#curtain rolling spring breeze

[lovenikkiclothes]

Based around the skirt ‘Gorgeous Red’.

#love nikki #tender kindness thought #mountains dyed red #lost track #gorgeous red #curtain rolling spring breeze #wild rose #praise of time time #beautiful as brocade #blooming neon #delicate silhouette #nirvana of phoenix #bird pilgrimage #heart of violent peony

[lvoryingrid]

Spring

Hawks x fem!Reader

Synopsis: As spring awakens, Keigo feels a primal call within. With his loving girlfriend, (Y/n), by his side, they journey into the wilderness, where nature's forces and Hawks' untamed instincts collide.

Warning: 🔞 minors do not read/interact: contains 18+ content, smut/erotica, breeding kink

The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming flowers as spring enveloped the world in a blanket of warmth. The first light of spring peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. The melodious symphony of birdsongs filled the air, creating a harmonious backdrop to the awakening day. Amid this serene morning, Keigo, found himself roused from his slumber with an unusual unease settling within him. His crimson wings twitched restlessly as primal instincts surged through him, awakening a side of him that he couldn't quite comprehend.

Beside him, (Y/n) lay peacefully asleep, bathed in the morning sunlight that enhanced her already beautiful face. Keigo couldn't help but admire her serenity, the contrast to the turmoil that raged within him. He gently brushed a strand of (h/c) hair from her face, his touch tender yet tinged with a strange urgency.

Keigo couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The air seemed charged with an energy he couldn't quite place, and all his senses were on edge. As he glanced down at his crimson wings, now twitching almost violently against his will, he knew that whatever was happening, was beyond his control.

A sudden heat spread through his body, starting at his chest and radiating outward. His heart raced, and his breath came quick and shallow. It was as if some primal instinct had taken over, driving him to act on impulses he didn't understand. He looked down at (Y/n) again, her soft skin now flushed with color, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with his own.

Soft breaths left her parted lips and her face was colored by the warm rays of the sun. The way the covers loomed over her body had him gulp at the sight. She looked so vulnerable, ready to be devoured by him and him only.

Keigo felt a powerful urge to claim her, to mate with her. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. With a growl that seemed to come from deep within him, he rolled over, pinning her beneath his figure. His wings spread wide, blocking out most of the light, casting the room into a warm, shadowy haze. He leaned in, warm lips leaving a trail of kisses on her exposed neck.

"Keigo…" she whispered, her eyes slowly opening, noticing the sharp look in his golden eyes. Keigo froze, every muscle in his body tensing. The sound of her voice, so soft and sweet, filled his ears, making his heart race. His eyes, already fixed on her face, widened in surprise. She was awake.

He didn't answer, couldn't answer. All he could do was feel. He lowered his head, pressing again his lips against her neck, inhaling her scent. It was intoxicating, driving him further out of control.

The sunlight streaming through the window cast a warm, golden glow over her features, making her look even more radiant than usual. Her (h/c) hair was a tangled mess around her, her cheeks flushed with sleep. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head before resting her palms against his feathers.

The contact sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. Her touch felt so good, so right. His instincts screamed at him, begged him to breed her, to claim her as his own. He could feel his body growing hotter by the second, his desire for her becoming almost unbearable.

With a smile, she slowly traced her fingertips from his tense feathers to his shoulder blades as she asked "Isn't it a bit early for this?" Carefully, he nuzzled her neck, inhaling her sweet scent, his heart pounding against his ribs. "Early?" he managed to croak, his voice hoarse with desire. "Is it too early?"

She giggled, her breath tickling his feathers. "Well, it's not like we have anywhere to be today," she teased, arching her back slightly as he continued to nuzzle her. "And I must admit, I like the idea of starting the day with some…morning cuddles." Her hand trailed down his back.

As he roughly yanked the thin fabric from her body, her breath caught in her throat, her nipples hardening into tight buds. The air around them seemed to crackle with desire, and Keigo could feel his control slipping further away with every passing moment. He lowered his head, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure, rolling it between his tongue and teeth.

Heat radiated from his body, and she felt his erection pressing against her hip. Her own desire, buried deep beneath her exhaustion, flared to life at his touch. She arched her back further, pressing her breasts against his mouth as he growled in pleasure.

Keigo leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across her face. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, tracing his fingers along her collarbone. "I need you." He kissed her softly, his lips warm and demanding. She moaned into the kiss, her hips moving restlessly against his.

His wings spread wider, casting the room into deeper shadow, as if nature itself was conspiring to hide their forbidden act. He pressed closer still, his erection aching with need, and guided himself between her legs. Dark crimson panties covering her.

Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him on, and he could feel her hips begin to move against him in time with his touch. His other hand moved lower, caressing her stomach, teasing the thin fabric of her panties before finally sliding underneath to stroke her folds. She was wet and ready for him, and he groaned into her ear as he felt her body tremble beneath his touch.

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and pulled her legs over his hips so that she straddled him. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she looked down at him, her eyes clouded with desire. He could feel the heat emanating from his body, and it seemed to intensify the sensations coursing through him. His crimson wings spread wide, casting the room into a warm, shadowy haze, and he could feel the power surging through him, urging him on.

Keigo reached up, cupping her face with one hand, the other lay on her hip, he gazed into her (e/c) eyes as he thrust upward, burying himself deep inside her. She cried out, her back arching as she met his movements with her own, as both hands griped her hips bringing her closer, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that was both primal and intimate. Their skin slid against each other, slick with sweat and desire, and the air around them seemed to crackle with the force of their passion.

She was perfectly aligned, her wet heat encircling his cock, her breasts pressed against his chest. He arched his back, thrusting harder into her, his wings spreading wider to envelop them both in a cocoon of feathers and heat.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving trails of pleasure and pain as she urged him on, meeting his thrusts with her own. Their hips moved in perfect rhythm, their bodies slapping together in a primal dance of lust and need. The sounds of their pleasure filled the room, echoing off the walls and mixing with the sweet song of the morning birds.

As their lovemaking intensified, Keigo could feel his body giving in to the primal urges that had taken hold of him. He lost track of time, consumed by the pleasure that (Y/n) was giving him. Her soft gasps and moans filled the air, mingling with the sounds of their passionate entwining.

The pleasure was almost too much to bear, but he didn't want it to end. And with one final thrust, he came, spilling his seed deep inside of her. His breath hitched as he felt her body tremble beneath him, signaling her own release.

Finally, his movements grew slower, softer, and he pressed his lips to her neck, whispering her name in a hoarse, ragged voice. She could feel his seed slowly leaking from her body, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that she was with him and that they had shared this moment, this connection.

(Y/n) collapsed on top of him, their sweaty bodies still joined together. He could feel her heart racing against his chest, their breaths mingling in the air. It took several long moments for him to regain control of his senses, and when he did, he was filled with a strange mixture of guilt and desire.

"Are you…okay?" he managed to ask, his voice still ragged from their passion. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, and it was a comfort he didn't want to let go of just yet.

She giggled, her breath tickling his ear. "I'm…fine," she replied, sounding a bit breathless. "It's just…you were so…rough." Her fingers traced gentle circles on his back, soothing the marks her nails had left behind. "I didn't expect you to be so…possessive."

Keigo chuckled, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. "I couldn't help it," he confessed, nuzzling her neck. "You're just so…irresistible." He kissed her softly, tasting the sweetness of her skin on his lips.

He kissed her, savoring the taste of her lips and the feel of her body pressed against his. As they continued to cuddle, the sunlight streaming in through the window cast a warm glow across the room, making it feel as if spring truly had returned.

Masterlist

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks mha #keigo takami #mha keigo takami #mha keigo x reader #bnha keigo #bnha keigo takami #mha keigo #oneshot #mha hawks x fem!reader #mha smut #hawks smut #mha takami keigo #keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #keigo x y/n #keigo smut

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Six: The Date

summary: you and eddie go to a wedding together. and decisions are made. (7.4k words)

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

  Saturday Morning light seeped through billowing curtains. Golden rays casted shadows along the tan carpeting, illuminating the space in a heavenly glow. You could smell that morning Spring breeze — the freshness of it, the tease of a beautiful day to come. The warming March air teased along your skin, gooseflesh pimpling across heated skin. 

Heated by the man curled up behind you. His fingers remained curled around your midsection, rings discarded into a tray at his bedside. The touch seeped through the tee shirt you wore, your own fingers itching to reach out and trace the forearm keeping you held in place, while your head rested on Eddie’s other toned bicep, your pillow forgotten. 

Breath puffed along your ear. His face pressed into the curve of your shoulder, curls dangling along your skin. If you reached out, you’d be able to tangle your fingers in the feathery curls. Would watch them extend and retract with a bounce, falling messily into place as they always did. 

“Morning.” 

It was a muffled moan at your neck, his face turning into it as he hugged you tighter, limbs stretching out beneath him. Vaguely, you wondered if he’d even realized what he was doing — holding you tighter, wrapping himself further around you, locking you into an embrace. But you eased into it, a low hum spilling from you as your fingers reached down and trailed along the backs of his knuckles, his laughter making your heart soar when your fingertips tickled along his flesh. 

For a moment, you allowed yourself to block out everything else around you. Allowed the simple haven you created here in his room with him over the span of several days. A safe space for you to share and for him to listen, for him to express his heart and for you to open up yours. Smiled to yourself as he relaxed further against your back, and you sank into him, your head nuzzling further into his bicep. 

In the distance, his wall clock alerted you he’d have to head out to the shop in an hour, but in here time didn’t exist. At least not right now. Not as he shifted his arm from beneath his head and propped himself up on an elbow, palm pressed to his temple as he looked down over at you. 

As you rolled over, you were shadowed and sheltered in the safety of his gaze, those umber eyes locked on yours and he simply stared. Beheld you, like he thought you might run away. Part of you wanted to. And the other — the other part, beaten and battered by love, still held onto hope that there were good people in this world. 

Good people like the man beside you, with love in his heart, full to the brim, a best friend to you now. 

“Good morning,” you murmured back, gripping his chin in hand and wiggling it lightly, earning a soft smile out of the man. He groaned and flopped back down onto his pillow, forehead smashed into the fabric, hair splayed out every which way, the man dramatic as ever. Endearingly so. “We should probably get up. You have to leave in a few. I can make coffee. I owe you after that back rub.” 

He followed you begrudgingly. Like a boy much younger than his nearly thirty years, with his feet dragging behind you down the hall, fingers reached up to tie his hair back into a messy ponytail at the back of his head. Little pieces spilled out around his face, and you fought back the urge to reach up and push them behind his ears. To see if he’d lean into your embrace like he had so many months ago, and lay a kiss into the center of your palm, stealing your breath all over again. 

But instead you turned around to face the coffee pot, prepping the contents of the machine as Eddie rummaged about in the fridge and took out some things needed to throw together some breakfast for the two of you. With pancakes cooking on the stovetop, you shifted and pressed your hip into the countertop. 

He tipped his head your way, beaming as he reached out and tugged you closer, your front nearly bumping into his side. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Really riveting things,” you told him, mouth curling into a smirk. “As in, shopping with Chrissy for the wedding tomorrow, and grabbing lunch with Robin, her and Melody. Elena is our honorary fifth wheel.”

“Dress shopping,” he mused, flipping a pancake over, head dipped lower as he tossed some blueberries into another pancake. 

“Yeah,” you began, a teasing lilt imbuing your tone, “Got asked on a date or something. Figured I should try and look nice.” 

“You always look nice.” Your cheeks burned at his words. “Who is this guy? Should I be worried?”

“Mmm, he seems nice enough. Hope he doesn’t mind that I’m almost six months pregnant.” At his narrowed gaze, you laughed, shoving at him lightly. “What time do you think you’ll be back?”

“Around dinner time,” he said, sliding over the finished pancakes onto a plate. 

You rushed around him before he could say a word and brought them over to the kitchen table, placing them alongside the bottle of syrup and glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. With a click, he turned the stove off and tossed the pan into the sink to let it cool down, grabbing you both cups of coffee the way he knew you liked and brought yours over to you, your hands cupped gratefully around it with a soft smile tossed his way. 

“You’re wearing a green tie, right?” you asked, cutting a piece of your pancake and placing it in your mouth, humming around the blueberries that burst to life on your tongue. Eddie was practically glowing with it, dimpled cheeks and all, and your heart stuttered at the look in his eye. 

“Yeah, sage green is what Chrissy and Suzie called it,” he replied, sipping some of his coffee, rubbing at his stubbed jawline. 

“I’ll try and somewhat match you then,” you said. “I don’t want to step on the bride's toes.” 

“I’d like that…” 

He leaned back against his chair, and you leaned over the table closer to him, fingers hovering over the little bit of syrup he’d gotten on his cheek. Dark eyes watched your face as you brushed your thumb over the plushest part of it, wiping away the traces of his sugary treat. 

“I think I’m going to try and make dinner tonight,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm as Eddie relished in your touch, his dark eyes softening, that mouth of his twitching into a smirk at your words. “I think I’ve learned a thing or two these weeks, Munson. I think it’s about time the student becomes the teacher.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm. So don't worry about anything. You just have a good day at work, and I’ll take care of things around here.” 

Proud of yourself, you leaned back against your chair, satisfied and full from his delicious breakfast, a hand curled absentmindedly over your middle. Eddie rose, his chair squeaking in protest, a kiss pressed to the crown of your head in thanks as he collected your plates and tossed them into the sink. 

With a harrumph, you joined him, nearly shoving him out of the way with a teasingly hissed, “Shoo — go get ready!” and a jab aimed perfectly in the middle of his stomach, making the poor guy hunch over in a laugh, his bright and joyful face twisting the vice around your heart even tighter. 

  ——

  “So…any new events since we last spoke — no, sweetie, that’s not a toy.” Chrissy plucked the remote Melody had stolen from beside Steve’s thigh from where she crawled around on the couch, alternating between crawling in her father’s lap and smacking his face with an eager palm, seeking out his affection. 

“Chris, stop tormenting the girl,” Steve laughed, watching as the players on the screen glided around on the ice, one player managing to score a goal that had Steve breaking off into an excited shout. “She’s going to run out the door if you keep it up.” 

“We’re good,” you admitted, toying with the frayed edge of a pillow you dragged onto your lap, thighs curled beneath you on the couch. “I mean, we’re going to the wedding tomorrow as dates so…I don’t know.” 

You shrugged, and Chrissy looked like the cat who ate the canary. Nearly bounced up and down on the couch, rocking you with the flurry of her movements, her arms coming up to loop right around your shoulders just as Melody broke out into shrieking wails from where she rested in Steve’s lap. 

“Oh, baby!” Chrissy cooed, scrambling back over to her little one, kissing at her chubby cheeks and brushing away those water droplets falling from pretty hazel eyes. “I’m so sorry. Momma is just really excited.”  

Steve grunted as Chrissy and Melody swapped, his wife now draped over his lap, hands coming to curl around her despite it though. You thought it sweet, the way he tucked them both in close, brushing his lips over her temple as she settled her head over his sternum, rocking their baby in her lap. 

It was hard to not wonder. To not dream that this might be your own reality. That there could be a world where you loved and received love in return — the kind you’d long given up on. 

Steve glanced your way as you absently traced a palm over the hill of your belly, Elena a comfort despite the unease steadily growing in your chest. “I don’t like speaking for him when he’s not here, but he really cares about you. Both of you.”

“So much for stopping tormenting her,” Chrissy teased, though it was warm with affection, her hand stroking along his chest beside her head. 

“I’m not the one constantly trying to play matchmaker with our best friends,” Steve retorted, snickering when Chrissy pouted up at him adorably. 

Your heart raced over best friends. Truly, you didn’t know what you’d have done without the Harringtons. They’d been there when you had been alone. Had been there on nights when Robin was gone for the night and your grief got the better of you. And now — now they meant the world to you. 

To you and Eddie. 

In a few months, to Elena as well. 

“I’m giving her encouragement. So much has changed in a short amount of time, so I can only imagine what you’re feeling.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, then looked at Chrissy. “Both of you, really. I don’t know what I’d have done without the both of you and Robin. Elena is definitely not short on love by any means. But I really should get back to the house. I told Eddie I’d make him dinner — okay, now both of you are looking at me like you’re meddling. We’re just…we’re…”

“Feeling things out,” Steve suggested, and you nodded. 

“I’ll see you both at the wedding tomorrow,” you said, grabbing your things and walking over to hug Chrissy as best as possible from where she lay on her husband’s lap. Then leaned down and placed a loud kiss on Melody's cheek. “And you too!”

  ——

  The first thing Eddie noticed when he kicked off his shoes and walked into the home was the sound of music playing. Something slow and sweet, a soft, lilting thing. The second thing he noticed was the unmistakable smell of what he assumed to be dinner burning. Followed up only then by the sound of your fretting in the kitchen. Whimpered little cries that had him stepping further into the home hastily, whipping around the corner to find you at the kitchen table with your head in your hands and a burnt to a crisp looking lasagna on a potholder at the stovetop. 

“Sweetheart…” he called out, knowing you’d been a little easily startled as of late. And emotional. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see your dejected state, the way your shoulders were hunched over in defeat, tears dropping into the placemat beneath your head, sides shaking with your tears. “Hey, hey, what happened here?”

When you lifted your head, Eddie’s heart sank. The red tint to your eyes, the puffy lids, the downturn of your lips, tear tracks across your cheeks. With a whispered coo of your name, he tugged you up and off the chair and onto his knees, arms curled right around your form as you pressed your head into his shoulder, sniffling noisily. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But I did, and by the time I woke up, it had burned and now dinner is ruined,” you whined, his mouth shifting downward as you clung tighter to his shirt, clutching the fabric tight in your hand. “I wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve been so good all these weeks and I appreciate everything so much and I honestly don’t feel like I deserve it all the time and I —”

“Breathe, Buttercup. Hey, let me see that pretty face, okay?” You leaned back a bit and stared up at him, his palms coming up to rest on either side of your face. “It’s fine.”

“But it doesn’t feel fine.” 

The sleeves of your thin sweater wiped across your eyes, smudging the mascara on your bottom lashes just the slightest. He brushed at it with his thumb, and you let out a ragged breath, still choked up from your tears. 

“I ruined dinner,” you whimpered, a little broken sound that had him tutting and pulling you back into his neck, where you tucked your head away into, his chin resting on the crown of your head. 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he promised, feeling his chest ache in your shared sadness. He hated seeing you cry, knew a large factor of it was the countless emotions you felt on any given day as of late, but hated it all the same. “You went out of your way to make dinner for me. And so what if it didn’t turn out as planned? I’ll just order us a pizza, we’ll hang out and just relax. That would make my day.”

“Really?” 

“I’m serious. As long as I get to spend time with you, I’m happy,” he admitted softly, hand running soothingly up and down your back. Listened as your breathing evened out, your voice a little less watery now. “Here, stand up for a minute, okay?”

