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ireadwithmyears · 10 months

Text

Absent mindedly making me want you

Pairing: Ellie Williams / female reader

Word count : 12 K 💀 I swear it’s worth it I just really wanted a well rounded story even if this is just a one shot

Summary :

Due to her first-hand experience when it comes to drowning, Ellie takes it upon herself to teach you how to swim. Something that neither of you had anticipated, however, was how intimate this endeavour would be, resulting in a day filled with unresolved sexual tension, that, unsurprisingly and inevitably comes to ahead

Tags/warnings : established relationship, soo much sexual tension, smut (18+, MDNI), porn with minor plot, dom/sub undertones, soft dom Ellie, submissive reader, inexperienced reader (first time), light hair pulling, unsafe lesbian sex, fingering, oral (F receiving), face sitting, lots of dirty talk(bc you cannot convince me that Ellie doesn’t have an absolutely filthy mouth), praise kink, overstimulation, forced orgasm, multiple orgasms, pussy slapping (just once), aftercare, fluff, no use of Y/N

“I’m sorry, wait, hold on. You’re telling me you’ve never learned how to swim?”

The settlement of Jackson has been dealing with, hopefully, the last of its winter storms for the year. Spring had crept its way around the corner, shining its promisingly hopeful rays of warm sunlight for a few, blissfully beautiful, but in the end, all two short days

But then, in what must be mother nature’s idea of a harmless joke, it was crudely snatched away and replaced with icy winds that seemed to settle within your very core, leaving you shivering long after you went inside to get warm. Wyoming had been hit with a blizzard that had caught everyone so off guard, that Jackson was ill-equipped and unprepared to handle it, leaving most of the community snowed in; workloads being much reduced and limited to essential services for the time being, until the snow abated.

This is how you and a group of friends found yourselves in Jesse’s living room, cradling mugs of hot chocolate, enjoying the warmth that seeped into your fingertips, and making a blanket fort as if you were still school children at a sleepover. The snowy days and lack of work seemed to bring out a childish side to everyone, which is how you found yourself engaged in a game of never have I ever, sitting in a tight circle with your friends and girlfriend who, up until a few seconds ago, had been absent mindedly playing with your hair, your head resting against her shoulder, where you had been quite content to stay.

But, she had now pulled back, looking at you with her eyebrows raised, lips quirked down quizzically, as if in thought. You look around at your friends, taking note of everyone else who’s never learned. You’re relieved to find that you’re not alone in this. As expected, the Jackson old-timers, the few of you who have been settled here almost your whole lives, or at least, as long as you could remember, had never encountered an environment that required the ability to swim.

“Nope, it’s never been necessary.” You shrug.

She tilts her head, thinking, a few wisps of auburn hair escaping her ponytail as she regards you, teeth lightly grazing the bottom of her lip as she appears to be calculating an idea in her mind.

“As soon as it gets warm enough, I’m taking you out, and I'm gonna teach you. Joel taught me because he said that I would never know when it was a skill that would become necessary for me to have until it’s too late,” she says, nodding to herself decisively.

“Ah, I see your dad‘s passed off his overprotectiveness onto you,” you smirk, rolling your eyes fondly.

She hits you with a pillow for that.

“Quiet, you,” she says in mock offense.

She pokes your belly lightly and you instinctively jump back with a surprised squeal. You hear the quiet amusement of your friends, Jesse barely containing a snort as he watches. You’re about to utter a retort when she reaches out, pulling you against her, settling you on her lap, where you happily go.

When she presses a chaste kiss to your lips, hand settling at the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your skin, leaving goosebumps to form beneath their eager caresses, any kind of argument dies on your lips. Resistance melts as if it hadn’t been there in the first place, and all thoughts scatter like butterflies, only landing on the one thing that you care to focus on.

It’s her, with her teasing lips and wandering hands, that explore and touch you as if she wants to know you, to memorize you, like you’re her well-kept and cherished secret. She is the only thing that surrounds your mind, the only one who holds your attention so easily, and it takes you a moment to shake yourself free of this haze. It’s strange, and euphoric, a kind of feeling that you’ve never felt before, and you find that you like it – instantly craving more the second that her lips leave yours.

She's kissed you plenty of times before, and though it’s always been an enjoyable experience for you, it’s never felt like that. You decide to file that information away for now; you’ll sort out whatever the fuck these new feelings are later.

When you do come back to yourself, your head nestled against her shoulder, her arms wrapped around you as she looks down at you with warm, soft eyes, you think, yeah, you’ll let her teach you how to swim. You’ll let her do whatever she goddamn pleases, as long as it means that she’ll keep kissing you like that, and bringing out those good kind of butterflies that flutter in your stomach whenever she’s close to you.

To your surprise, Ellie makes good on her promise at the earliest opportunity.

In your experience, life is full of making plans and dreams that, more often than not, fall through. Even here, even in Jackson, where the walls are fortified and everyone is protected, the act of planning future endeavours is a luxury.

Spring finally comes , for real this time, with its customary blend of warmer weather that makes everyone instinctively turn their faces towards the sun, tentatively brushing its heat against their skin. And then, in complete juxtaposition, rain that starts in a slight drizzle that quickly descends into a downpour that sends those who’d ventured outside to appreciate the sunlight running back inside, scrambling to find cover, while quietly grumbling that they wish it was summer already, if only so that they could be freed from this topsy-turvy weather.

Humans are funny like that, you suppose. Never fully able to live in the moment, always wishing for the next season the second spring reveals its more wild side. They forget that the scorching heat of summer will have them complaining and wishing for autumn to come faster in a few months.

Nonetheless, it’s early summer, and you find yourself riding astride Ellie’s mare, Hazel, whose step is light and carefree, tale gently swishing in the warm breeze as you make your way to a clearing with a lake, a few miles out from Jackson’s gates. You’ve taken up the rear position, head resting against your girlfriend's back, arms wrapped around her waist.

From her position, she can’t see the expression on your face, the way you worry. Your bottom lip is between your teeth until it starts to bleed, because quite honestly, you’re nervous. Your instinct is to hide your feelings from her, because it feels silly. “A tough girl like you all freaked out over a little water?” You can almost hear her snark in your head. Logically, you know she wouldn’t say that, not to you, at least. But you can’t help but wonder if she’d think it.

You also know, however, that the minute you’re off this horse and she turns to look at you, she’ll read right through any bullshit or lies you come up with in an instant. Ellie’s just that kind of person; able to read right through people without them even having to say a word. So, as the bird chatter accompanies the beat of Hazel’s hooves against the ground, you speak, softly, tentatively, half-wishing that she won’t hear, almost hoping that your words will be carried off in the slight breeze that ruffles the braid against your back, delicately freeing strands of your hair.

“You know, I’m actually kinda fucking scared to do this,” you figure if you’re going to admit this, it’s just best to rip the Band-Aid off.

She holds the reins one-handed as her other comes to squeeze your wrist gently.

“Can you tell me why?”

You sigh, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you rest your chin against her shoulder. She’s so warm and steady, confident and self-assured in a way that you couldn’t even attempt to replicate.

She senses your unease, moving her thumb beneath the thin material of your sweater, stroking against the skin of your inner wrist. She lets it rest at the point where she feels your pulse lightly fluttering beneath her.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft, encouraging, “Talk to me, Sweetheart, you’ve got absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Her thumb resumes its movement, stroking back-and-forth along the inside of your wrist, soothing away the knot that’s begun to tie itself in your stomach.

“It’s stupid, I know. It’s just, I’m scared that I’m gonna drown, or something dumb like that,” you roll your eyes, feeling a little bit pathetic.

“It’s not stupid,” you’re not surprised that she’s come to your defence so quickly, but the conviction in her voice gives you pause.

She continues, “I almost drowned, once. Well, I guess it wasn’t almost, I did drown, though I don’t remember the details. It was before Joel had taught me how to swim, probably what made him decide that he had to. But, when he did, it took me the longest time to get over my fear. Every time I so much as touched the water, my mind would bring me back to that moment where I thought I was about to die.”

Her voice is sheepish, nonchalant, but you scoot closer to her on the saddle nonetheless, wrapping your arms just a little tighter around her waist.

“My point is, if you would have seen me when I was fourteen, the way Joel would have to coax me into the water bit by bit, you wouldn’t believe I’m the same person now. Now, I can be assured that whenever I go into the water, nothing’s going to happen to me that I can’t handle.”

She takes your hand in hers, and her voice is completely serious when she speaks now.

“Baby, you know I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, right?”

In spite of your nerves, you know the answer to this question immediately. It’s not even a question, really, you know without even having to think about it that she’ll keep you safe, protect you with her life if necessary, and you nod aggressively, even before she finishes speaking.

“I know, Elles.”

She gives your hand a squeeze.

“Good, because if my 14-year-old freshly traumatized from actually drowning ass can learn how to swim, I am fully confident in your abilities.”

Hazel trots on, and for the first time since you headed out today, you feel a genuine smile pulling the corners of your lips upward, your laughter accompanying the birdsong as you ride on.

“That’s it, just lean back into me, I gotcha.”

She’s teaching you how to float on your back, first, and as you lean against her and lower yourself into the water, you swear you feel the peak of one of her nipples, hardened from the cold, poking through the flimsy material of her tank top, brushing against your back as you submerge yourself. You have to fight to keep your expression neutral, trying not to betray anything on your face. If she asks why you’re blushing, you’ll just say it’s because of the heat.

Her hand holds you up, pressing into the small of your back as she instructs you, and it’s nice, the heat that radiates from the warmth of her skin. You feel it through your tank top, and maybe it’s because the water is cold and it’s heightening all of your senses, or maybe it’s because you’re in a pair of underwear and a tank top, feeling very exposed to your girlfriend in a way that you’ve never been with anyone, but you’re getting goosebumps, and you know for a fact that it has nothing to do with you being cold.

You hope to yourself that the feeling of having her hands on you will get easier throughout the day, because for some inexplicable reason, the feeling of her hand pressing against you like this is making it hard to focus on what she’s actually saying.

You quickly discover that it does not get easier as the day goes on.

It actually gets so much fucking harder to bear as the sun begins to sail higher in the sky.

When she’s about to teach you how to kick, her hands ghost over your hips, making you jump.

“Sorry, hun, I should’ve asked,” she apologizes softly.

You can’t bring yourself to look at her, and have to temper your voice to not sound eager as you respond. “No, you’re good, go ahead, I'm just cold, that’s all.”

When her hands caress your sides before settling against your hips, your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, trying to contain the gasp that wants to escape.

Is she truly that fucking unaware of what she’s doing to you?

The skin where her fingers had trailed over tingles, and you have to give your head a slight shake to clear it, because that touch, regardless of how innocently meant it might’ve been to her, suddenly makes you want to get on your knees and beg her to touch you like that again.

You want more.

You learn the mechanics of how to propel yourself through the water, arms and legs separately. When it comes time to put the two together, Ellie eases you onto your stomach. The water is still shallow, your toes can still touch the ground. This was as deep as you’d be going today, she had told you, making you feel relieved.

“I’m just gonna put a hand on your stomach to hold you up. You’re still gonna have my help, I’m right here,” you’re stomach muscles tense when her hand lightly presses against it. She must think you’re nervous, because she gently strokes her thumb up and down between your rib cage, in a way that should be reassuring, but in reality, makes heat radiate from between your legs. You’re grateful that she can’t see your face, because the small pool of wetness that blossoms against your panties is undeniable now, and it makes your cheeks heat.

Okay, so you have to admit it now. You’re horny. In spite of the fact that you’ve never had sex and you haven’t been ready to take that step before today, as you slowly move through the water, feeling her hand pressing against your stomach, so close but so, so far from where you want her to be, you know that you want her, in a way that you’ve never wanted anyone before.

“At a girl, just like that,” she says encouragingly, and you swear you can feel your thigh muscles clenching involuntarily, thoughts drifting to a very different scenario in which she’d utter those words.

It’s late afternoon, the sun is high in the sky, warming your shoulders as you stand in the water. You’ve long ago adjusted to its cool, murky depths, and you’re not on edge anymore.

At least you weren’t, until Ellie suggests that to finish off the day, you try moving a little bit on your own. Your eyebrows raise, in obvious alarm, and her hands settle on your shoulders, quick to reassure you.

“You won’t have to go far, I’ll be right in front of you, I promise, all you need to do is just keep coming towards me.”

You tilt your head, considering. Yes, you’ve grown accustomed to the water, but whenever you’ve been moving, she’s always had a hold on you, and you felt safe, knowing that there wasn’t even a chance that you would go under.

Seeing your still evident hesitation, Ellie steps closer, a hand grazing against your waist as she presses her lips to your forehead briefly, before she speaks, her voice low and teasing against your ear.

“Can you do it for me?” She says softly. Her fingers are tracing slow, enticing circles over your waist, soothing you, but making you feel all worked up at the same time.

She’s so close that you can feel her lips brush against your ear when she speaks, and you can’t hide the shiver that runs down your spine. You’ve lost the ability to form coherent thought, for the moment, and you have to mentally kick yourself to push your mind back into any semblance of reality. God, if she asks you like that, you’ll do anything.

You don’t say that, though. You only nod meekly, not trusting your voice to be controlled when you speak.

When her hand gives your hip an appreciative squeeze, you feel her breath ghost against the curve of your neck as she speaks. “Good girl,” she practically purrs, a quiet, low hum against your ear that makes your knees buckle so hard that you have to dig your feet into the sand beneath you so that you don’t faceplant into the water.

When she pulls back, taking slow, tentative steps away from you, she knows that you’re watching her every move. She can feel your eyes burning into her, the further she moves away, nerves making you fidget with the hem of your top. When she’s several metres away, she reaches out a hand, beckoning.

“Okay, c’mere, Baby Girl.”

Her voice is low, persuasive, encouraging you forward. But it still takes you a solid 30 seconds of anxiously staring at her before you actually begin to move. She stands, arms folded, patiently waiting for you to give in, because she knows that sooner or later, you will.

She’s not that far away, not really. She still would easily be able to reach her arms out, steadying you if somehow, even in this shallow water, you managed to bring yourself under. Still, when you kick back, and you no longer feel the assurance of the soft sand against your feet, or Ellie‘s arm wrapped securely around your stomach to hold you up, you freeze. She notices instantly, and her voice is quick to call you back, bringing your racing heart back down with a few, gentle words.

“Hey, eyes on me.”

You swim forward, it’s unsure and hesitant, but at least you’re moving. You can’t always keep your eyes on her, but when your head is lowered to the water, you can always hear her voice, which she uses to get you to keep going.

“That’s it, almost there.”

She eggs you on, making your limbs instinctively move faster, cutting through the water with an almost desperate urge to get to her. You’re reaching for her, arms ready to wrap around her waist when she meets you halfway, scooping you up into her arms.

“That’s my girl,” she whispers against your lips, cradling the back of your head as she pulls you in. Your eyes flutter shut, and you can’t help the small sigh that she elicits from you as she lowers her head to kiss you. Her lips meet yours in a slow, soft caress, searing as her touch sets your skin alight with heat. Instinctively, only half aware of what you’re doing, your legs wrap around her waist, desperately pulling yourself against her with a sudden need that is too strong to be contained.

When her hand, tangled in your hair, gently pulls, forcing your head back as she deepens the kiss, your mouth falling open as her tongue teases past your lips, you are unable to hold back the little moan that escapes you, scalp tingling at the sensation of her fingers, curled against strands of your wet hair, holding tight, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

She’s so close, you realize. Your legs wrapped around her like this, your heat pressed so near to hers. It’s enough to send your thoughts reeling. Every nerve ending in your body is alive with want and need.

Her hand makes a slow path, warm, delicate fingers journeying from your waist all the way up to the peak of your breast, leaving a trail of goosebumps to form in their wake. Her hand rests against you, leaving you warm and wanting, and just when you think that you can’t handle any more, she moves her thumb in a slow, deliberate caress over your perked, hardened nipple, which, at this point, your tank top, with its thin, soaked through material that clings to your every curve, leaves little up to her imagination. She can see you, she can see all of you. Your breath shutters, the smallest sound of want, of need, of desperation escaping your throat in a choked, pleading moan that has your back arching.

And that’s when Hazel makes her displeasure and boredom known, letting out a loud, displeased nay of indignation as she stamps her hooves against the ground.

The noise is so sudden, so out of the blue, disrupting the sounds of the water gently lapping around you, and the ambiance of nature that you’ve grown quite accustomed to hearing over the past few hours, that it makes you both jump. You startle so hard that you nearly fall into the waters below, jolting back as your head whips around to discover the source of the noise. Ellie’s arms are secure, though, you feel her adjusting her hold on you, wrapping them around you tighter. She too frantically searches the area around you for signs of trouble.

When you realize that you’re in no imminent danger, and that it’s just Hazel being her typical, dramatic self, you both look at each other, and simultaneously, slow smiles creep across your faces. She can feel you begin to shake with laughter. All the adrenaline leaves your body in a relieved, sudden rush that escapes with the quiet, barely contained snort that you desperately try to hold back. After that, it’s over. Ellie’s face buries against your hair as you both begin to laugh uncontrollably.

You feel her breathy, relieved sigh ruffle your hair. “We should probably go see what her problem is – knowing Hazel, a mosquito probably landed on her and she freaked the fuck out. God, that horse is such a drama queen.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s an underlying affection that she can’t keep out of her voice, even if she tries.

“Probably saw us kissing and was offended. Maybe she’s homophobic,” you quip, chuckling.

Ellie gasps in mock horror. “I practically raised that horse, there’s no fucking way,” you both laugh as she begins to move towards the shore, you cradled against her with your head on her shoulder.

Riding back to Jackson when you’re extremely sexually worked up, it turns out, is no fun.

Your girlfriend, as much as you love her, is doing nothing to help the situation.

In general, Ellie prefers to ride horses that are the most chaotic, and that carry attitudes that make them almost borderline untrainable. She says it’s because she can empathize with them, she listens to them in a way that no one else does.

You think, privately, that it’s because it scares the shit out of Joel. He lives in constant fear that Hazel is going to throw Ellie off, sending his already accident prone daughter home with a broken leg and a concussion. You swear, Ellie enjoys getting a rise out of him, making his heart race with all of the reckless shit that she does.

Hazel has been sitting still for too long, and is now thoroughly enjoying the freedom of being able to trot about; she tries to take advantage of it regardless of the cargo on her back, making for a bumpy ride.

You’re riding in front, this time, and every time you hit an unavoidable bump, Ellie rests her hands on your hips. She claims that she’s doing it to keep you steady, make sure that you don’t fall off the horse. but, you know better. You know an ulterior motive when you see one. The way that her hands linger, fingers slowly teasing At the edge of your still damp top, drawing slow, light circles against the exposed skin she finds beneath, suggesting that she has other plans in mind. It makes you shiver.

“You cold, baby?” Her voice is low against your ear, the unexpected proximity making you jump. She cannot be serious. Even though it’s late afternoon, evening fast approaching, the day is still scorching, hence why you’ve opted out of wearing your sweater on the way back. You didn’t even want to put on shorts over your damp underwear, but alas, you still had some shred of modesty left, not wanting to make whoever was stationed to guard Jackson’s gates uncomfortable.

When her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against her, you swear that you can feel her hips slowly moving as she grinds against you suggestively. Her lips brush against the bare skin of your shoulder, lingering as her warm breath ghosts against your skin, caressing against your neck with its heat. You can’t hold back your gasp at the feeling.

One of her hands travels down, settling against your knee with a gentle squeeze.

“How’s that, Baby Girl, is that better?”

God!

If she doesn’t fuck you soon, you swear you’re gonna kill her. Or, at this rate, she’s gonna kill you first with the way she’s sending your heart racing like that.

If you had thought that getting home, changing into a fresh pair of clothes, and giving yourself the chance to calm your racing heart would magically put an end to whatever was stirring up inside of you, you were sadly incorrect in your assumptions.

You’re sitting on the couch in your living room, wearing a sundress that falls to your knees because it’s light and you enjoy the slight breeze that it creates when you move. It flutters around your legs gently in the humid air. It might provide next to no relief at all, but it’s still better than nothing.

Ellie sits across from you in an armchair. Without even looking, you can feel her staring at you, eyes burning into you with a restrained and tempered want. You suspect that she’s holding it back, now wondering if she’s crossed a boundary today and made you uncomfortable.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, but Ellie is the type of person who acts on impulse, then completely over analyzes and over thinks her actions later, until she’s convinced herself that she’s fucked something up. She’s so bold, so confident in the things she does in the moment. But, in the end, she’s still someone who sometimes needs you to explicitly communicate and validate what she does after the fact. Regardless of how her confidence is so vast, and can sometimes be mistaken for being cocky, on the inside, she’s deeply insecure and needs reassurance.

Glancing up at her through your lashes, seeing the way that she twists and fidgets with the hair elastic on her wrist, the slight frown on her face, the almost guilty way her eyes flit away from you when she sees you looking, you know that she needs that right now, and you fully intend to not just give that to her, but encourage her forward.

Setting down the book that you weren’t actually reading, just trying to distract yourself with and completely failing, you rise to your feet, and as you move to her, she looks up at you with a smile, slipping back into its place effortlessly.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

Her voice is low and soft, and the way her eyes skim over you, pausing at where your dress falls, the hem barely skimming your knees, makes heat flush at the back of your neck.

“Want somethin’.”

You admit, crawling into her lap, bracing your hands on her shoulders.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She quirks a brow, and the way her eyes smoulder as she looks at you makes you nervous, stomach fluttering with anxious butterflies as she looks intently at you.

You’ve got her full attention, and now that you do, you don’t know what to do with it. You were fully ready to take the lead on this, but at the end of the day, you’re still shy and inexperienced, and she’s everything that you’re not. To be honest, it’s intimidating, knowing her wealth of experience that you couldn’t even attempt to match.

The insistent butterflies take flight in your stomach; you decide that the only way forward is by pure instinct, and the blind hope that you won’t embarrass yourself too much.

You lean forward slowly, hesitating slightly until, with understanding, Ellie’s hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you the rest of the way forward until your lips meet hers, and suddenly, you forget exactly what your plan originally was, if you even really had one in the first place. It easily slips out of your mind as you melt against her, effortlessly letting her take the lead.

Her fingers brush against your lower back, holding you securely against her. This isn’t like your usual, every day kiss, one that starts off slow and gentle. Her lips are insistent, pressing against yours with a desperate, persistent need. Her fingers absently brush against your scalp, running through your hair before cupping the back of your neck, the pressure just firm enough.

