on him or fingers actually inside him, and it would probably be embarrassing if Eddie could think about a single thing that wasn’t the way heat was pooling in his stomach and chest.
“Close,” Eddie whimpered, bucking up against nothing as if that was even necessary.
Steve’s hands were gone. Just like that. No warning at all.
Eddie whimpered again, reaching his hands out to touch, to beg, to do whatever would get Steve’s hands back on him and finish the job he started.
“No, baby,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Not yet.”
And so it went.
Steve got a finger inside him, barely thrusting it in and out before removing it completely when Eddie would start rocking back into the touch.
Then there were two fingers, and Eddie could just barely feel the pressure against his prostate, begging for more or less or something that would be different from the current hanging by a thread he was doing.
He could feel himself drifting, knew he was mentally checking out from what was happening, but he could still hear Steve’s rough voice soothing him, guiding him.
Three fingers pressed inside him, slower than before, stretching him in a way he never could himself.
He felt full, used.
“Color, sweet boy,” Steve said from somewhere in front of him. Eddie was having trouble centering himself, couldn’t quite figure out where he was physically even though he knew he was with Steve.
The fingers inside him stilled, not working him open further or pushing and pulling until Eddie was naturally rocking back and forth.
Steve needed an answer. Eddie had to give him one.
“Green.”
“Good boy,” Steve praised.
Eddie pretended that didn’t make his heart flip-flop in his chest, but something must have given him away anyway. Steve was grinning at him knowingly, though he didn’t say anything.
“You’re gonna come when I tell you, right? Not a second earlier than that.”
At this point, Eddie was pretty sure Steve was in complete control of his body. He was simply the puppet on Steve’s strings.
“Answer me, Eddie.” Steve pushed against his prostate, making his body shiver and cock twitch.
“Only when you say,” Eddie gasped out, lifting his hips to pull away from the overstimulation, but immediately falling back down when he missed it. “Wanna be good for you.”
Steve groaned, and his fingers pushed in and out of Eddie faster.
He wanted to be good, but he was only human.
“St-” Eddie moaned. “-eve. Can’t-”
“‘S okay, baby. You can come now.”
And Eddie did.
Just like that.
The relief of finally being able to unclench his thighs, to actually feel the last string tethering him to earth snap as his release painted Steve’s stomach.
His fingers slowed, but didn’t leave him, keeping him stretched as he clenched around them during the waves of pleasure still wringing through him. He felt like he’d never stop feeling this deep pulsing, had to try to open his eyes to see if he was still coming somehow.
Steve was murmuring something against his hair.
When had he even fallen against Steve’s chest, face buried in his neck?
How long had he been just whimpering against him like a dog in heat?
“...So good for me, sweet boy. So proud of you for waiting for permission.”
Oh.
Praise like that wasn’t exactly a new part of their aftercare, but it was rare that Steve said it more than once or twice, usually just holding him in his arms in silence while Eddie came back down from the clouds.
He’d think about that later.
For now, he let his body relax, the noises stop, and his breathing slow.
He could sleep in Steve’s arms, feel the love pouring from his words and fingertips, and plant his feet on the ground in the morning.
Day five: ao3 | tumblr
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Clones as expectant fathers
I am an actual nero-cancer researcher. I have a job and a degree. And my ADHD brain saw sad military men and went “I want that one”
Clones: Rex, Wolffe, Fox, Cody and Fives
CW: pregnancy, the clones all have a ‘secret’ SO, They are expecting a baby, A little angsty with Fox, there's slight mentions of smut with Fives (if you squint), swearing, this is just supposed to be a good time, its not reader insert
Minors do not interact!
Rex
Terrified. Also overjoyed. But mostly terrified. 
He’s a soldier. Captain of the 501st, the most….adventurous of the GAR. His chances of dying on the battlefield and leaving his SO behind are higher than the average clone
And now he may leave behind his child? His kid may grow up without a father
He gets nervous. Anxious and antsy, and it's very VERY easy for Anakin to figure out Rex isn’t entire OK
Rex doesn’t even need to tell Anakin.
Skywalker takes one look at him and just KNOWS.
“Congrats, Rex.” “...on what, sir?” “If it's a boy, name him after me.” “WHAT!?”
Ahsoka needs to be told and she’s more excited than Rex when she finds out. 