With little reluctance, you allowed him to help you up and off of his lap. As soon as you were up, he joined you in the middle of the kitchen, hand looped right around yours as he reached over to grab the wall phone and called in an order for pizza. Confusion arched your brows, eyes locked on him as he prattled off the usual pizza order and thanked them, hanging up with a loud slam against the receiver. 

“They said fifteen minutes,” he told you, waving you over with a hand. Your brows arched higher, so he continued, adding, “I wanna hold you. I hate when you’re sad. Kills me. Come here.”

He thought it was funny. Ironic, the way you’d both worn matching costumes that night. The partner to each respective costume. And funny now, standing here in his kitchen, with you in his arms, swaying back and forth to the music filtering in from the speaker. 

He’d touched every inch of you, had mapped every delicate curve and traced them with his lips, had pushed inside you and learned what his name sounded like when rounded with the peak of your pleasure. Even knowing all of that, this felt more intimate. Simply holding you and rocking you back and forth in his home, his arms around your shoulders, his daughter protected between the two of you. A slow dance, completely unhurried. Neither of you had anywhere to go, anyone to see. Simply basking in the closeness of one another, swaying as one song changed into another, and then another.

And when you looked up at him, your face inches from his, your mouth softly parted in a way that had him leaning in a bit, he relished in it. Succumbed to the allure of you, the way you pushed up a bit onto your toes, inching in closer. Just millimeters apart now, aching for the distance to be closed once and for all, only waiting for the other to take the leap.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, watching your eyes sparkle in the yellowy light up above. 

A hand drifted up to cup your cheek, and his heart skipped because you leaned into it, tipping your face up to his in a silent offering. The air fizzled with intention. His stomach tumbled in anticipation, falling to the floor as your fingers slid up along his sternum, over his shoulder, toyed with the hairs at the back of his neck, lost within the frizzy curls there. 

“Eddie…” 

His name was breathy on your lips. He thumbed along your bottom lip and parted it gently, your breath stuttering. Watched the way your eyes zeroed in on that point of contact. He wondered briefly if you could hear his heart slamming away behind his ribcage — the drumbeat of want pounding in his system, present for weeks now. 

So he drifted closer. Leaned closer. Felt the frantic whoosh of your breath on his bottom lip, felt the tremble in your form as you stepped in closer, as close as your bodies would allow, hand curling tighter around the back of his neck. Time seemed to pause, the gentle hum of the radio long forgotten, replaced by your shared breathing and the sound of his blood pumping in his veins. 

The two of you. Exactly how he’d dreamed of it time and time again, simply waiting for you to dare to take a leap — and then, the wretched doorbell. A loud chime that sounded throughout the home, dissolving the moment instantly. You stepped back, a hand over your chest, and Eddie swiped a hand down his face as he marched down the hall. 

Couldn’t help his disgruntled annoyance when the worker read the total for the pizza out loud, the way he swiftly grabbed the pizza in hand and made his way back to you, as though the moment would right itself one more, but as fast as it came it was gone. Replaced by the sight of you pulling out paper plates and plastic cups, your water already settled where you usually sat at the dinner table. 

You both ate in silence, neither choosing to broach the topic of what almost occurred in the kitchen. If anything, you proceeded like normal. Joked over pizzas, laughter filling the room, his sides aching when you told him a story about Chrissy and your adventures to the department stores to find a dress suitable for a wedding. 

Eventually, you both cleaned up together and headed to the bathroom, changed for bed, both brushing your teeth in the glowing lights of the bathroom mirror. Eddie sighed at the joyful upturn of your lips, found himself drifting closer to your side, if only to be close. Dropped a hand to run over your middle before spitting out his toothpaste and leaning down toward the bump when you said she was being a little extra mobile than usual — likely because she’d heard his voice, whispering ‘goodnight’ to Elena.

Your fingers trailed to the back of his head as he righted himself once more, dark eyes clashing with yours as you muttered, “We should probably get ready for bed. Long day tomorrow.”

“Uh…right.” 

Wayne’s home had been fixed. He’d left earlier in the day to head back over, and Eddie watched you pause in the middle of the two rooms, unsure of which way you wanted to go now that you didn’t need to share with him. He wouldn’t force you to stay in his room, but he wouldn’t lie that he hadn’t slept better the past few days knowing you were beside him. Part of him wanted to ask if you felt the same, though judging by the way you slept beside him, he had an idea of what your answer might be. 

“Can I…”

“Yes,” he breathed out, trying to fight the smile that crawled across his lips as you hurried on into his bedroom and made yourself comfortable on your side of the bed. 

With a sigh, you rolled over onto your side and Eddie slipped in beside you. Your back hit his chest, he flicked off the lamp, and wrapped right around your form. Tried not to think about the almost kiss that happened in his kitchen, the plush of your parted lips, the hitch in your breath. Tried to not imagine what would have happened were it not for the delivery man arriving when they had. 

And as you whispered goodnight, your hand running along the back of his, he closed his eyes and dreamed of a beautiful woman in a Princess Buttercup costume. Of margaritas and salty kisses. Of stumbling around in the supermarket, giddy on excitement, a shopping basket between the both of you. 

Dreamed of rocking you in the kitchen, holding you close — craving to be closer still. 

  ——

  Dustin and Suzie were wedded on a breezy Sunday in March, surrounded by their best friends. The two had been together as teenagers, separated by college for a while, before finding one another again just a little under two years ago now, when they decided they wanted to be together forever. 

Steve, recently ordained for the wedding, married them, while Eddie acted as best man for the evening. All in all, the ceremony was beautiful. Lush green covered every inch of the room, the floral arrangements accented with pops of pale pinks. 

You sat across from where Eddie stood at the front of the room, seated on Chrissy’s right, with Robin and Vickie to your left, trying to hide the giggly smile that kept creeping onto your lips when he looked your way. He’d been doing so all evening, trying so hard to make you crack — to get you to laugh. And it worked, your sides shaking, mouth hidden behind your hand. 

“You two are actually so cute I’m going to scream,” Chrissy whisper-hissed, leaning in close to your ear. 

“Good thing you can’t get pregnant twice,” Robin added, snickering to Vickie when your mouth gaped open. “What with the way he’s looking at you.”

“Shh, both of you,” you muttered back, but there was no heat behind it, only giddiness, “Pay attention.”

Dustin and Suzie decided to share their own vows, wherein they may have gone into reciting some lyrics of “The Neverending Story,” though you’d ask Eddie about the importance of that to them later. As they pushed their rings onto the other’s finger, you found your eyes watering, tears clouding over your vision, air choking off in your lungs. 

They were so young when they first fell in love. Had lost that love, and then found it again. To have something so lasting — so resilient…it seemed unheard of. And yet, hopeful all the same. 

It was then your eyes trailed away from the happy couple, their eyes locked on one another, fingers clasped between them, and shifted to Eddie. He looked your way, curls less endearingly frizzy than you’d ever seen them before, hands laced together in front of himself, a questioning look in his eye. Timid fingers raised just above your lap to wave at him, and as he noticed the gesture, you watched his own fingers unfurl. Watched him wiggle them close to his hips. Hidden from most, and yet everything to you. 

Heart soaring, the room melted into cheers as Steve announced the new Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, just as the couple kissed one last time at the altar and began walking down from where they came, the room clapping the whole time. 

Eddie was next in line to leave, his arm gripped tight by his partner for the evening, a beautiful curly headed brunette with eyes that reminded you of the ocean. One of Suzie’s family friends. 

But even as she practically tugged Eddie down the aisle, he called your name over the crowd. Caught your attention long enough to tell you, “I’ll find you during cocktail hour,” and disappeared from your sight. 

“Okay, Melody,” Chrissy exhaled airily, “time to go find Daddy so Mommy can get herself a glass of champagne, and a mocktail for your Auntie.”

Cocktail hour proved to be…frustrating to say the least. Chrissy, Robin, Vickie, and Steve remained at your side throughout, Melody hiked high onto Steve’s hip, as you clutched your virgin drink in hand, watching as Eddie’s curly headed friend gripped his forearm and dragged him over to the bar, intent on keeping him locked in conversation. 

“He wants you to go over and say hi, you know?” Steve laughed, trying to pry your fingers free from their vice grip around the glass he must have thought you were seconds from breaking into dozens of pieces. “He’s looking your way. The guy is begging for rescue. Go over there.”

“He’s got the horrified baby doe eyes,” Robin added, giving you a little playful shove. 

“Yeah, but I look like this —” You gesticulated around your form, around the emerald green dress that couldn’t really hide the fact you popped the past couple of weeks. “And…and…”

“You are beautiful,” Chrissy reassured you, both hands of hers curling around your shoulders, giving you a little wiggle. “Now go, my cute jealous green monster.” 

With a heavy sigh, you gripped your pocketbook tighter to your form and slipped through the crowd, bumping against bodies and apologizing every time you did, intent on finding the curly headed metalhead. As you approached, his eyes lit up, the woman beside him turning around a bit to take you in as his arm opened to allow you into his side, immediately tugging you in close. 

The woman’s brow arched a bit, and as if to make things even clearer — much to your happy amusement — Eddie cupped a hand over your middle, introducing you to the woman you found to be named Hilary. 

“Wow, congratulations you two. A baby,” she said, her plans for the evening quickly deflating at the realization dawning that she wouldn’t be going home with him tonight. “That’s — that’s really wonderful. I wish you both all the luck.”

And then she was gone to find another eligible bachelor, something you most definitely didn’t fault her for. The night you’d met Eddie, you’d been fresh off the end of a two year relationship that left you reluctant to get close to another person for a long time. 

The universe just had its own plans, placing Eddie Munson in your pathway. Eddie Munson, who turned you in his arms in a little circle and beamed down at you, eyes roaming over your form. Heat crawled up your spine at the gesture, settling low in your belly. 

“You look…” He breathed out, pushing up one of the green straps that had fallen down a bit higher on your shoulder. “You look really beautiful. Did you get a drink yet? Water? Need me to get you anything?”

“I could have water,” you said, allowing him to pull you further away from the crowd, settling near a corner of the room. “Hilary seemed nice.”

“Someone seems jealous,” he teased, hip bumping yours playfully. 

The heel of your shoe dug at the ground awkwardly. “Well, I don’t know…she was really pretty and you’re…well, you’re technically single, so if you wanted to…” 

“Would you want me to?” he asked, frown settling into place. 

“No,” you admitted, a little too quickly. But it was the truth. You hated to think what it would be like if Eddie brought someone home. Didn’t want to dig up what those feelings were all about. 

He lifted a hand to cup your cheek, voice a little sad when he asked, “You really don’t get it, do you?” 

The question bubbled on your lips. The need for him to clarify what he’d meant, but just as your mouth opened to voice it, people began making their way into the reception hall, once again interrupting a needed moment between you and Eddie. Resigned to the fact a wedding for a friend may not be the best of places to delve further into the intricacies of your changing friendship, you allowed Eddie to lead you into the hall, his fingers immediately plucking both of your name plates from where they were positioned on a large table. 

The two of you were fortunately seated with familiar faces. Steve and Chrissy, Robin and Vickie, Max and Lucas, Will and Mike, and El, Nancy and Jonathan were all placed around you. Nancy, who you’d spoken to briefly over the phone, had rushed over and hugged you as if she’d known you for years. 

Eddie remained by your side as usual. Grabbed your water when a staff member walked by. And you kept close to him, allowing yourself this night with this man. It wasn’t long before Dustin and Suzie shared their first dance, asking the couples around the room to join them in their sweet moment. 

Steve and Chrissy were off to dance together first, their daughter between them, and the sight alone had your chest aching, head looking over to Eddie. Eddie, who watched on with rounded eyes, his chest heaving with his breaths. You imagined he was thinking of Elena, of the moments he’d share with her in only a few months now. Reached over to grip his hand in yours, eyes burning as he laced your fingers with his. 

“Do your feet hurt or do you —”

“I don’t dance, but I’ll dance with you, Eddie.”

Together, you settled into a steady flow on the dance floor. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his looped around the smallest point of your waist, one ringed hand pressing into your skin there. Warming you through the fabric of your dress. And you swayed, a slow back and forth, your head tucked against his chest. Over his heart, where you could hear the steady thump within. In a crowded room, you felt at peace here — alone, wrapped up in a stolen moment, with Eddie. Found that you liked it. 

“I think…we slip out a little early…make ice cream sundaes and curl up on the couch,” Eddie said against the top of your head, tugging you closer when you giggled at the suggestion. “We can blame it on your feet.”

“Using me as an excuse, Munson?” you teased, his echoing laugh vibrating against your form. “I’d love that. These heels are killing me. What did you mean before? What did you start saying before we got interrupted?”

His fingers trailed a path along your spine. A slow, methodical path that had you sinking further into him. “Not the place for it right now. I’ll tell you later, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you said, knowing Eddie always stuck true to his word. “How does it feel seeing one of your kids married?”

“Well, Max and Lucas were first. Was weird, because they’re adults but I’ve known them since they were freshman in high school,” he said, nodding his head to the couple dancing not too far off from where you two were. “I think it’s just like — they’re all growing up and doing things. And for a long time I was just working, going through the motions, trying to make the music thing work.”

“And now the music thing is working,” you told him, knowing he would be leaving for tour when Elena was around six months old. 

“Yeah, the music thing did end up working out for me.” He spun you out in a circle, then brought you back in against his chest, smiling against your forehead at your breathy little giggle. “And now I’m going to be a dad, and I don’t want to fuck that up, so my full focus is on that. So it’s…hard to see Dustin getting married, because he’s still that kid that I met so many years ago, but we’re all moving on. It’s different now.”

“I understand that. It’s weird seeing everyone around you moving on,” you said, recalling memories of when Micah approached you a while back about moving in with Jeremiah. 

It had hurt at the time, especially after years of being roommates, but they were in a good place and were anticipating marriage further down the line. You should have assumed it was the natural progression of things. Happened to also be right around the time you’d moved in with Paul, realizing soon enough that would be a mistake. But hindsight was twenty-twenty, after all. 

“It’s funny how life turns out,” you said, lifting your head to look up at him. “I mean look at the two of us now.”

He huffed out a laugh, nodding. “But I think we’re doing a good job.”

“I think so too,” you told him, leaning your head back against his sternum. “We make a good team and I wouldn’t change any of it.”

Later, after hours of dancing between portions of dinner served and endless chatter with his best friends, Eddie stood beside Robin and Steve and watched as you, Vickie and the rest of the ladies present at the wedding gathered around to try their hand at catching Suzie’s bouquet. 

“I hope you know,” Robin laughed, bumping Eddie’s shoulder. “Your girl over there isn’t going down without a fight.”

“Her and Chrissy scare me,” Steve added, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. “Elbows will be thrown for that bouquet.”

And maybe it was all superstition. Maybe it didn’t really mean anything, but Eddie’s chest warmed as Suzie tossed the bouquet over her back. There, in a sea of bright color, you came out victorious, beautiful in a flash of emerald green. 

  ——

  The drive home was quiet. Eddie with his hand on your thigh, warming your chilled skin when you complained about it being a little cold. Your feet hurt, but in a way that you cherished, because you spent the night dancing with him. Spent it within the circle of his arms, bonded to him now in a way you couldn’t have imagined months ago. 

It was funny to think of your conversations that night. The shopping trip. The time shared together. You’d felt so close then, like two people who just happened to get one another, though it paled in comparison to how you felt now. Eddie, who’s head bobbed beside yours to the Metallica song playing through the radio, uncaring of how you perceived him — because he knew you already appreciated every part of him. Even his oddities and intricacies. Had long ago accepted Eddie Munson as Eddie Munson. 

And he did the same. Had seen every part of you — from the lowest of lows, to the highest of highs, and loved them all. The range of your emotions, the thoughts swirling in your mind, your hopes, desires, and interests. He never once judged, only tended to the parts of you that you once thought you had to hide from the light. 

Maybe that was how these things were intended to be? This burgeoning interest that had been bubbling for weeks now, lingering in the back of your mind, making you wonder if it would be so bad to take a leap. To wholly entrust Eddie with the part of you you’d kept locked away. 

The questioning died with your train of thought as the car pulled up in his driveway and he rushed around to open your door for you. With a flourish, he’d helped you down, your heels dangling in his fingertips as the two of you made your way inside, toeing off his own shoes at the door. 

Slipping on your slippers you left in the doorway, you meandered down the hall, making your way into the kitchen where you immediately climbed up onto the counter and grinned as Eddie pulled out chocolate syrup, some sprinkles, and the half eaten tub of ice cream you’d both been snacking on throughout the week.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Eddie warned, thumb rubbing over your kneecap, where your dress had ridden up just in the slightest. He looked so handsome, button up shirt a little messy now from all the dancing, his tie hanging limply around his neck, suit discarded. “I’d prefer if you use a chair if you’re going to do that.”

“Fine,” you grumbled as he handed you a spoon, pouring the chocolate syrup into the opened tub, along with the rainbow sprinkles. Your spoon clanged with his, ready to simply eat out of the carton until it was finished. “I am so glad we both took off of work tomorrow.”

Granted, it was because of the wedding, but your feet were screaming and the thought of waking up early to head to work after getting home so late had your head reeling. 

“Hey, remember when we went food shopping on Halloween?” you asked, brain freezing a bit from your sugary treat, making you wince. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He winced this time. 

“Always.” His words he was always saying to you, his form of ‘as you wish’ when you thought about it, and they brought a smile to his face. 

“I was so nervous that night, I really just needed to stall. So…food shopping it was.” His cheeks burned bright, your sides shaking with laughter as he swiped a hand down his face in embarrassment. “You’d be surprised to know, but I’m a bit of a nerd. People have never really been lined up to spend time with the town proclaimed ‘Freak.’”

“You’re perfect,” you told him, reaching over to tug on the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him into the space between your thighs. “In case you couldn’t tell, I was very much attracted to you that night. And every night, really. Don’t sell yourself short, Munson. Although, I thought it was really sweet. But you’ve…well, you’ve been that way since that night. And then when we saw each other again at the supermarket...letting me live here, accepting this baby, taking care of me all these weeks…you’ve done so much. Too much, probably.”

“You really don’t get it do you?” 

There it was again. That statement. “What do you mean?” 

“I wish I could…I don’t know, kick the shit out of Paul and anyone else who made you think that you’re, I don’t know, unlovable or something. Because I like you, Buttercup — I really, really like you.” 

“Oh.” 

And there it was. The truth. The answer to the questions that had been whirling around in your head for a bit now, validated in his rushed speech, in the way his eyes bore into yours with a need and laced with want that had head swimming low in your belly. 

“I care about you.” He glanced down at your belly. “And you. All the things you say that I’m doing that are ‘too much?’ Those are quite literally the bare minimum. Fuck everyone who ever gave less than that.” 