All you know is her. Her lips, claiming your mouth with a possessiveness that makes you ache for her inside. Her tongue, swiping over your lips, making you gasp slightly. As your lips part for her, you hear the low, satisfied sound she breathes against you as her tongue pushes past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that you’ve never sensed in her before.

Her thigh pushes between your legs, parting them with ease and settling between them, grazing against your clothed heat. When her hand schemes down your lower back, caressing over your ass, before pressing against it with a firm squeeze, you can’t resist the way your hips buck against her, desperately chasing the friction, unable to hold back the small whimper when you’re clit presses against the rough denim of her cut-offs.

The sound seems to startle you so much that you still your movements, eyes going wide as Ellie pulls back to look at you. She doesn’t even bother holding back the smirk that overtakes her features.

“Oh, so that’s what you want.”

Her green eyes darken with want, voice low and gravelly with desire as she studies you, perched on her lap with a needy expression behind your innocent eyes. Her fingers brush against your hips, teasing over your skin.

Heat flushes against your collarbone, spreading to warm your cheeks as you try to look down, wanting to escape the scrutiny of her piercing gaze. She anticipates your movement, and stops you with a hand coming to curl beneath your chin, making a soft noise of disapproval.

“Look at me, pretty girl, and tell me what you want,”

Her voice is still soft, still gentle, but there’s a warning edge that’s crept into it, an effortless authority, that sends a jolt straight through you, making your already throbbing clit pulse with anticipation. Her fingers nudge your chin upwards, holding firmly as she directs your eyes to meet hers, smouldering with uncontained lust as she watches you.

“You.”

Your answer comes out in barely a breath, barely a whisper.

“I want you.”

You feel like your response sounds ridiculous.

It sounds small.

It sounds completely inadequate.

And yet, when Ellie’s hand snakes beneath your dress, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties, her lips brushing against your ear as she says low, “that, sweet girl, I would be happy to oblige.”

She flexes her thigh up against your heat, rubbing over your swollen clit, making you cry out in surprise.

Her shirt hits the floor with a dull thump, pulled off by your eager and curious hands. You want to see her. You want to touch her. You want...

But now that it’s off and she’s looking down at you like that, your brain catches up to your body. What are you doing? What are you supposed to do? You don’t know how to do this. You don’t know where to put your hands, and the idea of fumbling around and embarrassing yourself is enough to make you nervous.

She sees the moment you begin to question yourself and overthink it, in the way that you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, the way your hand flexes, curling into itself with anxiety.

“Hey,” she says softly, waiting for your eyes to meet hers. Her hands caress up and down the sides of your arms, pulling you from the spiral that your mind was going in, bringing you back to earth with a soothing touch.

“I know that this is your first time, and I just want you to know that I don’t expect anything of you tonight. The only thing I want is to make you feel good. So just, let me do that, okay?”

When she leans in, arms wrapping around you, and her lips press against your neck in a slow, seductive kiss, she can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, and she makes a note to remember that you’re sensitive there.

You feel her lips close to your ear as she speaks.

“Just let me take care of my girl tonight.”

Her hand schemes down your side, fingers drawing teasing circles over your hip. Your eyes close and your breath comes in a sharp, unsteady inhale and all you can do is look at her, eyes hooded, and say in a shaky voice, “please.”

You feel her low chuckle against your neck.

“Such pretty manners,” she hums against your skin, before you feel the gentle graze of teeth join her lips, delivering a small, sharp sting that you imagine will leave a mark.

This thought doesn’t scare you in the way that you thought it would. Your first thought isn’t of how on earth you’re going to cover this up tomorrow. The idea that there will be physical evidence of her, of what she’s doing to you, that there will be a reminder of it in the morning turns you on, sending a thrill through you.

Her tongue replaces where her teeth had just been, gently soothing over the sting. “Good girl,” she breathes, hand coming up to fiddle with the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I want this off,”

She waits for you to nod your consent, and then she’s sliding the straps off your shoulders, letting it fall. It pools around your waist in a soft brush of its material.

Fingers brush over your stomach, and you shiver with anticipation, already knowing the path they intend to travel over your skin. Her hands graze over your ribs, before she curls them around the curves of your breasts. She looks down at them, cradled in her hands, and her lips curl upward.

Warm, experienced hands massage and knead your breasts, gentle caresses and squeezes encouraging, coaxing your nipples to harden beneath her touch. Her thumb brushes over one of the hardening buds, and you gasp at even the slightest attention. She seems to relish in drawing sounds from you, her index finger joining her thumb, as she rolls your perked nipple between her fingers, adding the slightest pinch.

“You’re so fuckin pretty, you know that? The site of these,” she tweaks your other nipple, making your breath stutter, “peeking through your shirt at the lake was teasing me all day.”

Her face buries against your neck, she becomes rougher, more insistent. Still slow and attentive, but there’s a possessive edge to it as she leaves a trail of marks down your throat, your collarbone.

You love every second of getting to see this new side of Ellie, one that you haven’t seen before. The way that she’s intently listening to your body, finding out exactly how to touch you in a way that brings out those little gasps and mules that are like music to her ears, you want to see this side of her more often.

She’s enjoying the sight of her marks on you just as much as you are; a thrill runs through her, knowing that everyone will see that you belong to her.

She pauses toying with your nipple as her hand falls to your thigh, letting her breath graze against your skin, before she leans in, lips encircling the pebbled bud with a gentle suck. You whimper as her teeth barely graze your skin, tongue swirling over the small bud teasingly. She makes an appreciative sound against you while her fingers brush the bare skin of your inner thigh.

Her thumb teases over the seam of your panties, and you swear that you can feel her lips pull into a smirk as she feels the evident wetness pooling there. When she grazes a knuckle over your clothed clit, using a featherlight touch, your hips instinctively buck, you’re so worked up.

“Ellie,” your cheeks flush at the way that she’s got you whining for her with just one touch to wear you’ve been craving her to be. “Please, I, I need you to touch me there.”

“Aww, you’re so pretty when you beg for me,” she coos, two fingers caressing over your heat.

Your head falls back, eyes closing as you try to suppress the whimper that fights to escape at her teasing.

“Ellie, please,” and if you weren’t trying to beg before, you definitely are now.

She tilts her head, a slightly pleased expression crossing her kiss swollen lips as she looks at you, thoroughly unravelled before she’s even fully gotten you undressed.

“That’s all you had to say, Princess.”

Her voice is low and smooth, calm and effortless, in complete juxtaposition to her next actions, because suddenly, your dress is being yanked the rest of the way down, Ellie tossing it to the floor in a careless heap. She lifts you with ease, flipping you around so that your back is pressed against her bare chest. Her arms curl around you, holding you close to her, fingers trailing down your stomach, scheming over the waistband of your panties. One finger hooks under, and she pauses, voice suddenly soft.

“Can I take these off, baby girl?” Her finger strokes along the bare skin that she’s found beneath your panties, just above your mound, inviting, but not moving lower.

“Ellie,” you say with growing desperation. She’s teased you all day, and you can’t take much more of it. You’ve reached the end of your rope, and you can tell, without even having to look at her, that she’s fully aware of it, she’s just enjoying teasing you a little longer, dragging out the moment for even just a few seconds more. She’s so close to where you need her, but not close enough, and you need her to bridge the distance. “You can do whatever you want,” your head falls back against her shoulder, auburn hair tickling against your face as she leans down to whisper.

“Don’t give me any ideas, princess. You might regret it.”

Her words make you shutter, but, nonetheless, she pulls, and in a matter of seconds, she’s sending your panties to join your dress on the floor, with a practiced flick of her wrist.

She doesn’t waste much time now; her hands gently part your thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, Pretty Girl, I want to see all of you.”

She coaxes, not that you need much urging. You feel her legs cage over yours, wrapping around them, holding them open for her. Fingers ghost over your curls, dipping between your lips. She collects your wetness, fingers gliding effortlessly up to your clit, coating it in your own arousal.

“Barely touched you, and you’re already soaked for me,” two fingers press against your swollen clit, drawing slow, easy circles over your heat, already making your walls clench around nothing.

Her other hand moves, pausing to give an affectionate pinch to one of your perked breasts, making you gasp in surprise, your hips instinctively jolting forward, pushing against the hand that continues to massage, tease, and press against your clit. It continues its path downward, caressing over your hip, your inner thigh.

Long, tapered fingers dip between your folds, tentatively swirling around your entrance, gathering the wetness that’s collected there. You don’t realize you’re begging until, achingly slowly, one of her fingers brushes over your tight, glistening hole. She doesn’t push it forward, only curling it slightly to pet at your entrance.

“F-fuck, please,” your head falls back against her shoulder, and your hips push forward, trying to take her inside, but to no avail.

“Such a needy girl,” she murmurs, smirking at the way that you nod.

She’s got you so desperate that you’ll agree to anything she says; you won’t even try to deny it. It would be pointless, anyways. All she has to do is look down and see the way that your hips are bucking against her to know that you would be lying through your teeth. Nonetheless, she gently eases a finger inside you and you let out a long, tremulous breath as she pushes her finger, easing it all the way inside until she’s down to her knuckle.

She’s watching carefully for your reactions and she can feel how tight you are around her; she doesn’t want to cause you any pain. But when she tentatively, curiously, crooks her finger slightly upward, searching, a jolt runs through you, your body trembling and hips jerking forward, chasing the contact. It’s too much, and it’s not enough, and you need more.

“Fuck, I, Ellie, I I want,” your hands grip onto her thighs tightly.

She presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck before whispering,“That’s it, baby, use your words. Tell me what you need,” her finger pumps in and out at an unhurried, languid pace, barely grazing over that spot that you so desperately need her to touch.

“Need more of you inside me,” you whimper, unable to keep the desperate edge from creeping into your voice. A second finger joins the first, slowly pushing through your entrance. You immediately feel the stretch, unfamiliar to having someone else’s fingers there, but you’re quickly distracted, because as soon as both fingers are pushing into you, she increases the pressure against your throbbing clit, fingers drawing rough, tight circles over your swollen bud.

The sound you make is high and uncontained.

Calloused fingers brush against your inner walls, clenching around them as Ellie stretches you out. Her fingers curl, a slight beckoning motion as she easily finds that spot inside of you. The pads of her fingers press firmly against it, fingers insistently petting at your center with small, precise strokes against your sweet spot. She's hitting that spot in a way that you’ve never been able to accomplish on your own.

You’re seeing stars, because she’s everywhere you want and need her to be, and now, the only thing you can do is grind your hips down against her fingers that are so effortlessly toying with you.

It comes out of nowhere, the coil that eagerly begins to tighten in your stomach. Your toes curl with anticipation, and your hands are gripping onto her so tightly. You’re pretty sure that you’re the one who’s going to be leaving bruises now. Her fingers continue to thrust in and out of your weeping cunt, and maintain the relentless pressure against your clit.

Ellie’s chin rests against your shoulder, watching attentively, and if you could see her, you’d see how utterly enthralled she is at how much of a mess she’s made you, eyes heavy as she watches her fingers plunge in and out of your cunt. Her voice is low against your ear, rough, commanding when she speaks.

“That’s it, Baby Girl, I want you to fuck yourself on my fingers and cum for me.”

You’ve always experienced orgasms as a gradual build, a wave, gently cresting against the shore. So, the way the coil in your stomach abruptly snaps, almost an instant after Ellie finishes speaking, has you taken completely by surprise. She’s attached her lips back onto your neck, sucking a mark just against your pulse point, which she feels fluttering rapidly beneath her tongue.

There’s the stuttering of hips accompanied by a sharp cry and Ellie feels your walls tighten around her fingers, unceasing in her ministrations even as your orgasm barrels through you.

“Good girl, fucking give it to me,” she nearly growls, as her fingers continue to fuck you through your orgasm. All you can do is whimper uselessly, rocking your hips against her hand, as thrills ignite every inch of your body, making you tremble all over.

When you come down from your high, you’re collapsed against her chest, and she’s slowly easing off the pressure.

The first thing you notice is that you don’t feel the same as you usually would if you had just done this by yourself. For some reason, you thought that you were a one and done kind of girl. Usually you orgasm once, and then you take a nap, feeling for the most part satisfied. But as her fingers slide out of you, leaving you feeling empty, all you can think is that you want more.

Then, Ellie’s holding up her glistening fingers, slick with your arousal, in front of her face. You turn to watch her, curious, as she slides them into her mouth, licking them clean. She hums, and you raise a brow questioningly as she looks down at you, her eyes bearing an expression that is almost predatory in its intensity.

“What?” you ask, already feeling goosebumps rising along your skin.

“Nothing,” she shrugs, shaking her head slightly. “It’s just, now that I’ve had a taste of you, I want more.” You turn fully to face her, lips curving into a smirk. Your hand trails over her breasts, and she looks at you with interest.

“Please,” you’re still breathless, and your voice is still unsteady.

“I want you too.”

“Atta girl, just like that.”

Admittedly, as much as you’ve had countless fantasies involving sitting on Ellie’s face, the prospect of actually doing it, as much as you want to, gives you pause. She’s carried you up to the bed, at some point along the way, the rest of her clothes came off, you’ll probably find them scattered along the hallway later. But that doesn’t matter right now.

What matters is that you’re hovering over her face, looking down at her while trying not to look nervous and out of your comfort zone, which you totally are, and she obviously isn’t buying it. Gentle hands reach for you, holding your hips and pulling you against her easily.

“All the way down, Honey, that’s it,” she coaxes, easing you down onto her. “You’re good, you’re not gonna kill me,” her hand caresses up and down your side, soothing, even as you feel her warm breath ghosting over your heat, making your cheeks flush, as you look down at how close she is to you.

“I gotcha’, Pretty Girl, just relax,” her voice is smooth, assured, confident, in a way that makes your muscles relax in spite of yourself.

That’s when you feel her tongue, warm and wet, brushing through your folds. The sensation is so new, so unfamiliar to you, that for a second, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

Then, her tongue flattens, pressing over your clit and applying a slight pressure that has you arching against her. Her tongue curls over your swollen nub, gently drawing it towards her lips, an almost imperceptible pulling motion that has your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, finding a grip against the headboard of the bed.

She makes a contented hum as her lips wrap around your center, the sound vibrating against you making your hips jolt. Her hands curl around the undersides of your thighs, holding you in place. Your hands hold onto the headboard of the bed for dear life, feeling like it’s the only solid thing that you have to hold onto, keeping you from toppling over the edge and out of control.

You’ve never felt like this before. Each swipe of her tongue over your heat, the gentle pulse of her lips as she sucks, enveloping you in her warm, wet mouth, brings a new sensation thrumming through your veins, almost akin to fire as it shoots through you, pleasure licking over every inch of your skin like flames. It’s overwhelming, in such a way that you don’t know what to do with it, how to express it.

All you can do, at this point, is roll your hips against her mouth, hold onto the headboard, and let small, desperate whimpers escape your lips. You’re trying to hold onto some semblance of containing yourself, because you don’t know what would happen if you let yourself unravel completely. You’re terrified of what Ellie might see if you fell apart like that.

She seems to be doing everything she can to break away at your composure though. Her tongue is alternating between dragging slow, tender circles over your clit, and firm, quick strokes, that has your head falling against your hands, braced against the headboard. She flicks her tongue against you, her lips surrounding your clit in a particularly firm suck, and before you know it, you’re spilling over the edge, eyes shut tightly, and breath releasing in a long, shuttering moan that seems to run from the top of your head to the tips of your tightly curled toes, her tongue continuing to caress you over your peak.

She moans into you, and it all becomes too much. Your head is thrown back and your hands are reaching down, tangling in her hair, to push her away or pull her closer; it’s unclear in your fuzzy mind. All the while, her insistent tongue continues to swirl over your increasingly oversensitive bundle of nerves, the relentless and inescapable pleasure making you shiver all over, while a light sweat breaks out on your bare skin.

You only drift back into yourself when you become aware of a shift. It’s so fast, you barely have time to even blink, before Ellie manoeuvres you, flipping you onto your back and roughly parting your thighs with her hands. Her fingers run through your glistening folds, calloused thumb pressing against your aching, overstimulated clit. The sensation has you gasping, crying out, and trying to close your legs, buck your hips, move away.

Frantically, you try to jam your legs shut, trying to escape her mercilessly teasing fingers. Rough hands force your thighs apart, putting you on display for her as she holds you open.

“Uh uh, not this time, Baby,” she tuts disapprovingly. “No more holding back on me, Sweet Girl,” listening to the low, dominant tone of her voice is like a drug to you, and your eyes roll back into your head as she speaks.

“I want everyone to know how good I fuck this pretty little pussy.” Two fingers circle your clit and you jolt, trying to move away. But a strong arm pushes your hips down, pinning you against the bed easily.

Faster than you can process, her fingers retreat, and you don’t even have time to feel relieved, because a split second later, her hand comes down against your cunt with a smack, delivering a stinging, rough spank that has you crying out, clit throbbing and pulsing with the agonizingly delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, and you’re gonna take everything I give you.”

Two fingers notch at your entrance, but she waits, looking at you, a silent question, an invitation for you to tell her that this is too much and that you need to stop. You know she would in a heartbeat if you told her that this was too much or too rough for you right now, and that’s what makes you feel safe enough to continue.

So, when you respond by attempting to push your hips forward against her, a soft whimper falling from your lips, she smirks, and with the slightest movement of her wrist, her fingers thrust into you. Seconds later, her face is buried in between your legs, tongue gently lapping at your sensitive clit. After two orgasms, you’re hyper aware of every movement; every swirl of her tongue is sweet, hot agony that undoes you in seconds.

At the same moment her lips take your clit into her mouth, holding it as her tongue swipes a tight, rough circle over your heat, her fingers curl, and she finds that spot inside you that makes your legs begin to shake, pressing against it with each punishing thrust of her fingers.

Your moans are loud, unrestrained, sounds that you would be embarrassed to make if you were in any way capable of controlling them. But you’re not, because your mind is only filled with her, her and her tongue on your clit, and her strong fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunt, playing with you as easily and as effortlessly as she plays the guitar.

She’s clearly enjoying the sounds that fall from your lips, every beg and plea and moan of her name making her feel quite smug that she’s undone you so easily…she encourages you to continue, making a contented hum against your clit. She only looks up long enough to say:

“That’s it, I want to hear you being such a dirty little girl for me.”

A third finger slowly, carefully, pushes in; the stretch makes you feel so full, so good, it nearly takes your breath away. Her fingers thrust in and out slowly, testing the waters, wanting to make sure that you’ve adjusted – but you are having absolutely none of it.

Your head is thrown back and your hips are thrusting forward, or trying to, but her arm is so fucking strong that she doesn’t even have to try that hard to keep you pinned against the mattress, exactly where she wants you to be. You don’t even realize you’re begging until you see her smirking up at you.

“Please, Ellie, please, fuck, I-I want,” it’s a challenge to even string coherent words together, but you’re distracted by her face, now looking up at you as her thumb takes over, stroking against your clit.

“Come on, Baby girl, tell me what you want,” she presses her thumb a little harder into you, making you gasp brokenly.

You take a breath to steady yourself, and your words still come out stuttered, but you say them, blushing in a way that she finds absolutely endearing considering you’re already spread out on her bed with three of her fingers buried inside of you.

“I-I want it harder,” you admit, your cheeks burning. “Want you to fuck me.”

“You’re so fuckin pretty when you use your words like that, Baby,” she praises. “Such a good fuckin girl,” then, her fingers are thrusting in and out, setting a rough pace, hitting that spot in a way that feels so much stronger than it already was.

When she lowers her head, tongue dipping between your folds, returning to feast at your clit rough, persistent swirls and flicks over your swollen center, any slight ability to contain yourself is lost. You’re not aware of the sounds that you’re making, or the way that your hands scramble to find a hold on something, anything solid, eventually coming to clutch the soft bed sheets, holding them tightly in between your fingers.

You’re only aware that your orgasm is approaching, and that Ellie, little by little, is nudging you towards a peak that once you make it over, you think might absolutely wreck you, in the best possible way. All you know is that you want this, you want her. You need her.

God.

You really fucking need her.

She feels your walls beginning to flutter around her, her free hand shifts down, coming to grip your thigh, opening you even wider for her.

“Come on, baby, wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make for me when you cum.”

She says against you, adjusting her wrist to fuck you with her fingers deeper. The new angle has you keening, hips desperately thrusting to chase the friction of whatever new spot she’s hitting.

Her tongue flattening against you as she draws firm, tight circles over your bundle of nerves, The way that your back is arching, hips uselessly trying to grind down against her and her relentless fingers, fucking into your weeping cunt mercilessly. She’s guiding you exactly to where she wants you to go, straight up towards that peak. Your vision blurs.

“Fucking give it to me, Pretty Girl, want you to cum for me, all over my fingers and my mouth.”

Your back arches off the bed, and suddenly, all you know is wave after wave of ecstasy that crashes through your body, electric shocks that pulse through you, making you jolt and flail uselessly combined with the rhythmic pumping of her fingers, and the dipping and swirling of her tongue against you.

She works you through your orgasm, never slowing the movements of her tongue or her fingers that continue to drag in and out of you, sustaining your pleasure for as long as she can possibly hold it. Her lips wrap around your clit, as her tongue swipes through your folds, collecting all the wetness that she can find. She hums against you, encouraging your loud moans, and by the time it’s over, you’re a shaking, completely fucked out mess on her bed,

If you happened to see the expression on her face as she watches you writhing beneath her, your hands twisting the sheets into knots and broken, unrestrained whimpers fall from your lips, she’s taking in the sight with immense appreciation, as if you’re the work of art she’s just created.

Turns out, the only thing that you have the ability to do post-three orgasms is roll over onto your stomach, shaking and trembling, and try, desperately, to regain your breath.

Ellie, for her part, crawls up the bed beside you, hand coming up to tenderly stroke back the hair that sticks to your forehead, before gently rubbing your back.

“Easy, baby, that’s it, just breathe for me.”

You’re eventually able to regain your breath, but your body feels floppy and light, and you can’t even begin to comprehend the slightest of movements. Ellie tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, saying softly, “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna get something to clean you up, okay?”

You nod in slight acknowledgement of her words, but your mind is still fuzzy, and the only thing that you’re really aware of right now is the sudden sleepiness that comes over you in a soft, comforting wave. You feel her stroke your hair once more before she rises from the bed, briefly pausing to look at how fucked out you are, stretched out across her bed, bare skin glistening with sweat that makes your hair stick to your forehead, eyes heavy and cheeks flushed.

“So pretty,” she breathes, before exiting.

She isn’t gone long, and when she returns your eyes are closed, head buried against a pillow. She kneels between your legs, hand reaching out to gently rub your back as you turn your head to look at her.