“Come on Rex! Name them after me! The republic needs an Ahsoka jr!” “And if the baby is a boy?” “Don’t name them after skyguy, please!”
Most of the 501st don't know. Too many people knowing raises the chance of less accepting individuals knowing. And if that happens, Rex, his SO and his baby may be in danger.
It’s forbidden for the clones to have SO’s, not to mention babies. It could end with Rex being decommissioned or reconditioned if it was found out he had both
Rex will visit and help as much as he can every chance he gets. He feels terrible for leaving his SO for long stretches of time during the pregnancy. 
He WANTS to be there…he just can’t. Not while the war was going on
Despite his terror, Rex is…overjoyed
He didn’t think children were possible for him. He knew it could happen, but he didn’t think HE would ever know this happiness
The first time he feels his baby move in his SO, he’d get this sweetest smile on his face. He’ll kiss the baby bump and just murmur words of love in mando’a
He falls head-over-heels in love all over again
As the due date approaches, Anakin asks an important question
“Captain, I need to know when your baby might be born.” “...why, sir?” “Because I need to know when to take extended leave.”
Anakin tells Padme, and she is beyond sweet. Even visits Rex’s SO and the two have a wonderful friendship
All in all, Rex is both excited and anxious. But having so much support from Anakin, Ahsoka and Padme (and his other brothers who find out much later) helps him a lot
Wolffe
More relaxed. And by relaxed I mean he hides his anxiety better. And it doesn’t exactly hit him as hard
Partly because Plo Koon and the entire Wolfpack knows about his relationship already. 
So you bet your ass the pack celebrates when Wolffe tells them he's going to be a father
Plo Koon especially is excited
“How wonderful, new life being born during times of war” “I’m not naming my child after you, general Plo.” “Nonsense! The child will be a girl.”
During battle, Wolffe finds himself being protected by his brothers and General a tad more
At first he writes it off as a coincidence, but then Boost lets slip during a battle “You gotta get back to your little one!”
He gives his men a bit of a lecture. He’s not incapable of fighting or defending himself. He thinks the message gets across but Plo chimes in with, “Ah yes, the stern words of a father already!”
Wolffe would probably see his SO more frequently than Rex. Just because Plo would more than likely spend more time on Coruscant.
He’s definitely protective. As in, waking up in the middle of the night to check all the windows, protective. Keeping an arm around his SO, protective. Every symptom or sign of discomfort he calls a medical droid, protective.
He’s not stupid, he is well aware that by having an SO and a child on the way he's in violation of several rules. All of which, when broken, would have him decommissioned
But dammit, he's not letting that happen. Wolffe will be there for his SO and his baby, no matter what
Since he’s able to spend more time with his SO, he’s there to feel the first movements of his baby.
It sort of causes him to short-circuit for a second. It hits him that yes, this is a life that he and his SO both created. Out of love.
Wolffe makes a swear that he’s going to protect his baby at all costs
Grandpa Plo does as well, but the Wolfpack doesn’t know that
Fox (kinda angst)
First of all congratulations to the SO for actually managing to be Fox’s SO
They got to be something special for the head of Palpatine’s personal guard to break rules and regulations and find himself an SO
Speaking of Palpatine, congratulations to Fox! Your SO is now in even more danger!
No, seriously. Palpatine knows before Fox. No one knows how, but he knows.
And he absolutely will use Fox’s SO as leverage to keep him under control
And Fox knows this, so he behaves. More so than usual.
He’s not blind. Hes fiercely loyal to the republic, but one step out of line and the (very few) things he cares about will be killed
Which…is why Fox may come across as cold or uninterested when his SO informs him of their pregnancy
A part of him is terrified, he just won’t show it
He’s not going to be more affectionate or anything. He actually acts pretty normal. Which is standoffish.
Despite his…demeanor, he actually manages to be present for the entirety of the pregnancy. It helps being a Coruscant guard, which means he’s more present than all the other clones.
He’s not moving mountains or anything, but he’ll get snacks in the middle of the night in case of cravings
No one else knows about Fox and his SO. not even his own men. He refuses to tell anyone. 
Its for his SO’s protection
But Palpatine, the sick fuck, slips some words to get Fox’s nerves into overdrive
“This war is taking such a toll. So many dead children…so many grief stricken parents” “Sir?” “Oh nothing. Just stating the fact that the loss of an innocent life, such as…a baby, is always a tragedy. Wouldn’t you agree, commander?”
He found himself walking home a bit faster that day and hugs his SO a little tighter that night
Fox cares, in his own way. He’s just beyond stressed and anxious. But you wouldn’t know. He hides it behind a mask. 
It's actually Padme that finds out. And she feels somewhat bad for Fox. She thinks his anxiety comes from the fact that clones aren't allowed SO’s or children
Which, it is, but theres the added threat of fucking Palpatine.
She ends up getting him to tell her the truth and she swears to secrecy. Even offers to hire his SO as some sort of assistant, if only so Fox can be closer to his SO
Hear me out, he actually breaks down when he feels the baby move. He can’t fully handle it anymore and shuts down. 
This is a baby. His baby. They're alive and already so loved.
Something in him clicks and he accepts Padme’s help. 
His terror gets easier, ever so slightly. But he keeps his collected and calm front.
Cody
“General Kenobi-” “Ah! Commander Cody! Congratulations!”
goddamnit.exe
Cody is a tad more relaxed than Rex, but more tense than Wolffe
He knows Kenobi isn’t going to punish him or force him back to Kamino for decommissioning, he’s still a little on guard.
But, since Kenobi knows, Anakin does. So does Ahsoka. Which means Rex knows.
goddamnit2.exe
More people in the 501st know than in the 212th which gives him the biggest headache
Waxer knows though. Cody had to tell someone that wasn’t a sarcastic general
He does a good job hiding his worry though
Cody is able to spend about the same amount of time as Rex with his SO
He doesn’t feel as bad as Rex when it comes to the lack of presence he has during the pregnancy
It's war. It sucks and he’d prefer to be there for his SO, but he’d also prefer SO and child have freedom from the separatists
I will say, he is pretty attentive when he isn’t off in space.
Foot rubs, shoulders massages, helping with cravings
One thing Cody does is that he’ll wrap his arms under his SO’s baby bump and lift it slightly, giving his SO’s back some relief
He really loves to do this because his SO just melts
Hear me out, Cody gets giggly when he feels the baby move/kick the first time
His palm is on the bump and he feels that first little flutter against his hand
404 Commander Cody has his amygdala broken from joy. Reboot?
He’ll actually tell Kenobi about it because he’s so happy.
“That's wonderful Cody, but I still question one thing.” “What is it, sir?” “How you managed to get laid to begin with.”
Goddamnit3.exe
Fives
“Hey everyone! I’m gonna be a dad!”
Ecstatic is not a strong enough word
Also not subtle at all
There is a solid 3 hours until everyone in the 501st knows
He’s told Echo before the first hour. Rex knew within 2 hours.
Fives is BEYOND over the moon
He gets this small smile on his face that just doesn’t go away
Whenever he’s not with his SO, he definitely calls them every day. He wants updates on the little one
Also, seeing his SO with a baby bump? Unlocks something inside his brain.
Fives is incredibly horny when he’s with his SO. He’ll be rubbing their middle and getting a puppy dog look in his eye.
Only if his SO is in the mood of course! He’d never try and be forceful
He’s probably the clone that takes the distance the hardest. He debates taking a ship and making a run for Coruscant on more than one occasion.
In the end he settles to ask Anakin for extended leave.
Anakin is also extremely happy for Fives. Like with Rex, he makes a “name the baby after me” joke
Fives brings that up to his SO and nearly gets smacked. He also makes a “Fives jr.” joke and actually does get smacked.
When Fives feels the baby kick, he gets high on happiness. Actual mumbling incoherent words of love and affection in Mando’a
Lots and lots of “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”
He also gets very VERY affectionate with his SO
Kisses his SO’s face a lot. Even as a greeting, he’ll just start peppering their cheeks with pecks
Also probably the only one ballsy enough to ASK his general for extended leave
“Excuse me, general Skywalker? I’ll need to take leave at this date.” “Oh, yea sure. You know what? That seems like a good time for all the men to take a break. Thanks, Fives.”
He’s also probably the only one ballsy enough to actually take his new born baby onto a fucking battleship to introduce everyone.
“This is your uncle Rex. This is your uncle Echo and your uncle Tup. That's your auntie Ahsoka!” “Fives what the FUCK are you doing?!” “Introducing the family, captain.”
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