“Eddie…”

“But you said you wanted friendship. For Elena. So I’ve respected that,” he said, the redness in his cheeks dissipating, breath slowing from its heated rise and fall. Your fingers pressed along his sternum, felt the warmth of his skin there, the heavy thump of his heart against your skin. “But you deserve good things. It just…you break my heart when you say that shit. Like when you get all surprised if I make dinner or hold the door open for you or something. Because if you could only see from where I’m standing what I think of you — what anyone would think of you, if they’d gotten to know you like I have these past six weeks —”

“Eddie.” He lifted his head, dark eyes staring up into yours, your ice cream starting to melt, his palms on your thighs. “I like you too. But I’m scared. I’m really scared.”

His palms gripped your thighs tighter, rubbed up and down along flesh, warming your skin. “Do you trust me?”

There was no doubt about that. This man, who had taken you shopping before heading back to the hotel to make you both comfortable. This man, the one who had accepted his child as his own within moments of finding out they existed. This man, who had opened his home and heart to you these months. 

“Always,” you told him, swallowing the thick knot forming in the back of your throat. 

“I want to respect your boundaries. We can pretend this conversation never happened, or…we can figure out what this is. Whatever we want it to be.” He leaned in closer, the curls along his forehead brushing your own forehead. “I want whatever you want. So you can tell me right now to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“And if I don’t want you to stop?” 

Your nose ran along his, breathing staccato against his bottom lip, his mouth parted as dark eyes trailed along your face. 

His palm came up to cup one side of your face, angling you for him, mouth millimeters from yours. Inside, your stomach was swirling. Twisting and twining around as your heart kicked up behind your ribcage, loud enough you were surprised Eddie couldn’t hear. Your fingers moved to the front of his shirt, tugging him closer to you, your chest brushing along his, his other hand curled around your thigh gripping it tighter.  

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. 

And in a rushed breath. “Please.”

It was funny, you thought, comparing this kiss to the last ones you shared. Hurried, back in the hotel room — on a planned mission. You had moments, him leaving for a few days, and you with no intention of ever seeing him again. So it had been a frantic thing. Sliding lips, and bodies, clashing teeth, rapid flurry of hands to try and remove clothing. 

This time — this time Eddie moved slowly. Pressed the barest of brushes against your lips, just over the seam of your mouth. Thumbed at your cheek when you sighed into him, parting your lips with the smallest of teasing flicks at your bottom lip. And you opened, a hum rounding your mouth as you felt him there, tasting sweet like the bubbly champagne he’d consumed during the toast, the cake he’d had with dessert. 

“Eddie…” 

You sighed into him, tugged closer to the edge of the countertop, his hand sliding up your thigh and looping around your back to tether you to him. His lips met yours again and your eyes fluttered shut, the slowest of exhales spilling out between the two of you as you melted for him. Pretty in emerald green, and making those sounds he remembered for so long because they’d plagued him in his dreams for months now. 

At your moan, he shifted closer. Dragged his lips from your mouth and trailed them gently along the curve of your jaw. The delicate slope of your neck. Memorized every little whimper and cry from your lips all over again as his fingers brushed along the curve beneath your collarbone, followed them with the path of his lips. 

“More, Eddie,” you whimpered, feeling your pulse jump where his tongue laved over it, his nose ghosting along the shell of your ear. “Please.” 

“What do you want?” The voice was no more than a whisper against your skin. Fingers reached out to clutch at his shirt, trying to tether yourself to reality. “Need you to tell me what you want, Buttercup. Need your words.” 

The ball was in your court. He’d told you so for months now in his own way. Waited for you when he could have walked away like so many others had or would. On one side, remain in the comfortability of friendship. In the dark as to what this could be. On the other hand, take a leap. A risk, a dare. An attempt at shedding light on something buried deep between the two of you, hidden from light, given the chance to flourish and grow into something more. 

The answer, you found, was simple. 

“You, Eddie. I want you.”

  ——

thank you for all the love on this series. please please please let me know if you enjoyed. you don’t even know how much it means to your writers. can’t wait to chat with you all. 🩷🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader

[kyufessions]

sweetheart

synopsis: your annoying neighbor bothers you yet again

pairings: neighbor! eric x afab! reader

genre: smut, 18+

request: “open your mouth” + “why so shy?”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: spitting, oral (f. receiving), making out, playful teasing, pet name (sweet heart), lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i’m writing this half asleep so it’s not proofread whatsoever,, oopsies

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @haechansbbg

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

Only if everyone knew. Only if everyone knew that the boy next door you always swore annoyed you to your very core since you had first moved in over ten years ago, would meet you in your old tree house that stood between both of your houses at ungodly hours. With what started as another night wanting to get away from one of your family’s parties, turned into heated makeout sessions that led to what anyone would imagine.

Throughout the years, your father had been kind enough to re-do the treehouse. Seeing as you still adored it, he re-vamped it to make it seem more private and to your liking since you were now in your early 20’s. There was even a small makeshift door and small windows with curtains that you often kept closed- it was your favorite place to get away from madness when your room wasn’t cutting it. That was- until one spring night.

You had been in your treehouse reading a new novel you had bought at your local barnes and nobles, your lamp on and one of curtains slightly open to enjoy the slight breeze. Tonight your parents had some guests over from work, their conversations and jazzy background music being too loud for your liking. So you quietly made your way to your treehouse and enjoying your time alone until you heard some rocks being thrown at the door. Groaning, you ignored the disturbance. You knew exactly who it was and you did not want to deal with him tonight. One more rock, two, even three more were thrown. Thats when you stood up and fully opened up the half drawn curtain, looking down to see the annoying boy next door.

He stood there with his devilish grin, wearing a white tank and his baseball varsity jacket from the college he attended. He waved hello as soon as he saw you looking down at him, catching a glimpse of you from the limited lighting. “What do you want eric?” you shouted down, making sure your voice was only able to be heard between you both and not to disrupt what was happening inside your home.

He shrugged, his grin never fading. “I’m bored.” as you rolled your eyes and started to pull back down the curtain, he yelled back out to you. “Wait!”

You shushed him right away, his voice too loud for your liking. As you motion for him to come up the wooden ladder, he does as instructed and you watch as he climbs up halfway before you stop him with your words. “What do you want?” you ask again, annoyance stringing through your voice.

His lips form another shit eating grin. “I’m bored and saw the light on.”

“Find someone else to bother.” you start to close the door but see his hand stop it from closing.

Before you can begin to speak up again, eric decides to first. “Come on, i’ll stay in the corner and let you do your own thing. I won’t bother you. I just don’t want to be in my house right now and am grounded from using my car.”

“Is no an option?” you ask him with a puff. With a swift shake of his head, you open the door fully and allow him inside.

He looks around in amazement at the fairy lights and overall set up, noticing how you plop back on the mini couch you have set up in the corner. His eyes scan over a small drawer with a chipped paint job, old drawings and paintings hanging throughout that’s barely holding on with tape and some nails. There are some obvious new items hanging about and some older ones, and he quietly takes note of that as he walks around to inspect. As he does so, you occasionally glance at him to make sure hes not touching anything he isn’t supposed to. After a little more snooping, he takes a seat on the floor and starts aimlessly scrolling through his phone while you continue to read your novel.

Minutes pass in pure silence- nothing but the occasional hoot from a faraway owl and the distanced sound of jazz music from your home below. That was, until eric opened tiktok. His volume was louder than necessary, his laughter echoing in your ears. You try to continue your reading, trying to be the nice guy. But it felt as if each tiktok he watched just made him laugh harder than the last. You make a mental note of the page you stop on before closing your book and looking over at him, your face blank with irritation.

“If you’re going to be in here, can you at least quiet down? I’m trying to read my book.” your eyes finally meet and he just chuckles, getting up off the floor and walking over towards you.

“What’re you reading anyway?”

You clear your throat before speaking as he inches closer, trying to keep your book close to hide it from him. “None of your business, just please keep it down.”

Eric notices you trying to keep the book from him and as he steps closer he tries reaching for it but failing as you hold it closer to you. He scoffs, trying to reach for it again. “Why so shy about it, huh?” his tone is playful, his eyes beaming with curiosity as he tries to sneak a peek of the cover. You try moving your body to hide it from him but as you’re squirming, he snatches up the book and examines the cover. A small laugh leaves his lips as he notices the explicit cover, your face turning a slight shade of pink as he then reads the first page that started off juicy. When he looks down at you, your cheeks are now red and your eyes wide. “This is the shit you read?”

You stand up and grab the book back from his hands, or at least attempt to before he raises it above your head with a smirk. The height difference between you both wasn’t much, but the fact he was also wearing grey sweats right now didn’t really help the burning sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. To say eric was ugly would be the biggest lie- you actually found him quite attractive. He was just annoying and pestered you often, but he was quite handsome. As his hand was held above you, your book in his hand, you can notice his peaking bicep from under his varsity jacket.

Your silence and wandering eyes failed you as eric took note of this. “Checking me out, huh?”

As you're snapped out of your daze by his words, you jump up and grab the book from his hand successfully and try to move around him to leave but fail. Although your treehouse is spacious, it’s not the biggest either. So now you’re backed into a corner by the hot annoying neighbor who just found out you read smut. Cool. you just sit down on the small couch, puffing in annoyance in an attempt to hide how flustered you’ve become.

“No i’m not.”

His index and middle finger tap the right side of your cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your red cheeks say otherwise, sweetheart.”

Normally you'd swat away his hand, but as you looked in his eyes you felt the air catch in your throat. You felt as if time had stopped due to the close proximity you both were in. the little nickname that normally bothered you made your stomach churn with butterflies, your hands gripping your book tighter.

you tried to hide it once more, trying to keep your tone high and mighty. “don’t call me sweetheart.”

“then try to act like you don’t like it and maybe i will.” eric then squats so he’s now eye level with you, his fingers tracing from your cheek all the way down your neck and to your shoulder ever so gracefully as he does so. your eyes just watch him, unsure of what this feeling is that’s come over you. his head tilts, his face amused by this. “does mommy and daddy know you read smut all up here by yourself?”

eric had always seen you as this goody-two-shoes; mommy and daddy’s most prized possession who always got fantastic grades and went to one of the best colleges the states had to offer. throughout the past ten years, he had always seen you achieve the highest possible grades with honors just to seek your parents approval. never brought over a guy, your nose always buried in a book whether it be for your studies or for fun. he also noticed how your hair never failed to be done perfectly, different colored bows or hair accessories to match your dress or skirt. you always had to present the world with this perfect image of you, and he was just so curious to get to know you deeper than this facade you try to sell everyone you come across.

he watches you shake your head, no words being spoken as you seem choked up. your eyes sparkle under the dimly lit fairy lights as they glare at him, causing him to chuckle lowly yet again. “what if they found out?”

“don’t you fucking dare eric sohn-“

“ah ah,” he slips the book from your hands, placing it beside you. “why don’t we put page one to the test?”

your eyes widen, eyebrows raising. “e-excuse me?”

eric slips off his varsity jacket, tossing it on top of your book. “i skimmed the page over. doesn’t ellen get eaten out, or am i mistaken?” you’re left speechless, yet your face continues to redden all over. eric has thought about this for years but never thought this day would come, only in his wildest of dreams.

eric stands up a little bit to hover over you, lifting your chin and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. his hair is messy, probably from the baseball practice he had earlier in the day. your lips are inches from his, yet not a word can be spoken as you’re just in shock.

“all you have to do is tell me to stop and i will.” is all eric whispers before placing his lips on yours.

both of your lips move in sync with one another, his fitting perfectly on yours. his hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek, his entire palm cupping it and his fingers placing themselves on the nape of your neck. his touch sends shivers down your spine, his fingertips delicate and careful. his other hand moves to your left thigh, starting to spread it apart from your right one. but you don’t stop him, something within you tells you to allow him. as he bites down on your bottom lip, his hand on your thigh travels to the inner part and stops near your panties. his fingertips graze your folds, the lace material feeling good against his skin.

the sound of your whimper against his lips makes his blood rush, separating his lips from yours. for a few moments he just stares down at you, taking in the view of your wide innocent eyes and puffy pink lips. “fuck you’re so pretty, you know that?”

eric then gets on his knees in front of you, and you watch as he slips off your white silk pleated skirt and stare at your pussy in awe. “all wet for me already, sweetheart?” you bite your lower lip as you watch him, arching your back against the wall at the nickname.

his fingers push the fabric aside, the fingertips grading your folds ever so slightly to take in the beauty for a second. he grins up at you before slipping in one finger, earning a gasp from you. eric starts slow, pumping in and out of you teasingly. he just stares up at you the whole time, taking in the beauty of your reactions. he watches your hand involuntarily reach for his hair, tugging on it once he picks up the pace out of satisfaction. you let out quiet moans as he slips in a second finger, not wanting anyone to potentially hear anything happening up in the treehouse.

after a few moments of his second finger, he puts his mouth to your clit. with this sudden movement you throw your head back, starting to grind against his face. eric takes in every movement you make, enjoying how you use him for your advantage to release. his fingers continue pumping in and out of you at a consistent pace, his tongue occasionally moving in and out of your hole as his lips continue to satisfy you. as your breathing pattern picks up and your legs begin shaking, he knew it was only a few seconds before you climaxed.

once you did, you let out a loud moan and eric took in every juice you offered to him. he begins licking you up, cleaning you up the only way he’s currently able to. he then leans up, grabbing you by the cheek and staring down at your tired face.

“open your mouth, baby.” he murmurs. you do as instructed, allowing him to spit in your mouth. you watch him through half-lidded eyes, smirking as you take in the taste he offers you.

and that’s the night where it all started, your friends with benefits relationship with your annoying neighbor.

#kyufessions the boyz #the boyz #the boyz eric #eric sohn #tbz eric #tbz smut #the boyz smut #eric smut #eric sohn smut #🌙 completed requests

[fic-over-cannon]

Strawberry Pie

jason todd x gn!reader

summary: you spend a lazy morning finishing baking the pie that Jason started

tags: kissing, fluff, domestic jason todd

rated teen | wc: 1.1k

a/n: a loosely inspired song fic. can be read as a future scene from A Soft Touch or as a standalone. just wanted something light and fluffy and was possessed with the urge for pie so here it is.

It’s warm this morning, but there’s a cool cross-breeze coming in through the open window. It’s not late enough in the spring to start turning on the AC yet, the breeze currently lifting the sheer curtains enough to keep the apartment fresh. You reach over to the empty side of the bed, let your hand bunch up into a fist before pushing yourself upright and out of bed. Jason had told you, between parting kisses, that he’d be late coming home, the planned stakeout likely to go on until noon. You’d expected this, unworried by his absence but still secretly hoping he’d have returned safe to you.

You make yourself a cup of tea and drink it leaning against the countertop, the Formica countertop digging into the small of your back, the thin cotton of your tank top barely blunting the edge. Feeling hungry, you go looking for breakfast ingredients in the fridge. There’s a note from Jason, stuck to the top of the strawberries you’d bought at the farmer’s market yesterday. For pie, do not eat! signed off with a little heart and smiley face. A few shelves down is the pie dough, covered in plastic wrap and exactly where Jason had left it, in a hurry to follow up on the lead his lieutenant had called in.

It’s a lazy Saturday morning, time stretching out in front of you. You pull out the dough and berries, set them onto the counter. Go rummaging through Jason’s box of recipe cards, one of his last keepsakes from his mother and added to by Alfred, until you can find the one for strawberry pie. The recipe is easy enough, Jason having done all the hard work of making the dough.

You start by turning on the radio, an old analogue thing that Jason had been determined to fix by himself, and setting the oven to preheat. The strawberries go into a colander, washed and ready for slicing. You pop one into your mouth and it just about bursts on your tongue, bright and sweet like sunshine. They’re smaller than the kind you can buy at the grocery store, seeds more prominent and scent stronger. It’s a shame that these wild strawberries are only available a few months of the year but it makes them that much sweeter. Humming, you slice through the quart of berries, juice staining your fingertips. Put them in a bowl with cornstarch and sugar, a dash of lemon juice to finish.

Turning to the dough, you start rolling half out onto the floured countertop. It fits into the pie dish Jason had brought back from one of his missions almost perfectly, only a few hanging edges in need of trimming. Feeling adventurous, you decide to braid some of the lattice work for the top. It comes out a little lopsided, but it’s a good first attempt. Fingers pinching, the fluted edge of the pie takes shape. A light hand with the egg wash and a sprinkle of Demerara sugar later and it’s done. You step back to admire your work. It makes a pretty picture, the pie on the marbled countertop, white tulips in a vase from your one foray into pottery, mid-morning sun bright and white through the kitchen windows.

The pie goes into the oven, and you start cleaning up the evidence of your morning’s activities. The dishes go into the washer, the countertop wiped clean, leftover berries into your stomach. So engrossed in your tasks, you don’t hear the door open or the duffel bag hit the floor of the entryway. Arms circle around you, pick you up and spin you in a circle. Jason sets you down, buries his face in your neck.

“Something smells good,” he murmurs into your hair. And it does, the air filled with the scent of golden pastry and roasting strawberries.

“It should. I’ve been working away on that pie all morning.”

“Thought that was my job.” He tries to pout, but you swat at his hip with the dish towel. The timer on the oven goes off, interrupting the moment.

“Well that,” and you gesture at the oven, “can be your job now.”

He accepts his new job with minimal pouting, scooping up the bee-patterned oven mitts and taking out the pie. It’s perfect, golden with rich red juice bubbling through the lattice work. Steam rises off the top in a way that’s got both of your mouths watering. Jason reaches out to pinch off a piece of crust with his bare hand, but you swat his hands away before he can burn his fingers.

“Not yet! It’s got to cool first Jay.” Looking him over, you finally catch on that he’s still got his jacket on and fully zipped up, despite the warm day. He only ever does that when his shirt’s got bloodstains on it. “Go on, take a shower. By the time you’re done the pie’ll be ready and you can have some for breakfast.”

Jokingly holding his hands up in surrender, he starts heading for the bathroom. “Okay, okay, I’m going!”

“Oh and don’t forget to throw anything bloody into the washer, not the laundry basket! I want to run the next load before the stain really sets in this time,” you call over your shoulder. Last time Jason had left it too long, had ended up having to throw away a previous favourite shirt when neither of your combined efforts had gotten the dried blood spatter out.

He makes a noise of assent and you get busy unloading the dishwasher as you can hear the spray of the shower turn on, leaving out two small plates beside the pie. Some forks, a large knife, and an ice cream scoop join them on the counter. You’re just getting the ice cream out of the freezer, the expensive kind with real vanilla beans that Jason splurges on, when he walks back into the kitchen. He hasn’t dried his hair properly, a habit you haven’t gotten him to break in all the time you’ve known each other and grown to just accept.

You hand the knife over to him with a careful kiss, let him carve up slices for the both of you, hands sure and steady. You’re struggling with the ice cream, frozen solid and unwilling to be scooped. Jason notices, gently nudges you out of the way with his hip and takes over, depositing two perfect spheres of ice cream on top of each slice of pie.