“Just need to clean you up, pretty,” she whispers, and you realize how sticky you are in between your legs.

“Okay,” you mumble, your voice sounding slightly hoarse, similar to the way it does when you first wake up in the morning. Were you really moaning that much?

You feel a warm, damp washcloth brushing against your inner thigh. It’s nice, soothing, but as Ellie moves towards the place in between your legs, you instinctively flinch, overstimulated and slightly sore.

A large hand splays out over your back gently. “I know, Honey, it’s okay, I've got you,” Ellie soothes.

She runs the cloth over your folds. “There we go, sweet girl, almost done.” Its brush against your clit makes you cry out, leg kicking out instinctively. Ellie shushes you gently, pressing chased, featherlight kisses against your spine, the curve of your hip, effectively distracting you while she finishes cleaning you up.

When she’s done, she throws the cloth to the side, coming to sit beside you. “Okay, Baby, I just need you to get up and go for a quick pee.” You turn your head to look at her in bewilderment, staring up at her with your eyebrows raised.

“Why?” You ask, confused. She chuckles softly at your expression.

“Because, nowadays there isn’t much to protect ourselves from any infections that we could pick up while doing this,” she gestures vaguely. “And this is the one thing that we can do to at least try to help prevent something from coming up,”

“Buuut Elliee, I don’t wanna get up,” you grumble, burying your face back into the pillow.

She sighs softly, “come on, it’ll be fast, and then we can get back into bed and cuddle for as long as you want.”

That idea is tempting, but she could just get into bed with you right now and cuddle. Plus, you want to know who gave her this information, because it sounds pretty fucking stupid to you.

“I don’t want to,” you grumble.

Ellie playfully hits you with a pillow. “Come on, Lazy Ass,” she’s guiding you to sit up now, in spite of how much you’re resisting, because the bed is so warm and soft.

“Besides,” she reasons, “we both go out on patrol in three days, and I am not dealing with you having to dismount your horse every five minutes because you got a urinary tract infection and now you need to pee every time we hit a bump on the path.”

You dramatically sigh in defeat. “Okay, okay, I get it, Jesus Christ,” you roll your eyes in mock exasperation, but the smile pulling at your lips betrays your true feelings. “On one condition,” you say, folding your arms across your chest.

“What?” Ellie is fighting to restrain a smile, because you’re just too goddamn cute when you’re like this.

“You have to carry me there and back,” you say, reaching your arms up like a child who wants to be picked up.

She sighs, feigning annoyance, but she’s already positioning an arm beneath your knees. “You’re such a fucking brat,” she mutters against your hair as she cradles you against her chest.

You snuggle into her, smile growing wide as she moves towards the door, holding you in her arms. “Don’t lie, you love it.”

“Shut up ,” she says, hand sneaking around to give your ass an affectionate squeeze, making you gasp and giggle in surprise, instinctively kicking, nearly falling out of her arms in the process. But her hold is secure, arms tightening around you as your cheek presses against her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, babe, I got you.”

After gently setting you back in bed, once you’ve finally gone to the bathroom, grumbling the whole way there and back, Ellie went to get you a glass of water. She’s been gone for less than 30 seconds, and you already miss the feeling of her body, Strong and warm and steady, pressed against you. While she’s gone though, you entertain yourself by letting your eyes roam over your body, finding the evidence of her, left behind on your skin. You discover each new mark, each trace of her presence imprinted on you with the anticipation and joy of a child finding Easter eggs.

Your hand runs over your inner thigh, Lips pulling into a smile as you take in the sight of the finger shaped bruises that she left from where she gripped onto you so tightly. The site makes a warm, tingling feeling settle in your stomach.

You don’t hear her approach from behind you, and she must not see the expression on your face.

“Did I hurt you? Was it, was it too much?”

You turn, eyebrows raised and already shaking your head with vehemence, to find her watching you, biting her lip, concerned frown on her face.

“What, no, no, Ells, it’s just,” you avert your eyes, the blush creeping onto your face is mortifying, and in spite of everything you too just did, and how you had expected talking about things like this would be easier now, it’s still hard to admit it out loud.

She catches your chin in her hand, gently redirecting your eyes back up to meet hers. Seeing her so close to you, you don’t have to look hard to see the anxieties, trying to be contained and hidden, but dancing behind her eyes nonetheless.

You feel your heart clench. She’s opened up to you about her past on a few occasions, but when she has, it was easy to sense how fearful she was of her own inclinations towards violence, regardless of how necessary and imperative it might have been for her survival. She’s like a fire, impulsive and easy to set off, her flames all-consuming without a second thought. But after, even now, even when all this is small bruises marking your skin in the heated passion of lust, that will fade and be gone within a few days, she’ll still twist herself into knots, thinking and overthinking until she’s convinced herself that she’s ruined you.

“Please, Babe, tell me the truth,” her voice is soft, barely a whisper, but you hate the way that there’s a slight tremble in it, so uncharacteristic of Ellie. It breaks what’s left of your embarrassment, and the words fall from your lips without hesitation now.

“It wasn’t too much. It’s just, I-I liked it...the marks... I think it’s kind of hot.”

You wonder, in the back of your mind, if she can feel the way your cheek heats beneath her hand, resting against it ever so lightly. Her breath comes out in a soft, surprised laugh, and you’re relieved to see the concerned edges fade from her expression, a smirk instead overtaking her lips. “

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she whispers, fingers coming to trace over the scattered marks, littered across your neck and collarbone.

“You’re cold,” she observes, hands running up and down your arms, goosebumps beginning to form there. You hadn’t even noticed that you had begun to shiver.

When she crawls into bed behind you, wrapping her arms around you, Holding you against her, her warmth settles into your bones, running through you like melted chocolate. She brings the glass of water to your lips, insisting that you drink, and refusing to back down, in spite of your protests that you’ll need to get up to go pee in the middle of the night and does she realize how annoying that is?

She does, but she still coaxes you to drink half the glass.

You hold the glass up to her, pouting slightly. “Now you drink some, I feel like you should, too, because you were doing a lot of work, you know, with your mouth,” you say suggestively.

“Oh my God, shut up,” she groans. She gives you a playful shove that nearly makes the glass tumble from your hand. But she has quick reflexes, and her hand is steady against yours as she gently grabs your wrist, preventing the spill.

“Careful, Hun,” she cautions, plucking the glass out of your hand easily. “If only to appease you,” she sighs dramatically, before tipping it back and draining the glass.

The inevitable crash that you hadn’t, but probably should’ve, anticipated hits you all at once. It starts with a sigh that quickly turns into a yawn that seems to take all of your energy with it. You move to shrug your shoulders, brush it off like it’s nothing, because honestly, it’s only just starting to get dark outside, you can’t go to sleep right now, it’s just too early.

Your bones feel oddly heavy, sore in a way that shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Adrenaline, and passion have temporarily blinded you to trivial things, like being a human and having a body that can get physically exhausted, especially after trying so many new things at once. You wince because fuck, you hadn’t realized how tense you had been holding yourself today until now, and the consequences are quickly setting in.

She’s watching you, observing you closely as she always does. She doesn’t say a word, but she intuitively understands.

She brushes your hair off to one side, and you shiver as your bare neck and shoulders are exposed to her. Warm hands settle over your shoulders, there’s a gentle squeeze, an unspoken question, an offering. The way your head falls forward, the low, contented noise that falls from your lips is all the ascent that she needs.

Her thumbs gingerly press into the tense muscles beneath them. She hums sympathetically, feeling how tender you are beneath her. She keeps her movements slow and precise as she presses her thumbs against you, applying a slight pressure, running them over the backs of your shoulders, gently encouraging the tension to release. She’s ceaselessly patient, only continuing her path upward when she can feel your muscles relax, giving into her ministrations.

She continues to massage across your shoulders and your upper back, seeming to find and undo tension in places that you didn’t even realize you were carrying. It makes you sleepy, the gentle caress of her hands gliding over your skin, paired with the firm press of her knuckles, exactly where you need it.

One of her hands slowly runs up the back of your neck, gently cupping you at the base of your skull. Her fingers smooth over your temples, stress easing away as your eyes flutter shut. Her other hand continues to press and massage in between your shoulder blades, firm and insistent as she smooths her thumbs over the tight knot that’s gathered there, with patient persistence, making it unravel at her touch, and forcing the tension to leave your body.

“Relax, Pretty Girl, I’m not going anywhere,” her voice is a low rumble against your ear.

Her lips brush over one of the bruises she’s left on the side of your neck, and suddenly, it’s like all the tension bleeds out of you, draining so quickly that you don’t have time to catch yourself.

She laughs softly as you try to contain the yawn that tears through you as she eases you back towards the pillows. She wraps a soft blanket around both of you, covering your bodies and making sure you’re tucked in securely.

She settles in behind you, warm, bare skin pressing against yours as she curls herself around you. A strong arm wraps around your waist, gently tugging you close to her as her leg hooks over yours.

You’re barely awake, only aware enough to snuggle into her, saying sleepily, “if this is the treatment I’m going to get after one swimming lesson, what are you gonna do when I’ve mastered it?”

There’s a soft chuckle, low against your ear as she whispers, “don’t worry about that, pretty girl, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

She kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment as she adoringly watches your eyes flutter. You sigh with contentment, letting a sleepy smile graze over your lips. Maybe she doesn’t realize what she’s doing, maybe she isn’t even aware…but, in this moment, you’re surrounded by her.

Her safety.

Her warmth .

Her unconditional and unwavering love is curled around your heart as closely as she’s curled herself around you. She’s here, she’s safety, she’s love,and right now, she is all that you could ever want.

this was actually my first attempt at writing smut, and in spite of how nervous I am to share it, I’m actually really happy with how it turned out. So if you enjoyed it, please let me know, notes, comments, and re-blogs are so appreciated. Thank you so much for reading

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us #The last of us part

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persephosposts · 2 months

Text

Lucifer x gn! Seraphim! Reader

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy reading this

In the early days of Heaven, the very early days, there was an Archangel that lived up in the white clouds. The most beautiful creation to ever exist, God’s favorite son; Lucifer.

Lucifer was known to be the most angelic creation out there. His face was so beautiful with was almost painful to look at, and his voice made even the most ugliest of harmonies sound pure. His creations and ideas were large and powerful, and he strived to make his dreams happens.

Lucifer, being the head Archangel, barely had time for himself with all holy duties he had to fulfill. His main purpose was to carry out his Father’s will, and he did its so perfectly. But, even God himself knew that if there was on heavenly creation he made time for it was for his (Y/N).

(Y/N) was a Seraphim, just a step under Sera. They was made for the sole purpose for Lucifer, God knowing how lonely he could get. So when God made his favorite son a friend as a gift, Lucifer held this gift close to his heart.

Currently, Lucifer was sorting through some scrolls. He made sure all of the facts and notions on the parchment were correct before rolling them back up and throwing them in a pile. As he zoned onto his work, his ear perked up at the quiet sound of the door opening and closing, smirking as he heard a restrained giggle from a familiar voice.

Pretending to not notice, he continued with his work with a smirk on his face, only feigning surprise when he felt someone jump on him. “Oh!” He gasped, ‘accidentally’ loosing his balance and making the two tumble over, the familiar Seraphim laughing in surprise as she landed on his back.

Sliding off him, (Y/N) smiled wildly as Lucifer turned over to look at him. “Did I get you?” They asked through giggles.

“Oh, you most certainly did angel.” He hummed, sitting up to face them. “And what was the purpose of this visit?”

“You’ve been working all day, Luci.” They sighed, frowning a bit. “I’ve missed you, and Sera was becoming boring. She always gives me the minuscule tasks.”

“Well that’s because you’re still learning, my dear.” He sighed, placing his hand on her arm. “Compared to Sera, you’re much younger. But one day, you’ll get the big jobs, like me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They snickered, the two standing up. Lucifer sighed as he looked up at them, a smile on his face. They were definitely taller than him, with them being a Seraphim, but he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he quite enjoyed the height difference.

“How’s the weather up there, angel?”

“Funny.” They said with an eye roll. “Such a funny Archangel you are.”

“Oh, I know!” He laughed, making the Seraphim smile with glee as they touched his arm.

“Tag, you’re it!” They laughed, Lucifer gasping with fake offense.

“Oh! I don’t think so!” He yelled, flying off after her.

***************************************************

“I got you!” Lucifer laughed loudly, grabbing the Seraphim’s wrist, not enough to hurt them. “You really think you could run from me?”

“I had you for a while!” They hummed, poking his nose playfully. “You’re just lucky I finally got winded.”

“Oh, I see.” He mused, the two sitting on one of the clouds below them. Lucifer sighed as he stared at the Seraphim, who was watching the beautiful clear sky up in the kingdom. He admired their tall stature and their long, soft wings. Their (h/l) locks was slicked back, him having to fight the urge to run his fingers through the tempting hair.

“Lucifer?” Snapping out of his thoughts, he shook his head slightly before staring at the Seraphim more attentively.

“Yes, darling?”

“Were you listening to me?” They sighed, Lucifer blushing in embarrassment. When he didn’t respond, the Seraphim chuckled. “I was asking if you knew anything about God’s newest creation?”

“Newest creation?” He asked, taken aback. With him being the head Archangel, he knew everything about what God was thinking. But he hasn’t heard anything about a new project. “I don’t believe I have, angel. So tell me, what new project has my father come up with this time? Some sort of new bird?”

“No! It’s nothing like any animal that’s down on Earth.” They explained, excitement laced in their voice. “It’s a whole new category! Sera said that they will be called ‘humans’! How splendid is that?”

“Humans, hmm?” He hummed, stroking his chin as he stared at the ground. He was still puzzled on why he wasn’t informed of this creation. Noticing his expression, the Seraphim frowned in confusion, afraid they made their dearest friend sad.

“Are you upset?”

“Huh?” He asked, looking at her and noticing her face. “Oh! No! Of course not, angel!” Then, “I’m just surprised is all. Just surprised.”

“Oh… alright then.” They replied before letting her head fall on his shoulders. The two angels sat there in a comfortable silence, watching the sun fall below the white, fluffy clouds of heaven. Little did they know is that this would be one of the last peaceful moments between the pair.

****************************************************

Gasping for air, (Y/N) felt like they couldn’t fly any faster, their wings practically burning as they raced towards the courtroom. “It’s not true.” They muttered over and over. “He couldn’t! He would never. Not my Lucifer..”

Arriving at the tall golden doors, the seraphim let out a shaky breath before slowly opening them, quickly sipping into the room. Their eyes immediately landed on Lucifer, who was standing in the very center of the room with his back towards them.

She gulped as she snuck in the seats where the other Seraphim’s sat, Sera sending a look as she noticed her “sister”. The Heavenly Father sat on his high pedestal, a bright light emitting off of him as a sign of his glory and power.

“Young Lucifer, how the mighty has fallen.” His booming voice said, Lucifer staring at the ground beneath his feet. “Dost thou have no shame? You have betrayed me deeply, my son. Tempting Eve and Adam to eat the fruit of knowledge, specifically after I told them not too. And falling in love with a human soul!”

What?

That accusation made the seraphim tense up, finally noticing the woman that was down there by Lucifer as well. She was taller than him, just like they were, and she had long flowing blonde hair. Her deep colored eyes were wide with worry, holding herself by cradling her arms. The seraphim immediately recognized her to be Lilith, Adam’s failed first wife.

But surely, if Lucifer had fallen in love with this… creature, he would’s told them? But now, as they looked back on it, Lucifer didn’t tell them anything about this plan. In fact, they had to learn through the invitation to sit in the court hearing by Archangel Michael.

“How dare you fall in love with a human soul? That was not in my plan. I made you a companion, a partner, already! Was that not enough?”

‘Was I not enough?’ (Y/N) thought, biting their lip in anticipation.

“Father, please!” Lucifer let out a strangled cry, refusing to look up. Especially since he just knew (Y/N), his darling (Y/N) that he also betrayed in a sense, was somewhere in the courtroom, looking down on him just like the other angels. He could feel their loving aura a mile away.

“I have no choice.” The mighty voice boomed. “Lucifer Morningstar, I banish you from heaven!” With that decree, gasps all around the courtroom could be heard. There had never been such a thing of an angel being cascaded out of heaven before. “And that goes for your bride as well.”

“No…” (Y/N) mumbled as they stared down at Lucifer with wide eyes, holding nothing but sorrow and worry.

“What was that, (Y/N)?” The booming voice asked, a sudden spotlight on the seraphim. Everyone looked at them, including Lucifer who finally got the courage too. The young Seraphim swallowed, staring at the bright light that was God, and then Lucifer. Feeling time stop around them, (Y/N) curled their hands into a fist. When they finally got the will to pull away from Lucifer’s beautiful eyes, they looked over at Sera. The older seraphim gave them a pitiful look. Write shaking her head, silently telling them what to say. And (Y/N) understood. “Well? The courtroom does not have all day!”

“Nothing, Heavenly Father.” They said, avoiding Lucifer’s eyes as they said their next words. “I agree with your choice.”

And just like that, their friend, their beautiful Lucifer, was thrown out of Heaven.

****************************************************

It had been days since Lucifer and his little “bride” was banished from heaven. Life up in the holy kingdom went on for everyone, everyone except (Y/N).

All the seraphim would do nowadays would cry. They would cry from guilt, wishing they had stuck up for their friend. They would cry from anger, feeling betrayed by Lucifer. But mostly, they would cry from sorrow, the pain of never seeing their loved one getting the best of them.

Currently, the seraphim was sitting in the clouds. They watched as the beautiful stars of heaven twinkled up in the night sky. They had always enjoyed the night, finding the bright patterns that God had made breathtaking. But yet, all they had the will to do was cry.

“You have to stop crying.” Sera’s voice said from behind them. “What’s done is done. It cannot be changed with tears.”

“Just let me mourn in peace, Sera!” They snapped, glaring at their sister. Sera, who didn’t take their anger to heart, sighed and nodded. She then disappeared, giving the young one some time to cope.

(Y/N) continued to cry, holding their knees to their chest as they stared up at the sky. Even the stars reminded them of him…

And as their tears fell on the clouds, they didn’t notice a bright light emitting in front of their feet. Well, until Seraphim (Y/N) heard a baby cry.

#fluff #angst #angsty #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #Hazbin hotel Lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader

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sillysowa · 9 months

Text

Ask and you shall receive, my lovelies!

ALL MINE!

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X PLUSSIZED!FEM!READER

GENRE: SMUT! PWP

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

WARNINGS: NON DESCRIPTIVE BODY SHAMING, FACESITTING, FACE RIDING, VAGINAL SEX, BODY WORSHIP

AUTHORS NOTE: I TRIED MY ABSOLUTE BEST TO WRITE ABOUT AN EXPERIENCE THAT I AM NOT INCREDIBLY FAMILIAR WITH, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF ANY OF MY REPRESENTATION OR CONTENT IS OFFENSIVE OR INACCURATE! I WAS NOT COMFORTABLE WITH WRITING DESCRIPTIVE BODY SHAMING. SORRY IF THIS SEEMS AT ALL RUSHED, BEEN HELLA BUSY!

SYNOPSIS: YOU SURPRISE YOUR BOYFRIEND HOBIE AT HIS BIGGEST CONCERT YET, ONLY FOR SOME GROUPIES TO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE SHIT, BUT HOBIE DOESN’T LET THAT SLIDE—OH AND HE FUCKS THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LATER!

—

Today was a big day. Hobie and his band are going to have a concert at their biggest venue yet, and you’re going to surprise him in the crowd. Originally, you and Hobie were pretty bummed because you had plans that day already, and you were almost positive that you wouldn’t be able to get the day off—but turns out you were wrong. Without telling Hobie, you managed to clear up your day completely, and get VIP floor tickets to the show. You had even gone shopping for a concert outfit that would make you look amazing under the concert lights. You are incredibly confident in your body and how it looks, and you really wanted to show it off.

It was the night of, Hobie left earlier, obviously disappointed that you wouldn’t be there but still understanding that your schedule was busy. The smell of his cologne when he bent down to kiss you, his guitar over his shoulder and his amp in his hands was a sight for sore eyes. The moment he left, you went straight to the nearest mirror and did your makeup, spending all the time necessary to look your absolute best. Finally it was time for the outfit. It was beautiful. It was absolutely everything you wanted and it looked beautiful on you. You couldn’t wait for Hobie to see you, illuminated in the neon lights and done up for him, but you really couldn’t wait for him to fuck you up.

You got to the venue early, making sure you could guarantee that you were front row, and prepared yourself to stand for a very long time. The looks that you were given from the groupies who walked to the VIP line made you roll your eyes. There was always those girls—the tall, stick-thin, bratty—and they always needed to make sure you saw them when they looked at you nastily. You just looked forward, and waited out the time until the doors opened.

When they did, you walked with a quick pace, not running, but definitely not walking. You made your way up to the front row, slightly to the right where Hobie plays—you knew because you saw his guitar propped up. You heard the sound of heels, giggled and snobby sounding voices around you. It was the girls from earlier. They were all around you, and you could hear their whispers. It didn’t get to you before, but god it was starting to get to you now. You tried your best to keep ignoring them when a tall blonde woman who didn’t look like the type to be at a punk-rock concert, leaned over and whispered something gut-wrenchingly rude in your ear before standing straight and chatting with her friends. You stood there, suddenly incredibly insecure and crushed. Your spirits were high before, but now? Now you just wanted to go home…to Hobie. That was when you remembered why you were here. You were here for Hobie.

When the lights came on, there’s a ruckus all around. The crowd squeezes together uncomfortably, the room growing loud and wild. The girls around you throw insults your way when you don’t move, holding onto the railing tight. The first song started, and you heard a flurry of yells from Hobies bandmates, and then Hobie. A chill raced down your spine like a rollercoaster down its tracks, and Hobie raced onto the stage. He looked amazing—A fishnet top with a leather vest over it, dark blue jeans held up by a spiked belt, as much silver jewelry as he could fit, and messy black eyeliner.