Picking up a fork, you feed him the first bite, hand cupped below it to catch any droplets of ice cream. He closes his eyes, goes silent for a moment. You start to get worried that somehow you’ve messed it up, maybe mixed up the salt with the sugar but you were sure it had tasted just fine when you’d licked the filling syrup off of your wrist.

“So? What do you think?”

He smiles before opening his eyes. “I think it tastes like home.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd #Spotify #header images from pinterest #header by benkeibear

[freelancearsonist]

and they'd find us in a week

➔ Javi Gutierrez x gn!Reader - 1.8k

➔ Javi whisks you away to Italy for your honeymoon. The only problem is, you're too busy exploring your new husband to leave your hotel room.

➔ Rated MA for basically just husband!javi fluffy cock-worship, oral (m receiving), handjobs, cum swallowing, lots of spanish pet names (reader is spanish speaking), no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied but no description of anatomy and no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

You’ve never woken up quite as languidly as you do today.

The first thing your senses are alerted to is the roaring crash of waves. Bright light floods your eyes even through your closed eyelids, and you roll over with a groan to press your face into the plush pillow beneath your head for a few more precious seconds of darkness. It smells of your favorite leave-in conditioner after your shower last night–a familiar scent in this otherwise unfamiliar bed.

Not that you can complain–this is the softest bed you’ve ever slept in. The mattress is cloud-like and the sheets are silky and warm… except on the other side of the bed. Those sheets are rumpled and turned back, cold with absence.

You sit up and rub the remaining dregs of sleep from your eyes, glancing around the sizable hotel room in search of your fiance–husband. You’re still getting used to that shift in title, but it’s a very welcome change.

The balcony door is open, which is why you can hear the waves so clearly. There’s a gentle breeze swirling in through the opening, fluttering the curtains and sending a slight chill down your spine despite how warm the morning already is. The air smells so fresh here–salt and water and everything you love about the beach. It’s spring, the season of rebirth, and things are changing. Leaves are returning, flowers are blooming, and you’re starting a new page in the story of your life with the man of your dreams.

The man of your dreams, who is currently nowhere to be found.

You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress with a groan of protest, still sore and shaky from yesterday–your third day of honeymoon bliss. Your suitcases still sit on the dresser across from the bed, zipped and neatly packed; you haven’t worn clothes in three wonderful, languid, pleasure-filled days. It’s been absolute bliss.

The sound of the shower shutting off alerts you to the fact that it was running in the first place–it was barely noticeable over the sound of the ocean outside the windows. You smile to yourself and lay back down against the pillows, the mission of finding your husband completed. 

Javi comes out of the bathroom moments later, wrapped in the most plush white robe you’ve ever seen while toweling his hair dry. And really, you’ve done nothing over the last three days except wet your sexual appetite–repeatedly and vigorously–with your husband. But seeing him like this makes you hungry; it drives a burning hot rod of arousal straight through the deepest, most unfathomable part of your gut. Your want over the past few days has been completely insatiable.

You look up at him—sleepy eyes half-lidded, wet hair slicked back, the faintest of smiles tugging at his perfect lips—and you are so, so in love with him. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” He says with a smile. “Do you want to order breakfast?”

You’re shaking your head before you can really stop yourself, because there’s only one thing that could quench your appetite right now and it’s standing right in front of you. “No, I’ve got my breakfast right here.”

His mouth opens to ask what you could possibly mean, but you catch his hand and pull him into a deep, languid kiss before he can say anything. It’s slow and syrupy, the morning bleeding into the action. You trace your tongue over his bottom lip and his mouth parts so eagerly to accept you. He’s become so familiar with your desires over the past few days, even after years together thinking he knew everything there was to know. But he keeps learning and adapting, finding new ways to draw little sounds and reactions from you. He’s nothing if not attentive to details and extremely eager to please.

He’s been doing a lot of pleasing over the past few days, though. He’s certainly earned a break and some appreciation, you think.

He lets out a little grunt when you gently push him into the mattress; his lips curl into a smile when you crawl over him to straddle his sturdy hips.

“Mi amor,” he mumbles, trying his best to lean up so he can keep kissing you despite your hands pinning his torso to the plush mattress. “Por favor–”

You lean down to appease him, lips feather-light against his as you whisper, “calmate, mi esposo. Yo cuidaré de ti.”

You can feel how quickly he hardens from your words even through the thick robe covering him and it sends a heady sense of power rushing through your veins. Your husband is a strong, important, powerful man–you’re the only person in the world who can bring him to his knees. He’ll even beg for it, if you ask. He’s putty in your hand, but you don’t take it for granted. You’re lucky and you know it–you’ll spend every day for the rest of your life thanking whatever deity there is for giving you Javi.

“Mi cielo,” he murmurs as your fingers find the tie of his plush white robe. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to, Javi,” you assure him as you slowly pull the knot apart. “Please?”

You can see the gulp that bobs his throat even as his eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head back. “Okay,” he whispers.

You unpeel the robe like a wrapping around a candy, appreciating the sight in all of its decadence but desperate to dig in. 

He’s desperate for it, too. Aching and hard just from your kisses, thick and flushed with arousal. Every beautiful inch of him is ready and waiting for your attention, from the soft curls at his base to the weeping mushroom head of him. 

The first touch of your fingers against his length is electric–he nearly jolts from it. Your fingers are so light and soft, it’s more like a whispering breeze than an actual touch. That is, until you wrap him firmly in your hand, fingers barely long enough to completely circle him. He moans then–a shuddery, shaky, utterly wrecked sound not quite like anything you’ve ever heard before.

“Still sensitive?”

He nods wordlessly, and you can’t blame him really. All you’ve done since arriving in Italy is go at it like rabbits, and last night he actually came dry. He’s bound to be a bit overstimulated, the poor thing.

You halt your hand and meet his dark brown eyes when his head pops up. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” He flushes a bit, surprised at his own desperation. “No, amor, por favor no pares.”

You can’t help the gentle laugh that flows from your lips–you love him like this. Stripped down, not just physically, but spiritually. Soul bared to you in a way that no one else has ever seen him. He allows himself to be weak and vulnerable in your arms because you build him back up stronger every time.

You lower yourself to him and lick languidly, one large stroke of your tongue up the vast length of him. He shivers with the stimulation and lets out a groan, hands clenching into fists at his sides to will himself not to squirm. It’s so hard to sit still like this, though–just the barest touch of your tongue, and he’s already near the brink.

He takes a deep breath, then another, then wills every cell in his body to not come.

Somehow, miraculously, it works–when you take his tip between your plush lips and swirl your tongue just right, he manages to hold it together. He lets loose a low grumble from deep in his chest, though, when your fingers dance down his stomach and over his hip to cradle his balls.

“Ay, dios mio…”

“Good?” You giggle when you ask, because you don’t really need him to answer. You can feel the way his thigh trembles beneath your free hand and see the way his chest hitches with shuddering breaths. His body is tuned like a fine guitar string to your skilled fingers–you know exactly the right chords to strum to get the sounds you want.

Your mouth presses deeper and deeper, the thick head of his hitting the back of your throat long before your nose finds those soft, soapy-smelling curls at the base.

“Ay, mi amor.” It’s more of a whimper than an actual spoken statement–high-pitched and needy. “Por favor…”

You pull off with a pop and let your hand take over with firm strokes that make him whimper. “Qué necesitas, mi cielo?”

“I need–” He gulps thickly, hips stuttering up into your grip, cock twitching as if in anticipation of your permission. “Need to come.”

You hum and lick slowly around his tip, dragging the flat of your tongue over his slit to taste the salty precum pooling steadily there. “Then come, darling.”

And Javi–ever only obedient to you–does exactly that. His body shakes with the force of it, beautiful damp sandy-brown curls splayed out against the pillows and broad hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as he fills your mouth. 

You never get tired of the taste of him; he’s the perfect mix of salty and sweet and something wonderful that can only be described as Javi. The first drop that meets your tongue makes you crave more–you push as far as you can to take every following spurt that he pulses into your mouth.

You swallow around him–drawing a whine from his throat in the process–before pulling off to admire your handiwork. And surely you can call yourself an artist, because the fruits of your efforts are a masterpiece. He’s flushed red from the shoulders up, chest heaving as he slowly steadies his breath, mouth agape around moans that have finally ceased.

You kiss up his body as he comes down from the high, over the soft round of his stomach and up his flushed neck, finally coming to his parted lips. His eyes meet yours, and suddenly the entire world is spinning on its axis until it’s flipped onto its back–your back. He chuckles as he hovers over you, scattering kisses all over your face.

“Gracias, mi amor,” he hums contentedly. Like this, you can feel every inch of his skin pressed against every inch of yours, the open robe falling around the parameters of your bodies and caging you into a soft, feathery cocoon.

“Was that what you needed, my darling?”

“Everything I needed and more,” he tells you earnestly. His kisses start to stray off course–across your cheeks, then along your jaw, then down your neck. “May I return the favor?”

It’s a tantalizing offer, certainly; as much as you’re eager to finally leave this room and go explore Italy, it’s not looking like today is going to be the day.

“Por favor, mi esposo.”

And Javi, ever the faithful servant, is more than willing to oblige. Con gusto.

THE END

➔ Translations:

calmate - calm down yo cuidaré de ti - let me take care of you por favor no pares - please don't stop qué necesitas - what do you need? con gusto - with pleasure

➔ A/N: the title of this one is another hozier song (big surprise cece) - "in a week" is so beautiful, pls give it a listen :) thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for betaing this lil thing 🥺 thank you as well to the dieter bravo brainrot club for always enabling me <3

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :)

#javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi gutierrez smut #javi gutierrez one shot #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #the unbearable weight of massive talent #cece writes

[minisugakoobies]

Taste | LMH

Pairing: Minho x Gender Neutral Reader Genre: smut, porn without plot, non-Idol!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), spit used as lube (who am I?), deep-throating, choking/gagging on dick, wet & messy, face-fucking, cum swallowing, dom/sub undertones (dom!minho and sub!reader), use of the word "pet," I left the relationship vague so feel free to imagine what you will Word Count: 860 Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me

Summary: Minho's waiting for you… have a little taste.

A/N: So… I wasn't planning on writing anything this week. Then I saw the photos from SKZ's Harper's Bazaar Japan photoshoot. I could not stop staring at Minho with his legs spread wide… and then this happened. I kept it short for once!

Big thank you to @minttangerines for taking a look at this one. Please let me know what you think and if you'd like me to keep writing for SKZ! 💕

SKZ Masterlist

Minho sits with his legs spread, head tilted as he gazes at you with eyes blacker than the night sky. 

“Come get it.” 

The words seem like a tease, but his tone is firm. Commanding. It should be embarrassing how quickly your mouth waters as you step forward, crossing the room in only a few short strides. Should be. 

You kneel between his long legs, hands folded neatly in front of you. “Touch,” he says, and you slip them up his calves, over his knees. The black leather under your palms creaks slightly as you rub his thighs. His eyes fall shut for a moment while you massage away the stressful day he’s had, working his body to the limit once again. 

The zipper yields easily to your deft fingers. There’s nothing underneath but him. You tug on the waistband of the pants and he lifts his hips just enough for you to slide them off. His cock springs free from the confines of the leather, head flushed dark from the bloodrush. He’s already hard for you. It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you have this effect on him. Just the thought of your lips wrapped around him is enough. 

The warm almond and honey scent of his body wash floods your senses as you wait. Despite the evening breeze fluttering the curtains behind you, the air in the room feels hot and thick with anticipation. A beat of sweat trickles down his bare chest, rolls all the way to his Adonis belt before stopping. Your tongue is already licking your lips, ready for a taste, when he smirks, crossing his arms behind his head. 

“Go ahead, pet. Help yourself.” 

Gently, you hold him in your hand. His skin feels like silk, and you stroke lightly, smoothly rolling your wrist. When your thumb glides over his slit, Minho hums, deep in his chest. You repeat the action a few times, earning yourself more content rumbles. 

Those rumbles become a low groan as your tongue flicks out to coat the tip. Around and around you drag it, covering his head in your saliva, wetting it as best you can. It’s not enough, so you draw yourself up on your knees, lean over his lap, and spit. 

“Fuck,” Minho mutters. He’s still reclining, body looking completely relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, focused, observing your every movement. 

Satisfied with how slick his cock is now, you lower your head, taking him in your mouth. A heavenly sigh fills your ears, spurring you to go further, swallow him down more. He’s tickling the back of your throat when you stop, reversing your movement, pulling back to lavish more licks across his swollen head. In no time at all you’ve got a steady rhythm, bobbing up and down.

It’s a lax tempo you’ve set. You’re in no hurry, wanting to take your time with Minho. Drag out the pleasure for as long as you possibly can. You know he doesn’t mind by the way he keeps his hands behind his head, letting you set the pace. He moans again, and you glance up at him, finding him watching you with an intensity that has you desperate to be touched yourself. But you can be patient. This is about him. 

“So good, pet,” he whispers. No matter how many times he calls you that, it always feels like the first time, a torrent of desire rushing through you. 

Inhaling through your nose, you hollow your cheeks, making your mouth so snug around him that Minho growls. You ache terribly, needing him inside you, but you’re not done yet. His abs start to tremble as his breaths quicken. “More,” he demands. “Again.” 

Your mouth is full of saliva now, running over your lips and down his hard length as you suck again and again. Wanting to be good for him. Wanting to please him. Your hands roam, cupping his balls, tugging lightly, just enough to have him gasping. When his hips begin to buck, you know it won’t be long. 

His fingers come to rest on the back of your head. Immediately, you go still, ceding control. A strong press guides you down, as his thighs lift from the chair beneath him to meet you. 

“Gonna fuck your mouth. Be a good pet and hold still.” 

Nothing in the world could move you now. Minho starts easy, rolling his pelvis, cock gliding along your tongue, thick and salty as you swallow around him. Then he thrusts faster. The room fills with loud wet gagging noises that mingle with grunts and the filthy praise he utters as he comes undone.

“Just like that. Fuck, such a sweet mouth. Oh shit, yes, so tight, just like that!” 

As you choke down more saliva, Minho hisses, feeling your throat constrict, and it’s enough to push him over the edge. He spills then, hot and pulsing quick, and you keep swallowing until there’s nothing left in your mouth but him. 

With deep, steadying breaths, you recline on your heels, hands on your thighs. Minho’s chest rises and falls as he regains control. Finally, he sighs, reaching for you. 

“Your turn.” 

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #minho x reader #minho smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #minho fanfic #lee know fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #fic: taste #diverseinsertknet

[suguwu]

bridgerton!stsg and catching them mid-fencing match, their foils gleaming in the sunlight as their loose, white shirts ripple with their movement, a disturbed lake. they're careful with each other, each strike thought out. it's more of a dance than a fight, an ebb and flow. in the sunlight, patches of their shirts have gone sheer, sticking to their sweat-kissed skin.

it is hard to take your eyes off of them.

you watch, entranced, as satoru disarms suguru with a clever flick of his wrist. he slips his foil beneath suguru's chin. a killing blow.

"yield," satoru says lightly, his voice like a spring breeze. there's laughter woven through it.

suguru sighs, his face serene except for the tiniest furrow of his brow. satoru nudges at him, the foil raising his chin, the column of his neck elegant as he swallows.

"don't be a poor sport," satoru says, his grin like moonlight, white and dazzling. "yield."

"i yield," suguru says with a roll of his eyes. "showoff."

"am i showing off?"

"you know that you are."

"well," satoru says, his oceanic eyes flickering up to where you're watching, "i do have a wife to impress."

suguru leans down to pick up his foil; his hair curtains his face, an ebony veil of silk. "winning once is hardly impressive."

"it is too!" satoru exclaims, his voice almost a whine.

suguru smiles, his dark eyes sly. "prove yourself, then," he says, flipping his foil between his hands with easy grace. "win again."

satoru grumbles. "fine," he says. then he looks to you, still watching them quietly. he grins.

"winner gets a kiss."

"fine."

"you both kiss me all the time," you say, your brow wrinkling. "how is that a prize?"

suguru glances at you, his night-sky eyes gleaming. "is that your way of saying you want more?" he asks. "how bold."

your cheeks heat. "that isn't—"

"alright," satoru says, swirling his foil in one smooth motion. he glances at you, his blue eyes darkening to the color of a storm-struck sea, and grins.

"winner fucks her right here in the grass."

"your grace," you hiss. "there are people everywhere."

suguru raises an elegant brow. "well," he says. "then you'd better be quiet."

#bee chats #bridgerton!stsg

[cheollipop]

a hazy evening

navi | taglist

pairing: kim hongjoong x afab!reader

w.c.: 1.8k

tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, reader is not gendered, they're both sososo in love

sharing the last of the earthy smoke, you bid farewell to the dying sun as the sweet scent of honey and citrus enveloped your senses.

warnings: cannabis use, both parties are high, cockwarming, couch sex, fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎🏼), creampie, it's really soft and slow, barely any dialogue, but they're so in love *breaks down*

A/N: thank you anonnie for requesting this, I really hope I was able to do your idea justice!! this, in my opinion, is the softest thing I've ever written. It left me feeling really warm and fluffy inside, so I really hope reading it will have the same effect on you! ^^

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

The room was much darker than it had been when you'd lit the first joint, golden rays of the dying sun filtering through the half-open curtain and casting shadows over the assortment of plants your boyfriend kept bringing home, the cool spring breeze ruffling their leaves where they sat decorating the windowsill. A show you didn’t recognize played on the TV behind you, but your eyes remained fixed on the orb of light kissing the horizon, dipping lower and lower until only a fourth of it remained to colour the sky a soft pink.

A puff of smoke distorted your view, the earthy aroma flooding your lungs and casting a fog over your mind. You adjusted your position, fitting your thighs tighter around Hongjoong’s hips and resting your cheek on his shoulder, nuzzling into the material of shirt before returning your gaze to the cotton candy sky.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding down on his fingers – stuffed inside you – with languid rolls of your hips. The pressure in your lower belly had been building for a while, his digits prodding at your g-spot and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Hongjoong brought his thumb down on your clit, moving it in measured circles while he curled his fingers against your walls.

“Good?” He muttered over your skin, pressing soft kisses to your heated shoulder where the collar of your shirt ended.

“So good,” you whispered back, jaw slack and a pool of drool slowly expanding over Hongjoong’s shirt.

Smoke clouded your vision again, followed by the gentle press of the joint to your bottom lip, your mouth automatically closing around it. Hongjoong’s now free hand smoothed down your back, then slid back up to cup your nape.

“You’re close,” he stated, having felt the familiar fluttering of your walls around his fingers.

You nodded, inhaling the pungent smoke before taking the joint between your index and middle fingers. You kept your mouth closed, blinking unevenly while Hongjoong drove his fingers into you, catching the faint squelching of your arousal every time he pushed in. His thrusts were slow but pointed, roughly punching into the spongy spot along your walls and nearly making you sputter around the smoke in your mouth.

“R-right there,” you sighed, watching the air around you fog up.

Hongjoong had been building you up to an orgasm since the sun first left its locus in the sky, revelling in the soft whimpers he drew out of you. Bending his head down to press his lips to your neck, he peppered kisses over the expanse of your skin while your thighs began to vibrate around him. He flattened the pad of his thumb over your clit, rubbing it from side to side, occasionally brushing his blunt nail over the sensitive nub.

When you finally reached your high, it was as though you were free falling off a cliff, the wind blowing through your hair and open fields embellished with vivid flora spread out for miles under you. Your chest heaved as you blew out the smoke in your lungs, hips jolting as you rode out your orgasm on Hongjoong’s fingers. Butterflies swarmed your insides with every kiss he planted on your skin, his lips trailing up your neck to your ears to nibble on your lobe.

Hongjoong pulled his fingers out at the first pained mewl you released into his shirt, slipping the joint out of your limp hand and bringing it to his lips. His free arm wrapped tightly around your waist while he watched the joint grow smaller and smaller, sucking in the last of it before leaning forward with you in his arms to toss it into the heaped ashtray sitting on the coffee table.

Despite his tight hold, your hands flew to his biceps and gripped them so not to fall backwards. Hongjoong remained that way, looking into your equally lidded eyes while leaning over you. Once you realized that you weren’t going anywhere with Hongjoong’s arms around you, one of your hands eased off of his upper arm, instead finding its place over the side of his face. You weren’t sure if it was the weed slowing everything down, but the time in which Hongjoong’s head moved towards yours gave you a chance to admire the softness of his features – tired, love-filled eyes, barely open as they revelled in your presence before him, the tip of his nose a bright red with the remnants of a cold he hadn’t yet fought off entirely, and his smile, laced with unconditional infatuation, forever decorating his face when you were around.

Just like everything else around you, the kiss was unhurried, lazy. Hongjoong sucked your lips between his own before slowly letting them go, only to dive back in for more. The smoke he had been holding in his mouth dissipated into the air between you, until he slotted his lips against yours, parting them with his tongue and exhaling the last of the dying joint down your throat. You choked lightly, a breathy giggle escaping Hongjoong as he watched you struggle with inhaling the smoke, a hint of mischief weaved into the pleasant sound.

Slumping back against the backrest, Hongjoong pulled at your forearms to straighten you up on his lap. He simply sat there, admiring you once again. You wondered why that was: how could someone deserving of a place in the Louvre look at you with such a gaze – one filled with unending adoration, as though you had coloured the magenta sky peeking through the fluttering curtains with nothing but a broken paintbrush? Someone so caring, giving, loving, building you a spacious home within his heart and vowing to teach you the true meaning of love. Hongjoong was love, you were sure. The man who never stopped giving until you begged him to stop, and then gave you even more. Love, comfort, safety – it all came easily to him when you were the recipient.

He maneuvered you until his body was pressed against yours, his chest to your back while you lay on your side. The tips of Hongjoong’s fingers prodded at your mouth, gentle taps against your bottom lip until you registered the motion and allowed him access. Sliding the digits over your tongue, you whimpered at the taste of your arousal, licking over the fresh coat of nail polish on his ring fingernail. You could feel the tent in his sweatpants pressing against your lower back, reaching behind you release his cock from its confines. A soft hiss against your nape, painted nails digging into the skin of your thigh, and you were putty in Hongjoong’s hands, throwing your leg back and over his hip and leading his leaking member to your entrance.

A guttural moan ripped through Hongjoong’s chest when your warmth embraced him, his fingers slipping out of your mouth to wrap tightly around your shoulder. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, pressing himself as close and humanely possible to your body and sheathing his whole length into your pulsing cunt.

You stared at the characters moving on the screen, your lips parted and airy mewls unknowingly escaping you as Hongjoong ground his cock into you, his head brushing over your g-spot with every roll of his hips. The room spun around you, and yet it remained perfectly still, it was loud but quiet, cluttered but empty, so you used up the last of your consciousness to fixate on Hongjoong and allowed him to take over your every sense. Your chest flushed at the tender kisses he peppered onto your skin, one arm wrapped under you and across your chest, the other draped along your side to hold your thigh over his hip, mindlessly squeezing at it. You wondered if it was possible to live in this moment forever, with Hongjoong cemented to your body, warming his cock between your searing walls.

Your eyes followed the actor’s movements, and yet your body relished the leisurely drag along your walls, fucking back into you only to draw out again just as slowly. Just as much as you enjoyed the heavy presence of his cock inside you, the unhurried pace that he’d built up to felt as though you’d smoked twice as much as you actually did. Your body felt weightless and it was as though a divine being had blessed you with his touch, delicate fingers gliding over and squeezing at your heated flesh, sending burning waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Despite his own arousal and desperation, Hongjoong’s hips maintained their sluggish rhythm, ramming his full length into your dripping cunt before pulling out until only the tip remained encased within your walls. The slide back in made your toes curl, his cockhead pressing into your sweet spot then dragging over it. Hongjoong would slip out of you periodically, gliding his cock through your folds and brushing over your swollen clit before pushing back into your cunt.

You felt him breach your entrance, and you were free falling once again, colours flashing across your vision and a whispered succession of Hongjoong’s name rolling off your tongue. Sliding his hand up your trembling thigh, his fingers reached your clit, pressing into the nub and tweaking it to drag out your orgasm. Hongjoong relished the tight squeeze around his twitching cock, your cunt clamping down on him as you rode out your high, your soft moans and whimpers inspiring his next song. He pumped his cock into you once, twice, before hot ropes of cum painted your walls white, grinding into you to milk himself of every last drop.

Your eyes fluttered shut, Hongjoong’s fingers withdrawing to rest over your hip, his chest rising a falling heavily against your back, hot breath blowing onto the slick skin of your nape.

The room was immersed in darkness, the white light from the TV the only source of illumination now that the sun had gone to sleep, diving behind the tall buildings and allowing the full moon to hang in its place. Tufts of grey clouds bedecked the onyx sky, glittering with a plethora of stars dispersed across its width.

They reminded you of Hongjoong’s eyes, so dark yet so bright, full of love, hope, dreams. You couldn’t help but lose yourself within them at times, peculiarly when he was letting you in on his next project, humming the melody he had put together in his mind, his fingers strumming the invisible chords of his guitar. A single look into those dreamy, glimmering orbs and you couldn’t help but believe that you would be more than content simply existing by Hongjoong’s side.

In the stillness of the room, enveloped within Hongjoong’s warm embrace, the dense fog clouding your mind lulled you to restful slumber, carrying with you thoughts of a future permeated by the sweet scent of honey and citrus.

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[bloomingdarkgarden]

For Him the Bellflower Tolls Confessions in the Rain

Rated M | Angst, Emotional Confessions, Language | 4,8k A Valentines treat for you beauties and @sjmromanceweek Read on AO3

There were more scars on Elain’s slender, elegant hands than stars in the night sky. But nobody seemed to notice. Those elegant hands fidgeted with the dusty pink skirts of her gown as she stood near the townhouse’s great wide windows- admiring her morning efforts in the rosebeds down below. Gardening was a far bloodier business than warfare. A battle of hope and life and loss and grief, only death was far quieter in the end. So nobody seemed to notice. “Remind me again why I’ve agreed to this?” Elain hummed to Feyre, who stood at her back, tidying the loose curtain of curls which now nearly reached her waist.

“Because it’s been ages since Nesta did anything outside of Illyrian leathers and I need a night out.”

Elain couldn’t find it within herself to argue. It had been ages since the three of them even shared a meal together without any of the males hovering about, let alone had a night on the town. Feyre noted her silence and stilled her hands. "I know it's been a difficult week for you, Elain," she said gently. An understatement of the year. "If you'd rather be alone, Nesta and I both understand." Elain waved a hand, dismissing the entire subject she was alluding to. “Rita’s is just rather-” Elain chewed her cheek, “- loud, isn’t it?” Elain wanted nothing to do with Rita’s. But both of her tremendously busy sisters did, and in the end, the need to see them smile won out over most things in the world. “Nothing is loud compared to an Illyrian infant,” Feyre muttered darkly. Elain chuckled beneath her breath. Yes, this sort of night was in order. The High Lady of Night clicked her tongue with satisfaction as she surveyed her handiwork and Elain turned from the window to face her sister fully. Feyre shook her head appreciatively. “Stars above, Elain, little to no effort and you could bring any male in this kingdom to his knees.” Elain ducked her head, batting away the compliment. “I’d rather keep them on their feet, I should think.” It was a lie. There was one male she’d much rather have on his knees than anywhere else. But nobody seemed to notice.

※※※※※

A cool spring breeze rustled Azriel’s dark hair as he landed on a bustling Velaris street with Nesta Archeron in tow. As soon his boots hit the stones, the grey-eyed Archeron stiffened to a stance and glanced across the square. Nesta then paced towards a nearby cobbled lane, yanking him along in the process.

“Is that really necessary?” Azriel asked, voice clipped with annoyance. A shadow attempted to loosen her grasp on his wrist a moment later. “Yes,” she snapped back, not bothering to turn behind. “I was to spend tonight at Roseh-” “Brood to your brothers about it, you’ll see them momentarily,” Nesta waved a dismissive hand, marching on, leading him by the wrist. She turned east, leading them both down a long alleyway laden with twinkling strings of golden faelights. He was scowling now, unabashedly. Nesta halted before a dark wooden door with an iron latch. She turned to face Azriel, rolling her eyes at his silent disdain for being ever so slightly manhandled. Her brows wrinkled as she studied him head to toe like an equation with no solution. After a moment she straightened the collar on his shirt- a simple dark silk piece he wore once a year or so to nicer family dinners. “This was a good choice,” she said, approval tracing her sharp features. “For what occasion?” Azriel’s face remained cold, untrusting and unreadable as ever. Nesta saw through it all, of course. Nesta said nothing, but her steel-grey eyes glittered triumphantly as pulled the iron latch aside. Azriel studied the open doorway acutely. His shadows stilled from their usual idle swirling as if to taste the air. “Cassian and Rhys are not in this building,” he noted darkly, that scowl returning. “No they are not,” Nesta replied, and shoved the shadowsinger over the threshold. The rare, fleeting moment of clumsiness that followed had Azriel’s silent temper flaring as he stumbled into an unfamiliar room. He straightened, correcting his wings with a feline sort of grace and shot Nesta a glare that would send most people fleeing for their lives. Nesta merely shot him the very same look back. “Hurt her again and I will cut off your fingers and wear them as a necklace,” the eldest Archeron hissed, and slammed the door in his face.

※※※※※

Fairies began lighting lanterns and streetlights as dusk whispered across the Night Court skies. The air was damp with the scent of hopeful spring rain. Elain and Feyre strolled down a quiet street, arm in arm. The latter was admiring a beautiful painting on display in a nearby window when Nesta rounded a corner and nearly plowed them over. Elain grinned at her sister in greeting. Nesta smiled serpentine back, murmuring a quick “Shall we?” to Feyre before linking arms with her. The trio chatted as they continued down the lane towards Rita’s, but instead just before reaching the tavern’s wood-carved sign at the end of the street, Nesta made a hard right into an alleyway beyond. “Nesta, Rita’s is-”

“Oh, we’re not going to Rita’s.” Feyre remarked, pulling Elain’s arm just a little bit closer. Her sisters both quickened their pace, giving her no choice but to keep up. “We’re not?”

“Well we are,” Nesta chimed in, stopping before a tall, wooden door. “But you most certainly are not.” A moment later both sisters were hauling Elain over the threshold, and locking the door behind her. Squabbling ensued in the alley in which the words insufferable Illyrian baby could be distinguished. Elain had the distinct feeling that her nephew was not the source of those words. “Oh goodness,” Elain said softly, surveying the dark space around her.

A long, winding stone staircase spiraled up behind her. The steps were lined with candles and dusky primrose petals. Elain swallowed, realizing her two choices in this room consisted of causing a scene or following this mystery to its end. The civilized thing to do won out in the end, as it usually did. Up, up, up she went, soft skirts sighing against the dark stone. Elain reached the final step where another wooden door awaited- this one already wide open to a rooftop beckoning beyond. A warm night-kissed breeze wafted across her skin in greeting. Her breath caught in her lungs as she took it all in. A sea of flower petals blanketed the rooftop- faded primrose, lilac, and gardenia petals fluttering in the wind. A small, candlelit table in the center of the space held two plates full of food, and wine.

And there, leaning against the far balcony, stood a tall, lean, Illyrian warrior. A shadow-wreathed male looking longingly at the oncoming night as if he could hear every song dancing in the dusk-swirled sky. Elain’s heart grew very still and very quiet. Because nobody ever seemed to notice- that he could.

※※※※※

Flower petals stirred in the wake of each hushed footfall.

One foot in front of the other, Elain told herself.

An ebbing dark tide of shame still welled within her from the last time she had found herself alone with the shadowsinger.

This was a mistake.

But seeing him here, a creature of shadow and ruin in a vigil of forgotten flowers- somehow whisked it all away.

Elain knew all about beautiful things.

She had spent an entire lifetime growing, nurturing, and tending them- a thousand breathtaking roses, lilacs, blossoms of gardenia.

But Azriel put all the beautiful things of the world to shame.

Haunting hazel eyes that glimmered like a forge when they beheld her, and her alone.

Why did he always look at her that way?

His mussed ebony hair curled softly against the nape of his neck as it so often did when rain was on the horizon. Shadows whispering things she would never know, drifting in the wake of his beautiful wings.

One look from him and she ached like never before.

“Whatever is a fearsome warrior of night doing in a place like this?” Elain asked softly, stepping closer.

Azriel turned, long, dark lashes blinking at her in rapid succession before he lowered his head in greeting, a golden stain blushing his high cheek.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he said quietly.

Elain swallowed, smoothing her skirts and stepping towards the balcony. “You’re not alone in that regard.” She chose not to look at him.

Propriety came first, embarrassment second, anyway. Two pillars of her life that seemed to go hand in hand. She really ought to offer him a way out of this ridiculous situation. “You can leave- if you like.”

Azriel ran a hand nervously through his sable curls, shadows darkening for the briefest of moments.

“I can leave if that is what you prefer.”

But there was no point turning away from the truth, now that they were left alone with it in a grave full of flowers, so Elain clarified before he could continue.

“I’d prefer you stay, actually. However foolish that makes me.”

It was a long, long moment before Azriel said anything at all. He stared over the dark horizon- at the shades of violet and blue weaving in the cooling twilight.

“There is only one fool standing on this rooftop, Elain, and it isn’t you.”

The words, gentle and shameful, settled something within her. The smallest acknowledgement of the atrocity that had happened on Solstice. A few months ago now, but somehow the rawness of it all made it feel like only yesterday.

But more than that- there was her name.

How long had it been since she heard her own name on his lips?

Far too long A spring wind whispered.

“It’s been some time,” Elain said quietly, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “Since we last spoke.”

Azriel swallowed thickly. “Eighty six days.”

He looked as if he hadn’t slept a single one.

“Has it been?”

Azriel’s eyes sought her out and some unseen agony swam there- haunting that silent hazel sea.

“I haven’t slept either, you know,” she admitted.

He scanned her pale face, the loneliness carved in the hollow of her cheeks. “I know.”

A curious shadow began leaking down his shoulder towards her. Azriel seemed to yank it back momentarily, a hint of a scowl on his brow, but the shadow only leaked out again a moment later.

“Hello little darling,” Elain leaned on an elbow, cooing a soft breath towards his shadow, which flickered with delight.

Azriel swallowed thickly and seemed incapable of moving.

“I miss watching them flutter through the garden,” Elain murmured. “I used to wonder if they might watch over me in the darkest hours of the night.”

Azriel’s wing twitched as he registered her words.

“Would that-” his throat bobbed as he searched for the words. “- comfort you?”

The question was tender, disbelieving, as if he could not fathom a world where his shadows could be considered comforting rather than terrifying. He looked like the answer could wreck him for the rest of his life.

Elain smiled softly, staring over the city. “It might have, some time ago.” Her hands trailed the pale petals of moonflower blooming in a basket on the balcony. “I might have wondered where they go when you dream.”

She could sense him edging closer. As if the ache was deep within him too. As if it ran too deep to do anything but draw him closer.

“I rarely dream,” Azriel said quietly. “But when I do, your hair is unbound.”

Elain’s heartbeat began beating like a wardrum in her chest. She slowly rose her chestnut eyes to him.

Damn the forgotten gods, he was tragically beautiful this way.

Star-soft wind filtering that ebony hair into his eyes. The top button of his shirt was unbuttoned, and the breeze shimmered through the dark silk, whispering over the muscles of his chest in a way that made her ache inside and out.

She blushed, thoroughly, and allowed him to watch her through it. Allowed him to see that he was responsible for that color rising in her cheeks. That thrum humming in her blood.

“I might make use of that wine bottle if you are going to keep saying things like that to me, Azriel.”

Azriel stepped closer, shadows twirling in the wake of his footstep. “Forgive me,” he said softly, but there was no remorse in his gaze- only unyielding determination and soft, whispering hunger.

Five minutes alone with him and she was already imagining things she absolutely shouldn’t. But it had always been that way.

It would still always be that way.

“I know it wasn’t your intention, or mine,” he paused, “but might I share this evening with you, miss Archeron?”

The gods were particularly tormentful for making him such a gentleman.

Elain swallowed, hating the flicker of bitterness that coursed through her. “Should I expect any sudden departures?”

But Azriel had that look in his eye- that look of unbent will. That look that sent him charging into Hybern’s hell to rescue her without a second thought. That look that told her he needed to right this wrong, or die trying.

“There is nothing that could keep me from sharing this night with you,” he said softly, “aside from your command.”

Elain grinned, casting her eyes downwards.

“A shadowsinger at my command?” she hummed, turning to the night-kissed sky once again. “Whatever will I do with such power?”

“Whatever you wish,” he said, and the promise in his voice made her knees weak. “But you might start letting him pour you some wine.”

Elain cursed the stars above and the seas below for allowing such beautiful, bedroom-eyed, well-mannered males to walk the earth at the same time as herself.

“Very well,” she submitted, turning towards the candlelit table before he could catch sight of her face going up in flames at how perfectly wonderful it all was.

The smallest hint of a smile graced his lips- and gods, the promise of it blooming full before the end of the night was holy.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” Elain said quietly.

“You don’t have to,” Azriel replied, holding her gaze. “Just let me-

Let me watch you Let me want you Let me fix what was lost. “- let me look after you tonight.”