The song was going amazing, Hobies skilled fingers that you loved oh so much dancing across his guitar as beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his beautiful smile coming out for all to see. Nothing good lasts forever though as when you excitedly jumped with the crowd, the bitchy girl to your right started hurling insults at you. This time you didn’t take it so well. You started questioning her,

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“You, you fucking skank!” She yelled obnoxiously, “Can you fucking move?” She said with the most audacity you had ever seen in your life. Some of her friends laughed, some of them looked at you with a nasty stare, but you just shook your head,

“I payed for these tickets just like you. I’m just trying to enjoy the show, asshole.” You grunted, facing forward to catch the end of the song and ignoring her when she suddenly shoved you. You stumble for a moment, bumping into the fellow groupie bitches to your left only for them to grunt and get pissy. You turned around, ready to fuck her up when,

“You betta get your grimy hands of my girl.” Hobie spoke into his mic, voice deep and angry. He stared directly into the blonde girl’s soul, causing her to freeze and stare blankly at him, then dumbly point at herself like she wasn’t caught in the act,

“Yeah you, what the fuck do you think you were doin?” He laughs, “Get the hell out of my venue.” He suddenly deadpans, “C’mon, get.” He says, the whole crowd invested and booing the girls. They squeeze out of the crowd and get ushered out by security. You’re incredibly flustered as suddenly there’s a ton of eyes on you, everyone wanting to get a look at the lead guitarists girl.

“Take a peek at my girlfriend, people. Isn’t she lovely? God I can’t wait to tear that outfit off of her later!” Hobie gushes into the mic, his deep voice echoing in the venue. The whole crowd starts cheering and getting hype, the next song starting soon after. You knew you were in for one hell of a night.

—

“Can’t believe you actually came, you cheeky ting.” Hobie smiles as he kisses your neck, your back pressed against the deck of his boat. He had rushed you out of the venue earlier, cock already hard in his jeans and hands all over you,

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Hobie, I love to see you on stage.” You smile, thoughts caught up on what those girls said to you about your body earlier. You wonder if there will ever be a day where you feel confident in your skin without getting torn down by someone. You didn’t notice that you had started tearing up, but Hobie must have noticed because he grabbed your face, your eyes refocusing on him while he’s on top of you,

“Who the fuck were those girls?” He suddenly asks, his tone dead serious,

“Just some random groupies I think.” You say dismissing any conversation that might come up about what had gotten you in a fight with them, but sure enough,

“What caused that scene, love?” He questioned, head tilting and deep eyes analyzing your every move and facial expression—nothing gets past Hobie—especially not things like this,

“They…they made a couple comments about my weight.” You admit, trying to move past it as soon as possible.

“And that’s got you bothered?” He asks, already knowing the answer,

“No.”

“No?” Hobie asks, “I don’t buy that—you’ve got that distant look in your eyes doll. Do I need to remind you just how beautiful you are cause I have no problem doing that.” Hobie whispers, voice growing seductive and needy as he kisses your shoulder, his hands dipping down to cup your pussy. When you shudder and sigh, he chuckles, kissing you and suddenly flipping you both, you on top of him. Hobies strength never ceases to amaze you, and you’re even more amazed when he gently lifts you by your hips, sliding himself to be level with your cunt,

“Sit on my face baby, want your sweet pussy~” Hobie grunts, licking his lips and tearing your underwear off. You gasp and cry out when he pulls your hips down, eating you out like he’s gone mad. You rock your hips into his face, your clit bumping against his nose,

“…So pretty…so fucking good…and all mine…” Hobie grunts while he eats you out, his face buried between your legs and his eyes crazed. The warmth and wetness between your legs drives you crazy, panting and moaning as you thrust your hips against him. Hobies fingers grip your thighs, tongue fucking you while his nose rubs your clit. You feel your orgasm coming, and you can barely warn Hobie,

“I-I’m gonna…” You moan, your hands in his hair, looking down at him. Hobie just speed up his ministrations, hungry for you. When you cum, you shake and whimper, the sound of Hobie’s grunts and slurping overstimulating you almost instantly.

“Hobie~” You whine, writhing to get off of him when he finally gives in, gently helping you get positioned under him. He kisses you passionately, one finger under your chin. The kiss is full of love and passion, and Hobie kisses all the way down your body, whispering how much he loves the things about you that no one else has seen. How much he loves the things about your body that are truly unique, and the things about your body that you might not truly love. Hobie loves it all.

He undoes his belt, the sounds sending need straight to your core,

“I love you baby, y’know that?” He whispers,

“Yeah…I do.” You say, breathless,

“Let me show you, baby.” He groans, lining his tip up with your entrance and gently thrusting in. You wince at the size of his cock in you, and Hobie groans, his head dripping down beside you,

“You feelin’ good doll? Does that hurt?” He grunts out, his hands gripping the wood underneath you. The night is cold out on the water with you and Hobie all alone, and the feeling of him inside you is like heaven. You gasp out into the dark sky as Hobie fucks you, whimpering,

“Feels perfect, Hobie~”

His cock stretches your walls, his moans of how beautiful and pretty you are etched into your skin with each kiss. Your thighs shake and tremble and your head spins from all the praise, Hobie fucking you into the floor.

“You like that? Yeah? Good girl baby so good f’me just keep giving me those pretty moans baby” He moans, kissing you as he speeds up. He’s fucking you with reckless abandon, the boat even slightly shaking. He pulls away from the kiss panting wildly and throwing his head back as he thrusts into you. The noises that spill from your lips are animalistic, and your pussy squeezes around him,

“Hobie!” You whimper, your hands shaking on his back.

“Come on, cum for me luv.” He groans, kissing you deeply as you moan into his mouth. Your eyes widen and then roll into the back of your head, the sounds of both your skin slapping resonating around you. Hobie speeds up impossibly faster and you cum—seeing stars as you squirt all over him. Almost directly after, Hobie spills his cum deep inside you. You can feel the twitching of his cock and the warmth of his semen inside you. Tears spill out of your eye, Hobie breaking the kiss to wipe them away. His thumbs smoothing over your face. Hobie pulls out of you and scoop you up, bringing you to his bed and cleaning you up softly—the whole time whispering sweet praises to you and kissing every inch of your skin for the last time that night. Hobie cleans himself off, helps you into one of your sleep shirts that you left on the boat last time, and slips into bed behind you, holding you all through the night.

No one will ever tear down your self esteem with Hobie around. He was sure of it.

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown angst #spiderman #silly’s fics

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vinaxxo · 1 month

Note

Can you write about Bihan having feelings for the reader but doesn't know how to ask her out on a date?

What a cayutie patootie idea! Here you go, hope u like it 🩵

~ KISS THE GIRL (there’s no kissing I’m just referencing the song)

Bi han was never one to have crushes, which was why he was frustrated and baffled by the slightest increase in his heart rate around you.

You’d been a part of the Lin Kuei’s special forces for 3 months, training hard and keeping your own under the Grandmaster’s direct command. While ever so handsome, you found him to be as cold as the cryo in his veins.

You knew you’d stutter around that man if you ever opened your mouth to say anything other than ‘Yes master!’ with your comrades.

Bi han was aware of your weariness in his presence and appreciated the respect you gave him, but he silently wished that you’d be less afraid. The permanent scowl on his good looking features… it’s just his resting face. (Johnny told him he had a resting bitch face, and he took offense to that and froze Johnny’s lips shut.)

Around the spring, flowers bloomed and blossomed in bright cool colors around the compound, sending their sweet fragrances into the morning air. Bi han took notice of a certain flower in particular.

It reminded him of you. Beautiful, bold, and bright, the flower swayed gently in the wind, its coloring identical to your uniform. Bi han thought about asking you to walk in the garden with him, but was at a loss for words when he thought about what he’d say.

Bi han’s brows furrowed as he looked away from the spring beauties, annoyed by his sudden incompetence. He was THE grandmaster for god’s sake, how could he not find it in himself to ask you on an outing?

As if things couldn’t get any worse, you showed up on the path he was on, talking with Kung Lao and Raiden during your break time. Bi han stood in his place off to the side, watching your every move, down to the way you tilted your head when you smiled and used your hands to talk.

As soon as you noticed your grandmaster’s presence, you stopped in front of him and bowed respectfully, greeting him like always. Kung Lao and Raiden nod their heads at him.

Almost immediately, Bi han’s mouth moves before his brain does, a complete rarity for his character.

“Y/n. I must speak with you,” he started before eying the boys to his side, “Alone.”

Kung Lao smirks at you before pulling Raiden along, leaving you to speak with the scariest man you know. What did you do? Were your reps earlier that bad? As if Bi han heard your mental fretting, he crossed his arms and shook his head.

“You are not in trouble, y/n.” He says, but the graveness of his tone does little to settle your nerves.

If only you could hear his heart race.

“Then.. what’s the matter?” You ask politely.

“The flowers have started to bloom…” Bi han holds his mask for a second, as if he thinks it’d fall if he didn’t. He was embarrassed now. How the great grandmaster has fallen, pitifully pining for more of your sweet presence.

“Walk with me in the garden at dusk. If you get hungry, we can visit Madame Bo’s.” Bi han mentally cursed himself for making his request sound like a command.

You hoped your jaw wasn’t on the floor. Had the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei asked you out? On a date? He was staring straight into your eyes, you felt his hard gaze pierce right through you. It would be threatening if he didn’t ask you on a date a few seconds prior.

“Sure—uh, grandmast—“

“Bi han. Address me as bi han.” He interrupted, voice gruff.

“Right. I’ll see you this evening, Bi han…” You say carefully, feeling your cheeks burn and your stomach flutter. You felt like you were more excited than he was, but trust, Bi han is subtly smiling under that ninja mask.

#v.answerz💋#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #bi han x you #bi han x reader #bi han sub zero #bi han x y/n #sub zero x you #sub zero x reader #sub zero fluff #mortal kombat fluff

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spookyghostbunny · 6 months

Text

Spspspsp come get your lee!Caine

It's not surprising that the circus performers occasionally have their off days. Even Caine, the usually lively ringmaster, had them

However, those days were far and few between.

Today just so happens to be one of those days.

Caine didn't understand why he felt so blue. The sun was shining, the stars were sparkling, and the digital flowers were in full bloom. There was even a gentle breeze that passed through THE GROUNDS, making it a perfect day to be outside.

Despite the beautiful day outside, inside THE TENT was a different story. The circus performers quickly noticed their ringmaster's unusual behavior. They were all frantically telling jokes and performing tricks, trying to bring Caine's frown back to its signature smile.

Everything they tried had failed.

Caine sighs as he floats back to his room. He was grateful for his performers trying to help, but now he just wanted to be alone. He couldn't shake this weird feeling. Overwhelmed? Is that the right word? He sighed again and sat down on his bed, staring off at the wall in thought.

Will he ever feel better?

"What's got ya so down in the dumps, boss?" Caine jumps at hearing the familiar voice of his assistant.

Bubble floated in front of him, looking curious. It's not every day his friend looks this upset.

"I'm not quite sure, dear Bubble. I believe I am experiencing one of those days that Ragatha refers to as 'bad days.' I wasn't sure what that meant, but now I'm starting to understand," Caine explains, unconsciously fidgeting with his hands.

Bubble cooed in sympathy. He was feeling a little useless in this situation. He wanted to help his friend, but he was only a sphere with eyes and a mouth. What could he do?

The sentient bubble drifted towards Caine, attempting a few affectionate nuzzles.

What happened next was something Bubble would never let Caine live down.

The ringmaster let out a soft gasp before being consumed by giggles.

The two were equally taken back by Caine's strange reaction. "What was that?" Bubble asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Caine stuttered, appearing uncharacteristically flustered. "N-Nothing!"

It didn't take long for Bubble to realize what had happened. A mischievous smirk formed on his toothy mouth.

He figured out a way to help his friend.

Caine rapidly leaps off the bed and backs away from Bubble. "N-now, Bubble! Don't you try any funny business! I- um- feel better already! Yeah! Hey, I think I heard Pomni calling me! I should-"

Before Caine has the chance to retreat, Bubble unleashes his attack, aiming at Caine's tummy.

Caine squeals, bursting into goofy laughter from the ticklish nuzzles. "Buhuhubble!"

"I didn't know you were ticklish, Caine! This is such great news!" Bubble chirps, not realizing that his talking made the tickly feeling worse.

Caine squeals again, attempting to push away his assistant.

For a bubble, Bubble was surprisingly strong.

It was a funny sight for sure! The floating mouth's jaw almost touched the floor from how hard he was laughing, and he was wiggling this way and that! If only Bubble had a camera with him.

As Caine grew weaker, he gradually descended to the floor. "Hahaha St-stohohop thihis! Yohohou parasite!!"

Bubble gasps in fake offense. "You're in for it now," he growls.

Caine instantly knew he [insert silly noise here] up.

Bubble took a deep breath (it was mostly for show since he didn't need to breathe) and blew a raspberry on Caine's poor stomach.

Caine shrieked, attempting to curl up and escape the madding tingles that rippled through his body. This is so weird! He has never been on the receiving end of a raspberry before! This must be what the others felt when he gave them one.

It was kind of fun!

"IHIHI'M S-SOHOHORRHEHEHE!"

"Hmm... I don't know. You don't look sorry to me!" Bubble teased, having to hold back his own laughter. He was having a blast! He took another mock deep breath, delivering a raspberry to Caine's side.

This went on until Bubble saw that Caine was close to his limit. He stops and moves so he was sitting beside Caine. "Feelin any better, boss?" Bubble asks, hoping he didn't take it too far.

Caine took a minute to calm down. His digital nerves still felt the tingles shooting through them. When the phantom tickles finally went away, he shoots back up into the air and does a dramatic twirl.

"Yep! I'm feeling like my old self again! In fact..." He glaces at the door, his voice taking on a playfully darker tone. "I would like to repay our guests for their help."

"SCATTER!" They heard Jax yell outside the door. They both chuckle as they hear the performers take off in different directions.

Bubble was ready for round two.

#roman writes things #the amazing digital circus tickles #lee!caine #ler!bubble #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus caine #the amazing digital circus bubble #ticklish!caine #tadc #tadc caine #tadc bubble

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 6 months

Text

Hellfire (Priest! Miguel O’Hara x Demon! Fem! Reader) one shot

Oooooo Im very happy about this one. Based of the song from the hunchback of Norte dame. No idea how this got to the word count it did lol. Not proofread.

Religious imagery(Catholicism specifically), questioning of faith, the lyrics of the song does contain a certain that can be seen as distasteful/offensive, reader is a demonic entity (almost like a succubus), nsfw content but no smut (mdni), semi-dub con(???) (reader trying to convince Miguel to give into her, but it’s mostly teasing touches and stuff.), cursing, mentions of hell.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Word count: 2.6K

Masterlist

—

Confiteor deo

Omnipotenti

Beatae Mariae

Semper virgini

Beato Michaeli archangelo

Sanctis apostolis

Omnibus sanctis

—

With a heavy sigh, Miguel placed his rosary and his bible on his office’s desk. Another Sunday completed, all the services for the day were finished, along with clean up and the classes for the kiddos. It was now getting dark, the sun setting, leaving a beautiful painting of pink and orange hues in the sky. The church bells struck once, twice, three times, then one last time, signifying another hour having passed as Miguel put on his winter coat and gloves, because surely,it was still snowing outside , his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the empty ancient church. He stops at the start of the wooden pews, turning towards the front and placing his right hand to the top of his forehead.

“En el nombre del Padre.” (In the name of the father.)

His hand travels to the middle of his chest.

“Y del Hijo.” (The son)

To his left shoulder.

“Y del Espíritu…” (And the holy…)

To his right shoulder.

“Santo, Amén.” (spirit, Amen.)

Lastly, he brings his hand up and places a gentle kiss on the side of it, his eyes never leaving the stain glass portrait of the Virgin Mary that hung in the middle of the top of the stage as he said the prayer, before turning back around and exiting the church, a familiar sense of dread filling his chest as he closes the door behind him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud (et tibit pater)

—

Miguel couldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t sleep.

He rubs his large hands over his face, his eye bags have been getting darker lately, he’s been lacking energy, and thanks to the little sleep he’s been receiving, it was only making it harder for him to fight off the temptation of sin. But it’s not like he could have a full night's rest, not when… Miguel shook his head in an attempt to rid the vile and unholy thoughts. Maybe tonight will be different, that was the lie he told himself every night.

Miguel placed his toothbrush back into the little blue cup onto his bathroom sink, bringing up a small, white hand towel to clean off the excess water that was spread on his lips, and began to run down his chin and onto his neck.

what a delicious sight.

Once he finally finished cleaning up the water on his chin, he dragged the towel over his sink counter to clean the water he had spilled while brushing, before placing it back on its little hook and exited the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Maybe he wouldn’t have the same problem every night if he didn’t look so tempting, only sleeping in gray sweatpants.

He does a once-over of his house, making sure all the doors and windows are locked. Before finishing stopping in front of his bedroom, freezing right before the threshold of the door. His hands go up and join together in a praying signal, whispering for protection under his breath.

Like that’s ever helped him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd (quia peccavi nimis)

—

The second he took the step into his bedroom, he felt a shiver run down his back. It felt like the temperature dropped once he walked in, he swore if he focused hard enough, he’d be able to see his own breath.

Despite his fight or flight senses screaming at him to run, he continued to venture further into his master bedroom. A simple wooden cross with golden accents hung over his bed, his eyes fixated on it. Miguel O’Hara, was a man of faith, he had to be in order to be the priest of his community’s church. He’s poured his whole life, soul and being into his religion, having been raised catholic since he was a mere infant. So why was it that every night, when he’d stared at the cross over his bed, the one that was supposed to protect him, did he start to doubt?

—

Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there?

Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? (cogitatione)

—

It always started the same.

He’d sleep somewhat soundly for a good amount of the night, once he was able to get his mind to stop racing.

He looked so adorable asleep, despite his colossal size.

He moves a lot, so his bed always becomes a bit disheveled, a pillow on the floor or a blanket halfway off the bed. Some light snores and some drool dripping out the corner of his mouth.

How could such a holy man be so delicious looking?

It was 3 am. Witching hour.

“Wake…”

“… up~”

“Wake up.”

—

I feel her, I see her

The sun caught in her raven hair

Is blazing in me out of all control (verb o et opere)

—

Miguel’s eyes shot open. Chest heaving as he takes rapid short breaths, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes darting around his dark room in an attempt to find the source of the voice, only lifting his head as he did so.

He knew you were here.

Finally he finds a pair of dark glowing eyes at the foot of his bed, how did he miss it in the first place? He chalks it up to panic. A silence fell over the two of you for what felt like hours, an all too familiar sense of panic (and to Miguel’s horror, slight arousal) filled his senses. Finally, you break the silence.

“My my my… if it isn’t my favorite priest…” You said in a sing-songy tone, as you slowly climbed onto the bed, making Miguel’s stomach twist. He should push you off of him, he should banish you to the depths of hell, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for some reason. He was paralyzed. You stopped crawling once you were fully over him. “Oh father… help me for I have sinned.” You said in a mocking tone, a shiver ran down his back once again as he let out a shaky breath, feeling your sharp fingernails trail down his chest, and stopping at the waistband of his sweats tugging at the band slightly.

—

Like fire

Hellfire

—

Finally coming to his senses, (much to your dismay) he finally pushes off you. Landing on the floor to the left side of the bed, with a small “oof” as he quickly scrambled to the over side of the bed in or to create distant between the two of you.

“Get out.” Miguel growled as he readjusted his sweats. You didn’t respond, rather, you brought your hand up to move some hair that had gotten into your face as you slowly walked around the bed and towards him. You looked how you always did when you would visit him. You could even be mistaken for a human if it weren’t for the horns, the wings and the long nails.

“Don’t act like that now, father. Aren’t you tired of this little game we play every night?” You asked with a head tilt, continuing to walk towards him as you spoke, your sentence coming out slow and drawn out, your tone nothing but pure seduction. Miguel closes his eyes as if they would deafen your words. Every step you take forward, he takes one back, before the back of his knees eventually hits the back of his bedside table, his hands going behind him to help stabilize himself to keep from falling back on top of it. “You pretend you don’t enjoy this-“

“I don’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you hard, father?” You smirked as you spoke., eyes drifting down to a very visible bulge in his sweats. “Have I finally done my job? Will this be the night you fall victim to temptation?” You said in a surprised, yet smug tone. Miguel felt his face burn up, a hand going behind him in search of something. “I will say, you do look quite handsome on your knees. I can give you something so much better to worship than God. You just have to give in to me, give in, father. Give in. Give in. Give in. Give. In.” You chant those two words like a mantra, your eyes begin to glow as you got closer, you were at arms length now. Your steps and words came to a sudden halt.

—

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin

—

Your eyes narrowed at the rosary Miguel was holding up in front of you in an attempt to protect himself from you.

“That’s not a very nice way to treat your guest.”

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you back to hell where you belong.” His words make you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you would never. You and I both know that. Now put that thing down so I can corrupt my favorite human.” You attempted to move closer, only for him to double down. “Tell me Miguel, if you were really gonna ‘banish’ me or whatever. Why haven’t you done so already? I’ve been coming to you for a few weeks now? If you really wanted to get rid of me for good, you would have done so already. You’re a priest for god’s sake-“

“Don’t you dare use the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’m a demon.” You deadpanned.

He hated to admit that you were right, he hated that he knew that you were. He’s surprised that you haven’t gotten bored in this game of cat and mouse yet. Every night you would appear in his room at the sametime, attempting to seduce him while he spat empty threats at you. Why hasn't he just gotten rid of you yet? It’s not like he doesn’t have the power to do so or the equipment. Maybe he was going insane, maybe he was losing it, or maybe…

No. He couldn’t.

He can’t just throw away his whole life’s work just because a demon who happened to be conventional pretty keeps pestering every night. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to temptation. He wouldn’t allow himself to be corrupted by your glowing eyes that seem like they could stare into his soul forever, or your sultry voice that made his heart skip a beat, your plump lips that would pull up into a smirk whenever you’d question him, how the say you would tilt your head made him weak in the knees- oh how he wish he could worship your body on his knees like you were a goddess- no, fuck.

“Get out.” Miguel repeated, his voice becoming tighter, his knuckles turning white. He takes a step forward, you take one back and frown. “Get. Out!”

He blinks, you're gone.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

I'm not to blame (mea culpa)

It is the gypsy girl the witch who sent this flame (mea maxima culpa)

—

It’s been a few weeks since your last visit, much to Miguel’s surprise. He should be relieved, he should be thanking the heavens up above that he was finally able to extract such a vile presence from his life, he doesn’t feel a pit in his stomach when he enters his own home anymore, it doesn’t feel like the temperature in his room is 20 degrees colder than it is in the hallway leading into it anymore, he doesn’t feel like like there’s this constant ghost lingering over his shoulder anymore. So why wasn't he at peace?

Your lack of presence was almost just as unbearable. In a twisted way, he became accustomed to it. Maybe this was another of your tricks, attempting to perform classic conditioning on him. Get him used to you by the constant attention from your nightly visits, butter him up despite his protest, making his body burn up with the way your touch lingers on his body too long, the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you lick your lips, the way the word father would leave your lips in a way that made it sound like you’ve just sinned and he was the only one who could help you reach eternal salvation again, just to pull it all away from him within a snap of a finger to see how long it would take for him to crumble. You were Pavlov, and Miguel was just the dog whose mouth started to water at the sound of a bell.

The church was empty besides himself, he was kneeling before the crucifix that was placed next to the portrait of the Virgin Mary, eyes closed, his hands folded together in a fist as he he dips his head down, nose touching his hands as he silently prayed for forgiveness for allowing you to slowly chip away at his self-restraint. He heard the large front door open, he didn’t open his eyes but his head came up as he spoke.

“I’m sorry my child, the church is closed.”

“I needed to see you though, father.”

Miguel’s eyes snapped open. He knew that voice all too well.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

If in God's plan (mea culpa)

He made the Devil so much stronger than a man (mea maxima culpa)

—

“How-“ Miguel was stunned, not only have you reappeared after weeks, you were also standing inside of a church, his church. You looked so beautiful, you looked like an actual human, your nails, although still sharp and point looked more like acrylics rather then claws, you weren’t dawning your bat-like wings and your horns weren’t poking out of your hair, if Miguel had passed by you on the street, he’d be none the wiser. It only made him crack more, imagining what it would be like in a different world where there wasn’t shame and taboo keeping him away from you. Where you aren’t a soulless, heartless creature. “How’s you get in here?” He finally got the question out, his eyes narrowed into slits as he took a step back, almost fumbling his footing and tripping.

“We can enter churches if we find a weak point.” You stated as you made your way towards him, Miguel’s eyes dropped instantly to your hips, how they swayed with each step you take, his mouth went dry and he instinctively licked his lips. “I wonder what that weak point is?” You teased as you stopped in front of him, your lips pulling up into a smirk.

—

Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast her spell

Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy Esmeralda

And let her taste the fires of hell

Or else let her be mine and mine alone

—

He don’t know how it happened, one minute he was standing face to face in front of you, then the next, you both were in his office in the back of the church, you were sitting on top of his desk as he kneeled in front of you, his rough hands wondering and running around your legs, and he planted soft light kisses all over them. In between each one, he’d whispered a small pile of forgiveness from God, but he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

—

Hellfire

Darkfire

Now gypsy, it's your turn

Choose me or your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

—

“You never told me your name…” Miguel mumbled into your skin, his face buried against your inner thigh as he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name. Just… call me (Y/N).” You cooed as you ran a hand through his hair, before bringing it down to his cheek. Miguel leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He was completely and utterly yours now.

“(Y/N)…” He whispered the name like a prayer.

—

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on her

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on me

Kyrie eleison

But she will be mine

Or she will burn

#Spotify #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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cumulo-stratus · 7 months

Text

The Softest Curls In All The Kingdom

(GIF NOT MINE)

Description: Y/n enjoys playing with spencers hair on jet back home

Warnings: possible swearing, lemme know if theres anything else

Flufftober day 6: Playing with hair

Y/n- the ever workaholic decided to finish all his reports and paperwork on the jet, despite his tired (and clingy) boyfriends many protests. So they compromised; they would sit on the couch so Spencer could cuddle on y/n, and y/n could do his paperwork.

after about an hour y/n finally put his pen down, only to find Spencer asleep on his shoulder. Y/n decided to take a moment to admire his beautiful boyfriend. He noticed how peaceful his boyfriend looks compared the usual tight knot between his brows and tense shoulders. He noticed the soft rise and fall of his chest in the silent plane. Y/n couldn't help himself as he reached out and laid a hand on his head, his fingers lightly combing through the thick curls.

Spencer's eyes fluttered open at the gentle touches of his boyfriend. When he finally fully peeled open his eyes he noticed the pencil and paperwork his boyfriend had abandoned instead opting for admiring him- this thought made Spencer blush. Y/n old smiled and said "morning lovebug" in a hushed gentle tone. Spencer only rolled his eyes and leaned into his boyfriend's touch. Y/n giggled at his hypocrisy and said "does my prince enjoy when the king plays with his hair" in a joking manner. Spencer gasped in fake offense and exclaimed "your the king?! Nooo- im obviously the king and your obviously the prince!” Spencer’s voice held mock offense as he leaned in closer to Y/ns chest, despite his earlier scoldings. “of course my leige, how could i forget?” Y/n’s voice had dawned an absolutely horrible British accent and a funny voice. He continued in his this tone and accent and said “I must respect the king, as he has the softest most beautiful hair in allllll the land!” Spencer blushed and giggled quietly to himself as Y/n continued to brigs the through the soft curls all over spencers scalp- almost like a massage.

Eventually their conversation died down and they settled into a comfortable silence of Y/n slowly massaging Spencers soft curls while reading his book and spencer fast asleep on Y/ns lap, his long legs stretched all the way out to the end of the couch, barely fitting.

And soon Y/n fell asleep too, his book long since abandoned on his lap, still open to the last page. His head leaned back against the seat, and his neck was definitely going to hurt when he woke up, but it was worth it if it made spencer more comfortable.

And there they stayed for the remainder of the flight, with Y/ns hand still loosely hung on top of hid head. When they finally landed and the rest of the team began to wake, they stayed asleep. JJ was the first to notice te pile of cuteness and pointed it out to the team with a knowing a smile and a giggle. Derek couldnt help but laugh, and said “Aww, look its lover boy and boy genius cuddling! the perfect couple!” derek used a playful dreamy voice and the laughter that came after roused spencer and his boyfriend. They slowly peeled open their eyes to find at least half of the team smiling at them as if they were a cute baby. “Why are you guys looking at us like that?” Y/n questioned. the tea just giggles=d and began file out.

Y/n just held his boyfriends hand as they packet up, emerging from the jet only a couple minutes after the rest of the team.

The End

#bau #criminal minds #bau team #spencer reid #gay #fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #cute #playing with hair #flufftober #flufftober day 2 #flufftober 2023 #flufftober fic #flufftober day 6

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handmade-witch · 2 months

Text

Be Mine - Happy Valentine's Day 💝

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire × Reader

[[AN: Last but certainly not least!! 😇 Thank you to everyone who has shown their support for my blog and writings so far - words can't express how much I appreciate it. 😍🥰 Enjoy!! 💓💓]]

Read Mattheo's story here <3

Read Theo's story here <3

Read Blaise's story here <3

Read Draco's story here <3

When you opened the door to your room, your eyes landed on a bouquet of red roses resting on top of your sheets. A folded piece of pink paper sat propped against them. Your fingers brushed over the front of the card where your name was written in handwriting you immediately recognized as Enzo's. You folded open the paper to read what was written inside:

Roses are red, Violets are blue.

I can't wait for Valentine's day with you!

Follow the clues and you will see,

A perfect date for you and me!

The cute rhyme brought a smile to your face as giggled softly. Of course, you thought to yourself, shaking your head affectionately. A Valentine's day scavenger hunt summed up the nature of yours and Enzo's relationship perfectly. It was playful and fun but full of a passion and tenderness that made it so special. Your eyes flicked down to the bottom of the page, where Enzo had written a clue:

Clue 1: Smile! You're not going there to study. You'll find your next clue with a buddy!

You couldn't keep the cheesy grin off of your face as you left your room and headed to the library.

•••

"So how much did you get bribed to sit here and wait for me?" You teased as you approached Blaise who sat at the typical "Slytherin" study table.

He smirked at you, pushing a plate with a cupcake and another pink card towards you. "Are you assuming that I needed a bribe to do a good deed for my dear friend?"

You just gave him a look as you sat in the chair opposite him, unwrapping the cupcake.

"Fine." He rolled his eyes playfully. "I was paid in cupcakes- which are delicious by the way."

You took a bite. Blaise was right, it was incredible. You picked up the pink card. It read:

Clue 2: I didn't drink Amorentia when I fell for you, but go to the spot where we make its brew

The potions classroom. You smile again, bidding your friend goodbye as you head to the basement.

You peek into the classroom, finding it empty. Another pink card rests on the potion station where you and Enzo typically sit. With it is a small heart shaped box of candies. You were getting giddy with anticipation. The scavenger hunt was fun but you were also ready to spend time with your sweet boyfriend. You read the clue written on the card:

Clue 3: The next place is one you won't want to miss, go to where we had our first kiss.

You smiled softly at the memory. Everyone in the whole school had been anticipating the upcoming Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch match. Slytherin had lost the previous two contests. While you would never say it in front of Draco, it was no secret that Harry Potter was an excellent seeker, and it was the primary reason for the team's success. The Slytherin team had to approach this game with a whole new strategy to prevent another loss. In theory, it was simple: if they scored enough points offensively, it didn't matter whether Potter caught the snitch or not– they would win the game.

It had been an exhausting week for everyone, with practices running overtime every day. Drill after drill after drill to perfect their strategy. The day of the match had been so beautiful it was almost taunting. The hard work had paid off, though. And when the announcer called out, 'Slytherin Wins!' you met Enzo in the center of the pitch, where you threw your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. He had grabbed your face and kissed you and it was like the entire school around you had disappeared. All that you could focus on in that moment was his lips on yours. It was only after you broke apart that the wolf whistling of your friends and teammates registered and had you blushing madly. But with the thrill of the victory and the way Enzo held you, you felt as if you could've faced anything in that moment. [[

The hike to the pitch had your legs feeling angry at you. Maybe you could convince Enzo to add a massage to your date to make up for having you hike around the entire castle. You walked across the grass to where you saw a box set in the middle of the field. You opened it up to reveal a dark green hoodie. The back read 'Berkshire' in large letters. The material was soft and you quickly swapped it with the sweater you were wearing to ward of the February chill. In the bottom of the box was another pink card. It read:

Clue 4: You've searched high, and you've searched low. Head to where you can touch the sky, it's the last place to go.

•••

You reached the top of the stairs to the astronomy tower with a huff, feeling slightly out of breath. If climbing the stairs wasn't enough to take your breath away the view at the top sure was.

Twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the edges of the room, casting it in a soft, warm glow. A variety of pillows and blankets (most looking like they had been stolen from the Slytherin common room) were laid out of the floor. And there was Enzo sitting on the floor in the middle of the room with the biggest grin on his face. When he saw you he bounded over to yoi, wrapping you in his arms and pressing a kiss to you cheek.

"Hi love, how was your day?" His soft brown eyes were full of love and affection as they looked into yours.

"Exhausting." You tease with a huff as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "But fun."

Enzo breaks away from your hold for just a moment to gesture to what he's wearing. You notice that his sweatshirt is the same color you were wearing. "Check it out," he says, spinning around to show off your last name printed in big letters on the back of his hoodie. He grins, pulling you back into his arms. "Now everyone knows that I'm yours and you're mine." He hums, swaying you slightly as he rests his forehead against yours. "Do you like it?" His eyes sparkle as he asks.

"Yes." You press a soft kiss to his lips. "And the cupcake, and the candies, and the flowers, and the scavemger hunt." You giggle. "It was all perfect, just like you."

The tips of Enzo's ears burn red at your compliment of him and he kisses you again before turning your attention to the room. "I got a couple more suprises." He smile is contagious as he leads you to the cozy pile he's made on the floor of the tower. He produces a tray with two heart shaped pizzas on them: one topped with his favorites and the other topped with yours.

"Did you make these?" You gushed. "They smell delicious."

"Well I'll admit I had some assistance from our favorite Italian wizard, but yes, I take full credit so feel free to pay me in kisses." He smirks, leaning towards you and you kiss him. You feel your cheeks start to ache from smiling so much. Enzo tends to have that effect on you.

"I have one more gift." He produces a small box as you groan exasperatedly at him. "It's the last one I swear! I couldn't help myself."

Untying the ribbon, you open the box to reveal a dainty chain bracelet. In the center of the chain is a small metal heart with an "L" engraved into. Enzo takes the bracelet and your hand, fastening it around your wrist. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, looking up at you with adoring eyes.

"Thank you Enzo."

"Thank you." He leans in once again, kissing you and whispering against your lips, "For being the best thing that has ever happened to me." He leans back, his signature smile on his face. "Pizza?" He asks.

"Yes please." You hum, settling in to enjoy the rest of your evening with your favorite boy.

#slytherin boys #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #harry potter universe #matteo riddle #lorenzo berkshire x reader #Spotify

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year

Text

✧With all my heart✧

{You give Sirius a ring and he doesn’t know how to accept a gift like a normal person}

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Sirius has slung himself haphazardly over the velvet armchair, his legs hooked over the armrest and there’s a cigarette that sits on his supple lips, and you watch as he stretches upward, using his elbows for support, he turns his head towards the open window as he blows out a cloud of smoke.

His position doesn’t look comfortable, but he didn’t mind it, it was better than you sitting in the midst of his cigarette smoke.

“You alright? You’ve been quiet” he asks as he flicks the bud of his cigarette out the window, standing from the armchair and walking over to you on the sofa picking up a cherry-flavored sweet that sits in a small bowl on the coffee table.

He plops himself down by your side, and he's close, close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating from him.

“Yeah I’m alright” you smile as he slings his arm over your shoulder pulling you into his side, his lips press a kiss on the top of your head, “Oh! I brought something for you” you smile and Sirius looks at you with a quizzical expression.

“You did?” He smiles watching you take a tiny red box from the small pouch of your backpack, excitement tingles through his body leaving a fluttering feeling in his chest.

“Yeah, I was in this old antique store with Lily yesterday and this caught my attention, thought of you” your voice is quiet with a sudden shyness.

His heart blooms at the thought of him being on your mind, he takes it from your hands, and you watch as he opens the small box you feel giddy with nervousness as his eyes widen with surprise, and your index finger picks at the sides of your thumb as you wait for a response.

Sirius looks at you with nothing but fondness in his eyes, his black curls resting against his cheeks, “You're proposing to me?” He teases with a fake high-pitched almost whiny voice, taking the ring from its cushioned box.

“What? No!” You shake your head trying to grab the ring from his nimble fingers as he doges your erratic hands, the nervousness in your body seems to dissolve as he stops to admire the ring.

“Just teasing you sweetheart” he smiles as he pushes the ring over his index finger, it has a black band and it’s embedded with red crystal, and it fits, you sigh softly in relief.

“You’re such a dickhead” you whine pushing at his shoulders as he tries to hug you, leaning his whole body weight onto you, and you eventually cave in as he wraps his arms around your soft midsection, "Honestly, you're so insufferable" you sigh, he's laying between your legs on the sofa, his cheek smushing against yours and his hair pressed against the side of your face.

“Mmm yeah yeah— all I’m hearing is that you love me and you can’t get enough” he smiles pressing sloppy kisses against your warm face, giggling to himself when you whine out in disgust.

“You only hear what you want to hear, Sirius,” you say and he feigns offense mumbling about how you're breaking his heart, his head resting against your chest as his hand creeps under your shirt his cold fingers tracing the soft skin of your tummy.

“Such a sap” you whisper your fingers threading through his soft black locks as he nuzzles into you deeper.

“Whoa, full of it today aren’t you angel?” He lets out a breathy laugh looking up at you through his ridiculously beautiful eyelashes that could make any girl envious, your hand cups his flushed cheek, and your thumb gently caresses the beauty mark that sits underneath his right eye.

“Thank you— for the gift, it’s beautiful- hope it didn’t break your bank” he winces at his words, he doesn’t know how to truly thank you he’s never been the best at receiving heartfelt gifts, especially from you and your lovely heart.

“You don’t have to thank me handsome, besides I don’t have a budget when it comes to you” you murmur pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You can sense the shift in him he goes quiet, and he hates the voice that shouts from the back of his head about how you deserve someone better, someone, who isn’t so complicated.

“I love you” he whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him, his hot breath fans across your chest, “I really do love you” he mumbles into your skin and he hopes you believe him, he hopes you realize that he appreciates you and your gift.

Your eyebrows knit together in worry as you continue to play with his soft hair, “I love you more Sirius” you whisper resting your cheek against the top of his head.

Suddenly he’s sitting on his knees looking down at you with a completely baffled expression on his pretty face, and it’s almost comical at how animated he looks, “You couldn’t even if you tried my love— even if you tried your hardest” he says with a smug smirk his index finger waves in front of your face as you roll you eyes.

You like this side of Sirius, his playful loving banter fills your heart with happiness and you hope you can continue to provide him with lovesick happiness for the rest of his life, he lays back down on top of you his head resting against the crook of your neck, "I love you with all my heart" his lips grazing against the soft skin of your neck as you giggle at how 'cheesy' he's being.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

☾⋆AN//Hope you enjoyed my loves!! <3 {{Requests are open btw!}}

I cope by writing stomach-churning fluffy Sirius.

#sirius black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #sirius black fic #sirius x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius fanfiction #sirius fluff #sirius fic #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders fanfiction

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useless-catalanfacts · 1 month

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No question. Just rant. I love your page. And sorry for chaotic story time vibes, but I don't think I'd realised how crazy this anti-catalan thing really is until I travelled to southern Spain. My Spanish is not great, but I took a course in Catalan in high school (long story on why this was available in my city but it also included a human tower party at the end and it was brilliant even tho I almost died) so when talking to people I casually threw in some Catalan words to help my Spanish. I am Norwegian, and I thought it was kind of like... as if someone was trying to speak Norwegian but casually threw in some Swedish to fill in the gaps. Like we would totally have joked about it, but overall we would just be grateful they really made an effort to be understood. But no. IT WAS NOT THE CASE. My host was literally offended. Like offended offended. I didn't really get it, because it's not like the Catalans have oppressed him and I'm coming here speaking the tongue of the oppressor (its kinda the opposite). But no. My host acted if I was the most ignorant person ever. He basically sat me down and explained that I have to show respect and speak castillian (or english, which was apparently fine, even if he understood about 1% of it), and then I asked if he would speak Catalan if he visited Barcelona and he said he would never visit Barcelona because he didn't like the people there. And then I said that if you hate them so much, why not throw them out of the country, get rid of them, and let them have their own state? It sounds like a win-win. And he looked as if he was gonna hit me.

Ah 😬

I wish things like this surprised me, but I have family from Andalucía and Extremadura and have friends who also have family from Andalucía, and so I've heard this and worse... It also reminded me of a few weeks ago when there was a scandal because a train in Málaga (in Andalucía, southern Spain) gave the announcements in Catalan instead of Spanish (turns out the train had been programmed in Catalonia during the COVID-19 restrictions and later moved to the Málaga train system, but for some mistake this day it was showing COVID-19 precaution in Catalan from 2020 now in 2024). It was such a scandal that it was on the news and politicians were making such a big deal of it, the PP (the most voted party in Málaga and of all Andalucía) also said it was "offensive" and that Malagans were being "laughed at" by the trains. Other errors in public transport that actually mean people can't travel in time don't get reported as much as when one train's screens tell you in Catalan to wear your facemask. 🤷

The last part of what you say, absolutely right. I never understood it either: if they really don't like us, then shouldn't they also be interested in not having anything to do with us? Why not just kick us out? I never really understood it until some years ago when I heard the words of a right-wing Spanish journalist (I think was Federico Jiménez Losantos?) who said something along the lines of "if Catalans want to leave, then leave. But Catalonia is ours." Meaning that Catalan people, individually, we can leave and migrate abroad. But the land is a possession of Spain, our homeland is their property. I think that sums up that view. It's not about being annoyed at having to share a state with a culture you despise, it's about wanting to keep domination.

I'm sorry you had this experience. Your effort to communicate should have been valued, and pulling the words you know from a language from the same linguistic family was a good idea that would have worked great, they wouldn't have found it offensive if the language you knew instead of Catalan was Italian, Portuguese, etc. Thank you very much for sharing your experience, and I hope you could enjoy the rest of your trip (Southern Spain, outside of situations like this, is a beautiful place), and I'm very glad to hear you enjoyed the castells party (and didn't die in it)!

#ask #anonymous #actualitat #catalanophobia #catalanofòbia #coses de la terra #catalonia #catalunya #spain #language rights #language imperialism #imperialism #cultural imperialism #languages #langblr

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gfcheol · 2 years

Text

late blooming pt1 | j. wonwoo

pairing: wonwoo x f!reader

genre: slow burn, sugar daddy au, smut in later chapters

word count: 5.9k

tags: struggling artist!reader, trust fund kid!wonwoo, mutual pining, emotional constipation, slow burn, eventual smut (in later chapters oops), photographer!mingyu, best friend!jeonghan, swearing

taglist: @bangchanbabygirlx

"You made it!", Mingyu beamed at you, his smile so radiant, it could probably illuminate the whole city if he tried. Even though he towered over most of his guests, you were almost sure that he was standing on the tip of his toes, trying to make you out in the sea of people. You giggled, his enthusiasm easily rubbing off on you, as you matched his gleeful expression.

Truth be told, you weren't expecting that warm of a welcome, when you got the invite to your college buddy's first Vernissage. 'Pieces of me' - read the title, according to the flyer that is. A collection of photographs that Mingyu took over the years, working as a freelance artist. There was a small part of you, bitter and envious, trying to convince yourself that this was the result of luck and money. But you remembered, even back in your college days, the passion ablaze in Mingyu's eyes when he wanted to get the right angle or capture a moment deserving to be of film. Yes, if you liked it or not, some people were simply blessed with talent, beauty and success.

"Gyu!", you squealed as his hands pulled you into a crushing hug, face pressed against his muscular chest. Jesus Christ, had he gotten even bigger?

"I wasn't sure you'd come", his arms tightened around you, as though he was trying to stop you from vanishing again. "You never really responded to the invite..."

Or his other messages. He didn't have to actually voice it out, but you were very well aware of the hurt you caused by going ghost on him, since you two graduated college.

A pang of guilt shot through you, freeing yourself from his bearhug. "Ah, I didn't know if you'd... want me here? I don't know, it's silly", your smile wavered, nervously toying with the complimentary glass of champagne, they'd offered you at the entrance. How you wished, you'd taken more than a sip from your bubbly poison.

"You're right", he said, hand squeezing your shoulder. "You are being silly! I'm always happy to see you, no reason to doubt that."

The sincerity bleeding off his words tore on you, cracks deepening in your happy, little facade as you felt emotions well up, you weren't really ready to show. The past few years had been tough on you. The constant rejection as an artist, the financial struggle that came with it, the myriad of men so ready to break your heart... It seemed difficult to stay positive in such circumstances, resorting to you isolating yourself from those more successful and happier than you. The constant reminder and comparison would have ruined you, you'd told yourself half-heartedly, everytime you saw Mingyu's invites to dinners or birthday parties. Egoism at its absolute worst.

You cleared your throat - this was hardly the time or place to dwell on your own shortcomings. You'd have enough time to reflect on that, in the cozy confines of your apartment.

Another squeeze, this one firmer. Forcing yourself out of your gloomy thought prison, you blinked a few times. "Fuck, sorry- I was kinda zoning out, what did you say?"

Mingyu's grin widened at that. "You really haven't changed, have you?'

"Oh my fucking- Shut up!", you giggled, rolling your eyes. "Can't blame me for getting emotional over Mister Artist over here achieving the dream."

Your compliment, having its intended effect, went straight to his head, a pretty blush blooming on his cheeks. He had always been offensively sweet and handsome at that as well. It felt good to see how none of that got lost over the years. "It's pretty crazy, right?"

"Nah", you followed his gaze as he looked around the spacious hall, darting from people to photographs. His brows furrowed and you swore you could see his eyes well up with heavy tears. "You're talented, Gyu! Always been! Let yourself enjoy the moment."

"Are you trying to make me cry? Because it's kinda working."

The motion of leaning against his side felt too familiar to resist it, the long years spent apart suddenly forgotten. Your own gentle giant. You felt your heart ache. "C'mon, go mingle a bit! All these fancy people came to see you, I'm not gonna hog all of your attention."

A sigh. "Let's catch up later, okay?", he tore himself from you with surprising difficulty, his eyes oozing with all the feelings of the moment, before he disappeared back into the crowd. Well, as well as he could being the giant that he was.

Taking another sip from your glass, you willed away the urge to hide away in the bathroom. Icky feelings be damned, you're not going to let your anxiety ruin this for your friend. Or was it former friend? You'd still have to clarify that with him, once you'd get the chance to catch up and apologize for being the worst person imaginable.

The photographs adorning the walls of the hall were breath-taking - Really, hardly a surprise for anyone knowing the artist. The motives on them might vary - Some of them bursting with warm colors, others melancholic black and white pieces - but you could recognize Mingyu in all of them. You could picture him so clearly behind the lense in some of them. Lips pursed as he'd play with the lighting, until he'd groan out in frustration, strings of whines escaping him. You couldn't help but giggle at the mental image you conjured up.

"And here I was thinking, this piece was probably meant to be wistful", a voice behind you declared.

"Interesting", you commented, copying the serious tone of the still faceless stranger. "I would have gone with 'serene', personally. Not all landscapes are supposed to invoke a sense of sadness, you know."

"Not even rainy, grey ones? Art teachers must have it all wrong." The mystery man was teasing, you could tell, but your pride simply demanded you not to give in. Biting your lip to suppress a smile, you tilted your head to the side, still mustering the photograph in front of you. "If you think a piece of art being devoid of color is enough to make it melancholic, I feel like you need to broaden your horizons."

You turned towards him to present him with a cocky smirk, yet the sight of him caught you off guard, making you halt in your tracks. He was nowhere near the pompous, old fart that you'd expected him to be. Quite the contrary - He must have been around your age, rather tall, sharp eyes adorned with golden rimmed glasses that sat on his nose bridge. There was an air around him you couldn't quite place. Maybe it was confidence - Or rather indifference? He looked at you with no hint of emotion, yet there was an intensity in his expression that made your brows furrow in silent question. Did you know him? Was he an old acquaintance from school? Work maybe? His face seemed so very familiar...

"I'm sorry, have we-"

"No, I don't think we've had the pleasure yet", he was quick to cut you off, eyes still very much set on you. "Y/N, right?"

Momentarily taken aback by his curt behavior, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, the alcohol in your system lending you some bite. "Very charming and not at all creepy", you replied, keeping your tone cold.

The stranger finally broke into a faint smile, your attitude seemingly amusing him, much to your dismay. "It wasn't much of a question", he said. "Mingyu mentioned you."

That only raised more questions within your mind. Yet your heart warmed at the thought of your college friend still talking about you after all these years. Your demeanor softened, feeling heat travel to your ears. "He did?", your voice rang quiet, even to your own ears. "You two are friends?"

Hesitantly, he gave you a slow nod, as if to choose his next words with extra care. "Why would that be so surprising?"

"It isn't...? I just don't know- I thought, we've established we don't know each other? Or am I being like- really inconsiderate right now?", you wrecked your brain, digging for any hint of information about the mystery man. Yet your mind was blank, the mix of alcohol and the whirlwind of emotions making your mind feel hazy.

Your response earned you a wary look, his eyes mustering you with a strange sense of incredulousness, adjusting his glasses on his nose. The strange air of superiority over you didn't help to soothe your ruffled feathers, biting your tongue to refrain from any too rude remark. When he still didn't reply anything, you huffed, patience wearing thin. "Listen, I'm not here to be catty, so don't make this too hard for me."

"Wonwoo", he extended his hand for you, though he still sounded somewhat careful with his introduction. Feeling petty, you eyed his hand with a sceptical raise of your brow, before shaking his hand. "You're a fellow artist."

It wasn't framed like a question, but you still found yourself contemplating the correct response. Did you view yourself as a creative medium that still creates whenever it's possible for you? Absolutely. Did you attend the same college as Mingyu? That's a fact. Would you be ridiculed if you answered affirmatively, only to admit your primary source of income is your cashier job at the convenience store down your street? No doubt about that either.

Avoiding his ever so observant eyes, you offered a shrug. "Something like that, yeah."

He must have sensed your hesitation, directing his attention away from you, and back to the artwork, a hum on his lips. You let yourself muster him more closely - His features were sharp, something intimidating in his sharp cheekbones and clean cut style. Still, you couldn't deny his good looks. Of course, you'd act like a bitch to the first hot guy approaching you in the longest time. You groaned inwardly.

"Are you one too? An artist I mean." His lips quirked up, as if the question itself seemed absolutely preposterous. "Or are you here for our Picasso?"

"Really - 'Picasso'? I would have gone with Monet - Less obvious choice"

A roll of your eyes was enough to stop his teasing, a smirk plastered on his lips. Handsome or not, the urge to dump the rest of your champagne on his pants seemed to grow by the second. "Mingyu invited me."

You hummed in response before he continued. "You're probably familiar with how persistent he can be."

"Not big on crowds then?", you asked, already sympathizing with Mr Wonwoo's very obvious struggle to socialize. "I get it, I'm not a fan either."

"Hm, yes. One could say that. I try to avoid them, at least." He seemed tense replying to you, jaw clenched as he shifted from one foot to the other. A vague feeling of guilt sank in your chest. Oh, this interaction was just getting better and better. Maybe if you were lucky enough, you'd suffer a spontaneous a heart attack and you could free this poor guy from your clumsy conversation.

"It's worth it though", you decided to say, your edges softening all at once, at the mention of your mutual friend. "Just to see him be all smiley and happy. He deserves it, I'm so proud of him."

There was something so inherently vulnerable about sharing fondness for the same person, you mused, even among strangers. Pride and genuine happiness beamed in your chest, and for a heartbeat you felt as bright and happy as Mingyu. "I've been telling him the same thing for months now, but it almost seems like he was willing to believe you more than me."

If he was agitated, he did a great job hiding that. His words were free of malice, merely curiosity peeking its head through some syllables. Yet all you could do is stare dumbly. "Should I be flattered or worried, knowing that you were just lurking in some corner, watching us? Very James Bond villain of you."

"I'd rather see you flattered than anything", the question left him unfazed, shame nowhere in sight. You pouted at the lack of effect your words had on him. In the short while you had gotten to know Wonwoo Last-Name-Unknown, he managed to coax shame, annoyance, and now, a third emotion (one that made your heart flutter and your cheeks heat up) out of you. What a terrible man he proved himself to be, not even possessing the courtesy to pretend.

From the corner of your vision, you saw his smirk deepen, before asking you, "Would it be terribly forward to ask for your number?"

"It would be", you decided, without further thought to his question, suppressing your smile with effort. "But I'm quick to forgive the faux pas."

His phone felt foreign in your hands, as he produced it from seemingly out of nowhere, pressing his thumb to the side, black screen lighting up. To your disappointment, you noticed the default homescreen, the brightness taunting any hope you had to gain insight into his character. Even with a name to his chiselled features, your Mystery Man seemed intent on remaining a stranger to you. His facade so clean, it was hard not to pay mind to the eerie feeling creeping up your spine. A puzzle waiting to be solved, you thought to yourself.

His smile was surprisingly shy, after you'd typed in both name and number into his contacts, fingertips brushing against you a bit too long, as you handed him his phone. "We'll stay in touch." And once again - His tone left no room for argument.

"Okay, boss", you snorted at his all too formal goodbye, granting him one last smile, before turning on your heel, heading into another direction. It felt almost impossible to force the wave of giddiness down your throat, reminding yourself that you don't, in fact, know this guy. You'd grant him the honour of giggles and shy glances, once he'd actually take you out on a date. Or well, if he'd actually take you out.

Mingyu didn't seem all too disappointed, when you'd told him that you would head home for the day, too occupied entertaining both, friends and art lovers. A wave of nostalgia washed over you briefly. Or was it regret? It was hard to tell.

"Text me, okay?", he said with puppy dog eyes. "Promise!"

"Cross my heart and hope to die- I promise", you grinned in return. "Have fun, Monet."

And you could swear, that for a second, you heard a, now familiar, deep voice chuckle in delight. You tried to disregard your glowing cheeks, as you slipped through the glass door, exiting the building.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Blue must have always been your favourite color to work with.

Even during your middle school years, you'd found the depth of it soothing. Dark, ominous waves that house secrets no one will ever know. Or in contrast, the sky on a sunny day, assuring you that this, will surely be your day. So you'd picked up your crayons, your paint or your ballpoint pen and you drew, knowing that if you didn't bring the emotion you held onto paper, they'd be lost forever.

Your mother had called it, your "Blue Period". Strange, considering you had yet to move on to a different color. But who knew? Perhaps you'd grow tired of the depths and the levity, craving intense red or regal purple in your life instead. Perhaps...

Perhaps one day, when the want to venture out will drown out comfort and safety. Until then, you'd be content with blue.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your chest was heaving up and down as you leaned against the doorframe of your apartment, feeling your heartbeat drum against your skull. "Fuck me", you panted.

"Yeah, that's what jogging does to someone", Jeonghan smirks, very happy with himself, while eyeing your sweaty form. Despite it being past noon, he was still in his PJs, the plaid ones that you'd gifted him last year to his birthday, sporting a self satisfied expression on his delicate features.

You recalled the first time you'd met him. Gyu had left you to your own devices at some frat party, letting you stroll around to either cause mayhem or make new friends. At the time, you'd thought Jeonghan was the most angelic looking guy, you'd ever laid your eyes upon in your life, smiling at you with half lidded eyes, red solo cup in hand. That impression quickly changed, his catty remarks ("And you believed what Joshua told you, Channie? That's so brave of you.") having sparked a whole fist fight amongst the surrounding guys - The reason? He'd wanted an excuse to go home unnoticed.

"Not all of us wanna- oh shit-", you gulped for air, lungs stinging in protest, sweat dripping from your hairline, down to your brow. You could already hear the shower calling to you. "-have the constitution of an old lady, Hannie."

"I'm so proud of you for fighting against your old lady nature then."

Groaning at his retort, you pushed past him into your - suspiciously quiet - shared apartment. Reaching for the zipper of your jacket, you asked, "Didn't you mention that - Layla? Mary? - Wanted to come over this weekend?"

A shrug on his side, pushing the front door closed with a shove of his hips. "Layla", Jeonghan clarified. "Mary was the one from the Christmas party two months ago. Keep up, will you."

"Right, yeah. My bad."

"And yeah... but no. No." His eyes were cast down, a sudden interest in the pattern of the old floorboards, lips pressed into a fine line.

There was no need to explain any further than the look on his face. Layla had been sweet from what you remembered. Maybe even one of your favourites in the long line of girls, he'd introduced you to in the past year or so. "Shit, I'm sorry, Hannie. You okay?"

A non committal shrug. "Oh well, what can you do."

Sometimes you found yourself envying Jeonghan's tumultuous love life. No matter how fun the conversations or how good the sex was, he always put himself first. Because why spend too much time agonizing over someone who yearns for fundamentally different things in life? I'm not one to waste a girl's time, Jeonghan had told you after a particular rough breakup. At the very most, he found his pride wounded - But he always managed to bounce back regardless.

Your love life stood in stark contrast to his.

"Before I forget", Jeonghan shuffled next to you, head pointing to your phone on the kitchen counter. "Ya got a missed call - If it's my sister again, asking about her computer, tell her to shoo."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a breathless laugh, slipping your jacket off your shoulders as you made your way to the kitchen. You grabbed your blinking phone, notifying you of 'two missed calls' in the last hour. "Why do I have to be the middle man between you guys?", you frowned at the unknown number glaring at you. "Who the fuck..."

Quick to change the subject, Jeonghan hopped onto the corner, peaking over your shoulder. "Oooo, is someone in trouble?", he teased, practically glowing at the opportunity for mischief. "Or is it the guy from Mingyu's thing? Did you give him your number or did he-"

"Oh! I completely forgot- Oh fuck, what if it's him?" It wasn't that he'd actually slipped your mind after your encounter, you were just convinced that after a week - nine days to be exact - that'd be a clear indicator of his lack of interest. The sting of rejection would definitely hurt less by trying to erase him from your memory. "Should I text him? Call back? What if it isn't even him? Oh my god, Hannie! What the fuck should I do?"

Relishing in your flustered state, your roommate gloated. "Text back. If it's actually him, then he has some nerve calling after two weeks of radio silence. Bad move."

"It hasn't even been two weeks."

"So?" Jeonghan raised his brows, tilting his head to the side. "And let him explain himself, that could be funny."

Getting an explanation did sound rather tempting. But wouldn't that seem too much? You hadn't told Mingyu about Wonwoo hitting on you, moreso focused on praising his artworks and all the hard work he put into the Vernissage. So, you were still just as clueless about him as you'd been the day you met him.

Undeniably, there was something exciting about it all. The only thing that served as a connection between you being a mutual friend, but other than that? You were still completely oblivious about him - what he did as a job, where he's from, what his last name is. Your nerves tingled at the thrill of it, all previous exhaustion shed, teeth sinking into the flesh of your cheeks.

"I'd offer to call him instead, but I have a feeling he'll be able to tell it's not you on the other end of the line."

You started laughing at the thought alone, shoving him playfully. "I'm having a crisis, stop being funny!"

A few of Han's ex girlfriends, and even some of your own ex flings, had very readily complained about the bond you shared with each other. You weren't one to blame them for assuming - even though they couldn't be more wrong. There had never even a figment of a moment, where you even considered starting a romantic connection. Jeonghan wasn't your type and you weren't his either, no doubt about that.

"No, you know what? Fuck it", you sighed, your roommate hollering in response, celebrating your newfound courage. Without wasting any more thought, you pressed on the phone number, thumbs forming a quick sentence.

[y/n - 13:11] hi, sorry who is this?

Glancing over your shoulder to the text you'd typed out, Jeonghan could barely contain a snort. "Aw, I was hoping you'd call."

"Next time I'll just force you to imitate-", your eyes went wide as the screen turned black, phone buzzing in your hand. With one last panicked glance at a way too giddy friend, you pressed 'accept' with sweaty fingers.

"Hello, y/n speaking."

"Ah- Hi. This is Wonwoo", the vaguely familiar timber of his voice, almost made you gasp out in delight, heart already aching from all the anxiety and delight. Upon your reaction, Han shuffled even closer towards you, set on listening in on your conversation. "Mingyu's friend?", Wonwoo added after some brief silence.

"Yeah! Hi, yeah I remember! I was kinda being stupid and and left my phone, while I was out..." You hated how nervous you sounded, even to your own ears, looking for excuses when he was the one who kept you waiting. Your roommate seemed to share the sentiment, his glare way too reminiscent of a teacher scolding his student for a stupid question.

"No, please. It's...", he trailed off. "Actually, can you give me moment? I'll be right with you." The other line went quiet for a moment, aside from the sound of papers rustling. Was he at work? What kind of office work might he be doing? If he was yet another finance bro, you'd lose the number as soon as possible. You heard a soft voice mumble something next to your Mystery Man, asking him - or rather a certain 'Mr Jeon'- to sign some document.

Next to you, Jeonghan's head snapped toward you in an instance, eyes wide as he mouthed to you 'Jeon Wonwoo?' in absolute shock. Confusion was plastered all across your face, nodding your head to the unspoken question. "What?", you asked, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. Instead of providing you an answer, he pulled out his own phone, thumbs furiously typing away into the Google search bar.

"Hi again. So sorry, I'm still at the office", you almost jumped at Wonwoo's voice, sounding oh so husky and tired so close to your ear.

The smile tugging on your lips was involuntary, yet still very evident. "No worries."

He cleared his throat. "I know it's been a while, but I was wondering-", Jeonghan shoved his phone into your face, making you blink. Oh. Oh. His device displayed a very professional looking photograph of the same handsome looking man you'd met at Mingyu's Vernissage - hair just as dark, same glasses on his nose. Though what caught your eye next was the headline above his head, reading in big bold letters 'Jeon Wonwoo's rise to success! Son of Billionaire Dynasty shares his Secrets'. You felt the blood drain from your face, thoughts spinning a thousand miles an hour as you tried to process what you've read without a total mental breakdown. This couldn't be real, right? This must be some sick and twisted joke Hannie was playing on you to get back at you for something, you'd already forgotten anyway. There was no way that-

"Y/N?", you snapped back into reality, mouth feeling dryer than ever. "Still there? Should I call back another time?"

"Mhm, yeah!", you squeaked. "M- My roommate is just being annoying - What were you saying?"

Han's shock warped into sheer amusement, body shaking with the laughter he tried to muffle by pressing his palm against his mouth. You, on the other hand, felt like you were on the verge of a very serious mental breakdown. "I said, I'd like to take you out for a coffee", he repeated himself again. "I have a proposal, I'd like to talk to you about."

'A proposal?' Your eyes shot back to your friend, as if he'd magically know the details to Wonwoo's request. "Yeah, I- Sure", you willed your voice to stay as steady as possible, trying to ignore the slight waver in tone.

"Can you do today at five? I'll text you the details, of course." You couldn't stand how casual he sounded, compared to you. Was this a regular thing for him? Picking up women left and right? Paying them to hook up with him? Oh god, was he going to pay you to hook up with him? Was he one of those rich perverts, trying to indulge in some weird, funky kinks with no name people like you? You felt like crying.

"C- can we do six? I'm all sweaty", cringing at your own statement, you winced. "... From the workout. I was working out. If you couldn't tell."

And despite all the worries and anxiety, your heart still leapt, when you heard him chuckle into his phone, heat radiating off your face. "I'll choose to believe you for now. Should we do dinner instead?"

"Sounds great!" Jeonghan grabbed your shoulder, almost vibrating with joy.

"I'll text you the details - See you there?"

"Yep! Bye!" With the press of a shaky finger, you hung up.

The silence that followed was deafening, you and your friend staring at each other as though the other had grown a second head. Your nerves felt fried just from the phone conversation alone, your mind overwhelmed with every little emotion that had passed through you. Physical exhaustion had nothing on the numb feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach. "Fuck", Jeonghan was the first to speak, his smile almost manic. "I can't believe, you're going to become a Sugar Baby."

"I'm going to die, Hannie! Die! What the fuck?! Why did I agree to this?!" Your body slumped into the kitchen counter, pressing your damp forehead against the cool granite.

"Because you're a smart independent lady, who knows an opportunity when she sees one", You could practically hear the smile in his voice. "Now get dolled up, babe, if you're lucky we don't have to pay rent anymore."

♡♡♡♡♡♡

Stiff fingers clutched the cool metal of your spoon, nervously shifting in your seat. Your lipgloss coated lips stretching into a shy smile, whenever you felt Wonwoo's eyes linger on you a second too long. This means nothing, you tried to remind yourself, ignoring the searing in your chest.

Jeonghan had tried his very best to convince you to go all on out with your outfit and makeup choices. And while you understood his motivation, you'd known how cheap you'd feel by trying to look fuckable enough for your date to pay for you. Date... If that is, what you could call it. "Mingyu's told me a lot about you", he said

"You asked him about me?" You noticed his ears turn a shade of pink as he shook his head, smiling. "You came up naturally."

Your shoulders tensed up, glancing downward to avoid any scrutiny or judgement. By all means, it shouldn't come to you as a surprise that Mingyu had mentioned you. He had seemed quite excited to see you attend his event, his enthusiasm a bright beacon of joy. You had no right to feel ashamed - or to hope Wonwoo didn't think any less of you for ghosting your mutual friend for years for some petty, personal feelings. But still, there was growing discomfort - Or was it shame? - within you that was only hard to ignore.

"Well? Do I need to plan his very brutal murder or send him a thank you letter?", you joked half heartedly.

That earned you yet another smile. You could really get used to the sight. "He told me about your art, actually. Showed me a few of your paintings too."

Your spoon hit the the edge of your plate with a loud 'clank', cheeks feeling way too hot as you gawked at him. "M- My paintings?" Whatever you'd expected to hear him say tonight, commenting on your artwork had somehow completely eluded your imagination. Instead, a myriad of horrors had played non-stop in your mind, doing its best to convince you, that this evening would either end with you murdered or, even worse, heartbroken.

"Come on, you're looking at me like I just told you pigs could fly", Wonwoo chuckled, both his tone and his gaze soft. "I liked them quite a lot."

"Oh", you muttered. "Thank you. I just... didn't expect him to mention my art."

"Artists are quick to recognize each other, I've found." Your eyes were fixed on his face then, a knowing smirk playing on the edge of his lips, as he shoveled another bite of his steak into his mouth. The compliment reached your heart first, engulfing you in a warm ray of light, while you could only nod in response. An insufficient form of gratitude, though Wonwoo didn't seem to mind. "How come you're so sassy and confident but turn shy at any genuine compliment?"

"I just don't respond well to cocky flirting. Bad habit, I guess?", you decided to play bold, having grown tired of the timid anxiety plaguing you.

But your partner seemed to be familiar with that game, your defiance only causing him to deepen his smirk. "Bad habits do die hard."

Raising your glass to your lips to mask your smile, you let him have his little moment of victory. Even if short lived. The back and forth was invigorating for sure - A welcome change, compared to all the boring dates you'd been on with men you hadn't even liked in the first place. You exhaled through your nose at the reminder alone. "But back on topic", Wonwoo adjusted his glasses. "Am I correct in assuming, you're not a full time artist?"

The wine tasted bitter to your tongue, making it hard to swallow it down. "Hm- No, unfortunately not."

"I see", he hummed. "I don't know if Mingyu's mentioned my line of work..."

This wasn't a line of questions you'd expected on a date. Business proposal? Your head felt too heavy on your shoulders, as your fingers ran over the neckline of your too tight dress. "Hannie- I mean um. My roommate told me."

Something dark flashed in his eyes, before he continued on. "Then you must also be aware of my financial status."

You nodded. "I am, yeah."

"Good. Spares me all the explaining", he joked, without much humor. "I'd like to sponsor you."

Your shoulders slumped, fingers, still toying with the fabric of your dress, going stiff all of a sudden. This wasn't just the wine talking, was it? "Oh."

This was a once in your life time opportunity, Jeonghan would never hear the end of it. This was everything you had spent nights crying over, thinking life was just so unfair. This could be everything to you. But then, why was it, that you felt like submerging your head in water, until you'd stop breathing? You were supposed to to be happier than this. Thankful too. Weren't you?

"Shit- I'm sorry, sponsor me?", you leaned toward Wonwoo, scanning for any trace of mockery or jest in his expression. "I don't wanna seem unappreciative but- You really want to sponsor me? There's a catch, right? There has to be."

Crossing his long legs, he didn't seem to shy away from your curiosity, not one to be intimidated easily. It did make sense - A business man, confronted with cutthroat competition on a daily, wouldn't really feel intimidated by some nervous no-name artist. The image of him posing on the cover of some important magazine surfaced in your mind again. "Ah, it's probably wiser to not trust offers like this at first, I can't blame you," He leaned forward in his seat. "My motivation's simple. I think you have great potential - You're a pretty lady with a lot of talent. I'd like to see you taken care of."

"Like some kind of sugar daddy?", the realization of your question hit you like a truck. your face feeling heated as you pressed your lips together, as though you could stop yourself from further embarrassment by physically silencing yourself.

Wonwoo, to your luck, merely grinned at the questions. "I mean- if you'd like that to be my official title, we can arrange that."

"Stop making fun of me!", you huffed with a pout on your lips, giggles threatening to burst past your lips. "Or- Are you not joking? Is this like a Shades of Grey fetish thing?"

"Listen", his voice fell into a hushed tone, fixing you with his gaze alone. "I'd like to spend more time with you - Doesn't mean that I'll give you a couple hundred everytime you flash me."

Spend more time with you? It felt unnecessarily difficult to think straight with his face being so close to your own, the dark brown in his eyes so alluring and warm. Gnawing on the inside of your cheeks, you furrowed your brows. It'd be a lie to say, you wouldn't like you two to grow closer. Why hope for a relationship, when this was the more sensible - more lucrative - way for you? No hurt feelings and no more financial struggles. Why hesitate? Jeonghan would kill you, if he were aware that you had any doubts about the deal. "So... You'd pay me to spend time with you? And to paint?"

"I'm not going to force you to spend time with me, if that's your question."

"No, I mean", it would prove to be an impossible task not to flush as you continued on, "This is something... not physical then? A business deal, only?"

And for the first time this evening, it was you that rendered Wonwoo speechless as he paused, his smirk slowly fading away. Instead of the self assured art snob and business man you've come to know, he appeared almost timid, insecure even, his ears blooming a pretty shade of pink. "Deals are... less complicated", his voice trailed off, gaze unfocused, sipping on his wine. "But no, this can be whatever you'd like it to be. Whatever you're comfortable with. I'd merely want to support you, if you allow me."

He was right, you knew that he was. Businesses and contracts might be a language you weren't acquainted with, but you knew the heartache of failed relationships all too well. And even if Wonwoo apparently wasn't one to kiss and tell, he seemed to be no stranger to that pain. The quiet chatter of the restaurant felt so distant in this moment. His fingers felt warm as his pinky brushed against your own, his eyes searching yours. "What do you say?", he asked, both his hands and his tone so very careful.

This was supposed to be easier, why did the words taste so heavy in your mouth? A reluctant smile, but bright nontheless. "I'd like that."

His eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." What could go wrong?

#wonwoo x reader #wonu x reader #svt x reader #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #wonu smut #wonu fluff #listen ik this is neither fluff nor smut really i just have no idea how to tag this one #svt smut #seventeen x reader

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redyarns · 3 months

Text

resist much, obey little (ch 2)

Alastor had a noose around his neck.

There was only one person who could loosen it.

---------

Temptation had never strung Lucifer along. He was an angel of Heaven no matter what anyone else said, and he had never fallen whim to any of the sins that humans were so eager to do.

And Alastor, a demon and a sinner who had fallen even further after death, was the most forbidden fruit of all.

He was the very embodiment of blasphemy.

But by God, did Lucifer want him.

----------

Lucifer's office was attached to what was once his and Lilith's bedroom. He hadn't slept in their bed since Charlie was born, and the door was locked firmly to remind him of why he hadn't gone back in the first place.

Still, the door was a beautiful mahogany that both he and Lilith had chosen, and seeing its intricate pattern always disturbed him greatly. As a result, and also because Charlie liked to chew through furniture if he wasn't there to supervise, the office hadn't been touched for almost a year.

Until now, anyway.

He fumbled as he tried to find the key in his pocket and at the same time juggle Charlie, who by now was so hyper that she kept crawling all over him, her innate magic keeping her from falling off but also allowing her to stick like glue.

Like some fucked up version of Spider-man, really, and he bit back a curse when she crawled onto his head, slipped a little, and nearly jabbed her heel right into his eye.

“Charlie, my love, please just stay still,” Lucifer practically begged as he had one hand to his daughter and the other digging around his locket rather desperately. If he delayed any longer then surely she would blind him. “If I could - just - hold on, baby, just two seconds - “

“May I?”

Lucifer's skin threatened to crawl at the crackling of a radio's poor connection, and he glared out of the corner of his eye as Alastor stood patiently behind him with his hands outstretched.

Why, Lucifer oughta…

“Fine,” he grumbled, and he reached up to carefully peel his sticky daughter off of his head. He winced when she tore out a good chunk of his hair, too, her grip too tight to and tangled in the strands to do otherwise, and he was sure he had a thunderstruck expression on his face as he handed her to a waiting Alastor.

The demon seemed far too amused for Lucifer to allow, but the asshole was also holding his daughter, so there was no actual way to blast him to smithereens without her inhaling some of the dust. That was absolutely unacceptable; what if she developed an allergy?

Good God. Imagine she developed an allergy anyway? He would have to schedule her an appointment with her pediatrician right away, and maybe he could even scare an allergist into coming along, too.

The idea of his daughter being plagued with sneezes, or hives, or - Lord help him - swelling of the throat was enough to have the ever-present anxiety to swell deeply within his stomach and up to his lungs.

“Quack,” Lucifer muttered to himself, trying his best to calm down as he waved his hand and his magic began to grow back the small bits of hair he had lost in Charlie’s attempts to bald him. “Quack, quack.”

“Are you feeling well, Your Majesty?” Alastor said pleasantly, but the smile on his face told Lucifer all about his silent laughter. It was unfortunate how good the little shit was with babies, as he was holding Charlie on his hip and bouncing her lightly while she squealed in delight. “You don’t look so hale.”

“I’m fine!” Lucifer snapped.

Actually, he was about to collapse, he still couldn’t get rid of the thought of his Charlie possibly asphyxiating on her own vomit after eating a spoon of peanut butter, and he couldn’t find the fucking key!

In his rage, he simply blasted the door away.

Offensive thing. How dare it stand in his way like it did!

He coughed when the explosion immediately brought up a cloud of dust and small bits of wooden debris. He whipped his head over his shoulder, worried pale that Charlie would inhale any of it and go into a coughing fit, but she merely blinked her big eyes up at him, looking content as Alastor smartly hovered a hand an inch in front of her face and blocked anything from entering her nose.

“Oh my,” Alastor said mildly. “That’s the second door you’ve broken today, my liege.”

“It’s your job to fix it, then,” Lucifer grumbled, and he stomped into the office.

Everything was covered in at least an inch of dust. The air was thick with it, little particles floating through the low starlight drifting through the windows. The curtains were drawn from the last time he was in here, and he raised an arm to his nose, coughing lightly as he glanced around the room.

He could only vaguely remember the reason for all the mess. There were books strewn about the floor, some with pages torn, others with bindings falling apart, but all in some form of destruction. Ink had spilled and dried on the surface of the single desk in the middle, and he twitched slightly as he realized it was because a pot of black had been overturned in his grief all those months ago.

He hated this part of the mansion. The entire Eastern Wing was useless to him, a scar in his long line of memories, and he scrubbed at his face, trying his best to ignore the tugging of his heart.

“Your Majesty?”

“Quiet,” Lucifer muttered, and he let out a slow breath before he looked back up and feathers began to unfurl from his back.

He was careful as he allowed his wings to slowly rise, all six of them so large that he was sure they blocked the entire doorway, which was what he wanted. He didn’t want Charlie to witness the evidence of his falling apart, and he allowed his Grace to gather at the very tips of his flight feathers.

With a gentle flap, a gust of wind flowed throughout the room, splitting into miniscule breezes and carrying away any dust with it. Books floated up and began to restore themselves, their covers shiny and repaired once more as they all arranged themselves neatly in the numerous shelves.

Lamps were righted up and turned on, scattered pages were blown away, and for a moment, he hesitated when he saw the ink stain on his desk.

That particular shade of black had been Lilith’s favorite. He had always been more partial to gold or even red ink, but she had loved black so dark that it reminded her of the night sky in Eden.

He turned his face away, swallowed his nausea, and when he looked back, the desk was pristine and beautiful once more.

No stain in sight.

He breathed in shakily and slowly retracted his wings again. The feathers itched mightily under his skin and begged to be let out again, but he ignored the sensation as he turned around and made eye contact with Alastor.

“Come in,” Lucifer said, his voice a little lackluster as he drifted inside and gestured lazily around him. “This is my office, but I rarely use it, so don’t bother coming near this wing of the house unless I say so. This place is where I keep all my contracts, so that’s why we’re here just for today.”

For once, Alastor said nothing. There was only a small, confused twist of his lips as he slowly followed Lucifer inside. His arms never faltered around Charlie and he didn’t pause in his steps, but it was obvious how he was looking around them, almost like he was trying to drink in every single detail and memorize it.

“Don’t dawdle,” Lucifer tsked, and he sat behind the desk with an unceremonious plop. Normally he was a stickler for posture, but the cushion of the chair was simply too comfortable, and he sagged like a bag of potatoes as he laid his cheek on his fist and watched Alastor carefully. “You’re the only one who’s reached out to me for this job.”

“Oh, am I?” Alastor said, a blinding grin suddenly on his face again as he gracefully sat down in the chair across from him. He placed Charlie on his knee and secured her with hands around her waist as he began to bounce her, her tiny shrieks of joy making Lucifer smile despite himself. “What wonderful news for me, then! Why you don’t have a horde of demons crawling to work for you, I don’t know!”

“Cut the sarcasm,” Lucifer grumbled. “I’m not stupid. Despite your arrogance, I’ve been here far longer than you, sinner. You don’t have the power that you have without getting into some trouble. I don’t doubt that you can protect my princess if she was ever threatened, but here’s my question for you: why.”

Alastor’s grin sharpened, and malice curled at just the edge of his words as he said, “why what, Your Majesty? Why did I choose to wear this suit today? Or perhaps why have I decided to have a delicious breakfast of doe for this morning? Or maybe even - “

“Why did you come to me for this job,” Lucifer interrupted. He tapped the surface of the desk, his claws lengthening with each tap. His tail began to swing slowly behind him, and he could feel his horns sprouting from the crown of his head as he glared. “Sinners like you only want one thing; power. You have enough of it to topple most, if not all, the current overlords, but I’ve never heard of you. What’s your ploy?”

“I don’t have any ploy - “

“Don’t try to deceive me, boy.”

Alastor’s smile disappeared, and his eyes became half-hooded with quiet scrutiny as Lucifer slammed his fist onto the desk so hard that the room shook minutely around them.

“You have my daughter in your lap,” Lucifer snarled, his hair starting to curl around him with his power and his tail lashing dangerously. “You sit in my chair, in my home, in my realm. If you want this job, and if you want to stay alive, you’ll tell me what it is you really want.”

Alastor slowly stopped bouncing Charlie.

She whined, smacking his hands lightly and pouting when he didn’t continue, and it was only as she began to sniffle and fuss before Alastor scooped her up and held her to his chest while he bowed his head slightly.

“My, nothing gets past you, does it, Your Majesty?” Alastor muttered, looking contemplative as he allowed Charlie to chew on the chain of his monocle without much complaint. His red eyes pierced Lucifer’s as he scoffed and smiled again. “Very well! You drive a hard bargain, my good man, so I suppose I must tell you.”

Slowly, his free hand raised and wrapped around something in the air. He tugged once, twice, and slowly, a chain link began to appear. It was a menacing black color and one end floated up and through the ceiling, disappearing from sight.

The other end was attached to the collar wrapped around Alastor’s neck.

“I have a noose around my neck,” Alastor said, his grin widening cruelly with each word. Despite the splitting smile on his face, his eyes were narrowed with humiliation, and anger tinged his voice as he tugged again lightly and the chain didn’t budge. “I am a mere marionette, Your Majesty.”

“Huh,” Lucifer said, blinking slowly.

That was definitely not what he’d been expecting.

“You’re powerful,” Lucifer said, eyeing the overlapping chains apprehensively. Whatever contract Alastor had signed was not normal; it was far from the golden links Lucifer saw between angels and humans, or even the red ones between humans and demons. “But you can’t break it on your own.”

“I’m afraid not.” Alastor’s grin waned. “My contractor is a - stubborn individual. I was not meant to be a dog, Your Majesty. So I offer you this; for my utmost devotion, loyalty, and protection of your daughter, I ask that you break this infernal contract.”

“What?” Lucifer said. His wings rustled underneath his skin, and he almost squirmed in his seat, slightly uncomfortable with the stare Alastor gave him. “Me? There’s no need. The Sins or even the Goetia can - “

“They cannot.”

“They can’t?”

“No.”

Silence.

“HA!” Lucifer barked with laughter, throwing his head back so suddenly that Charlie squeaked in surprise while Alastor’s brows furrowed. Lucifer practically howled with laughter, his feet even kicking slightly in his belly-aching amusement, and it took several moments of him losing his composure before he finally choked out, “you want me to break your contract? Do you know what you’re asking of me, boy?”

The sound of high-pitched white noise was getting louder with each second, and Alastor’s smile was infuriated and raw with his anger as he said, “rest assured, I am well aware. Don’t take me for a fool.”

“But you are one!” Lucifer wheezed. He let out one last giggle and straightened in his seat, clearing his throat and placing his chin on his criss-crossed fingers, cooing as Alastor’s magic began to make his hair bristle. “You poor, unfortunate soul. This is truly your last resort, isn’t it? To not only come to me, the King of Hell, on your knees, but to even subjugate yourself to another contract.

“How are you sure I won’t make you my dog instead?” Lucifer cackled, and small flames flickered at the edges of his lips as he overpowered Alastor’s magic easily. There was no sound of a poorly tuned radio, and the air smelled strongly of apples as he leaned closer over the desk. “How do you know I won’t make you my own little puppet, instead, huh?”

Alastor bared his teeth, pursed his lips, and said, “because of who you are.”

“And who am I, sinner?”

“An angel of Heaven,” Alastor said. The words almost seemed to hurt him, like Lucifer’s holiness and Grace grazed his throat raw, and he swallowed where he sat before he patted Charlie’s back and grinned. “You would never dare deceive me. You keep your word, unlike my current master.”

The fire extinguished itself easily within Lucifer’s chest. He blew out a breath of smoke and he slumped back in his chair, clicking his tongue as he crossed his legs and a piece of paper slowly floated out from a cabinet behind him. “You’re taking a very big gamble, you know.”

“I’m well versed in winning,” Alastor said.

“Cheeky brat,” Lucifer muttered, and he snapped his fingers, two golden quills appearing in front of them. He pointed at the paper, where words were quickly being scribbled out on the surface, before two lines appeared on the very bottom. “Sign, then, sinner. Show me your desperation.”

Alastor hesitated for only a split second. His claws grabbed one of the quills, and with a flourish that tinged with humiliation, he signed the line labeled for the contractee. The ink blew bright gold on the contract, and the demon’s ever-present smile transformed into a grim snarl when slowly, a golden collar clasped itself around his neck, just above the gruesome black one.

With gentle clinks, golden chains began to link up together, connecting with his new collar and the line stopping halfway above the desk.

“Well, then,” Lucifer said, taking the other quill and signing on the line labeled for the contractor. It shined a near blinding light among the paper, and the contract burst into sparks of stars, signifying its completion.

He raised a hand and watched as the rest of the chain built itself, laying its end obediently into his palm, wrapping around his fingers and warm on his skin.

He smiled at Alastor, who could merely stare back with a grimace, and Lucifer laughed.

“Welcome to your new contract, dog.”

It wasn’t hard to set up the mansion to welcome its new resident. Lucifer had already moved to the west wing to be closer to Charlie and avoid the east, and just that wing alone had at least a dozen bedrooms.

“You’ll be here,” Lucifer said, holding Charlie in one arm and gesturing to a door with the other. “It’s the master suite of this part of the house. There’s a door inside that connects directly to the nursery. It’s your job to periodically check on her, and if she fusses and I can’t do it, you have to take care of her.”

“Very well,” Alastor said.

The demon seemed more or less accepting of his new situation, though Lucifer thought perhaps he was simply resigned. The sinner hardly seemed like the type to go around with a woe-is-me attitude, and he even wrote down notes on a yellow pad with a pen.

Weirdo.

“If I need to alert you of an emergency, how may I find you in this twisty abode of yours?” Alastor said, looking rather pleased, as if he hadn’t just called Lucifer’s house ugly.

“I’ll be in the nursery,” Lucifer said with a tone that meant duh. “Where else would you expect me to be?”

“You sleep with the princess?” Alastor said, his brows arching lightly in genuine surprise.

“Of course I do.”

“That is quite the decision, Your Majesty.”

“The fu - heck is that supposed to mean?”

“Sleeping with your child is not a good practice.”

“What? Why!”

“To begin, it seems like your anxiety stops you from sleeping at all due to how she most likely tosses and turns at night,” Alastor said, fixing his monocle with a twist of his fingers and smiling at Charlie when she babbled. “She is meant to do so, Your Majesty. Babies are not still creatures. Furthermore, because of your anxiety, you most likely disturb her sleep more than help her since you check her frequently for problems that are not there.”

“Are you calling me insecure?” Lucifer cried out incredulously.

“Not at all!” Liar. “I am simply saying that there are ways to improve both her and your sleep schedules.”

“I do not need more sleep! I’m not a child! And she sleeps totally fine!”

“Hmm,” Alastor hummed. He snapped his fingers and a tall mirror materialized, floating over to Lucifer and stopping just in front of him. “Perhaps it is time to reevaluate, my liege.”

Lucifer glared at his reflection.

His hair, normally styled and coiffed, was uncombed and greasy. He had bags so dark that it looked like he had black eyes on both sides of his face, and his shirt was covered in various stains from spit-ups.

He frowned and then lifted the collar of his shirt to sniff, grimacing when the vague scent of baby vomit as well as old milk wafted into his nose.

“I get it, I get it,” Lucifer growled, dismissing the mirror with a flick of his wrist. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the headache that threatened to form behind his eyes, and he said, “but you can’t just kick me out of the nursery. What if she needs me?”

“Is that not why we made the contract, my liege?” Alastor said. He waltzed closer to the door of his room and patted the knob. “I believe it would serve you well if you slept here, instead. The door to her nursery will provide you with comfort, but it will also provide enough of a barrier to guarantee a smoother night.”

“What?” Lucifer said dumbly.

Maybe he was just tired, or maybe it was because Charlie was chewing on his shoulder again, but he felt like cotton had been stuffed into his brain as he squinted, tilted his head, and said, “you want me to sleep with you?”

A pause.

Alastor’s teeth gaped apart slightly, just enough that a hint of his tongue poked out, and he blinked once, twice, before he spoke, this time without a hint of any radio in his voice. “I… don’t believe that was my suggestion.”

“Good God, man, I’m not saying we should have - “ Lucifer glanced down at Charlie, who was chewing on her fist, and he glared at Alastor, cupping her head to block her ears as he hissed, “marital relations. Where the Hell are you going to sleep if I’m in there?”

“There are dozens of rooms in this wing, I am sure that I will - “

“I want you near me and her,” Lucifer snapped. Charlie whimpered a little at his tone and he rubbed his cheek on the top of her head, shushing her while bouncing slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer, and he murmured, “I just - I need you. Here. You’re right, okay? I can’t sleep or do anything or even breathe thinking that she might get hurt. I need you with me. I need you.”

The last three words were uttered without much thought. He honestly hadn’t meant to say them, but they were the truth, and he was sure he looked pathetic as he tried to soothe a baby who refused to be soothed.

“Alright.”

“Huh?” Lucifer looked up.

“If that is what you wish, then I will provide,” Alastor said simply. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t seem angry, either, and he merely held out his arms, a silent question in the way his fingers flexed outwards. “Our contract states many things, Your Majesty. One of them is that I will always protect you and your daughter.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” Lucifer said, handing his daughter to the sinner and watching as he took her carefully.

“Perhaps,” Alastor said. He rocked back and forth, Charlie almost immediately latching onto his arm and sucking a wet spot into his sleeve. A handkerchief floated into existence and dabbed the drool on the corners of her lips away. “But I am here, nonetheless.”

“Yes,” Lucifer said.

His hand tightened around an invisible golden chain.

“You are.”

#appleradio #radioapple #lucifer morningstar #alastor #hazbin hotel #resist much obey little #charlie morningstar

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sidekick-hero · 4 months

Text

When I open my eyes to the future I can hear you say my name

Summary: "Beautiful," he whispers again, and Eddie grabs his hand and brings it to his lips, kissing every fingertip before taking two of his fingers in his mouth, sucking them gently while holding Steve's gaze.

The light of the setting sun has almost disappeared, leaving a dim twilight that barely illuminates their bodies. Steve doesn't think he needs any light for this, he knows Eddie's body by heart, all his senses so attuned to him that the absence of one of them wouldn't make much of a difference. But then he happens to look past Eddie to the ceiling, and what he finds there makes his heart stutter in his chest.

A full-length mirror adorns their ceiling, reflecting their image perfectly.

He can't believe he hadn't seen it before, too caught up in his husband it seems. But now that he's seen it, he can't look away, can't stop drinking in the way they look in the faint light that still filters in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Getting away for a weekend of wellness at a spa has been the only thing that has kept Steve going for the past couple of weeks. He loves his job, he really does. But teaching a bunch of middle schoolers only to come home to his own little tornado of a four-year-old has taken its toll. Eddie isn't much better off, as he's been working extra shifts at his uncle's garage on the weekends since Wayne sprained his hand, and that, on top of his tattooing job, has left his husband exhausted as well.

The spa had been Robin and Chrissy's wedding anniversary gift, and Wayne's gift had been to take care of April while they were gone. Everyone thought it would be Steve who would have separation anxiety, that he’d be the one unable to relax knowing he was away from his daughter for three whole days.

But it's Eddie who is on the phone with Wayne once again, asking how their little love bug is doing. It's the third call since they got here two hours ago and Steve would be annoyed that his husband spends all his time on the phone instead of on him, but it's incredibly cute to see this overprotective side of Eddie. As Steve mellowed over the years, Eddie became more anxious at times. Steve had once asked him where the devil-may-care guy had gone, and Eddie had looked at the sleeping bundle in his arms and then at Steve with so much naked love that Steve had felt tears well up in his eyes. Eddie had told him: "This guy has something to lose now, and that scares the hell out of him."

"I trust you, Uncle Wayne. It's just..." He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "I'm being silly, aren't I?" Eddie laughs at himself, obviously embarrassed. "Yeah, you're right, I should. Give April a kiss for us. Hear you tomorrow, okay? And call us if - fine, jeez, okay, I'll -" Eddie stops, pulls the phone from his ear and stares at it in disbelief before looking at Steve with the most offended expression on his face. "He just hung up on me! Can you believe that?"

Steve chuckles before clicking his tongue in mock offense. "He did now? Wow, so rude."

"Somehow I get the feeling you don't take me seriously, oh love of my life."

"What gives you that impression, oh light of my days and nights?"

They smile at each other, their faces glowing, and Steve wonders if you could die of happiness. Then Eddie grins, mischief in his eyes, and before Steve knows what's happening, he's running to the bed where Steve is lying and pouncing on him. The impact pushes the air out of him in a loud huff.

"Get off me, you barbarian."

Eddie cackles maniacally on top of him. "Barbarian, really? Is this some secret fantasy of yours, Stevie? Me ravaging you like a barbarian?"

Shaking with laughter beneath him, Steve shakes his head. "Not really. I saw you cry when you watched Babe with our daughter, who, I might mention, didn't shed a single tear. I don't think I'm buying the barbarian."

Eddie's hips settle between Steve's legs and he leans on his elbows next to Steve's head. He looks down at him and gives him a gentle kiss on the nose before snarking back at him. "Oh, excuse me for teaching our daughter that it's okay to have feelings and show them freely, Mr. Macho Man."

Instead of answering with words, Steve shows Eddie freely how much he feels by capturing his lips in a soft kiss. He takes his time, just pressing their mouths together in a silent sign of affection.

It's been a while since they've had time to indulge each other since they adopted April two years ago. Steve wouldn't trade their little girl for anything, but sometimes he misses the days when he and Eddie would spend all day in bed, fucking for hours and then falling asleep on top of each other, sticky and gross, only to wake up and do it all over again. Nowadays it's mostly quick fumblings in the dark, like teenagers still living under their parents' roof.

As usual, Eddie is on the same page as he is, his hands cupping Steve's face as he begins to move his lips languidly over Steve's, adding just a hint of tongue to ease the glide of their mouths against each other. It's Steve whose patience finally runs out, too eager and hungry to taste the man he's been with for almost a decade.

They kiss like this for what feels like hours, licking into each other's mouths, spit-slick lips coming together again and again, only parting for much needed air before finding each other again like magnets. At some point Steve's hands find their way under Eddie's shirt, gently tracing the muscles of his back, enjoying the feel of his soft skin under his fingertips. It makes Eddie sigh contentedly into his mouth and relax further into Steve's body. Everything around them has become soft and hazy, the sun just setting outside, bathing the hotel room in a warm orange glow.

Steve's eyes have been closed until now, just surrendering to Eddie and their kiss, but the changing light makes him open them. The sight that greets him takes his breath away.

"You're so beautiful," he tells Eddie, their lips just inches apart as he gets lost in the warm amber of his husband's eyes in the low light of the dying day. The smile he receives in return wrinkles the skin around those beloved eyes, and he drowns in the love he finds in them.

Holding Steve's face gently in the palm of his hand, Eddie traces the arc of his cheekbone with his thumb and brushes his nose against the other before capturing Steve's lips in another kiss.

"I love you, Steve Harrington-Munson."

"I love you more."

"I had to fall for a competitive ex-jock who always has to have the last word, huh?"

"Sounds like a you problem, dear."

By now they're both smiling so big it hurts, and finally the laughter bubbles up from their chests, mingling between them, filling the room with the sound of their happiness.

As it slowly fades, silence falls around them again as they look into each other's eyes, understanding passing between them without the need for words. The energy shifts from joyful and light to something heavier, thicker, as Eddie sits up and pulls off his shirt, revealing miles of pale skin adorned with tantalizing black ink. Steve reaches up to trace it reverently, as if he hasn't seen it a million times before.

"Beautiful," he whispers again, and Eddie grabs his hand and brings it to his lips, kissing every fingertip before taking two of his fingers in his mouth, sucking them gently while holding Steve's gaze.

A full-length mirror adorns their ceiling, reflecting their image perfectly.

Noticing the shift in Steve's attention, Eddie follows his gaze and turns to see whatever it is that has Steve so enraptured. His gasp is loud in the silent room as their eyes lock in the mirror, both their face taking on similar expressions of wonder and hunger at the picture before them. The picture they make.

"Fuck, Stevie, look at you. All laid out for me," Eddie breathes, his voice full of wonder. He sounds like he's never seen Steve disheveled and wanting before. In fact, he sounds just like the first time they made love so many years ago.

Without tearing his eyes away from where they are locked with Steve's in the mirror, Eddie's hand finds the bulge in his pants and begins to slowly massage it. It draws a needy moan from Steve, his hips bucking against the hand on him, and Eddie moans in sympathy as he feels the hot, hard flesh twitch. "You don't even know what you're doing to me, do you? Fuck, Stevie, baby, I got an idea. Trust me?"

Steve knows the tone, has heard those words more than a few times and it always ended with both of them worn out and deeply satisfied. Leaning up on his elbows, he gently bites Eddie's nipple to show him he's in, and his cock twitches again under Eddie's hand in eager anticipation. "Always. What do you want me to do?"

When Eddie tugs at the hem of his shirt, Steve instinctively lifts his arms, the dance of getting each other naked a familiar one. After quickly turning on the bedside lamp next to them, Eddie's mouth finds his again and this time their kiss tastes of excitement and hunger.

Whatever Eddie is planning, Steve can't wait.

He wants to watch them kiss in the mirror, strangely drawn to the image of them together, but the angle is all wrong and it's not worth breaking their kiss. But when their mouths part and Eddie begins to lick and suck and bite his way down Steve's body, Steve can't help but follow his movements in the mirror above them. It’s strangely mesmerizing to watch bruises bloom on his skin wherever Eddie worships his body with a single-minded determination he usually reserves to playing his sweetheart.

When he reaches the waistband of Steve's jeans, Eddie stops, his chin digging into the soft flesh of his stomach as he follows Steve’s gaze to where they are watching them in the mirror. “You like watching yourself while I get you off, don’t you, sweetheart.” It's not a question.

It's silly, but Steve feels called out by it, like he's been caught doing something naughty. It’s even worse that the feeling makes his cock twitch. It seems that being with Eddie, who's a kinky son of a bitch, has rubbed off on him. In more ways than the literal one.

It sounds defensive when he replies. "Who says I don't like watching you?"

Instead of answering right away, Eddie starts sucking another bruise in the supple flesh above his waistband, and Steve can't take his eyes off his own face in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes dark and shining in the lamplight, his mouth slightly open and panting, his lips swollen and wet from their shared spit. His hips keep shifting under the attention and the heat pooling in his stomach is quickly spreading.

The smug smile on Eddie's face as he catches Steve's eyes in the mirror tells him that Eddie knows exactly how turned on Steve's right now. "You can look at me anytime you want. But the look on your face right now, so needy and wanting. You don't usually get to see that, isn’t that right?” Eddie teases him further by biting his hipbone and another moan falls from Steve's mouth.

The smirk on Eddie’s face looks even better in the mirror. “It's hot, I know it is. That look on your face haunts my dreams since I first saw it, love. I get it.” And then, as he unbuttons Steve's jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper, his voice takes on a deeper tone as he commands, "Keep watching.”

So Steve does. He watches as Eddie pulls down his pants and underwear in one swift motion, watches as his own heavy cock slaps against his stomach, already so hard and leaking even though it has barely been touched. He marvels at the sight of his tanned skin flushed with arousal, the shifting of the muscles beneath, the fine hair dusting his creamy thighs, the thick bush of coarse dark hair around the base of his cock. It's mesmerizing, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his body shifts under Eddie's eager hands and a thick drop of pre-cum forms at the tip of his cock, catching the light before dripping down onto his stomach, adding to the small pool already gathering there.

"Beautiful." Eddie's voice is reverent as he says this and his broad hands slide up Steve's bare thighs to his hipbones, almost worshipful. Then he leans down, nuzzling the hot flesh of Steve's cock and sticking out his tongue to lap up some of the wetness gathered under the head before taking him into his mouth. It draws a moan from Steve, his hips bucking involuntarily at the sensation of wet heat around the sensitive flesh.

Eddie chokes around him, obviously not expecting the way Steve shoves himself down his throat with the motion. But instead of pulling away it only spurs Eddie on and he slides down further, taking Steve deeper and deeper until his nose is buried in the thick patch of dark hair at the base of his cock.

Overwhelmed by the sensation of Eddie's mouth on him, Steve moans brokenly. It's not the first time, hell, it's not even the hundredth, but seeing it in the mirror above and feeling it at the same time has him shaking with need. Eddie swallows around him and Steve feels his throat tighten with the movement, a long fuck followed by Eddie's name the only reaction he allows himself. Part of him wants to move, to slide in and out of Eddie's throat, to fuck his mouth like he would his ass. But a bigger part of him wants to let Eddie take control and just watch, like a voyeur of his own pleasure.

He never thought that watching them fuck in a mirror would be like this. To be honest, he never even contemplated it before, and if he had, he would have thought that he would be into it a normal amount. But normal is the last thing he feels about the whole thing.

Then Eddie finally starts to move, slowly bobbing his head on Steve's length, his tongue sliding up and down the underside of his cock. Eddie is on his stomach between Steve's legs, his hands on Steve's thighs for balance, and Steve marvels at the broad expanse of his back. It's mesmerizing, the way his shoulder blades move as he goes up and down, making the dragon tattooed on them look like it's moving, ready to take flight. Or the way his hips keep shifting, the muscles in his ass clenching subtly as he humps the bed to take some of the pressure off his own cock. It's watching himself that's new and exciting, but he'd be lying if he said that watching Eddie pleasure himself from this angle didn't add fuel to the fire in his veins.

Every time only the head of Steve's cock is in his mouth, Eddie looks up at the mirror and his eyes find Steve's. The dark brown of them is almost completely swallowed by his pupils, like the inky black eyes of a demon, and the lock in them is wicked. He knows exactly what this is doing to Steve, can feel it in the way Steve's cock twitches and his balls are pulled tight against his body, already as close to coming as a virgin getting his first blow job.

And that's when Eddie suddenly pulls away from him.

Steve is not proud of the whimper that falls from his throat, but he was so fucking close, his pleasure about to peak with surprising speed. But now, as the air of the room hits the wet skin of his spit slicked cock, his climax is already out of reach.

With gentle hands rubbing up and down his thighs, Eddie soothes him. "I know, baby, I know. But as much as I love you coming down my throat, I want you to see how beautiful you look when you're coming on my cock."

"Oh God."

"Thought so," Eddie chuckles. "I'll be right back."

True to his word, Eddie only gets up from the bed to shed his remaining clothes, presenting Steve with even more pale, inked skin and the mouthwatering sight of his hard and heavy cock before he walks over to their unpacked bags to rifle through them. As he squats down to do so, Steve gives him a low and teasing whistle and Eddie looks at him over his shoulder with a lascivious wink before turning back to the task at hand. Steve still clocked his goofy grin which matches the one on his own face. He never had a lover he could laugh with as much as with Eddie, no matter how kinky or filthy they fucked.

Seconds later, Eddie finds what he's looking for: a bottle of lube. Before Steve can blink, Eddie is back between his spread legs, but instead of resuming his earlier position, he shuffles forward on his knees and hooks his arms under Steve's thighs to lift them onto his own, Steve's ankles crossed behind his back. The heat in Eddie's eyes as he sees Steve splayed out in front of him sends goosebumps up and down Steve's body.

Even after almost a decade, Eddie has this intense way of looking at him, like he would devour him whole if he could. Like he's never wanted anything more in his life than Steve, and Steve has no idea how to live without that feeling. He hopes he never has to find out, and that even when they're old and having geriatric sex, Eddie will still look at him like that.

Steve is so lost in the look on Eddie's face that he doesn't even notice his husband opening the bottle of lube and coating his fingers with it. It's only the slightly cold sensation of the lube-slicked fingers as they tease his rim that alerts him to the next phase of Eddie's plan.

"As much as I love to have your eyes on me, I need you to look up in the mirror. I want you to see what I see every time I get to have you like this."

As always, Steve can only comply when Eddie's voice gets like this, his voice soft and deep, but also firm. Knowing exactly what they both need. It's not that he's always in charge, quite the opposite. Often it's Steve who takes him apart, who uses his voice as well as his hands on Eddie until he's a needy mess writhing on the sheets. But God, he loves it when Eddie takes over and allows Steve to give up the tight grip on his self-control and just let Eddie take care of him.

In the mirror he sees himself spread out on the sheets, his thighs hugging Eddie's sides and his own hands on either side of his head. His hair is a mess and he sees his face slacken with pleasure as the first two fingers enter him at once. The angle of his hips doesn't allow him to see where Eddie's fingers disappear into him, but he watches in rapture as they slide in and out. It's the same heavy feeling as when he watched Eddie swallow his cock and he felt the wet heat engulf him at the same time.

"I never told you this, but this is my favorite part. Don't get me wrong, I love everything we do, baby, even just kissing you makes me feel so happy and alive every time. But I could play with you like this for hours, making you come on my fingers over and over again and never get tired of it."

Eddie does that sometimes, just lets his mouth run wild, saying the dirtiest and sweetest things, often in the same breath. Steve lives for these moments, feels himself clench around the fingers inside him in a mindless search for more sensation, more pleasure. He knew it when they went on their first date, and he never changed his mind: Eddie Munson would be the death of him one day.

"Do you know that the first time I fingered you, I realized that I loved you and that I wanted us to be forever? Don't look at me like that, I know it's not the most romantic thing to say, but it's true," Eddie tells him, kissing the inside of his thigh tenderly before pushing another finger inside him. "It was when I felt your pulse beating against my finger inside you. It felt like your heart was beating only for me, and I never wanted it to beat for anyone else, never wanted to go another day without being allowed to feel its rhythm against my fingers inside of you, or my hand wrapped around your wrist, or my head against your chest. That's when I knew I felt forever about you."

It's strange to watch his own face as he takes in those words, the way his eyes grow even wider, his expression softening. He watches as his hand reaches for Eddie's, the one not three fingers deep inside him, and Eddie takes it, lacing their fingers together.

"I feel forever about you too, you know that, right? Fuck, Eddie, if we weren't already married, I'd ask you again right now."

Eddie pulls their intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses the simple platinum band on Steve's finger. "And I'd say yes and do it all over again, right down to our first song being an Ed Sheeran song, you musical heathen."

He finally tears his eyes away from the mirror to look directly at Eddie so his husband knows he means it when he says, "Then let's do it. Eddie Munson, will you marry me? Again?"

Eddie laughs, the sound bright and full of joy. "Only you would ask me to marry you while I'm three fingers deep in you, Stevie."

"That's not an answer."

"Yes, you crazy, wonderful man. Of course it is." Eddie laughs again, delirious with happiness, his whole body shaking with it. Steve feels it everywhere they touch, especially deep inside him, and it rekindles the hungry flame of desire.

"Then show me you mean it."

Pulling his fingers free, Eddie wipes them on the sheets before placing his hand right next to Steve's head. Then he moves their still joined hands to the other side and leans down to capture Steve's lips in a deep, searching kiss. It's as if he's pouring all his love, all that he's just said to Steve, into the way he kisses him. The new position puts Eddie almost completely on top of Steve and he can feel how hard Eddie is, leaking all over himself and Steve as their cocks slide against each other.

Steve thinks they're going to fuck just like that, Eddie making love to him while holding his gaze, sharing their breath and feeling each other's hearts beating against their chests.

They don't.

Instead, Eddie slides off him and settles down on his back next to Steve. He reaches for the lube again and coats his hard cock with it, obviously trying not to get too carried away with it. Steve wants to replace Eddie's hand with his own, but this is Eddie's show and he'll let him run it.

When Eddie is done, he slides his arm between Steve's back and the bed, his hand curled around Steve's waist, pulling him closer.n"Lie on top of me, Stevie. Your back to my chest so you can watch yourself fall apart on my cock."

Eddie Munson will be the death of him.

Steve does as he's told and gets into position, his back against Eddie's chest and his head resting on Eddie's shoulder. Eddie places his feet on the bed, his bent legs spreading Steve's on either side. They've never done it like this before, and as Eddie slides into him in one smooth motion, Steve wonders why. It's so good, the way Eddie stretches him from that angle, the slight sting of too much soon replaced by white-hot pleasure as he's filled so deeply.

He feels Eddie's hands on his body, one cupping his aching cock, the other gently pressing down on his throat. Steve moans softly, overwhelmed by all these sensations hitting him at once and he doesn't know what to do with himself. The way he's spread out on Eddie's lap, he has no leverage to move his hips, to take more than Eddie is willing to give, and he whines under his breath when Eddie doesn't move.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart."

Steve hadn't even noticed that he had closed them, too lost in his own pleasure. So he does as Eddie tells him and opens his eyes, his gaze finding the reflection in the mirror in an instant.

The sight takes his breath away and the moan that falls from his throat sounds choked.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Steve," Eddie marvels as he finally begins to move, slowly beginning to fuck into him, his eyes drinking in the sight as hungrily as Steve's. "You had to see this to believe me. Every love song is about you, every poem, every love story. The great masters couldn't dream of painting something as breathtaking as you, every marble statue pales in comparison to your beauty."

"Eddie," Steve gasps. He wants to say so much more, but he feels that nothing is as important as that single word.

After that, no more words are needed between them. Instead, Eddie kisses his temple as his hand on Steve's cock begins to pump his shaft at the same languid pace as his hips continue to move. It's the sweetest torture.

Steve's face is contorted with pleasure, his mouth open and panting. His skin is flushed, glistening with a thin layer of sweat that reflects the lamplight in a way that makes his skin look almost golden. The muscles in Eddie's forearm keep flexing, moving under the inked skin as one hand presses against his throat and the other slides up and down his cock.

It almost feels like there are two people fucking him, two people stroking him, two people choking him. The one he feels doing all these things and the one he watches doing them.

It’s overwhelming in it’s intensity, the single hottest thing he’s ever felt.

Eddie's hot breath fans across his face and as much as he tries to take it slow so he can make Steve fall apart first, the gasps and grunts that come from him tell Steve that he won't be able to hold back much longer. Which is good, because Steve doesn't know how much longer he can do this before he loses his goddamn mind.

"I'm so close, baby, fucking me so good. Looking so good. Want you to fill me up." Steve doesn't even recognize his own voice when he adds, "Please."

It's the please that pulls a deep moan out of Eddie, and Steve knows he's playing dirty, because Eddie can never deny him anything when he begs like that. He's only using this power for good though, because Eddie is just as desperate to come as Steve is. He can feel it in the way his hips immediately pick up speed at his words, his hand on Steve matching the new rhythm.

"I can't wait to marry you again," Eddie croaks after a few more thrusts, his voice choked with emotion. Those words and the way Eddie says them, combined with the way he's so full and the hand on him feels so good, is enough to throw Steve over the cliff and he comes in thick spurts all over his own chest.

It seems to go on forever and Steve forces himself to look, to keep his eyes from closing from the pleasure. He's never seen himself come like this before and it's probably a sign of how vain he is, but the sight is so fucking hot. More cum keeps dripping from his cock, helped by Eddie's hand milking him almost dry until it all becomes too much.

Beneath him, Eddie is now chasing his own climax, his hips losing all rhythm as they slam into him as deep as they can. The hand on his cock has let go as soon as Steve's moans of pleasure have become painful from how sensitive the flesh has become, but the one on his throat remains, pressing down harder. He keeps grinding inside Steve, small movements matching the breathy grunts in his ear, until Steve can feel Eddie tense and the warmth of his cum filling him.

Then Eddie sinks into the mattress like a marionette whose strings have been cut. His body is limp and his face contented as he tries to catch his breath. When his legs give out, he stretches them with a groan and it causes him to slide out of Steve, a small trickle of cum dripping out and onto him.

Steve is just as content and exhausted, every muscle in his body relaxed and he's probably getting heavy where his body is trying to sink into Eddie. He looks a mess, his face red, his hair as wild as Eddie's unruly curls and his chest smeared with his own cum.

Steve has never felt more covetable. Never felt more loved, and all thanks to Eddie and his uncanny ability to know exactly what Steve needs even before he himself does.

Squirming on top of Eddie until he manages to get off of him and curl into his body with an arm and a leg thrown over him, Steve nuzzles into Eddie's neck. He gets a lingering kiss on the top of his head for his trouble and they both sigh happily in unison.

After a few more minutes of shared silence and bliss, Steve can't help but ask in a quiet voice, "You meant it, didn't you? About marrying me again?"

He can hear the smile in Eddie's voice as he answers. "Oh baby, I'm actually one step ahead of you. There's a ring in my pocket waiting to be put on your hand if you want it. You just beat me to the proposal, you competitive ass."

He feels like he's glowing with happiness as he laughs in delightful surprise at Eddie's words. "You love my competitive ass so much you're marrying it again."

"That I do. Happy anniversary, Steve."

"Happy anniversary, Eddie."

#steddie #steddie smut #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #my writing #nsft

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