※※※※※

Elain decided there was nothing so lovely in the world as a rosemary-dusted honey fig tart. She wasn’t entirely sure what sort of witchcraft was at work here- but each time she or Azriel finished a course, the next magically appeared. There were perks to having the High Lady as a sister, she supposed. For years now, Elain had lived in the Night Court. But the wonders north of the wall, no matter how small, were still not entirely lost on her. She caught Azriel watching her more than once. Tracking her amusement with the magic, her appreciative noises as she ate. He watched her like it fed something within him far more than the decadent food on the table did. The pair did their best to make polite conversation about a variety of things that had happened in the absence that followed last Solstice. An absence at most family dinners that Elain had distinctly marked for weeks on end. They weren’t addressing that elephant in the room, at any rate. The meal wound to an end eventually and Elain found herself swirling the wine in her glass carefully as she eyed a note Feyre had left on the table. You are both so serious it is dull. Live a little. Damn the consequences. - F+N + Everyone else including His Majesty The last line was scratched in Nesta’s distinct handwriting. Elain wasn’t entirely sure what the quip about Rhysand was about. But she had noticed Azriel’s jaw ticking when he himself read the note. “I can’t believe Nesta did this,” Elain muttered, spilling a splash of wine down her throat. Azriel rubbed his temple gently. “I can.” The veiled, tired look on his face Elain everything she needed to know- that Nesta was giving Azriel hell as often as she saw fit. And despite herself, Elain smiled at her sister’s unbent fierceness. The shadowsinger deserved a little hell, anyway, after walking out on her those weeks ago, little did Nesta know. “How has training been?” Elain asked, studying the shadowsinger over her glass. “With Nesta and the others?” “Grueling. The Valkyrie have more determination than Cass and I did when we began training. With twice as much retribution in their blood.” Elain murmured an agreement and looked over the lights of the city, glowing below them. “I’ve stopped by a few times to pick up some books- the priestesses wish me to join. To train with you all.” Azriel’s fork stilled on the last bite of his lamb. She studied him curiously, sipping her wine. “Does that bother you?” The shadowsinger remained silent. “Anyway it’s a farce- I’ll never do such a thing. I doubt anyone would ever find me frightening anyway, even if I were to wield the sharpest blade in Prythian.” A trace of bitterness in her tone again. Born from a life of being consistently underestimated. Elain knew that softness was a far more formidable weapon than steel. She wore that truth daily as armor. But nobody seemed to notice. “You are frightening,” Azriel said quietly. “Far more so than anyone I’ve met with a blade.” Elain rose her eyes to his. The wine was warming her blood, stoking the flame of her courage. “Whatever makes you say that?” “I should think it’s rather obvious,” he said tenderly. And she saw it all in his eyes- the longing, the need- the hunger. “I wouldn’t mind hearing the words.” A challenge. She knew he would rise to the occasion. “Ask any male who looks upon you and he will give you the same answer,” Azriel murmured. Elain drained her wine to the dregs, resting the empty glass in the space between them. She rose to her feet and held his gaze before turning to the balcony again. “I’m asking the only male I want for the answer.”

The truth laid bare between them. Elain reached the stoned edge and inhaled before resting her back against the abyss of starlight, observing him openly. Azriel drained his wine as well before rising from his seat and stepping towards her on the balcony. “There is a certain sort of beauty that haunts an Illyrian heart,” the dark timbre of his voice danced down her spine as he stepped closer. “The song of the wind, which calls to our wings. The blood hymn of a battle on a long winter night.” The hazel of his eyes burned like a golden beacon in the darkest night. “The divine taste of honey between a female’s legs.” She was unraveling now, her knees weakening with the heat of his words. “Azriel,” Elain said softly. His eyes lowered to the swell of her lips. “And the more we yearn for such things, the more we live in fear of losing them.” He rested his palms on either side of her, caging her in. “In fact what frightens me far more than how beautiful you are,” he paused, voice lowering. “Is what I might do,” heat seared through his gaze “- to earn the right to cherish you.” The words shimmered with the truth of their reality. The mention of that infernal tie to another male she never asked for. Elain  watched as the reminder of that truth darkened his gaze not only with jealousy, but with sorrow. She wanted to chase away every last wisp of it that she could. “Can you show me?” Elain whispered. Azriel’s gaze flickered in response. “Can you show me the song of the wind?” His mouth curled upwards at the notion, yet he didn’t tear his eyes from her. “It might rain,” he said softly. “I don’t care.” A playful glint in his eye now and she would die a thousand deaths before watching it fade away. “You might regret asking me this,” he muttered dryly. Elain held his gaze, not allowing her will to falter. “I don’t care,” she said again, sinking a hand into that nest of curls at the back of his head. She savored the silken strands beneath her fingers and his shadows wrapped around her, murmuring cool breaths over her fingers. Azriel then slowly, carefully, snaked an arm beneath the back of her knees, cradling her to him and gods- it ruined her all over again. She looked up to him. He looked down to her. Elain traced the swell of his sensual lips with a delicate finger as Azriel carried her to the center of the rooftop. His eyes remained locked with hers, and they were both lost to time in a gentle trance. She was aching again with how beautiful he was. “Show me the song of the wind, Azriel,” she said softly. Azriel spread his great, dark wings wide, stirring flower petals and shadows in their wake. “As my lady commands,” he answered, kissing her fingertips ever so gently. Primrose, lilac and moonlilly swirled skyward with each beat of those mighty wings, as Azriel took flight. The blooms drifted back to the earth a moment later, littering the streets below with forgotten flower petals. Elain Archeron’s heart soared into the atmosphere along with the wings of an Illyrian warrior. But nobody seemed to notice.

※※※※※

It was a song. It was a song unlike anything she had ever heard before. It was wild and free and plummeting. It was dancing in the last hushed violet light of dusk. It was basking in the promise of rain waiting to fall from the clouds. It was tasting the gaps between the stars like night-rich wine. It was him. It was her. It was symphony. Azriel flew through the heavens like he never had before with her in his arms. He glided and twirled and dove through the atmosphere, each echo of laughter leaking from her lips chasing him higher. It did start to rain. But Elain was so taken with the light in Azriel’s eyes that she didn’t care.

※※※※※

Drops of rain fell like fallen stars onto the glassy surface of the Sidra as Azriel gently landed on the riverbank.

Bellflower bloomed along the verge- soft blue petals dancing in the wind of the shadowsinger’s wings.

The nearby boulevard was bustling with revelers of the night. Her family, undoubtedly, was somewhere among them. But Elain couldn’t tear her eyes away from the shadowsinger long enough to care as she slipped from his arms to her feet.

The quiet which followed the rush of the flight was deafening.

He was looking at her that way again, as if he might raise cities to the ground if she asked him to. And it was then that Elain realized she needed to know that it was all real.

That it had always been real.

“Why?” Elain whispered, her voice trembling. “Why did you say those words to me on Solstice when you knew it wasn’t true?” This was a mistake.

Azriel’s throat bobbed. He seemed for a moment as if he might avoid the question entirely. But the pleading in her eyes had him speaking instead.

“Because someone told me that being with you was wrong.”

Elain flinched as the words registered. A tangled web of questions coursed through her. The only one that mattered was the one she asked.

“And you believed it?”

Rain was falling, well and truly now. Azriel’s hands remained at her waist, a world of raw emotion swimming in his gaze.

“I wanted to believe it,” he said quietly. “I wanted to believe it the same way I want to believe I am unworthy of most beautiful things.”

Elain drew in a shaking breath, trying to fight back tears that were inevitably gathering.

Azriel brushed a raindrop from her cheek with a gentle thumb. “But one look at you makes me want to believe otherwise.”

Elain raised trembling hands to cup the shadowsinger’s face and willed every ounce of truth she could muster into her gaze.

“You are good, Azriel.”

His eyes shuttered darkly, raindrops clinging to his endlessly long lashes.

“If I ever had goodness within me, it died long ago.”

He began pulling away, that tide of self-hatred drowning out the hazel. But Elain couldn’t stand the thought of his absence now or ever again.

“You found me,” she whispered, turning his cheek to her. “You found me when I was drifting alone in that dark, empty sea.”

A seer. The Cauldron made you a seer.

“You found me,” Elain said again, her voice breaking on the words. “And I will live a thousand years without forgetting what it felt like when you carried me to shore.”

“Elain,”  Azriel breathed, covering her hand with his own.

“There’s something,” she said with a shaking whisper, “Azriel, there’s something I need to-”

Azriel searched her eyes in question and found no answer there.

Elain only skirted the heavy weight of her hair over one shoulder, baring her long, pale neck to him. She then gently pulled him down. Down, down, down, until she could feel his breath against her throat.

A moment passed. And then another, as Azriel softly inhaled the scent of her.

She could feel the blood still in his veins.

A shudder ran down his back, through his wings, scattering silver drops of rain to the grass below.

Azriel’s breathing grew shallow and then his hands were in her hair, carefully careening her head back, so that he might scent her truly.

A staggering breath escaped him and his grip on her waist tightened for the briefest moment. He pulled back to search her face, pupils blown wide.

“Is this-”

The words wouldn’t come. A heartbeat passed. Maybe two.

His voice was a rasp when he spoke again.

“real?”

Elain’s gaze tightened at the disbelief etched in his features.

“Yes,” she breathed, “Azriel, it is real.”

She was shaking now, all over, uncontrollably. “It wasn’t easy,” she whispered, her voice a rasp. “But it is done. He is more relieved than I am.”

Azriel stared at her. He stared and stared and stared and looked as though he was on the verge of collapse.

“I’ve told myself- all this time, the way you felt under my hands when I touched you,” he said softly, “was real.” His hands were shaking too now, tracing her cheeks, her jaw, her throat. “That the song I heard when I first saw your face,” he drew closer, “was real.”

Elain’s heart was fracturing within her chest.

“That all those nights spent staring at the stars thinking about you so long that I woke up bruised within,” he rasped, “were real.” Elain couldn’t breathe.

“It should have been you,” she whispered. Because nothing had ever been so precious, so right, so beautiful as the words leaving his lips. And Cauldron be damned for not giving her the choice. “It should have been you.”

The confession broke something in Azriel and those long abandoned instincts ripped free from their cage.

“Yes it fucking should have.”

And then his lips, his hands, his heart- were all upon her.

Elain parted on instinct and that first, holy taste of him had every piece of her burning alive. Azriel kissed her like he was starving and she kissed him like she needed to be savagely devoured.

His tongue was tender, savoring every taste of her he was allowed, claiming her mouth for his own. Those scarred hands were everywhere, clutching, stroking, pulling her into him, wrapping her in his scent like she belonged to him and gods she was going to die from this.

It was starfire and shadow and void and song.

It was symphony.

Elain loosened a breathless sob at the perfection of it all, tears mixing with the raindrops on her cheeks. But Azriel was there a moment later, kissing them all away.

She repaid him in kind for that, claiming him with her mouth so vehemently that she nearly knocked him over. Crowds of partygoers were stopping on the street to watch amusedly as Elain kissed Azriel like she was burning alive from the inside out. The promise of the wild, untamed night had strangers clapping, cheering her on and Cassian was whooping with delight somewhere far off.

But none of it mattered because Azriel was laughing under the fervency of her lips and fuck, if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing she had ever tasted.

It was symphony.

The rain was a lullaby as it struck the earth. The wind was singing as it blew through the grass on the riverbank. The bellflower tolled a lover’s knell that rang out into the night.

And Elain kissed the most beautiful male in Prythian like she could damn the stars with the kiss.

For once, everyone seemed to notice.

But as Elain Archeron claimed Azriel’s lips before all the world-

she didn’t particularly give a damn.

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar fanfiction #angst #drama in the rain

[megs-98]

Petals and Poems

Ayyy, look who's back to writing ! :) only took me 6 weeks but that's okay coming back with a short fluff piece. it was originally my wip titled lounging about, but it kind of took a turn and the blorbos did what they wanted, hope yall enjoy <3

Pairings: Gale x f!reader

Summary: Gale is off to work after making you breakfast, so you decided to go shopping and leave some gifts for him to find once he arrives home. Also Tara is peak mom in this.

Tags: None, just two idiots in love :')

Word count: 1.9k

The breeze rustling the curtains and the smell of the salty sea air is what woke you this morning. The start of the spring season in Waterdeep. As you raised your arms over your head as you stretched you noticed that your love was not next to you in the bed. Sitting up on your elbows, you looked around the room, looking to see if he were out on the balcony or in the ensuite bathroom. You didn’t see him anywhere, but soon enough you realized where he was as you heard the clatter of pots and pans. Smiling to yourself, you finally removed your blankets as you walked over to the bathroom to freshen up for the day before bundling up in your robe and walking down the tower stairs.  

“HONE–” You and Gale both rounded the bottom of the stairs at the same time as he was calling to you that breakfast was done, bumping into each other. You quickly grabbed his apron, a lovely gift from Astarion with embroidery reading “Kiss The Wizard”, and he grabbed your wrist, the two of you stabilizing each other. You heard a loud merow from Tara as she ran off after getting startled by the two of you. Between his fits of laughter, Gale gave you a kiss on the cheek and told you that he had prepared breakfast for the two of you. 

As you entered the kitchen your nose was hit with the sweetness of berries, the yeastness of fresh rolls, and the savory smell of eggs with a side of cheese. 

“This smells, and looks, delicious as usual, Gale. Thank you.” You said as you planted a kiss on his lips as he leaned against the counter. Gale hummed against you as he grabbed your waist deepening the kiss. You could feel his smug smile against you as you tried to pull away from him, laughing as you reached for his hands. 

“The breakfast you slaved over is going to get cold if you don’t stop it.” 

“As I’ve said before, my angel, you could sate me for a lifetime.” Gale responded as he winked at you before turning back to the counter to prepare the both of you a cup of tea. You rolled your eyes as you took a seat at the table to make yourself a plate. Soon enough, Gale joined you at the table with a steaming cup of tea as you both enjoyed breakfast, discussing the plans the two of you had for the day. Gale talking at length about the various meetings he had with other teachers at Blackstaff Academy and what he was needing to do to prepare for the upcoming term starting. You listened intently before explaining that you were just planning on going to the markets, specifically the flower market, to see what you could find then doing some light cleaning and reading upon your return to the tower. Gale excitedly asked that you show him whatever you buy when he gets home that evening. 

“You’ve brought a certain sense of peace to the tower with your taste in decor, I can’t wait to see what you find.” You couldn’t help but blush as he voiced his adoration for you. It was something that still caught you off guard even though the two of you had been together for some time already. 

You and Gale said your goodbyes to each other as he left the tower, sighing contentedly as you closed the door behind him. You made your way back upstairs with Tara to finish getting ready for the day. The two of you entered the shared bedroom and went straight to the closet as you discarded your robe. Browsing your options, you finally found some, hopefully, acceptable pieces. For being a tressym, Tara was quite the brutal fashion critic. You held two blouse options up for Tara after you chose what pants you were going to wear. 

“What do you think, Tara, the pink or the blue blouse with these brown trousers?”

Tara circled your legs as she looked up at the two blouses considering the options very carefully. 

She sighed a bit as she jumped on the bed. “My dear child, while you have improved in your fashion sense a bit since moving here, your choices are still abysmal. Trade the brown trousers for black and pair it with the pink blouse. The pink suits your features well.” 

You did your best not to be upset because a winged cat just insulted you but you also appreciated her advice. She was a bit right, after spending years adventuring and wearing almost only armor during that time, you really weren’t sure how to dress yourself and definitely realized that being in the City of Splendors with Gale. You silently nodded and did as Tara said, getting dressed as she left, leaving you alone in the room. You slid on your boots, grabbed your coin purse, and left the tower heading for the market center. 

You quite enjoyed walking through Waterdeep, it was so different to what you were used to, having only been in the Baldur’s Gate area before. Even your adventures didn’t take you far from home. The market center had been your favorite since Gale first took you there. All of the smells always hit you a few blocks before you reach your destination. The various spices, cinnamon, sage, rosemary, coriander, chilis, almost every spice you could think of. Be it sweet, savory, spicy, the vendors had it. There were also the fishmongers fileting their most recent catches of the morning. That wasn’t as nice of a smell, but the saltiness in the air from the ocean water helped get past the fishiness of it all. 

Your favorite spot in the entire market, though, are the flower vendors. All the flowers you could imagine, from common flowers found in almost every Waterhavian garden, to rare flowers found in the far reaches of Faerun. You could spend hours sitting in the midst of the fresh floral scents that came from the lilacs, roses, even the flowering herbs. You found it very calming, and as much as you wanted to stay, you were there for specific flowers to decorate the tower with. You bought 3 large bundles of lavender, baby’s breath, and an assorted mix of primrose, varying from pink to purple and to white. 

Happy with your purchase, you decided to make your way back to the tower. Humming as you walked along, you looked around and one of the various bookstores caught your eye. You decided it wouldn’t hurt to pop in and see if you could find anything for yourself and hopefully something for Gale. You were able to find a book that piqued your interest, a guide to the folklore surrounding The North and other areas throughout the Sword Coast. However, trying to find a book that you thought Gale might want was proving difficult. Every book you were finding you quickly realized that he either had a copy back home or read a similar book already. Accepting defeat you start putting back the books you had wanted for Gale, knowing that he would be happy that you found something for yourself. While putting the last book back, you see a small book that had been pushed behind other books on the shelf. Pulling it out, reading the title Whispers of the Muse: A Tale of Poetic Magic. A book detailing the story of a wizard, who turned his spells into beautiful poetry, and his journey finding love amidst an adventure. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as the wizard in the book reminded you of your own wizard. You quickly went to the shopkeeper to pay for your finds and continued your return home. 

Gale announced his arrival back to the tower with a tired “I’m home, my love!”. He hung up his coat and set his bag down by the door, rubbing his neck as he made his way into the kitchen. With a wave of his hand, the candles came to life and he was surprised to see that he was greeted by Tara, sitting on the kitchen table, glaring at him.

“Mr. Dekarios! Have you any idea what time it is? The Mrs. waited for you as long as she could, the poor woman spent so long this afternoon cleaning the house and getting dinner ready for you.”

Gale looked around as he listened to Tara’s words and did notice that the tower was more organized and less dusty than he had previously left it this morning. He also noticed the bouquet sitting on the table next to Tara and a gift. He ran his fingers over the soft petals of the primrose and smiled as he saw his favorite flower, lavender, paired with your favorite flower, primrose, put together so beautifully. 

“Thank you for taking care of her, Tara. I do truly appreciate it. I will be sure to show her my thanks, and apologies for returning home late, in the most appropriate way I can. Also, my dear Tara, please remember not to eat the lavender, it gives you the most terrible stomach aches.” 

Tara gave Gale a low growl as she glared at him again, leaving for her spot on the couch with a harsh flick of her tail. Gale chuckled to himself as he reached for the gift that Tav also left for him, finding a note placed on the top. 

Gale, I’m sorry I’m not there to greet you when you get home. It’s getting late and our bed is calling my name with its siren song. There’s a plate of dinner saved for you. I hope you like the flowers and the book. I think you’ll find some similarities between you and the fictional wizard. I love you and I’ll see you soon.

Unwrapping the book, Gale read the title and was immediately intrigued. He skimmed through a bit of the book before deciding it could wait til morning. He had the love of his life in his bed and he needed her. 

Making his way up the stairs, he noticed more vases of flowers. The various bouquets adding fragrant pops of color all throughout the tower. Gale made his way to the bedroom and slowly opened the door. Slightly hoping you were still awake in bed, he peeked in, finding you sprawled out in bed, taking up as much space as your body would allow with a book laying open next to you. Admiring your sleeping form, Gale couldn’t help but thank the gods for you and him finding each other and falling in love. He didn’t know what to do without you and he didn’t want to go back to living without you.

Getting into his sleep clothes, he carefully got into bed, pushing your limbs back onto your side of the bed before pulling you into him for a cuddle. Gale was worried he had fully woken you up at first, as you had started to stir, but you sleepily pulled him in closer, placing a kiss on his chest where the orb was and went right back to sleep with a small smile on your face. Gale carded his hand through your hair as he kissed the top of your head, silently thanking you for everything you had done for him and saying I love you in every way he knew how.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #fanfic #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #tara the tressym #your honor they are in love

[daisybianca]

pairing: carlos sainz x femalereader

summary: laying in bed on a lazy morning with the perfect man. it doesn't get any better than this.

warnings: none, just fluff

SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH the open windows. A soft breeze blew the gauzy curtains inward, bringing the smell of spring flowers and rain clouds in the distance.

Dust motes floated to the ground and despite being awake at such an early hour, you were happy.

You couldn't stop being happy.

You had tried, but shit, you failed miserably.

Contentment settled in your stomach, in your bones, relaxing you. You knew you should move, should get up and be busy, but right here-right now?

This was heaven.

Only fools walked away from heaven.

Carlos shifted under you in his sleep, your head was on his bicep and he had to be uncomfortable. You started to lift up, to free his arm and let the blood flow return, but he merely mumbled your name and pulled you closer.

You hesitated for a second, muscles tensed, you didn’t want to hurt him. He could feel you, the way you hadn't relaxed and he cracked an eye and looked down at you sleepily.

“Stay.” Carlos mumbled, his big hand coming up to cradle your head and relax it down onto his chest. “I’m fine.” He assured you.

Slowly, testing your weight, you rested your head on his chest. His steady breathing lift you and then brings you backed down slowly. You could feel his strong heartbeat in his skin. Your fingers traced over his pecs, laying flat on the impossibly soft fabric of his shirt over his heart.

You relaxed, sure you wouldn't make him uncomfortable now and he moved his hand from your head down your shoulder.

It laced with your hand trapped by your bodies, but suddenly it wasn't so strange.

His other hand covered yours on his chest and he let out a small sigh.

The breeze ghosted across your skin, raising goosebumps and making you shiver despite the comfortable temperature.

Carlos let out a soft chuckle, pulling the light comforter over you.

Of course he was perfectly fine, never cold, always the right temperature for you.

It was so frustrating.

You pressed closer against his side, breathing in the smell of him, soft laundry soap and traveling and sleep.

The kind of exhausting sleep where he almost didn’t bother to take off his clothes last night. You almost didn’t get a kiss, his eyes closing before he fell into bed.

Your heart constricted at the thought of leaving him today. You didn't want to go to work, not when he was here, for the first time in months.

A low grumbling thunder sounded off in the distance and your mind was made up. You were calling out.

You couldn't fall back to sleep, not now. Now that he was here, with you.

You watchwd his eyes move as he dreamed, little bumps from your perspective, lifting and dipping his long eyelashes.

You wondered what he was dreaming about.

His soft lips quirked into a small smile and he mumbled something too quiet for you to hear.

You wanted to trace the plains of his chest, memorizing them for the next time that he leaves, but he was so ticklish, and you just knew that doing that would wake him.

“You’re staring at me.” He sighed suddenly, adjusting his head to look down to you, so he was not squinting over his cheek bones.

“Because you’re so pretty.” You said softly, almost embarrassed that he’dcaught you.

He chuckled and brushed your hair out of your face.

“Are men allowed to be pretty?” He asked.

“If not that’s just stupid, because some really are.” You buried your face into his ribs as he laughed. “I’m sorry I bothered you. Go back to sleep, I’ll try not to stare.”

Carlos shifted more, pulling you higher up. “I like when you stare.” He said softly, pressing a whiskery kiss to your forehead. “It means you’re not looking at someone else.”

“There are other people?” You asked, confused and he grinned.

“I love you.”

You pushed up and kissed his soft lips. “I love you, too, you jealous idiot.”

Your boyfriend pulled you close, rolling on top of you and kissing you deeply. Your fingers braided through his dark and smoothhair, holding him desperately close. Your heart swell in your chest as you wrapped around him craving to touch every part of him, as much as you could.

He groaned against your lips, breaking away and letting his head rest against your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” You asked against the side of his neck.

He shivered slightly as your breath skated across his skin and he pushed himself up on his arms to look down at you. “You have to go to work. But I don’t want you to leave.” His eyes tightened and it was obvious he was still exhausted.

“I’m calling out.” You hooked his soft hair behind his ears, thumbs brushing across his cheeks. “Go back to sleep. I’ll still be here.” You promised.

“You sure?”

You nodded and he grinned, letting his big arms give out so he was laying flat out on top of you. You groaned and pushed against his shoulders, but he didn't budge. He was too solid.

“Carlos!” You whined as he smushed you into the mattress. “You’ll regret it.” You warned.

He laughed, rolling off you. “Fine.” He stretched and gir comfortable again, his big hand reaching for you. You curled up against him, tracing lines on his arm. “Keep doing that.” He mumbled.

You traced the veins sticking out under his soft skin, the tightly corded muscles. Your fingers trailed over the light blue vessels at his wrists and the big bumpy veins on his hands.

It was no wonder he made you feel safe. Everything about him was strong, sturdy.

“Mmm.” He hummed, twisting his hand up to capture yours. “I can sleep later."

“Want me to make breakfast?”

“Pancakes?"

“Is there another avaliable option?” You asked rhetorically. You knew how much he loved Pancakes.

He chuckled and helped you sit up.

“I’m right behind you.” Carlos promised, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

You carefully disentangled yourself from Carlos' grasp and headed down the cold hardwood steps to the kitchen.

A perfect morning with the perfect man.

Heaven didn't get better than this.

●○•°•○●

requests are always open for my wags <3

#f1 drivers #f1 #formula 1 #f1 memes #formula 1 imagine #formula one #formula 1 memes #formula one oneshot #f1 ferrari #formula one imagine #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz f1 #carlos sainz fanart #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz imagine #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 one shot #formula 1 smut

[izurusstuff]

Coal Miner's Daughter

(click here for last chapter)

‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐: 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭 ‧̥·̊‧̍̊┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️

message from izurusstuff: i am so so sorry it took so long for pt 2, i couldn't get it to sound right and i had to go through like 564 rough drafts to get it </3 but anyway!! the action starts here!!

also!! there's two new characters and some updated character descriptions, so i recommend checking them out!!

summary: A blonde boy comes into the story... ;)

⋆·˚ ༘ * "𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞~!" ༉‧₊˚.

June 2nd, Snow Residence, The Capitol. 

The moonlight spilled in through the bedroom window, blanketing the entire room in a soft silvery glow. The window is open, letting in the gentle caress of the late-spring breeze to temper the warmth and add onto the humidity of the air inside; bedsheets rustle with the light wind and shadows flicker in response to the silver light shining through the curtains. There’s a faint scent of fresh flowers lingering in the room, mostly due to the flowerbed that laid directly under the windowsill. 

A frail blonde boy was in the bed that was pressed to the wall in the tiny room, unable to sleep and deep in thought. He laid in the bed looking up at the night sky. The moonlight that trickled in through the open window illuminated his face as he thought to himself... He had a concerned look on his face, but the sound of the gentle breeze carried a sense of calm and peace over the room... In that moment, he could almost forget his worries. Almost.

The boy was Coriolanus Snow, a senior at The Academy.

He was one of the more well known students, mostly because he put on the grand persona of being rich and powerful— and that’s what was keeping him awake, if he was being honest. He wondered when someone would notice his facade; Coriolanus may walk with a sense of superiority and importance, but underneath the surface, there was a boy struggling to survive… a boy that could only afford to eat cabbage soup that was mostly water. He was hoping his cousin or the Grandma’am somehow managed to get more food the evening prior, so he got himself out of his bed and crept to the kitchen.

The fridge door swung open, letting out a little puff of cold air. Great. Not only was there just cabbage soup left, but it was half gone by that point too. He scoffed and slammed the refrigerator door before giving up and going back to bed. 

-- 

The next morning, the moist air felt like it was wrapping Coriolanus in a hug. It was miserably saturated and rather annoying. Although he slept shirtless, the heat and humidity was overwhelming— even against his bare torso. He scoffed in disgust at the sticky air that was touching him before he got up for the day. 

Coriolanus walked to his small wardrobe that contained four outfits at most. He tried to piece together the most fancy one he could, because today was the day the Plinths were throwing a feast at their house to celebrate the ending of their son’s final year at The Academy. But he couldn’t dress too fancy, because he had to save his fanciest outfit for The Reaping ceremony that would take place in a few weeks. So he settled for a red shirt and black vest to go over it. He found some matching black trousers to go with it, too. The blonde ruffled his hair to make his curls stand out, then rolled up his sleeves before he went downstairs.

“Coryo!” His cousin gasped– Tigris was always his number one supporter. He gave an awkward smile to her praise and did a little courtesy. 

“Here! I stole some bread from work last night…” Tigris murmured, sliding Coriolanus stale bread that was wrapped in a napkin. It wasn’t exactly the most tasteful thing out there, but it was much, much better than the watery cabbage soup he ate most nights. He gave her a sweet hug and nodded.

“Are you going to the feast at the Plinths’ later?” Coryo asked. Tigris shook her head while she did dishes. 

“No… I’d love to, but…” Her eyes widened when she realized she was about to snitch on herself. Tigris had a big, big surprise for Coriolanus that she was going to work on at her job. She quickly got herself back together and turned to Coyo while she hand-washed a glass plate.

“Fabricia said she needed me today, so it looks like I’ll be working overtime-!” Even though it didn’t seem that fun, Tigris still had a smile on her face. Coryo didn’t question it, though. He finished up his bread and walked to the Plinths’ house. 

--

June 2nd, Plinth Residence, The Capitol.

Coriolanus’s classmates gathered in the gardens of Sejanus’s house, all of them in the finest outfits he’s ever seen. Even the people he utterly despised looked gorgeous… Arachne was in a floor-length white dress with her hair down over her shoulder, she was talking to Clemensia who wore a black pantsuit lined with diamonds. Hell, even Festus looked good; he was wearing a deep v-neck blouse that loosely fit him, which made his toned chest stand out. Coryo didn’t want to stare too long though– he wasn’t gay, he was just appreciating what was in front of him. But then there were the people Coriolanus despised…

Sejanus Plinth and Arizona Mayberry. They didn’t deserve to step foot into the fucking party, even if Sejanus literally lived there. Coryo hated that they came from the districts and acted like they were one of the Capitol citizens. They were nobodies, just poor people that got lucky– Sejanus had his daddy’s fortune and Arizona had her body to get what she wanted, including the heir to Dr. Gaul, Helios De Vil. Both of them disgusted Coryo down to his core, but Arizona more so. Thankfully Arizona was talking with Helios, so he only had to deal with Sejanus… who was currently walking up to him. The audacity.

“Thank you for coming, Coriolanus…” Sejanus said with a sad tone. How could he be sad if his parents literally threw this fucking party for him?!

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss out on it.” He was definitely bullshitting. He’d miss out on the party even if it meant he had to go hide in the districts. But he was a damn good actor, so Sejanus believed him. 

“I appreciate it, dude.” He exclaimed, then wrapped his arm around Coriolanus. Coryo was definitely trying his hardest to not vomit right there. 

“You made it.” Clemensia said with her soft yet stern voice. Arachne and Lysistrata followed after her. Coryo gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek, which she reciprocated. 

“We have something to celebrate, don’t we? I’d be a fool to miss it.” 

“You look nice, Coriolanus.” A nasally, jarring, disgusting voice told him. When he turned around, it was exactly who he thought. Arizona Mayberry. Her hair was up and had flowers in it, which matched her sheer green dress. The outfit was what someone could expect from a glorified District 12 peasant… but by her side was the far more tolerable Helios De Vil, who was rocking their white suit that was topped off with a gold corset. 

“As do you, Mayberry.” He snarled. If it wasn’t for the crowd of their friends, Coriolanus would call her out on her fake kindness. However, he had to put on a show– he gracefully grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it. He made a mental note to himself to deep clean his mouth when the party was over. Thankfully, Helios was right by Arizona’s side, so Coriolanus ignored the girl after their interaction and went right to Helios. 

“Gold, huh? An interesting choice.”

“Why, thank you. Your outfit is also outstanding. Did Tigris pick it out?”

“No. I did.”

Helios playfully gasped in surprise. Coryo was good looking, but he did not know how to dress himself. So when he revealed he picked out his own outfit, they were baffled. 

“...our last year at The Academy, huh?” Lysistrata spoke. She was quiet all evening, which wasn’t unusual… it was just odd to see her so solemn. 

“Why are you sad? We get to get the hell out of here and start our own lives!” Festus cheered. 

“The Hunger Games will probably relate to our final project…”

“Oh? Do you know something we don’t, Sejanus?” Arachne spat out after she noticed Sejanus’s solemn tone. Only him and Arizona seemed upset about it; everyone else was placing bets on how the games would relate to their final project… and the person who would know the most about it would be Helios. Everyone’s eyes were on them and their fear was plastered on their face. 

“Hey! Don’t look at them like that! They could get in major trouble for even alluding to this!” Of course Arizona had to put herself into it. It’s not like she knew how to shut up. Festus and Coriolanus looked at her in annoyance. 

“You don’t have to let your chihuahua guard dog speak for you, but alas, we’ll back dow-” Coriolanus got interrupted by Helios’s blunt statement.

“We’re being mentors. That’s how we relate to the games.” 

The group looked around in shock at what they just said. Mentors?! How the fuck would they work?

“Uhm… what?” Arizona asked Helios the question everyone was wondering. Her gaze looked annoyed as she let go of Helios’s arm. 

“If you tell anyone what I’m about to say, I will actually end your bloodline, do you understand?” The others gulped and nodded. Helios was hilarious and outgoing, but everyone who knew them knew that they never bluffed. They looked around and whispered into the group that huddled in a circle. 

“From what I know, Dr. Gaul and Dean Highbottom came up with the idea of making the twenty-four top performing students mentor the tributes. We’re responsible for training them in combat and presentation… that’s our final exam.” 

Coriolanus wasn’t as happy anymore. He knew he’d usually excel at any task given to him, but if Highbottom had anything to do with it, he knew he’d have all odds stacked against him. 

And Coriolanus was right. 

--

July 4th, Reaping Day, District 12. 

Y/n stood in the crowd in her dirty coal mining uniform. After working in the mines for over a month, she finally saved up enough to buy a uniform that fit her. It wasn’t as dirty as Ridge’s, but it was definitely covered in soot.

Thanks to her disappearing off the face of the Earth after she was betrayed, no one even recognized her… the y/n that went from wearing pastels and denim was now dirty with soot. Her hair was up in a bun, whereas she used to let her hair flow freely. She stood there with a determined look on her face. Y/n wasn’t afraid anymore. After being put through hell and back by her two favorite people, she didn’t give a shit about anything; including what she knew was going to happen. 

Tripp took to the stage and gave a speech about how The Hunger Games were a punishment, blah blah blah. Y/n didn’t care. She just wanted her name to be “drawn” and get it all over with. Sure enough, it was.

“The girl representing us… Y/n Vespertine.” Tripp pretended to be distraught over it, but y/n knew his bluffing. She gave him a hug to help him keep up his act of losing his “beloved daughter figure” in The Reaping. Big shocker there– Tripp was team Savani. 

“The boy representing us will be… Leif Huxley.”

--

July 4th, Reaping Day, The Academy. 

Everyone was getting assigned their mentee in The Games. Coriolanus’s name hadn’t been called… maybe that’s how Dean Highbottom would screw him over. Maybe he didn’t even give Coriolanus a tribute to make him look stupid.

“The girl tribute from District 12 goes to Coriolanus Snow.”

Oh. That’s how he was going to get fucked over. Great! He could just walk out of the amphitheater right then, that would be less embarrassing than having to mentor a poor little girl who didn’t stand a chance. When the live feed for District 12 came on, he saw y/n, who was wearing a cute dress, but her hair and face were covered in some weird black dust. His jaw was on the floor… there was no fucking way Highbottom was serious. 

While Coriolanus mourned the fact his victory was out the window, Arachne was cackling her ass off. Arizona surprisingly looked upset for the boy… being from District 12, she knew what it was like out there. She knew y/n didn’t stand a chance.

“Awww! Coriolanus gets the scared little rabbit!” Someone in the audience exclaimed. Coryo looked at the voice in horror… this was really happening. He got some poor, innocent, rabbit girl from the worst district. She was too cute to even step foot into the games, let alone win it!

He had his work cut out for him…

#the coal miners daughter #thecoalminersdaughter #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #snow x reader #the hunger games #hunger games #sejanus plinth #clemensia dovecote #tigris snow #snow lands on top #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas #izurusstuff #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #rachel zegler #fanfic #hunger games fanfiction

[abibliophobiaa]

Daylight Chapter Six Preview:

‘The Date’ — 9/5 @ 7pm EST ——

Saturday Morning light seeped through billowing curtains. Golden rays casted shadows along the tan carpeting, illuminating the space in a heavenly glow. You could smell that morning Spring breeze — the freshness of it, the tease of a beautiful day to come. The warming March air teased along your skin, gooseflesh pimpling across heated skin.

Heated by the man curled up behind you. His fingers remained curled around your midsection, rings discarded into a tray at his bedside. The touch seeped through the tee shirt you wore, your own fingers itching to reach out and trace the forearm keeping you held in place, while your head rested on Eddie’s other toned bicep, your pillow forgotten.

Breath puffed along your ear. His face pressed into the curve of your shoulder, curls dangling along your skin. If you reached out, you’d be able to tangle your fingers in the feathery curls. Would watch them extend and retract with a bounce, falling messily into place as they always did.

“Morning.”

It was a muffled moan at your neck, his face turning into it as he hugged you tighter, limbs stretching out beneath him. Vaguely, you wondered if he’d even realized what he was doing — holding you tighter, wrapping himself further around you, locking you into an embrace. But you eased into it, a low hum spilling from you as your fingers reached down and trailed along the backs of his knuckles, his laughter making your heart soar when your fingertips tickled along his flesh.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to block out everything else around you. Allowed the simple haven you created here in his room with him over the span of several days. A safe space for you to share and for him to listen, for him to express his heart and for you to open up yours. Smiled to yourself as he relaxed further against your back, and you sank into him, your head nuzzling further into his bicep.

In the distance, his wall clock alerted you he’d have to head out to the shop in an hour, but in here time didn’t exist. At least not right now. Not as he shifted his arm from beneath his head and propped himself up on an elbow, palm pressed to his temple as he looked down over at you.

As you rolled over, you were shadowed and sheltered in the safety of his gaze, those umber eyes locked on yours and he simply stared. Beheld you, like he thought you might run away. Part of you wanted to. And the other — the other part, beaten and battered by love, still held onto hope that there were good people in this world.

Good people like the man beside you, with love in his heart, full to the brim, a best friend to you now.

“Good morning,” you murmured back, gripping his chin in hand and wiggling it lightly, earning a soft smile out of the man.

——

tag list: @aurora-austen @lottie-90 @rustboxstarr @daisyridleyyyy yy @eggo-segual @corrodedseraphine @kjcmama @trixyvixx @lezzy-bennet @aysheashea @siriuslysmoking @micheledawn1975 @ali-r3n @ilovetaquitosmmmm @vintagehellfire @hideoutside @pbs-theundeadmaggot @smells-like-teenwolf @squidscottjeans @royale1803 @marcysbear @josephquinnsfreckles @definitionwanderlust @plk-18 @mrsjellymunson

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

[angel-of-the-moons]

Can you do pavitr sex pollen smut😩

Gonna combine this ask:

Because ommmgg? Asdfghjkl I haven't actually come close to writing any sex pollen tropes and I fucking need to!

Hazy

Pavitr Prabhakar x Fem!Reader

Because I'm tired of repeating myself: PAVITR IS AGED UP IN THIS FIC

TW/CW: Smut. Straight up smut. Unprotected sex, PiV sex, NSFW, creampie, sex pollen trope, no refractory period, oversensitivity

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I really need to do this trope with other characters.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

It was a typical day for you. You finished your course papers for the day, submitted them in an email to your professor, and decided to brush up on some spring cleaning.

You'd opened the glass doors to your tiny apartment balcony, allowing the evening breeze to blow inwards, your curtain billowing about as it was blown around.

You turned on some tunes and set yourself to task; knowing your boyfriend would be home soon. You didn't cook dinner because the two of your decided to order out tonight to save on an extra load of dishes, and it honestly made your night much easier.

You were so consumed with your chores and your music that you failed to notice the man dropping onto your balcony, his body tense, his hands trembling; the multi-colored suit he wore covered in something light and powdery.

He dragged one foot at a time into your apartment, spotting you in the tiny kitchen, his chest heaving with each breath he took.

He barely managed to rip his mask off before he slipped his arms around your waist.

You gasped and spun around in his arms, blinking up at him, taking in his blown pupils and flushed face.

"P-Pavitr!" You gasped.

"What--"

He cut you off by crashing his mouth into yours, taking your off-guard moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, greedily twining with yours.

You could feel the strange powdery substance on his suit, the small flecks falling from his hair to breathe it in.

And it was... Strange. Your head started to feel funny, giddy, almost drunk. You didn't even retort when Pavitr's hand slipped around you to grip at your ass, pulling you so you were pressed against him.

You hiccuped for some air, briefly getting a respite before he kisses you again, his mouth hungry and desperate.

He was hard. Painfully hard.

Just feeling him press against you through his suit and your skirt, made you take another deep breath.

With every drag of your lungs, that weird feeling got heavier, with heat pooling low in your belly and dripping down your thighs, your underwear soaked clean through already.

What had Pavitr gotten into?

"Need you." His usually sweet and peppy voice croaked out.

Your mind was foggy and all you could do was crash your mouth to his again, biting at his bottom lip.

He groaned and all but ripped your skirt down, sinking to his knees in front of you before burying his face between your legs, licking a broad stripe up your weeping sex before his lips wrapped around your clit, his free hand gripping at his cock through his suit, desperate for some friction.

The moment he thrust his fingers inside of you, you tipped your head back and moaned wantonly, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for dear life, riding his face and fingers like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

Pavitr pulled his mouth off of you to bite at your thighs, curling and thrusting his fingers as fast as he could as he licked a rivulet of your slick back up to your lips, hungrily lapping at you like a man parched.

You spared a glance down and you saw him, his hair messy, the black strands dusted with the orange substance; his eyes were closed and he had this expression in a mix of bliss and hunger, like it was too much and not enough at the same time.

One of your hands flew down to grip at his hair, your teeth gritting tightly as you feel your orgasm start to wash over you, your blood boiling to the point sweat was rolling down your brow, your throat, and into the valley between your breasts.

When you cum, you do it with a broken whine and heavy breath, breasts heaving as Pavitr thrusts his tongue inside, drinking you up even more than before, nudging your clit with his nose as he does.

"Pavitr...." You moan as he pulls away, his jaw slack, the glossy sticky webs of your slick connecting him still, snapping like tension wires as he pulls far enough away.

He wipes his face on the back of his hand and shoots back to his feet, kissing you again, all teeth and tongue, robbing you of your breath that you managed to claw for.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, you needed more. You needed all of him. You needed him inside you, and you needed him now.

It was like he could read your mind.

Pavitr buried his face in your neck, and you just barely heard him whine as he desperately rutted his clothed cock against your thigh.

"Need you." He whimpered.

You groan, feeling more heat gush out of you, your pussy clenching around nothing in anticipation of being filled.

"I'm yours." You gasped when he bit down on your neck.

In a flash you were spun around, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as he bends you over, gripping your hips in his hand as he shoved the bottom half of his suit down in one swift motion, his cock finally springing free, the tip leaking and obscene amount of precum from it.

You made a hefty groan when all at once he thrust into you, his cock bottoming out and stretching you full.

Pavitr let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as he gave himself a few seconds to catch his breath, before he started slamming into you like a man possessed, small whimpers and weak grunts coming from him as he roughly fucked into you, burying his face into your hair and breathing deeply.

You keened loudly, Pavitr's thrusts punching the air out of your lungs so harshly it felt like your guts were being rearranged.

Your skin was burning, his every touch feeling like it was turning the blood in your veins to molten lava.

You let out a yelp when he pulled your shirt, ripping the buttons open and your bra down so your breasts could bounce free, one of his hands gripping and fondling you as if it were the only way to pull you back down onto him

You bite your lip and choke back a sob as your hand slides between your legs of its own accord, your fingertips brushing where his cock pistoned in and and out of you before moving back up to furiously roll your clit, working you back up to that peak where your second orgasm was waiting to pull you over the edge.

Pavitr made another pathetic whimper as he slapped his hips into yours, fucking you full as he pumped a hot, thick load into you, rutting into you as hard as he could, his cum dribbling out of you and dripping down your thighs, onto the floor as he kept fucking you.

You let out a high-pitched wail as you cum, gushing around his cock as he rode out his high.

The two of you slipped in your shared mess. And without even dislodging his cock from you, Pavitr reached out and caught you both, his arm wrapped around your chest as his other palm slammed onto the floor.

He rolled his hips desperately into yours, his still-hard cock slamming into your spongy walls.

"P-Pav--" You groaned deeply as he pinned you to your kitchen floor with his hips.

"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry--" He grunted into your hair.

"Need more. Need all of you." Pavitr groaned, pulling back to grip at your hips, pulling you back against him as he split you open with his cock.

"I... I need more."

#pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr prabhakar x reader #atsv pavitr #pavitr prabhakar #spiderverse smut

[whatsnewalycat]

wake & bake

pairing: dieter bravo x ofc louella

Summary: You have a virtual smoke session with your new friend and secret crush, Dieter Bravo.

Rating: Mature (see warnings)

Content Tags/Warnings: video chat, smoking weed & getting high, swearing, fluff, flirting, pet names, attempts at jokes, primal scream, crush

Word Count: 2.1k+

Notes: Hi there! This takes place in the Psychomanteum storyline between chapters 2 & 3. I think it can be read as a one shot with the context that’s given but idk. You do need to know is that Louella/Lua, our OFC and second person POV, bakes and sells edibles, bc I don’t think that’s super clear in the text. Ok thanks have a great day 🖤✨

You settle into the middle of your bed, crossing your legs as you glance around and take inventory. 

Lighter. Joint. Ashtray. Water bottle. Laptop. 

Your emerald green curtains billow and rustle when a crisp spring breeze rolls through the bedroom. The air carries the latent, earthy scent of decay and new growth from the park across the street. A shiver weaves its way up your back, so you pull the throw blanket draped around your waist up onto your shoulders like a cape. 

Despite the chill, your hands are hot pads. You press one palm to your cheek and grimace at how fast it heats you. It’s stupid to be so nervous about this. He’s just a person. 

Just a really amusing, really sweet, stupidly handsome person. 

That also happens to be famous. Which is a fact you can’t dwell on for too long before it starts to make you queasy. So, for the purposes of this conversation, you decide to omit it from your brain. 

Just a guy. 

You take a deep breath and wipe your sweaty palms on your pants, then click Join Meeting. 

A few moments go by before Dieter’s face pops up on the screen. He looks like he just crawled out of bed. His face is all puffy from sleep and his chestnut curls are sticking up every which way.

Upon seeing him, your heart starts thudding in your throat. 

He mumbles some kind of greeting while rubbing one eye and yawning, then pulls the camera back to wave at you, revealing that he’s shirtless. The video blurs and shifts like he’s en route, and you see bits and pieces of what you assume is his house in the background. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” you call, waving to the camera, probably a little too enthusiastic. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he croaks out, voice all groggy, “Sorry, just woke up, give me a sec.”

He sets the phone down on a flat surface, giving you a view of his ceiling as he pours a cup of coffee. 

“I’ll give you all the secs you need,” you tease, and immediately cringe at yourself. But you hear a robust laugh echo through, what you assume is, his kitchen. A proud smile stretches across your face. 

“That was good,” he grins as he picks the phone up and tucks a joint behind his ear, then grabs a steaming coffee cup. The background starts moving again as he walks through the house, “How’re you doing today, doll?”

“Busy,” you fiddle with the joint, twirling its paper tip to a point, “I’ve been up since like 3:00.”

“Pretty sure that’s when I went to sleep,” he tells you with a little chuckle, “S’pose it’s like… stoner Christmas, huh? Big day in the biz.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty nuts,” you laugh, then shrug, “Keeps the lights on, though, so I’m not complaining. Parker is gonna come over in a bit and help me with the orders going out this afternoon.”

“Oh, Parker, what a guy,” Dieter smiles, opening a sliding glass door that drenches him in sunlight.

“He’s the best,” you smirk, then look up at the laptop screen and sigh, “What’re your plans for today?”

“Eh,” he shrugs, then groans as he sits down in a white patio couch, “Little of this, little of that. Gonna meet up with some people later and go to a party.” 

“Fun,” you say, trying to picture the kind of LA parties he frequents. Your imagination makes them out to be glamorous and wild. Expensive champagne, models, celebrities, drugs galore. After looking around your small bedroom, you blow a raspberry, then ask, “Well, shall we?” 

Dieter hums and plucks the joint out from behind his ear. He closes his lips around the cardboard tip, talking around it, “We shall.” 

You follow his lead, holding your joint between your lips, then raise a lighter to the business end, pulling a few quick puffs before you toss the lighter aside. Thick, skunky smoke expands your lungs. You exhale towards the window and cough a little as THC dissipates through your body, making you feel light and buoyant. 

“What’re the parties like out there?” you ask, taking another long drag. The pot starts to smooth your nervous edges and mellow you out. 

He grunts and pulls a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, then shrugs, “Bullshit. Buncha phonies trying to one up each other.” 

“Ok, Holden Caulfield,” you snort, and it earns a howl of laughter from him that makes you smile. 

“No, but really,” he takes a drag off his joint and holds the smoke captive as he tells you, “I don’t find people like you and Parker out here,” he exhales fully, coughing a little, “Or anywhere, really. That party was the most fun I’ve had in years.” 

“Bullshit,” you laugh. 

“Seriously!” He grins and clambers up in his seat, leaning forward, “I’ve done acid so many goddamn times at so many parties. And it’s always a big group of people talking over each other, trying so hard to be profound, or have a fuckin’, uhhh, spiritual experience or whatever,” he waves his hands about as he talks, pausing to take a hit. Smoke muffles his voice when he tells you, “But they’re all so fucking soulless and shallow, I can’t stand it. I usually either end up leaving to trip alone or take other shit to make it more tolerable.”

You giggle nervously, “That sounds… I dunno, like a bad fucking time, man.”

He chuckles, then murmurs, “Anyway,” sitting back in his seat, “What’s, uhhh… what’s your scene, what kind of parties do you usually go to?” 

“Uhhhhh,” you croak as you think about this, then frown at the ceiling as you take a hit off your joint and exhale, “I guess I really don’t? I go to bars more than parties, I guess, but I usually just go there to get laid.”

He smiles wide and brings a palm to his chest, “A girl after my own heart.” 

You giggle as heat creeps through your body, up your neck, “I mean, I can drink and smoke at home. But dick? I have to outsource dick—”

Dieter’s laughter is all you can hear. He leans forward and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“Pussy, too, but dick is much easier to find,” you tell him in a joking way, even though it’s not a joke, “It’s just not the same alone, you know? 

“That’s absolutely true,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes as his laughter dies down, “I like you, you’re funny.”

“Hey, I like you too,” you beam, tilting your head to the side. It’s quiet for a moment as you study each other’s face through the screen conduit. You take another drag off your joint, averting your gaze to the window, then blow a thick plume of smoke towards it. 

“I have a question,” you tell him, flicking your eyes back to the screen. 

“What?” he tucks a hand under his head and lays out on his outdoor couch. 

“Do you ever have these urges to do something crazy? And, like, wonder how people around you would react?” 

“Like what?”

“Like,” you toss your head back and forth, “Like what would you do if I just took my clothes off right now, or—“

“I would die of joy, can we try that one?” he grins. 

“No,” you snort, then cover your face as it starts to heat, “It was just an example!”

“Uh huh. You came up with it really fast,” he observes, then takes a drag from his joint. 

“And you responded to it really fast,” you counter, raising an eyebrow, crushing the orange cherry of your joint into the ashtray on your knee. 

“Obviously,” Dieter scoffs and shrugs, “I would love to see you naked.” 

Your whole head is a heat lamp and your face hurts from smiling. You lick your lips and smirk, “I am very flattered. But, hear me out—”

“We both take our clothes off,” he suggests, his shoulders shaking with stifled laughter, “That’s such a good idea!”

“I am going to murder you, Dee,” you laugh, covering your face. 

“Ok, no seriously, go ahead,” he snickers, glancing over to extinguish his spent joint in an off-screen ashtray.

You sigh and pause for a beat before confessing, “I wanna scream. Like, as loud as I can.”

He smirks and opens his mouth, tilting his head to the side. 

Before he can quip a sexual innuendo and fluster you further, you explain, “I’ve felt it in my chest for so long. The scream, I mean. Like it’s just sitting in there begging to be let out. Do you know what I’m talking about? Do you ever feel like that?”

The devilish smirk on his lips falters. He nods, “Yeah, I have.”

“I want to let it out, but I’m always so scared of what my neighbors will think,” you tell him, searching his face hundreds of miles away, “And sometimes I think, what if I just said fuck it and did it? Just screamed as loud and long as I could? What would happen?”

“Well, fuck it, let’s do it,” he decides, and the camera jostles as he rises to his feet, “Let’s fuckin’ scream our little hearts out, huh? See what happens.”

You smile, “Really?”

“Fuck yeah, come on,” he says, “You gotta stand, though, really let it out.” 

“Ok,” you laugh and set your ashtray aside, then roll off your bed, pulling your laptop to the edge so he can see you standing at your window, “Ready?”

“Alright, on three,” he calls, and you wriggle your body around, trying to psych yourself up, shaking your hands out as he counts, “1, 2, 3–“

You inhale until your lungs ache, then let it out. 

The red, hot feeling of disquiet that has been restless inside your chest for months scrapes against your vocal chords, burning your throat. 

While you’re doing this, you hear Dieter through the laptop speakers, screaming in unison with you, unrestrained, primal. 

You bend over to fully expunge this guttural, animalistic noise from your body. You scream until your face is filled with blood and your heartbeat pounds in your ears. Until your throat is throbbing and your voice is hoarse. Until your lungs are empty and nothing else comes out. 

Then you turn around to the laptop, searching Dieter’s flushed face. You’re both smiling wide and wild, chests heaving. 

“That was fucking awesome,” he tells you, chuckling and shaking his head, “You did great.”

“So did you,” you grin, “Good job screaming.” 

A frantic knock sounds on your door. 

“Oh shit,” you cover your face and giggle, looking up towards the noise, “Someone’s knocking.”

“Probably making sure you’re alive,” you hear Dieter say as you carry the laptop into the kitchen. You set it on the countertop before opening the door. 

“Hi,” you answer breathlessly to the wide eyes of your next door neighbor, “I’m fine.” 

“Oh—ok, I was just making sure—”

“Yeah, I just—you know, you ever just feel like screaming?” you try to explain. 

She shakes her head and stammers, “Um, no. But—but you’re ok, right?”

“I’m perfect, it felt really good,” you tell her, and you can hear Dieter’s laughter over the laptop, “Thank you for checking on me, though. I appreciate it.” 

“Sure,” she nods, then starts to walk away, glancing back over her shoulder as she goes.

You close the door and lock it, then burst out in giggles as you go back to the laptop, seeing Dieter smiling from ear-to-ear. 

He tells you, “That was adorable.”

“That was my neighbor thinking I’ve fully fucking lost my mind,” you snort, then glance up at the the clock on your oven, “Fuck, I have to get back to work.” 

He gives you a thumbs down and jeers, “Boooooo!”

The thought of him not wanting this call to end yet makes your insides twist. You roll your eyes playfully, “It’s been lovely smoking and screaming with you.”

“Waking and baking with you has been a delight, Lua, we should do it again soon,” he smiles, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah?” you beam, licking your lips before asking, “Do you mean that?”

“Obviously,” he scoffs, and you’re sort of glad you can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses when his voice softens and he tells you, “Really, Lua. I’d love to do this again. I’m not just saying that.”

“Ok,” you grin like a fool and nod, “I would love to do this again, too.” 

“I’ll let you get to it. Tell Parker I said hi give him a bit ole smooch for me, will ya?” 

“I will,” you wave,” Bye, Dee.”

He kisses his hand and presses it to the camera, then says, “Talk to you soon, doll.” 

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic