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writing-in-glitter-pen · 4 months

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what I know to be true ⋆｡˚ ೀ⋆｡˚ ༘

Childe wasn't a big fan of the Tsaritsa's demand for him to find a wife, until he'd come upon the perfect girl for the job. You—a lady he knew in his childhood to be a horrible nuisance and demon on Earth. Not only would this marriage fulfill his duty, but would let him settle a long-time grudge as well. Little did he know, he stood more to gain from this partnership than he thought.

Childe x fem!reader II arranged marriage, angst? to fluff, childhood enemies to lovers, romance!

Childe was never one for romance, and especially not for commitment.

He just had so much else on his plate, much bigger dreams than that of settling down in a household and abandoning his place on the battlefield.

He was always looking ahead to a future of bloodshed, of power, of someday ruling the world.

That wasn't going to happen if a distraction stood in his way.

He would sometimes muse about having kids, loving the idea of continuing his lineage and watching a bunch of mini-me's run around, but ultimately, he decided his duty to the Tsaritsa would stand in the way of him being a good father. So he'd just have to settle for being an amazing uncle to the children his siblings would eventually have, spoiling them with presents at Christmas time and teaching them how to protect themselves out in the wild.

So when he was called into the Tsaritsa's throne room and received the news that a harbinger of his status was to be married, in order to keep up with regal airs the nobles of Snezhanaya, he was, respectfully, very unhappy.

"You'll be seen at balls and lead battalions. Your role must be carried with honor. Nobody will respect an old lonely man.", she claimed, then drew out a long, thin arm to hold his chin with a bony hand—long pointed nails pressing divots into his skin. Though her touch was frigid, she looked down at him with a certain fondness in her eyes, though the sincerity of it was undistinguishable. "You need a pretty thing by your side to elevate your status. You know I only want what's best for you.", she cooed, like she was addressing a child.

He new better than to disobey her commands, and something about the smoothness of her voice assured him that this was the right choice. He only nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides in dismay.

Childe read over the listed names of eligible young ladies for him to marry with contempt; scrolling through the meaningless last names and accompanying statures, ordered from top to bottom by how highly they stood in the totem pole of nobility. Like he cared where the girl would come from.

He felt guilt for the miserable thing that would have to marry him; though he could care less about who these women were, he believed that they deserved a partner that loved them, or at least a good man that could stand to take care of them. All they would be to him is a nuisance, a label which they had done nothing to earn.

Though, when he neared the end of the list, a section devoted to common folk who had certain merits like striking beauty or some sort of fame, that he found a name he recognized.

Your name.

Oh, how he remembered you.

You were the daughter of good friends of his parents. Your families would often gather for holidays or dinner parties, sharing what little they had in the name of kinship. The gatherings were lively, full of happiness and cheer...

But you had a certain countenance that stood out to him and branded your name into a special part of his brain to be remembered for the rest of his life.

You were a little brat was what you were.

Though you were only a toddler when he met you, having only just taken your first steps while he was already halfway through being eight, he found you to be the most insufferable little human he'd ever met.

Your parents would always gab and brag about what a good little girl you were; how you never cried or screamed, how you were sweet and patient and loving—a wonderful surprise for parents preparing for the "terrible two's.".

They had to be lying, because every time Ajax would come into view you'd immediately throw a fit, wailing and swiping at his face with a kind of rage an entire army of men could not match.

He had no idea why; he never touched you, or spoke to you, all he did upon your first meeting was draw back in repulse.

You weren't a pleasure to look at; with your beady little eyes and thick eyelashes that lined them, your thin eyebrows and piercing gaze. You looked like some haunted porcelain doll. And there was a certain consciousness behind your eyes that children your age were not supposed to have.

His little siblings were much cuter.

And he did not hesitate to say that.

"Tonia was a prettier baby. What's wrong with her?", he piped up, humiliating his mother and father who immediately scolded him for his rudeness. Your mother only laughed.

"Trust me, she'll be a beauty when she grows up. I won't be surprised when you come around here in sixteen years asking to marry her."

This started a little musing session between your mothers, giggling about the possibility of their children being wed and how wonderful that would be for their friendship and their families.

Meanwhile, Ajax was dwelling on how that would absolutely never happen—if the look on your face was any indicator.

You were red as a tomato, nose scrunched in distain as your eyes pierced his. Like you'd understood him.

How was he supposed to know babies could take offense?

Whether or not your infant brain could comprehend his words, your hatred was clear, and before he could react, your soft little hand went flying towards his face and landed with a resounding THWAP!

Even though you struck him, you immediately burst into tears, bawling crocodile tears that ran down your face and dripped off of your chin.

All of the adults in the room immediately ran to your aid, hushing and petting you while scorning Ajax for "tormenting the poor girl."

Never before had he felt so cheated.

That begun his feud with a two year old.

Your detest for one another ran deep. So much so that every gathering between your families ended in you receiving plenty of sneaky pinches to your fat baby skin and him risking a bald spot with the amount of hair you'd rip out of his head.

It was a nightmare you could walk too, since you'd often seek him out just to babble in annoyance and tug at the knee of his trousers.

"See? Look at how much she likes you!", his mother would coo, but he knew better. Your grappling with his pants was your pea-brained strategy to get him to bend down and remove you so you could bop him one on the nose.

He swore you were such a strong baby. He'd rather take a hit from a club than suffer the force that your tiny fists could bring down on his head.

That's why you were the perfect girl to be his wife

If he were to marry any other woman, the guilt of leaving her alone at home for long stretches of time, depriving her of having the good husband she deserves rather than a man who could never love her, would be overwhelming.

Sure, he was a monster, but he wasn't about to let some innocent bystander be collateral damage.

But you? The evil, horrible little wench you are? You more than deserved it.

In his mind, he'd actually be doing his fellow man a favor by saving an unsuspecting bachelor from accidentally marrying a grisly thing like you.

So, although his retainers were already in the process of scheduling meetings with his potential brides, he plucked your name from the list without hesitation.

"Set the wedding date. I'll have that one."

The organizers looked between themselves warily, deciding whether or not they should challenge him on this monumental decision.

"And nothing too grand—it'll just be family.", he cooly added, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet upon his desk and crushing the list of names under his dirty boots.

In the end, the harbinger always gets what he wants, so his retainers retreated with quiet nods and quick steps.

Though Childe acted aloof towards the decision to have you as his bride, when the day of the wedding actually arrived and he found himself standing at the altar of a small church in Mosepok—his home town, his palms were sweating and eyes darting around nervously. He shifted his weight on his feet as the congregation waited for you to enter; this was supposed to be a small ceremony, but leave it to his mother and father's proud announcements to their friends and neighbors to draw a crowd. As his eyes scanned the faces of those who'd known him in his youth, he realized near all of the small port town was packed into the pews. He wracked his brain for the answer as to why these people would want to watch their old town troublemaker's union, but he supposed it would be the most interesting thing to happen in the town since his era of delinquency.

It was a miracle that the budget the Fatui gave Childe for this wedding greatly superseded the amount he'd needed for the original plan of a small gathering; it was more than enough to feed the whole town for a night, which actually brought a flicker of joy to Childe's chest.

He was pleased that he could give back to the community that handled him like a family in his childhood.

But that flicker was immediately quenched when the creaking sound of the heavy oak doors that led into the chapel reverberated through the room—revealing the silhouette cast in white of his bride.

His stomach turned with anxiety. Childe had led battalions into what could be considered suicide missions if not for their miraculous victorious outcome, and yet, somehow, the fear he felt standing in front of a girl that, though she may not be small by definition, definitely looked so standing next to him, significantly surpassed that of which he's ever felt.

His cold body shook like he stood inches from death.

Suddenly, he remembered the fury your little body had when you were only a baby, and it dawned on him that you've only gotten bigger, smarter, stronger. A little arbiter of the apocalypse couldn't have grown into the meek woman he imagined, if anything, her bloodlust grew with age.

What did he get himself into? Was he an idiot? Did he, blinded by his scheming for revenge, land himself in a lion's den?

With a light tap on the shoulder from the priest, he jolted out of his stupor and found you standing in front of him already, suddenly remembering that he was now to lift your veil.

His hands shook as he reached out, bracing himself for the hideous face he'd been forced to associate with at every friendly gathering between your parents in childhood, and now, due to his own brashness, would have to associate with every time he returned home or attended public events.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he took the fabric between his white-knuckled fingers and threw the thing up and over your head. The procession hummed with awe and approval—some more boisterous men from the docks whistling, to which their wives jabbed an elbow into their ribs.

The sounds of adoration resounding from the audience perplexed Childe, drawing his interest and encouraging him to open one wary eye and peek at you.

But his cautious peek grew into an owlish gawking and dropped jaw when the woman before him shined like an angel.

This couldn't have been the girl he knew in her infancy; her once-beady eyes now twinkled like stars, her red puffy face was now sculpted and the only remnants of her discoloration resided in dusted pink pigments on her cheeks. They were so perfectly placed that they could be mistaken for a painting by an artist with a keen eye. He pried his gaze from your enrapturing eyes to ogle your lips—plushy and inviting. He'd give anything to kiss a gorgeous woman like you.

And he remembered with an unexpected delight that he would by the end of this ceremony.

Before he knew it, the soft ring of your voice settled upon his ears. Having been caught in a trance, he hadn't realized the procession already arrived at your vows.

He only tuned in after the opening sentences of your declaration had passed, your words blurred by his reverie.

"I promise to wait for you when you go and embrace you when you return; to make a warm, solace of a home for you that you can always come back to, whether there be a roof over our heads or not. I promise to follow you through this life and meet you in the next, to be by your side when you need me, no matter how far apart we may be forced to exist. I promise to love you and only you, to be true as long as your ring encloses my finger, and promise to keep it there forever. I will take your family into my arms just as you will me, care for them—as they are an extension of you, to love them just as I do you. I'll hold you ever close to my heart, speak to you with nothing but kindness, recognize your face as that of my partner in life, my one and only, and..."

Childe jumped when he felt your warm hand sneak up on his and gingerly intertwine your fingers, to which he did not resist, nor want to.

"I promise to love you as you are; no matter how much the years we spend together may change us."

To his puzzlement, Childe felt a certain wetness roll down his cheek, causing him to look up at the skylight above the both of you to check if it was raining. When another droplet ran down the other side of his face, he realized he was crying.

Childe never cried, he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened; maybe it was sometime when he was a boy, but the memory simply did not exist. These were not tears shed in misery, they were spurred by your words of devotion, words he'd never been blessed with before. He truly wondered now if you may be divine, but all he beheld of you told him you were, in fact, human, and not a vision of absolution sent from the heavens above.

You tilted your head to the side and blinked your dollish eyelashes at him, obviously waiting for something, to which he remembered that is was now his turn.

He had neglected to write vows beforehand or memorize the traditional vows spoken by couples bound by marriage as an arrangement. He had, in fact, planned on skipping the process altogether, but your profession of love caught him off guard and incentivized him to speak his own.

So, with a blank mind, he resorted to letting the few truths he knew spill from his mouth.

"I'd only known you during our childhoods, but how you've blossomed and changed has..."

He had never been one for words, so making something up on the spot in front of quite literally a hundred people was daunting. His voice seized with trepidation, but he took a breath and moved forward.

"Has...left me speechless. My mind is empty, and all I can think of now is...that I am blessed."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued, struck by your endearing gaze on him—it made his voice quiver as it resounded from his chest.

"I'd assumed I knew you, but it's clear to me now that I have so much more to learn."

He unconsciously squeezed your hand for comfort, and, with a gentle smile on your face, you reassuringly squeezed back; making him sigh and yearn to feel more of you—imagining that you felt like warm cotton, soft and homey, something he could bury himself in and happily stay there for eternity.

"And I want to learn it. I...want to spend my whole life in awe of you, discovering as much as I can, knowing you like I know myself."

He could not hesitate before he blurted his next statement, his voice getting carried away from him and spilling his most personal beliefs.

"And loving you as you love me."

Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, and your eyes glimmered as your perfect lips stretched into an even more enticing smile. He could hear your soft, happy sigh, a sound that not even the priest beside the two of you could catch, almost like a secret meant just for him.

Your sweetness enthralled him like nothing he'd ever experienced— slowly convincing him that you very well may be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"I'll take care of you.", he promised, and meant it. "I'll spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. Despite what you promised before, I will always put a roof over your head. You'll be forever warm and safe. I will fight for you, die for you, do anything you ask. You will want for nothing as long as you're mine."

His vow had come upon its conclusion with one final promise he all but growled, like it was somehow in danger of being broken—that he would go to any length to protect.

"And you will forever be mine."

His pause at the end indicated to the priest that the his vow had ended, and the way your lips parted in wonder and your wide eyes remained locked on his made him want to lean in and kiss you like every inch of his body burned to do. But he had to, begrudgingly, wait; hoping the ceremony would end as soon as possible so he could finally have you to himself and ask you all the questions he was dying for the answers to.

Did you really mean what you said? He sure did, and he didn't even know he had the capacity to not only promise, but want, desperately so, the fulfill the oaths he had declared to you.

Soon enough, the priest announced it was now time for the bestowing of the rings—a symbol of the bond you will share for eternity.

As the ring bearer, Childe's dear brother, Teucer, brought the rings resting on a white silk pillow over to the altar and held it over his head while he balanced on his tippy toes so the two of you could reach the rings with ease. Childe immediately felt awash in shame. All he'd purchased for you was a simple silver band—no precious gems, no original detailing, just a band. He didn't expect to want to take pride in the symbol of his loyalty you'd wear for him on your finger. He'd get you a new one, a better one—one he could admire as he kissed your hand, held it with adoration and smoothed his fingers over it.

But although the ring fell below expectations, there was no disappointment on your face. You barely glanced at it, your eyes trained on his face with a fondness he'd never received before. Your gaze had his heart spilling over with exaltation.

You took his hand in yours and slipped the perfectly fitted ring around his finger, giving it a small squeeze when you were done—as if to brand your affection deep into his hand.

He returned the gesture, taking your other hand in his and, carefully, securing the ring around your finger as well; he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight he hadn't known was resting on his shoulders alleviate. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to leap out in a desperate attempt to be ever closer to yours.

The priest spoke, but his voice was drowned out by Childe's inner voice, wailing for you.

All he could register was the sound of your silver bell-like voice, piercing through the fog in his head like a star's light in the void of the night sky above.

"I do.", you said.

He couldn't tell if he'd rushed ahead of the priest's announcement of his turn or not, but he followed your statement blindly.

"I do.", he whispered ardently, brushing the backs of those precious hands of yours softly with his thumbs.

After the final blurb recited by the priest, a sentiment he couldn't bring himself to listen to in his anticipation, he finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Without a moment of delay, he brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks, a look of ache in his face as it felt like you had reached an invisible hand into his chest and gripped his heart, and kissed you.

Fervently, passionately kissed you.

It took your breath away, left you panting when he finally pulled away after remembering he was, in fact, in front of his parents and broader community.

But cheers sang from the crowd for your union as he led you back down the steps of the altar and out of the church, eyes trained on your feet with your hand secured in his—watching carefully as you descended to make sure you wouldn't fall. He treated you as if you were sculpted from crystal glass.

After the two of you crossed the threshold out of the church as one, Childe gently tugged your hand to draw you closer so that he could whisper in your ear.

"Could we take a walk in the garden?"

While the guests made their way to the reception hall for their lavish dinner, you and Childe strolled through the church's garden together, hands still intertwined as the two of you gazed at the various winter shrubs and evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. It was beautiful in its own kind of way; the way life persevered through otherwise uninhabitable conditions, how even the bear oak trees existed as intricate silhouettes against the grey sky—providing cover as the sun sank down and gave way to a grim dusk, it was wonderful, and in this moment, it was yours to share.

The two of you came to a halt at a marble bench next to a large, frozen fountain, adorned with swirling details and moulding from an older, more fanciful era. He swiped off the snow that had built on top of the bench, then removed his large, fur-lined cloak to rest on the surface. He led you down to sit on it, having fashioned a dry, warm seat for you as he stood.

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine.", he assured you. He'd grown used to the frigid air of his home country, having entered various conflicts with nothing but thin linen to cover him for the sake of his movements not being burdened by thick, heavy fabric.

"Thank you.", you spoke, softly, and the words warmed his chest more than any coat could.

He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you. He just couldn't believe you were real, and couldn't believe you were his at so little a cost—he'd done nothing but bellyache and pluck your name off of a paper, and somehow the situation ended up being the best decision of his life. He'd found someone that claimed to truly, deeply love him by sheer chance.

And that thought brought him to the question that had been weighing on his mind since your vows.

"Did you really mean what you said?", he asked, quietly, hesitantly. After the words left his mouth, he wished he'd never said them. He didn't want to know the answer; if he could live in a fantasy where a miracle like you truly adored him, he'd seize the opportunity and hold it close to his heart for the rest of his life. He felt like such a fool.

"Of course I did.", you chuckled, like the question was ridiculous.

"I thought you hated me.", he confessed, his curiosity for your change of heart getting the best of him when he knew better than to ask too many questions. You only quirked your head and blinked at him, indicating that he needed to clarify. "When we were younger, you acted like you wanted my head on a stick."

To that admission, you laughed heartily. It was a lovely sound, one his mind would no doubt play on repeat in his darkest of times, sending sparks to his heart that would keep him moving forward—back to you so he could hear it again and again. "I was a toddler, dear. I didn't understand my feelings! And you were pretty nasty to me, too.", you said with a playful, pointed look.

The term of endearment made his heart bubble, craving to hear you say it again, but his mind was desperate for more answers. "But...how did you...", he coughed awkwardly, "fall for me?".

His carefully spoken question only made you giggle once again, but you could understand his confusion.

"Oh, Ajax. You were the most entertaining person I've ever met. I know we fought, but I remembered your presence in my life so fondly. And I'd look at pictures of us from our old gatherings, where our parents would force you to hold me on your lap and smile, or take candid shots of us chasing each other around, and I'd wish for you to come back so we could fight again.", you laughed at the memory. "I thought of you all the time, you know. And, as I grew older and life passed by, I'd keep looking back on those photos and...", your cheeks turned even redder than the chilly air had already done, flushing your cheeks and nose. After this conversation, Childe would make sure to rush you inside so you could warm up by a hearth. "Well, my heart would beat for you. And I wished you would come back for different reasons...so I could see you again and fall in love with the man you've become."

Childe gulped in shame. He knew the man he'd become was...cruel. Wicked. He'd never thought so little of himself than when he stood before you, your glorious, pure eyes assessing him like Celestia would upon the day of his death.

But how you looked on at him was not in judgement, but affection. "And when I met you at the altar, I did. I truly did."

He was so swayed by your words, so caught up in your devotion, that though he knew he was undeserving, he leaned down and connected your lips with his once again; his large hands warmed you where they caressed your cheek and the side of your neck, his lips thawing your frozen ones. The flavor of you was intoxicating, but as much as he wanted to prolong this moment, your icy skin pushed him to get you inside immediately.

So he drew back, drawing the most angelic whine of protest from your lips. It made him grin in pride.

"Let's warm you up, huh?"

Though you wanted to stay in the privacy of this isolated garden, continue to live in this moment that only existed for the two of you, you couldn't deny how you shivered and your stomach growled. It was time for your reception, and you couldn't keep your guests waiting.

So you, albeit reluctantly, let Ajax pull you up into his arms and throw his cloak around the both of you before taking you back to the church where he married you, now entering sharing one heart, one life, one love. Forever.

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mcdynamite · 11 months

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Eddie always tries to be as quiet as he can when he gets home from late shifts at the bar – holding his keys tightly so they don’t jangle too much and avoiding turning on lights if he can help it. Steve is usually asleep by the time he makes it home smelling of greasy bar food and whatever beer blew its keg that evening all over his uniform tee, and Eddie hates waking him. His boyfriend doesn’t get much sleep as it is. The last thing he needs is for Eddie to come tumbling through the door and interrupting the precious few hours he gets every night.

So every time Eddie gets home from work in the earliest hours of the new day, he tries to be as quiet as possible.

And every time, Steve wakes up anyways.

Contrary to what most people might assume, it’s actually not Eddie’s fault that Steve can never sleep through his homecomings. (Years of living in a thin-walled trailer with a man who worked nights and slept during the days made him a master of moving stealthily through his home, after all.) It’s just that Steve Harrington is the lightest sleeper who’s ever lived.

According to Steve, he wasn’t always this way – he used to sleep through alarm clocks and his mother banging on his bedroom door to get him up for school, when he was younger. No, the light sleeper thing didn’t start until after Steve learned that monsters were real, and it only got worse after Upside Down Part 2: Electric Boogaloo, when suddenly he had a whole troupe of children to worry about all night. Every little creak of the floorboards could be a demogorgon, or a preteen in need of help fighting off a pack of demodogs. Faint police sirens in the distance could be headed to Steve’s house, where some uniformed cop would come knock on the door and tell him that something had happened to one of the kids.

It sounds like a nightmare, in Eddie’s opinion – not being able to sleep more than a handful of hours a night – but Steve always shrugs it off, like he’s already gotten so used to it that he hardly notices it anymore, and Eddie thinks that might be the case. It makes him feel horribly guilty (and maybe a little sad) whenever Eddie is the cause of Steve’s late-night wakefulness, but despite his desire for his boyfriend to get the sleep he needs, Eddie can never quite force himself to be too upset whenever Steve stirs as Eddie tiptoes into their shared bedroom.

Because sleepy Steve Harrington is, frankly, infuriatingly adorable, and tonight is no exception.

He hears, rather than sees, Steve wake up in the darkness of their room. It starts with a little snuffle, then a rustling of bedsheets, and finally – like always – a gravelly, endearingly hopeful, “Eds?”

Eddie’s heart warms in his chest, melting away the ice left there by a long shift dealing with drunk idiots and coworkers who would rather bitch about their jobs than actually do them. His job is exhausting at the best of times, and downright soul-sucking at the worst, but it’s okay, because at least at the end of the day, he gets to come home to this.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he sighs tiredly, ignoring the part of him that balks at being foiled again in his quest to let Steve get some sleep. Carefully, he toes off his shoes and makes his way to the edge of the bed so he can brush a few messy strands of hair from Steve’s forehead.

Steve instantly tilts his head to press into the touch, and Eddie can’t help but smile. “Wha’time s’it?” Steve slurs.

Eddie glances at the clock on their bedside table and nearly winces when he sees just how late it is. “Almost two,” he murmurs guiltily. He can see Steve’s mouth turn down into a frown now that his eyes have adjusted to the lack of light.

“S’late,” Steve mumbles. He rolls onto his side and reaches blindly for Eddie, hand eventually wrapping around Eddie’s bony wrist and squeezing gently in a mostly subconscious show of sympathy. His eyes blink open – bleary and unfocused – and scan over Eddie’s face. “Everything ‘kay?” Even half-asleep, he’s a worrier. Eddie finds it both endearing and a little heartbreaking.

He smiles, despite himself, and begins to card his fingers through Steve’s sleep-mussed hair, an unbearably fond feeling settling in his belly when Steve lets his eyes flutter shut again. “Yeah, sweetheart, everything’s fine,” he assures his tired boyfriend. “Just a long night. Pacers game a few blocks down, y’know? Spent a whole extra hour after close catching up on bar dishes.”

Steve furrows his brow and makes a discontented noise. “Gross,” he mutters, and Eddie huffs out a laugh. God, he is so stupidly in love with this beautiful, bitchy man.

“Very,” he hums in agreement.

“Y’should come to bed,” Steve says, and his voice is almost whiny, just like it always is when he tries to coax Eddie into their bed without a proper shower. He does it almost every night, and it almost never works. It’s certainly not going to work tonight, with Eddie smelling of shitty beer and grease.

“In a bit,” Eddie sighs, bending to press a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Gotta shower first.”

Steve properly whines at that, petulantly mumbling something incoherent.

“Baby, I’m covered in Miller and fryer grease. Do you really want me getting that shit all over our pillowcases?” Eddie says fondly.

“I want you to come cuddle with me,” Steve grumbles.

It takes more effort than is probably reasonable for Eddie to stifle the cackle threatening to burst from his chest. “In a few minutes, ‘kay? Just gonna go wash off real quick, and then I’ll come cuddle, you needy little bastard.”

“You’d better,” Steve says not at all threateningly. Eddie just laughs and kisses his forehead again before dragging himself away and into their little apartment bathroom for a quick shower. There’s a ninety percent chance Steve will be asleep again by the time Eddie makes it into bed, in ten minutes, so he can’t really bring himself to feel too guilty.

Still, true to his word, he showers quickly – rinsing all of the greasy smell out of his hair and scrubbing the spilled beer from his skin. He uses the bergamot soap Steve got him for Christmas, because he knows Steve likes it, and Eddie likes when Steve likes things. (And he’ll never admit this, but he doesn’t hate the smell of bergamot, either.)

When he’s finished, he quickly towels himself off and slips on the pair of plaid boxers Steve left out on the bathroom counter for him earlier (just one of those little, caring things that Steve does every day that make Eddie love him all the more). He plaits his wet curls so he doesn’t wake up with hair worse than Doc from Back to the Future, then he finally, finally, makes his way to bed.

Steve’s breathing is a slow, steady rhythm, but the way he instantly shifts closer to Eddie the moment he climbs into bed is a clear indicator that he hasn’t quite managed to fall back to sleep yet. Eddie has hardly had a chance to pull the covers up before Steve is pushing back into him, silently demanding the safety of his arms.

Eddie is all too happy to oblige.

It’s automatic and achingly familiar when Eddie rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around Steve, pulling his boyfriend close so Steve’s back is pressed to his front. Even then, it doesn’t seem to be close enough for Steve, who wiggles back even further until it nearly becomes impossible to tell where he ends and Eddie begins. It’s so disgustingly sweet that Eddie sort of wants to cry. Instead, he buries his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck and leaves a soft kiss just behind his ear.

“Hi, baby,” Eddie breathes as Steve rests one of his hands atop the one Eddie has tucked under his side and laces their fingers together. He leans forward slightly to kiss Steve’s cheek, just because he can, and before he can pull away to settle against the pillow, Steve turns his head to capture Eddie’s lips in a soft, barely-there kiss. The kind of kiss that instantly settles even the most frantic parts of Eddie’s soul.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, lips still brushing together, and Eddie can both hear and feel the way his mouth has curved upwards into a smile. Eddie gives him one more peck on the lips before they both fall into their pillows again. “Missed you,” Steve whispers. It makes Eddie smile and shake his head with tired amusement.

“Missed you, too,” he whispers, even though it’s only been ten or so hours since they last saw each other. Christ, when did he become such a goddamn sap?

(He knows the answer to that question, obviously. Eddie “The Freak” became Eddie “The Sap” the first time Steve Harrington looked at him with that secret little smile on his face – the one he reserves for Eddie and Eddie alone, these days. The one that silently says, I love you.)

Steve hums contentedly and snuggles deeper into Eddie. God, he’s so fucking sweet like this. Eddie loves him so fucking much.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, moving his free hand to run his fingers through Steve’s hair, because he knows it helps his baby sleep.

Steve’s voice is already sleepy again when he murmurs, “’kay,” and then, even softer: “Love you.”

Eddie smiles. Holds Steve just a little bit tighter. Gives Steve’s hand an extra little squeeze and marvels at the fact that after everything – after murder accusations and monsters and government payouts and three fucking years as a senior at Hawkins High – he gets to have this. And sure, maybe he’s feeling a little extra sappy because of the simple ring he’s got buried in his guitar case – the one Robin helped him pick out just a few days ago, even though they can’t technically get married in the state of Indiana. Maybe that’s why he smiles a bit wider tonight with Steve in his arms…why his heart thumps a bit harder at every sleepy snuffle his boyfriend makes…

But the sappiness stopped bothering him a long time ago, when his sharpest edges were sanded out by the presence of the little family he found in the aftermath of the Upside Down, so Eddie doesn’t mind. Soon, he’ll be able to fall asleep next to his fiancé, instead of his boyfriend. They’ll get to call all of their adoptive rugrats and tell them the news, and Steve will be beaming so brightly it might just blind him. And it’ll be perfect.

For now, Eddie just lets himself sink into the warmth of having Steve Harrington in his arms.

And he sleeps.

This is for @steddie-week Day 5: Established Relationship. Just a little ficlet that popped into my head at literally 2 in the morning. I hope y'all enjoy!

#steddie week #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fluff #steddie cuddles #cuddles #soft steddie #I literally love them so much #plz I just want them to be HAPPY #and sleepy Steve would be adorable I will take no arguments #mcdynamite writes

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stop-talking · 1 month

Text

Open wide

Mike Schmidt x gender-neutral reader

2.8k words

Tags: 18+, no use of y/n, smut, porn with plot, extremely unrealistic scenario but it's funny, mike is a horny bastard & a sub, handjob (mike receiving), post-movie, mike's POV!

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Mike can't even remember the last time he went to the dentist.

Well, he CAN remember, he just doesn't want to. He was a child the last time he went, and only bits and pieces of the experience stuck with him. An old man poking bony gloved fingers into his mouth, having his teeth scraped with a hook, and being scolded for not brushing good enough.

Yeah. The dentist is not a fond memory for Mike. That's part of the reason he hasn't bothered to go in over ten years. (The other part being that he's spent most of early adulthood broke as fuck; and values groceries over trips to the oral hygienist.)

But with his new job, and the healthcare benefits that come along with it... well, he really has no excuse not to go.

So, he sits in a small room with blue walls and ocean-themed décor, squirming on the weird lounge chair. There's a giant mirror over his head, and he can't help but be reminded of those funhouse mirrors at the circus. The ones that twist and contort your face in an unsettling way.

"Hey, Mr. Schmidt, right?" You make your way through the door, scanning over a clipboard.

Is this the dentist? Mike scrambles to sit up in the awkwardly-reclined chair and hold out a hand for you to shake.

"Uh, just 'Mike' is fine." He gives you a weak smile and a firm handshake before leaning back against the chair once more.

You introduce yourself as a dental assistant, and when he thinks about it, that makes more sense. You look young, probably close to his own age. And... rather attractive, actually.

Fuck. Did you just ask him a question?

"Sorry, I... I'm not sure..." He stutters, doing his best not to squirm under your gaze.

This seems to amuse you, because you try and fail to suppress a chuckle. Shit. Was that the wrong answer?

"You're not sure what flavor of toothpaste you want, Mike?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Mike sputters again, making a complete fool of himself. Before he can get out a complete thought, you cut him off.

"It's okay. Want me to just pick for you?"

He nods.

"Alright then, you look like a watermelon kind of guy. Is that fine?"

Another nod.

You smile and pull on a pair of blue gloves, matching your blue scrubs.

"Something tells me you haven't been here before."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yes... and no. I read it on your medical record just now." You give him a teasing smile and hold up the clipboard you'd been pouring over when you walked in.

Mike laughs nervously at what he's pretty sure was supposed to be a joke, and watches as you pull up a chair.

"I haven't exactly been going to regular checkups." He confesses.

"Well then, let's see what we're working with. Open up for me?"

He squints as you turn on a harsh overhead light attached to the mirror and angle it down so it shines right in his face. Damnit, what is this? An interrogation?

"Open up." You repeat, not asking this time.

Fuck. Why is that kind of...? Ugh, no. Not even going there. Mike tentatively opens his mouth, still blinking through the interrogation-esque lighting above him.

"There you go. A little wider, now."

Your fingers immediately find their way into his mouth, prying his jaws open further.

Mike's eyes go wider than his jaw when you pull out a hook and start scraping it against his teeth. What the fuck? He's feeling more and more like this is some kind of torture and interrogation ritual.

"I know, hun. No one likes the hook. Just relax." You coo, placing a hand on the side of his face and wedging your thumb between his teeth.

He takes a deep breath and melts back into the chair, letting himself be soothed by your voice. Mike tries to focus on your face above him instead of the horrible metal scraping his bones. The backlighting creates a halo around your head as you lean over him, reminding him of an angel.

You seem to notice his staring, because you smile down at him.

"So, tell me about yourself, Mike."

Mike's brow furrows in confusion. How the hell is supposed to answer that with a mouthful of latex-covered fingers and metal torture instruments?

"Uhhh..." He lets out a strained gargle, the only sound he can really make in this moment.

"Interesting..." You chuckle, still scraping away at his teeth.

"Tell me more."

Oh. You're teasing him. Fuck that.

Mike rolls his eyes, trying to make it clear he's not in the mood.

"Sassy, are we? Careful. I do have a hook in your mouth."

Christ. Are you threatening him now? Is this how trips to the dentist are supposed to go? Mike has no idea. So, he lets out another grunt.

"Your teeth actually look really nice. You brush at least twice a day?"

Mike nods slightly, scared to move too much with the hook scraping dangerously close to his gums.

"Good, good. Your teeth are so straight and bright."

Now you're complimenting him? Mike can feel his brain go fuzzy as he stares up into your eyes. The paper mask you're wearing covers the lower half of your face, sure, but your eyes are... entrancing.

He tries to say a quick "thanks", but with your thumb still wedged between his teeth... it comes out as more of an "Aahhh". And sounds suspiciously like a moan. Damnit.

"Got something to say?" You laugh softly, removing your fingers and tools from his mouth.

Mike takes the opportunity to close his mouth and feel over his teeth with his tongue. They feel... different.

"Just, uh, thanks..." He mumbles.

"Of course, you're doing so well."

Fuck. Are his jeans getting tighter?

Mike tries to subtly adjust himself while you turn to grab something off the nearby table. God damnit. This wouldn't happen if he wasn't so damn touch starved.

You put a little hose in his mouth and explain it's to rinse his mouth out. Or something like that. Mike isn't really listening, instead focusing solely on calming the fuck down.

"Oh, and sorry if I'm talking too much. I just transferred over from a pediatric office, so I'm used to having to distract my patients while I work. You probably don't need that, do you?"

He just gargles a response, mouth filling with water.

"Wait, here, don't swallow that."

Mike can't help but think he'd swallow anything if you told him to. Ugh. His jeans are definitely getting too tight.

You stick a different hose in his mouth, and it sucks out the watery saliva mixture.

"You're fine... I haven't been to the dentist since I was a kid, anyways."

"Really?" You ask, eyes lighting up as you lean over him again.

"Y-Yeah."

"Oh, but your teeth look so nice! Keep doing whatever you're doing, hun." You cup his face in your hands, leaning in close and gently pushing his lips back with your thumbs for a better look at his teeth.

Mike squirms slightly, a little intimidated by your firm grip on his face and intense scrutiny of his mouth. He tries to tug the hem of his hoodie down in an attempt to hide his growing boner. Fuck, he feels like such a pervert.

Of course, his movement only draws your attention down to his... ''problem area''.

You must be pretending not to notice, because your eyes flick back over to the table. As you get up to grab something, you casually bump the door with your hip and it swings shut.

What's that for? Mike is too embarrassed to ask, so he just waits patiently as you make your way back over with a toothbrush.

"Open for me." You playfully tap his lips with a finger, and Mike does as asked.

"Good, good... we're almost done here."

Mike feels a lot more relaxed like this. Your voice is soothing, and he stares up into your eyes as you brush his teeth. It's strange to have someone else do it for him, but hey, at least you're not using the damn hook anymore.

After a minute or so of this, he starts to calm down, the tent in his pants dying down as well. Thank god.

"Alright, gonna rinse your mouth again. If you have any needs or concerns regarding your teeth, now's the time to tell me."

Mike gently shakes his head no, mouth filling with water as you rinse his teeth with the little hose.

"You sure? Nothing else you want?"

Are you... flirting with him? Or is this just how these things go? Mike's head spins as you put the toothbrush back in his mouth again.

"Just gonna brush your tongue... Say 'ahh' for me!"

Mike lets out a weak ''ahh'', that, again, sounds extremely similar to a moan. Fuck.

You slowly brush his tongue, going further and further back. Mike starts to shift in his seat, wondering just how much of his tongue he's supposed to be brushing. He certainty never goes this far, it's almost at the back of his throat... Still, he tits his head back slightly, letting you go even deeper.

"Damn. No gag reflex, or just used to this sort of thing?" You tease, smirking so obviously he can see it through the mask.

Okay, yeah. You're definitely flirting with him.

Mike just sputters and chokes in response, unable to speak while practically deepthroating the damn toothbrush.

"Sorry, let me get that out..."

When his mouth is finally his own again, free of intrusive fingers and oral hygiene instruments, he clears his throat. There's a familiar tightness in his jeans, and he's sure by now that you've noticed.

"Uhh... I..."

You take off your mask and he can finally see your whole face again. Your smile is attractive, no doubt, but also a little... hungry? You want something from him.

Mike isn't sure he could resist if you asked.

"So, you're sure there's nothing else... bothering you?" You ask, eyes trailing down to the tent in his jeans.

Ah, fuck. There's no hiding it now, huh? Mike tries to at least sit up slightly in the chair, but ends up a squirming mess instead.

"I..." He starts, swallowing hard.

"Are you offering...?"

As if to answer his unspoken question, you stand up from your chair and throw a leg over his.

He watches with wide eyes as you inch up his legs, straddling him and sitting just below his crotch.

"What do you think?"

Holy shit. What kind of a question is that? He "thinks" this is the hottest thing that's ever happened to him.

"More." He mumbles, bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your thighs.

That's all the confirmation you need, apparently. Before he can even process what's happening, you're grinding against his clothed cock.

Mike moves his hands up to your hips, watching as you remove the blue latex gloves with your teeth. God, that's got to be the most arousing thing he's ever seen, and he's not even sure why. He feels like a victorian man seeing an ankle. Is he really that goddamn desperate?

You brace your hands against his chest and lean in close, even more so than when you were prodding your fingers in his mouth.

Fuck. Mike decides he is definitely that desperate.

"You want this, don't you?" You ask sweetly, hot breath brushing against his lips.

He nods eagerly. Yes, he wants this. More than anything.

"Use your words, hun."

"I want this." He whines, bucking his hips up to meet yours while you grind on him. "I want you."

"I know." You whisper, bridging the small remaining gap between the two of you.

Mike kisses you back in earnest, moaning into your mouth when he finally feels your tongue slip between his lips.

He'd be content to stay like this forever, if his cock wasn't absolutely aching in his jeans. The grinding feels nice, yes, but he doesn't want to cum like this.

When you finally pull away and sit back up on him, he's left gasping for breath. Holy shit. Is this really happening?

"You really thought I wouldn't notice?" You ask, humming happily as you unzip his jeans.

Mike stammers out a response as you tug his pants down, squirming to help you get them off faster. He wishes you'd take the boxers off too, but he's not gonna push his luck.

"I-I couldn't help It... You're so..." He just looks up at you with pure admiration, letting his hands slide down your thighs.

"...perfect." Yeah, that's just about the only word describe you. No other would do you justice, not with how amazing you look on top of him like this.

"And you're already leaking."

Mike whimpers as you grope his dick, palming at it through his boxers. Fuck, you're not wrong. He can see the wet spot growing on his underwear. He tightens his grip on your thighs, desperate to feel you.

"More." He chokes out. "Please."

"Hmm... should I give you more?" You taunt him, giving his aching cock a firm squeeze through the fabric of his underwear.

"Yes!"

Mike is nearly shouting at this point, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He can only pray the room is somewhat soundproof.

"Well, I guess you have been good for me..."

You slowly peel down his boxers, and his dick springs up to slap against his stomach. A steady stream of precum is leaks from the tip, and his back arches from the sudden sensation.

"Fuck... yes... good... so, so good for you..." He bucks his hips up into nothing, desperately pulling you down his lap by your thighs.

He isn't thinking straight at this point. It doesn't matter that you're at work. It doesn't matter you're fully clothed. He needs you on his dick. NOW.

"Woah, woah... slow down, hun." Laughing, you take his hands by the wrists and move them to the armrests.

He doesn't resist, throwing his head back and groaning. He'd let you do whatever you want to him at this point. He just wants to cum.

"Please..." He whimpers, gripping the armrests tightly as your hand inches towards his cock.

"You gonna be good for me? And wait till I give you permission to cum?"

He nods, still bucking his hips up into your hand as you wrap your soft hand around his length.

"Say it." You demand, still just holding it, unmoving as he slips further and further into pure desperation.

"I'll be good f'you. I'll wait. I promise. S'good..."

Mike mumbles a barely-coherent response, half nonsense as he fucks your hand with even more intensity. He's losing it already, and you've haven't even started-

Fuck.

You start to jerk him off at a moderate pace, hand moving in synch with his hips.

"That feel good, hm?"

He just moans a response, too fucked out to form words. His hips stutter and he nearly comes just from the way you're talking to him.

When you take your hand away suddenly, he groans, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. You can't end this for him. Not yet.

Thankfully, you didn't seem eager to put a stop to things. You slide down his lap, resting right up against his cock.

"I swear, if you cum on my uniform, I'll make you lick it all up."

Shit. Mike nearly does just that as you lean down and furiously make out with him. It's the toothbrush all over again, with the way your tongue is punching down his throat. He's never felt this desired before.

One of your hands gently tugs at his curls, and the other pulls his lower back up into an arch as you grind against him. Fuck, If you don't slow down...

"I'm g-gonna... gonna cum..." He breaks the kiss, whining and desperately pushing back on your hips, trying to keep from finishing. He wants to be good for you. He really does.

"Do it." You whisper, moving down to kiss his neck as he whimpers.

"Cum for me."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Mike wakes up in a cold sweat, trembling and gasping for air. Shit, he had been suffocating with his face in a pillow.

And... fuck. Probably jutting his hips into the mattress, too.

He doesn't even have to look at his shorts to know they're ruined. Damnit. Another wet dream. At this point, he almost preferred the reoccurring nightmares. Almost.

Hey, his next dentist appointment is in... what, three months? Maybe this time he'd work up the nerve to ask you out.

Probably not.

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Author's note: I'M SORRY. Literally no one asked for this. Probably no one but me has ever gone "haha what if Mike has a praise kink and gets hard at the dentist". But it was so funny to me?? I had to stop what I was working on and write it IMMIDEATELY. I hope it wasn't too deranged.

I like to imagine his little dream is at least half true. Like, he's touch starved and ended up with an over-friendly oral hygienist who joked with him a little too much. And it made him feel things. But everything from the point of the door being closed and onwards is just his own twisted fantasy.

#josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt #mikeschmidt #fnafmovie #fnaf movie fanfic #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #jhutch1992

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soulreapin · 2 months

Note

kiss 21 with voltron.. maybe....

no u got it right!!!

prompt game: asks open

21: dealer’s choice.

Keith is a late riser on Earth.

Sure, on the Castle of Lions, he was awake at about five AM to go run around the long-range deck or something like that. But when he’s on Earth, and the day-night cycle is a beautiful and perfect 24 hours, his eyes don’t open before 9.

Like today.

He rolls over in bed, yawning and tucking his chin into Lance’s—

Lance’s bony shoulder isn’t right next to him for Keith to roll into and hook his chin into the crook between his shoulder and his neck. His eyes flicker open to the empty right side of their shared bed.

Keith sits up in a mild panic, sucking in a breath through his nose and out through his mouth every few seconds, looking around the bedroom. Their small house on the beach is, well, small. Lance can’t have gone very many places.

He’s lived by divide and conquer since he was a kid, so that’s what he does; divide the house between him and him, and then gets out of bed to conquer it.

The bathroom connected to their bedroom is empty, but the sink is wet and Lance’s moisturizer is open. He was in here recently, which brings some modicum of stability to his hard-beating heart.

Keith slips out of their room and pads barefoot into the kitchen, blinking rapidly to banish the sleepiness from his heavy eyes, and sees Lance standing guard over the stove.

Oh. Their kitchen smells of frying potatoes and all the nerves clenching Keith tight disappear. He combs a hand through his uncombed hair and trudges through the kitchen, coming up behind Lance and wrapping his arms around his waist.

Apparently, the days where Keith woke up in a tight panic were not quite behind him. Lance’s shoulder twitches, but he glances down at the thin, calloused hands linked at his ribs and relaxes. “How was your coma, Red?”

“Mmmn,” Keith murmurs into Lance’s shoulderblade, “Thought y’were gone.”

Lance has the forethought to turn off the stove and set the warm pan on a burner a little further away from them, turning around in Keith’s arms. “Not possible. I died twice and I’m still here to kick your ass.”

That rouses Keith a little, pulling back a little and squinting. “There’s no way you can be joking about that at nine in the morning.”

“It’s seven am, and it’s never too early.”

Keith lets a smile twist into his face despite Lance’s joke about the most horrible moments of Keith’s whole life, space whale included, and leans up slightly to kiss Lance.

He tastes like spiced potatoes and peppers (fucker had been snacking on breakfast while he’d been cooking.) Lance shifts, and then pulls away first, brushing an errant piece of Keith’s bangs off his forehead and behind his ear.

“The potatoes are gonna get cold,” Lance reminds him, pressing a kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth.

He shrugs. “S’fine. We’ve got a microwave.”

“But they’re better fresh,” Lance argues, even as Keith kisses each individual freckle starring Lance’s face. “And I made bacon.”

“You can’t manipulate me with bacon.” Keith says onto the thin skin of Lance’s cheek.

Lance grabs Keith’s chin and gently nudges him backwards. “Bacon and tea, then. And potatoes. You’re Texan, you can’t say no to potatoes and bacon.”

He grumbles, but Lance is right. He can’t say no to bacon and potatoes.

#soulasks #vld #voltron #keith kogane #vld keith #keith voltron #lance mcclain #vld lance #klance #voltron legendary disappointment #lance vld #lance voltron #fanfiction #vld fanfic

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pixel-cherry-pie · 3 months

Text

I'm back with my "monotremes" synapsid dragons and as always I'm widely open to any kind of suggestions so feel free to comment!

I realise that the design didn't change much, but in the end I was so stuck that I ended up just practicing and understanding better the anatomy. As you can see in the last panel I tried to draw them without horns, but I'm not a fan tbh. How do you feel about them? I'm aware that mammal carnivores don't have horns of any sort but I know early carnivore synapsids had some king of bony formations... I like the feets better, they kinda look like hands and they feel right, even if I can definitely imagine many other dragons with paws adapted for many purposes. For the flying panel I heavily relied on @ikrutt drawing of @jayrockin griffin to help me understand how this beast could possibly fly?? I'm somewhat satisfied but I might be horribly wrong! I really enjoy the colors! Obviously the blue nose it's a little farfetched but I'm calling mandrills to justify it.

#my art #feel free to interact #I'm open to any suggestion!#synapsid dragon #drawing #digital sketch #dragon #fantasy art #fantasy #speculative biology #speculative zoology #speculative dragon #imaginary animal #lovely nose #flying dragon #mammal dragon #furry dragon

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toadcircus · 2 years

Text

kinda fucked up how youtubers can say “I genuinely love you so much!!” into a camera at the end of every single video as if that isn’t one of the saddest depiction of modern life

#little bony horribles #so many of them do it or something along those lines and its just kinda fucked up because no you dont there is no way you could?#parasocial

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mr2swap · 1 year

Text

I'm already regretting this

-Man, is this how you feel all the time? God! This feels so weird but so good! Look at my biceps they are huge they are the size of your head and look at you now! From up here, you look so small and so pathetic, that's how you see me all the time dude, that body sucks!-

In front of me was Fred now in my muscular and huge body, flexing his now huge and perfect giving me a show with his newly acquired new weapons, it's a bit strange to see myself and my body see how many years it took me to build in the gym being handled by someone as weak and pathetic as Fred is.

I'm already regretting this, when I was about to fail my chemistry exam I had no choice but to ask my goth sister for help with a magic solution or some sorcery shit, I didn't think the only thing she would come up with was my stupid fat sister would be spelled to swap bodies with the most pathetic nerd in the whole fucking school, I dragged him into the school bathroom and I told him my plan at first he thought I was playing one of my pranks on him but then reading the spell aloud our souls came out of our mouths and swapped places.

It feels so weird being under 2 meters and having this pathetic skinny body. How the fuck can Fred live like this? This is so fucking humiliating that I want to die but I need to pass the exam ormy parents are going to kill me.

- quiet man, lower your voice someone can hear you! - I said using my pathetic and shrill voice, damn! Even my voice is horrible now. -

-We're not even friends or anything, you're just the punching bag the baseball team uses to blow off steam when they lose a game, oh… by the way, maybe you should go home early, I heard you guys didn't do so well at the game last night and with that fagot face even I want to hit you now. -

-And what are they going to do if someone listens to me? I'm Thomas Green! alpha male of this school, besides no one is going to believe this shit that you and I exchanged our bodies- Without wasting time Fred dipped his face in one of the sweaty cans that were now his and inhaled all the smelly aroma that came out of that wet and hot armpits.

-Fred take it easy, it's only during the day, tomorrow we'll go back to our bod- oh SHIT, I forgot that I also have a geography test and a arithmetic test-All my life you were Athletic and huge practically the gym is my second home and now everything I had worked for and was admired for was in front of me, but it was no longer mine.

-relax man I'm just having fun with you, should worry about "yourself" from now-

Sure, being in Fred's skinny body sucked, but it was a small price to pay for all the sex and fun we'll have on the beach with the cheerleading squad, but right now I couldn't imagine being in that situation. I felt weak. Sick and a little excited to see all my hard work in the gym in front of me.

- I also remind you that if you weren't stupid enough to pass the exams yourself, you wouldn't be in this situation, Let me have a little fun With "my" huge muscles, and you don't go to summer school, deal?-

A calloused hand that had been molded every day by lifting the weights in the gym, he was smiling showing off My white teeth and that charismatic smirk that I had used to lure countless girls into my bed, "Just... take it." Calmly, I don't want anyone to think that I went crazy... - I extended my hand to close our deal, The comparison of our hands was evident, he was strong and Norma and mine were bony, weak, and pale, he squeezed my hand hurting me a bit and making me step back and fall on the wet bathroom floor.

- I'm sorry man I'm not used to being a fucking God, anyway I have things to do see you later NERD! - As he left the bathroom door he laughs a little, leaving me alone wet from what didn't seem to be water, Damn I'm already regretting this...

Hey! You can support me to continue creating stories, see similar stories on my patreon, you can also join my discord if you are interested in role-playing about bodyswap, possession and transformation, m2m!

#bodyswap #body swap #male body swap #body switch #male transformation

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riconas · 10 months

Note

rico, i must request my boys from you. mountain/rain, can u make them messy for me pls 🙏🙏

fuck yeah water ghoul slip n slide

tags: edging, orgasm denial, hyperspermia, so much cum you guys i do not even know how to tell you how much cum we are dealing with here

nsfw under the cut!

“Oh,” Rain moans, as another spurt of pre splatters onto his stomach. “Mountain, c’mon. Not fair.”

“Life is unfair,” Mountain agrees. Propped on one elbow, stretched out beside Rain’s quivering body, he’s got the best view in the world. He drags a finger up the underside of Rain’s cock, watching it twitch. So sensitive.

Rain sniffles. “How many more?”

“Haven’t decided.” He’s so messy. So wet. Absolutely covered in his own pre, covered in Mountain’s cum. It pools in the dip of his navel, in the creases of his hips. Mountain had made Rain jerk him off first, just to taunt him. Just to show him what he was missing.

Now he closes his fingers around the tip of Rain’s cock, teasing. Drags his loose fist up and down, nothing more than a brush of skin on skin. Barely any contact, but Mountain is sure Rain’s worked up enough that he could probably cum from that alone.

That’s a plan for another day.

Another glob of pre squeezes out of his slit. Mountain gathers it up onto his fingertips and smears it across Rain’s twitching stomach. He's been at it long enough that the smaller splatters have begun to dry, thick and tacky. It’ll be a pain to clean up later.

“Mount,” Rain whines, and Mountain takes his hand away as that blushing cock twitches valiantly. Rain’s hips twitch right there with it, a sad little motion that has Mountain laying a palm on his thigh to soothe him.

(He’d normally lay that palm on Rain’s stomach, but he doesn’t feel like getting sticky handprints all over everything.)

“That looked close.”

Rain whimpers, miserable, fingers digging creases into the sheets. “It was.”

“How close?” Mountain takes the tip of Rain’s cock between his thumb and index finger, rubbing up and down. He’s really hard. It’s got to hurt.

“Really close,” Rain gasps.

Mountain doesn’t know why Rain does this to himself, really. Kinky little masochist. He grabs Rain’s cock and squeezes the base nice and tight, and Rain throws his head back, hitting the pillow with a muffled thump.

“You're horrible,” Rain groans. “I wanna cum.”

“I know.”

“Let me cum.”

“Nope.” Mountain uses a finger to press Rain’s cock against his stomach, into the puddle of sticky white fluid. It springs back up when he lets go, and a string of pre follows, stretching upwards in a milky white line. “So wet,” he says lovingly.

“Could be wetter,” Rain grits out. “If you weren’t being an ass.”

“Mm-hm.” He does it again, admiring the way it glistens in the soft light of his bedroom, and he swears Rain arches his back a little this time, bony shoulders pressing dents into the mattress.

“What will you do?”

Rain blinks stupidly up at him. “Huh?”

“Can’t think now, can you?” Mountain slaps one of his nipples, gentle and playful. Again, no force, but Rain shudders all the same. “What will you do for me? If I let you cum?”

“Anything,” Rain says immediately.

Mountain smiles. It’s always a fun question to ask, because Rain tends to forget what he says when he’s horny. Anything includes doing this again.

“Promise?”

“I swear! Please, come on, let me—”

Mountain holds out his pinky, just for good measure, and he has to hold in a laugh at how desperately Rain links his pinky with Mountain’s, thumb-to-thumb.

“Okay,” he laughs, lacing his sticky fingers with Rain’s trembling ones. “Okay, you can cum. I’m sorry, tadpole. I’m sorry I made you wait.” He wraps his fingers around Rain’s dick, feels it drool even more slick. Gives it a little twist this time, just the way Rain likes it.

“Promise you won’t stop,” Rain gasps, and Mountain does feel a little bit guilty. Like he’s broken Rain’s trust, or something—which he has, he supposes, but still. Guilty.

He leans in to press their lips together, more to shut himself up than Rain. Rain whines into it, lips parting automatically, and Mountain gives him one cursory lick before pulling away.

“Do you really need my hand?” he asks, and the way Rain’s face twists in despair has him regretting it immediately.

Not sounding very threatening, Rain hisses, “I will drown your plants.”

That’s yes, then.

“Please don’t do that,” Mountain says gently.

“Gonna cum,” Rain chokes out, and Mountain doesn’t stop this time, just keeps jacking him until he’s squirting thick, hot ropes all over himself, all over Mountain’s hand, hips jerking into his fist. His stomach gets drenched with it, the sheets thoroughly soaked with the excess dripping over the sides of his waist. There’s so much, an honest-to-Satan impossible amount. A fucking sea of cum, Mountain swears.

Rain’s got a hand thrown over his face, hiding himself, but Mountain can see the way he’s biting on his lower lip, and decides he wants to see the rest, too. He knocks that hand away, so Rain has no choice but to look at him with those wide, wet eyes, tears of overwhelm threatening to spill over.

“Good?” he asks, and Rain manages a tiny nod. “Play with it,” and Rain brings a quivering hand to his stomach, dips his fingers into the mess. Something like wonder in his eyes as he holds his hand to the light, watches it glisten.

Mountain can’t resist. He leans in and takes Rain’s fingers into his mouth, tasting him, tasting them. He groans, stroking Rain even faster, like he’s trying to milk even more out of him. Rain pushes him away.

“No more, please,” he whispers, so Mountain wipes his hand on the sheets, brushes Rain’s hair out of his eyes. That’s all he manages before Rain’s eyes are slipping shut. Straight to the post-orgasm snooze.

“You made a mess,” Mountain says softly. He dips a finger into the splatters of cum on Rain’s chest, tracing it around his nipples, along the lines of his ribs. Playing with it. Making it worse. “Better clean it up.”

Rain just nods, beyond words. His head lolls to the side, and all Mountain can see of his eyes are two dark slivers of blue, shining with unshed tears.

“M’tired,” he says absently, still not quite there. “Feed it to me.”

#a SEA of it you heard me right #the band ghost #ficlet #rico writes #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain x rain #mountain/rain #fanfiction

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jester-lover · 10 months

Text

Hobie with a Desi! S/O

cw/ fem! Reader, horrible attempt at writing British people, including multiple desi cultures bc my girlies need all the representation we can get (it’s slim pickings out here) all fluff, some cultural struggles, but everything is resolved, mentions of insecurities

(LONG POST- headcanons and a drabble)

I'm goth and I had a literary awakening when Hobie showed up

There are literally only two ways I see the two of you meeting

The first involves you being a friend/relative of Pavitir’s, who is exceptionally happy his two homies are getting along

In this situation, Hobie would know a little more about you from the get go, and you most likely would know about him (Pav thinks he’s so cool, he’ll talk about his friends to anyone who’ll listen)

Another; in my opinion, funnier, way for the two of you to meet is him accidentally crashing a desi wedding when he’s on Spidey business

You would be mildly peeved with him for disturbing the wedding, but his spunk and generally opinionated personality make you fall for him

Either way, congratulations! You have the world’s loveliest punk boyfriend

As a boyfriend, Hobie loves helping out in any activity you need help with

He’s the type of boy who tries his absolute hardest to be there for any event that is important to you

No matter if its a massive grad party or a late night pizza run, Hobie is there and having the time of his life

Now, moving onto the cultural aspect, Hobie adores learning about other cultures

Your family is weary of him at first, because of the way he dresses primarily

He manages to find a place in their hearts after they see the way he treats you (with respect and dignity!!!!)

Also the fact that he eats whatever your mom makes, entire plate, man will lick it clean

(I mean, have you seen how much British people love takeaway?)

“Is your mum home yet?” “She’s making something good I bet, she always is.”

He can HANDLE spice, and he’s good with kids (his interaction with Mayday proved that to me)

Your parents may end up, in a shocking event, liking him!

Hobie is your biggest hype man whenever you wear cultural clothes, especially if they’re a little on the edgy side, dark colors and all that

Lehengas, shalwar kameez, sarees, etc, he loves them all

“You're dressed up, aren’t you?”

He’ll explain it to you in this mysticised ‘stepping on eurocentric beauty standards’ type of way, but you know deep down he just thinks you're super pretty

He’s obsessed with your features, no matter what you look like, he thinks you have the most perfect face in the world

If you ever make Hobie Desi food, he’ll be in love with you forever

He loves pani puri, especially if the pani is a lil spicier

His love language is acts of service, and you making him something to eat is like, you are nourishing him?? With bomb Desi food?? he’s is seeing heaven rn

He most DEF asks Pav (who then asks Gayatri) for advice on how to impress you

This leads to him, hanging onto your windowsill, with a Mendhi tube in his hand, and a calm smile on his face

As Hobie slid off his mask, his gorgeous hair fell to the sides of his sharp face. Placing the spiky mask on your side table, he sauntered towards your bed, abruptly sitting down and motioning for you to follow him.

You sighed, and smiled as you took your spot in front of him. He was alway so considerate, taking your interests into mind whenever he swung by.

“You know, I’m not a pro at this or anything.”

He grinned, almost wolfishly, and placed the small sharp tipped tube into your lap.

“I could care less, do anything on my hands.”

You gently took one of his hands into both of yours, spreading it out to see the flesh of his palm, his nails were painted red this week, courtesy of you, of course.

His long bony hand flexed as you gently took off each of his silverish rings, one by one.

You were completely focused on this simple act, treating him with a gentleness only you could offer him, a complete contrast from his usual existence.

“I don’t have a lot of time today, my cousin’s getting married, we have to go to some pre wedding events.”

Hobie perked up in interest, sliding his free hand to smooth out your gingham sheets.

“And what do you plan to wear?”

His mind flashed through all the traditional clothes he’s seen you in, each more ornate and beautiful than the last.

“The lehenga most likely, the peach-ish one, with the sparkles.”

You undid the little plastic pin at the top of the Mehendi tube, applying a slight pressure and making a small line on his palm to start out with.

Hobie looked at you closely, remembering the last time he saw that specific lehenga.

“That one’s cute.”

You laughed a little, looking down at your messy drawing.

“I was going for a flower but it sorta looks like a palm tree.”

He looked down at his hand, a messy smudgy, and less than finished flower was on his palm.

“Maybe, a couple more petals on the top, yeah?”

You squeezed the Mendhi tube again, carefully drawing three extra petals on the top.

“There! I think that's good.”

Hobie looked down at his palm and kept a laugh back, poorly albeit.

The flower wasn’t necessarily bad, just a little wonky.

“It's absolutely beautiful.”

You smiled.

“Hold your hand still until it dries, then peel off the crumbly bits, okay?”

Hobie mockingly saluted with his other hand, matching your smile.

“Anything you say.”

You giggled, taking his face in your hands gently, careful to avoid snagging one of his piercings.

“What am I ever gonna do without you?”

His expression turned a little soft, keeping his smile steady.

“Let's hope it never has to come to that.”

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smoke-and-silver · 3 months

Note

May I hear more about Rain comforting a tearful sister overwhelmed with all the duties and demands being thrown at the new initiates and worried she will be sent back home to a horrible religious farm.

Oddly specific my bad.

Of course!! No apologies needed :3

Rain ghoul comforts initiate!reader.

Feeling Blue

You had been sat on some steps in the outside cloister for about an hour, now. It was evening, with the sky slowly turning the color of twilight and everyone inside getting ready for dinner. That made it the perfect time to slip away alone. Your feelings were overwhelming you and you needed to vent them. So, you sat down on the steps and allowed yourself to cry for a while.

So distracted you were by your pain, you didn’t even hear someone approaching. Two boots came into view and stopped in front of you, causing you to jolt and look up. Rain, a mellow and quiet ghoul you had met a few weeks prior, stood there with his arms held behind his back, and he leaned his torso to the side until he could see your tear-stained face clearly.

“Troubled, Sister?”

You swallowed roughly and tried to steady your breathing a bit. He had already caught you crying, and you didn’t want to make anyone’s impression of you worse with how you’d been struggling your first few weeks here. You wracked your mind for a believable excuse. It wouldn’t look good to admit that you couldn’t handle the tasks given to you, surely.

“I just… suddenly felt very homesick, that’s all.” you said. That should do it. You were a new recruit, after all, so it’s believable that your mind would still wander to your old home now and then.

But the ghoul in front of you remained silent, still waiting. His tail swished slowly behind him in languid motions. There was no annoyance on his face, nor smugness for detecting your lie, just a soft look of patience as he waited for the real answer. Your shoulders slumped a bit as you realized you would have to come clean. It was a little silly to fib to a being so old, anyways. With the ghouls often being so goofy, it was easy to forget how long ago they were formed.

You heard clothes rustling as he stepped a little closer and knelt in front of you. The ghoul held both his hands out, with his palms facing up. His fingers were long and kind of bony, and up close like this you could see calluses from his years of playing, and each of the little rings he liked to wear. You sniffled a bit and then slowly reached out, sliding your hands into his. The ghoul squeezed them gently and you found his hands surprisingly warm. A bit of the nervousness left your chest and you felt less shaky.

“There’s so much to do, and I fall further behind each day,” The words slipped out without even trying. “I spend every day playing catch up on things I have left to do, and I wake up with even more things being added to the plate.” Tears were beginning to fill your eyes again and you fought them back. When you spoke again your voice was strained, as you struggled to keep from blubbering in front of the demon.

“There’s no need to restrain yourself,” he said, seeing how hard you were trying not to cry. “You wouldn’t have been created with tears if they didn’t serve a purpose.”

A choked sob forced its way out after that and you felt like a dam broke inside you. Your shoulders shook as you cried openly, the tears hot against your cheeks as they ran down your face. You squeezed his hands and let the feelings out without resisting them. He held your hands tight without saying anything, and after a few minutes your breathing began to even out and the sobs slowly subsided.

“Can I sit there with you, Sister?”

Your breathing wasn’t quite even enough to speak yet, but you nodded your head. Keeping his hold on your hands, Rain moved to sit next to you on the steps. You had to admit, despite your current turmoil, that it felt surreal. Only a few months ago you didn’t even know that demons existed, now you could feel one pressed against your side. You could faintly smell just a touch of cologne on him. It was light. It reminded you of the lilies in the cathedral’s pond.

“I don’t want to go back,” You said slowly. “I know I’ll have to leave if I can’t keep up, but I can’t be sent back to where I was before. That terrible place…”

Rain paused for a moment, before slowly leaning his head down to you.

“Ahh.. you could not leave, you have already bound your soul to the ministry.” He stated. He sounded confused, as if you should have known already. A long pause followed. You racked your brain for any memory of this condition. Sure, you joined the ministry, but bound to it? As in, trapped here? As far as you knew you had been free to leave at any time. Your heartbeat quickened a little and you began to stutter in confusion.

“That was only a joke,” Rain patted your hand comfortingly. Your shoulders sagged in relief and you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. The tension was melting away and you were beginning to smile, just a little.

Rain sandwiched your hands between his and looked at you earnestly now. Behind his mask, you could see just how dark his eyes were, like the blackest part of a deep lake.

“The Old One entrusted your care to us.” His voice was quiet and steady as he spoke. “It’s our job to guide you through problems, not to expel you for having them.”

It almost made you want to cry again, the way the weight on your shoulders seemed to dissipate so quickly.

“But, there’s still so much..”

“You’ll find a rhythm, and until then, you have everyone in the ministry to take care of the work that’s leftover.”

You couldn’t help it when you immediately shook your head and began to argue.

“N.. no, that’s not fair to them. They shouldn’t have extra work placed on them because of me–”

“We would not have recruited you if we didn’t expect a few extra dishes.”

You were speechless. There wasn’t much you could say to argue with that, but it still felt wrong to make them pick up your slack. Your mouth opened and closed as you searched for words, shaking your head in silent protest still. Rain only smiled and gave your hands another comforting squeeze.

“I heard the other Sisters discussing who would take over your sweeping day for you. They want to see you happy here, you know.” His words surprised you. Was that true? Did the other Sisters conspire to lighten your load? They offered to take the extra work… willingly?

Your heart began to feel warm and Rain smiled a bit wider. He rose to his feet and kept hold of your hands to gently pull you up with him.

“Now, it’s getting dark and you need to eat. Off you go.” He ‘ordered’, and gestured towards the kitchens, where the windows were glowing with warm light.

You would go off to the dining hall, where Rain would join after gathering up the other Ghouls, and everyone would eat together that night, and you would go to bed with your heart feeling less sore, and in the coming weeks you would notice some of your chores already done for you, and maybe, this strange new place would start to feel just a little more like something you could call ‘home’.

#ghost ghouls #ghost the band #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul

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ramsayxme · 2 months

Text

You've Been Watching Me.

You dried your dripping hands across the front of your horribly filthy skirt. Back home, you wouldn't even allow your lowest servant to wear such a filthy piece of clothing. Everything was different now, you sighed as you finished washing the last dish. You could still hear the loud laughter trickling in from the dining hall while you emptied the washing bucket down the drain. You didn't have servants anymore; you were the servant.

You didn't remember much about when Ramsay Bolton captured you, but you did remember you lost everything. You used to have your own warm bed to sleep in with layers and layers of carefully hand woven blankets draped all across, each with a beautiful design. You used to love to run your hand along the intricate designs that were woven with such grace, skill, and care...Now you fiddle with the loose twine that holds your skirt from falling down to your ankles. Not quite as beautiful.

You can't even begin to imagine what you look like now. Your long brown hair felt wiry and stringy but greasy and oily at the same time. Your eyes felt sunken from lack of sleep. You felt bony and scrawny, unable to remember the last time you felt the sensation of fullness in your belly. You sighed as you exited the kitchen chamber and into the hallway. There was one good bit about being captured, though. Your captor was a handsome monster.

Of course, you knew how horrible, vicious, and vile this man was. After all, you had witnessed it first hand a few times so far. Regrettably, there was something about him that peaked your interest. There was a slight sexiness to the way he asserted dominance and power, as if he had no fears in the whole world. You had studied Ramsay's face many times while he was asserting his power, and you had always noticed the way he lit up. It was obviously arousing for him to watch people squirm until they give in to him.

Last week, you had watched in the shadows while he tortured and mutilated the man who was formerly known as Theon Greyjoy, now just a broken pet named Reek. You felt yourself heat up just by watching him abuse his power and ever since then, you had fantasized about him using that power on you. You were obviously ashamed of this, but you knew it was just a fantasy and nothing more.

You finally reached your bed chambers, your bare feet chilled from the cold stone of the castle. You walked over to your small fire that was still glowing, and you climbed on your unstable 'bed' right in front of the stone fireplace. It was made with a plank resting on uneven stones and covered with a few pelts. It was wildly uncomfortable. Your room was tiny, but you weren't in it much. You were either doing your chores or sneaking around, trying to catch glimpses of Ramsay throughout the day. You liked watching him.

You were so unimportant to him that he never noticed you. You could just pretend to be sweeping the floor while he ate dinner, cleaning the linens while he screamed at another servant, or just simply laying low in the shadows like you did the other day. You felt your adrenaline rush when you watched him. You couldn't help yourself!

You began warming your ice cold toes by the fire, reaching down and rubbing them slightly. You were lost in your thoughts when you heard your door slam. As you jumped to turn around, you saw one of the other servants standing at your door. It was a scraggly looking boy, you guessed not much older than 15. "Oh. You scared me." You said, turning back towards the fire. The boy still stood at your door. "What is it?"

He looked down at the floor. "Ramsay has requested you." You felt your heart race in secret. "What? Why? I haven't done anything wrong." You had not yet turned back to the boy. "I don't know." He muttered, "He asked for you. Let's go, before he gets angry at me." The boy had just planted an idea in your head. Poor boy.

"I don't believe you." You smirked, still facing the fire. "Come on!" He begged, a little louder and much more desperate this time. "You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting, please..." You sighed and stood up to face the boy. "What do you imagine he wants from me?" You pretended to be too scared to go with him. The boy quickly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but we can find out. Please. Hurry." He was truly terrified. You felt excitement bubble up in you. "Fine." You finally agreed.

The boy led you down the hallway to one of the side chambers. It was similar to the dining hall but a little smaller. He pushed the door, causing a loud squeaking noise to fill the air. You stepped inside and saw Ramsay sitting at the table. He was alone. You felt a shiver slither up your spine, but it wasn't fear. You tried to look scared.

"That took... longer than I wanted." Ramsay said softly, his eyes staring into the young boy. You heard the boy shift his weight, obviously uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. She... she didn't want to come right away, she moved slowly." He whispered, his eyes glancing at your feet on the floor. You shook your head, determined to make Ramsay angry at the boy. You felt guilty, but you wanted to watch him get mad. "Not true, Ramsay. He got lost on the way. I tried to tell him to take a left after the dining hall, but he didn't listen to me."

The boy's jaw hung slack as he stared at you, realizing what you were doing. "I see." Ramsay said, his eyes still stuck on the boy. You watched Ramsay inhale deeply as he pulled his shoulders back. He was wearing a front buttoned vest with a wool long sleeve underneath it. His curly dark hair swooped over his eyebrows and his piercing blue eyes shifted around underneath. His jaw was strong as he grit his teeth. He exhaled his breath with the words "Come here", directed to the boy. He sulked over, slouching wit defeat as he approached Ramsay.

Ramsay reached out and grabbed a handful of the boy's horribly messy hair. He yanked him down to his face and whispered something into the boys ear. You couldn't hear what he said, but you felt yourself get excited watching Ramsay be so powerful. The boy shuddered as Ramsay let go of his hair, a smile breaking across his face. "Run along now!" Ramsay yelled, sending the boy running out the door. He swung it shut as he left, causing it to slam loudly.

Now, it was just you and Ramsay...alone.

"Yes, Ramsay, what did you need from me?" You ask, breaking the silence in the room. Ramsay smiles, his lips slowly unveiling his sharp incisors as he grins wider. "Have you enjoyed it?" He asked, his voice deep and quiet. You felt a wave of anxiety flow across your torso. "Enjoy what?" You asked. He did not answer you. He simply lifted his hand and gave a 'come here' motion. His eyes were peering at you from behind his curls. You swallowed a small bubble of nerves as you stepped closer to him.

He did not seem satisfied until you were at the other edge of the table, directly across from him. He looked up at you, his shoulders square and his breathing steady. You stared in silence for a moment before he began chuckling. "You do enjoy it!" He laughed. You still weren't sure what he was saying but before you could ask, he answered for you. "You've been watching me."

You opened your mouth to argue, but Ramsay kept going. "You think you're sneaky, but you're not, no you are far from it! Do you really think I don't know everything that happens around here?" He swirled his finger around in the air, indicating the whole castle. "I noticed you watching me the first time you did it. I saw you in the corners when I was..." his eyes rolled around as he was trying to find the right words. "...playing with Reek."

Again, you opened your mouth to speak. "You like it, don't you?" Ramsay asks more firmly this time. All you can do is slowly nod your head. He knows. He has known this whole time. "What exactly do you enjoy about it? Do you like hearing the screams of pain too? Or is it something else?" He asks you. His eyes are very intense. He is staring directly at your face and you feel your cheeks flush. "I...." "Speak up, dear. I can't hear you." He grinned.

"I like watching you... I don't really know what it is, but I like watching you be powerful." Ramsay snickers at this. "It is not the torture alone that you enjoy, but its watching me torture others? You like my power?" He asked you although his voice oozed with confidence that he already knew the right answer. You hesitated to answer, and with a ~shing~ you heard Ramsay unsheathe one of his knives from his belt, twirling it in his hand, and then pointing it at you. "Answer me." He demanded, his eyebrows raised.

Oh, Gods. You swallowed another bubble, but again, it wasn't fear. You felt a breathy whimper slowly escape your lips as you sighed. "Yes." His eyes seemed to light up to your response, and perhaps also the moan that crept out. "Wonderful." He said, still pointing the knife at you. "Come here." He demanded. You swiftly walked around the table and stood facing him at his side. Your breathing was quick, you were so close to touching him.

He stood up quickly, pushing the chair out from under him with a loud scrape on the floor. He turned to you, making direct and intense eye contact immediately. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. He slowly brought the knife up to your neck and pressed the tip of the blade against your throat. "Now," He began, his voice low and breathy, his face only inches from yours. "I want you to do something for me to show me how much you enjoy watching me. Can you do that for me?"

You gently nodded your head, staring into his hungry eyes. He pressed the knife against you harder, the edge of it barely nicking your jaw. "Use your words." He groaned through gritted teeth. "Yes... yes, I can do it..." You didn't recognize your own voice. It sounded smoother and thicker than usual. Ramsay dropped the blade on the table. "Are you going to do anything I say?" He asked, almost cooing at you. His lips were close enough to your face that if you barely leaned forward, you would be kissing him. You felt the warmth of his breath on your own lips.

"Yes, I will do anything you-" Before you can finish your sentence, his hand wraps around your throat tightly. You feel your airway cut off and watch his eyes widen as he chokes you. You reach your hands up and place them on the hand around your throat out of instinct. His eyes dart across your face, almost as if he is examining every tiny movement you make. You notice his breathing is steady and controlled even though his eyes are wild and his teeth are barred. He lets his grip loosen a bit, but doesn't completely let go. You want him.

You lean forward slightly, in hopes to kiss him. He doesn't allow you, his grip tightens when you lean. "What do you think you're doing?" He chuckles at your pathetic attempt of romance. "Are we making love now? No, I don’t believe we are." Ramsay just laughs at you as he releases your throat and sits back down in the chair. "Get under the table." He demands. You do not hesitate this time.

You crouch under the table and sit on your shins, the stone is hard on your knees but you can't seem to be bothered. Ramsay scoots his chair back so he can peer down at you, and you stare up at him. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat and your stomach. You watch him intently as his hands dip to his trousers and he unlaces his waistband, his gaze never leaving your face. You watch as he pulls on his trousers, releasing his erection for you. You sharply inhale, watching him do this is something you thought was only possible in your dark fantasies. He snickers as he pulls himself out of his pants completely, and interlaces his fingers before resting his hands on the table in front of him. He stares down at you with a dominant glare and you feel yourself melt slightly.

You sit eagerly on the floor, watching him as he raises his eyebrows at you. “Well? You enjoy watching me, now let me enjoy watching you.” You feel your stomach flip in your body with excitement. You scoot forward on your shins and place your head on his knee. You stare up at him and manage to whisper “I’ve been fantasizing about this for days.” He gives you a closed lip smile and nods. “I know. I can tell. Now, go on…” You take a deep breath in and stare at his erection. You can’t believe this is about to happen. You want to pleasure him more than you’ve ever wanted to do anything in your life. You reach your hands up and wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft as you place your lips on the warm tip of his cock.

Slowly, you began kissing the head. You swirl your tongue gently as you allow your eyes to flutter shut. His head is soft and smooth, your tongue gliding across him with ease. You kiss deeper, allowing his entire tip in your mouth. You sense Ramsay take a deep breath, making your core heat up. You’re really pleasuring this powerful man. You feel so special and invincible. Your confidence seeps out of your body through your actions as you open your mouth wider and take in more of him. You were moving slow but with intention. You felt his cock in the back of your throat and you began bobbing up and down, methodically and determined. Ramsay sighed again, his hands must have left their spot at the table because one of his hands wrapped around your hair at the back of your neck. You felt the slight pressure on the back of your head as he placed his hand there, softly pushing your head down to ease his cock snugly in your mouth.

You continued to pleasure him, now allowing his cock to fully enter your throat. You started losing control as he began taking control, you knew this was bound to happen. You knew that Ramsay wouldn't actually give you full control. You felt him wrap your hair around his fist once, and then grip on it tightly. He pushed and pulled your head, using your mouth at whatever speed pleased him. It was uncomfortable for you, but you were more focused on the grunts and breathy sighs coming from his throat.

Without warning, he shoved his chair back and stood up; leaving you alone under the table with your dripping chin. "Get up." He growled, his grin proving that his demand was enticing. You stumbled to your feet and stood, your ass against the edge of the table. Ramsay smiled at you for a moment before diving his face into the crook of your neck. He yanked the fabric of your shirt down your shoulder, allowing the soft skin to be exposed to him. You sucked in a breath as he began kissing your neck eagerly with bites in between kisses. You felt yourself groan when he bit down a bit harder, which made him reach to your waist and squeeze your hips.

His hands snaked from your hips to behind your thighs as he lifted you, setting you down on the table. You frantically began pulling your skirt up, bunching it around your torso. Ramsay chuckled at this. "You're an eager one." He whispered into your ear before biting down on the flesh directly below your earlobe. A whimper escaped your lips. You realized your arms were desperately tugging at Ramsay's sleeves and the front of his vest. Gods, you were not very good at hiding your lust for him. He stepped back one step before yanking his vest open and tearing it off. Then, he pulled the wool long sleeve over his head. You gawked at the sight, his pale and toned frame heaving as he stared at you with a predatory glare.

He stepped forward again, pressing himself against your core. Your skirt was still bunched around your sides, fully exposing yourself. Ramsay's cock nudged at your entrance as he allowed his trousers to fall from his thighs to his ankles. You reached out in an attempt to allow your fingers to graze over his pale skin, but he stopped you with his own hands. He grabbed your wrists and tucked them at your sides. "Lay down. Hands under your lower back." You obeyed, slowly leaning backwards and tucking your arms underneath the small of your back. "Good." He quietly praised you.

He grabbed the same knife from the edge of the table and wielded it in his hand. He leaned forward, pressing it against your neck, the cold blade sending shivers down your body. He slid the knife under the neckline of your shirt and easily sliced through the filthy fabric, exposing your breast to him. He pulled the shirt open like a cloak and began kneading at your chest while he nudged at your entrance, his cock pressing against your needy core. The knife returned to your throat as he lined himself up with your cunt. His free hand still groping your body, squeezing and pulling at your soft flesh. He leaned forward, pressing his length inside you easily. You were clearly very aroused, as your body was slick and easy to enter.

You whined as he stretched you. He enjoyed your whimpers. He clenched his jaw as he began pumping in and out, not allowing your body to adjust. You cried out with a combination of pain and pleasure, and Ramsay simply growled in return. He continued to press the knife against your throat, the blade threatening to slice through your skin at any moment. He did not break eye contact while he began fucking you. His icy eyes bore deep into your own, causing your stomach to flutter with arousal. This was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Seeing Ramsay abuse his power was one thing, but watching him to do it to you? Incredible.

You felt yourself growing warm, your body fully adjusting to him and beginning to float with pure bliss. You must've gave your enjoyment away on your face, because Ramsay pulled his cock from you. You whimpered as you felt empty, and your eyes snapped open to see him take a step backwards. "Get up." He demanded. You brought yourself off the table and realized how sore your arms and shoulders were. You stood in front of Ramsay, your skirt falling back to its original length.

"I can't have you enjoying this too much." He cooed, shaking his head with disappointment. He brought the knife back to your throat. You swallowed as you watched his eyes scan over your face. His other hand grabbed your hands and he brought them to his wet cock, still hard. "Please me." He demanded as he grabbed the nape of your neck once again. "Yes, Ramsay." You obeyed. You began stroking his cock while he leaned into you. You were using your hands to please him while he kept the knife pressed against you and had your hair wrapped around his other hand. He turned your head to the side, giving him access to your neck and ear. He breathed against your ear, causing goosebumps to rip across your skin.

He kissed your earlobe as the knife pressed against your jawline. You were steadily and rhythmically using your hands to jerk him off. Your mind blurred as you pleased him. Your brain drowned in the sounds of his shaky breaths and moans between the kisses on your neck. You knew he was growing close to orgasm, the grip on your hair was extremely tight and the knife was pressed against your jaw firmly. You were afraid he would slice your throat without knowing.

His hips began thrusting forward, his body begging for more pleasure. He lurched a few times before his thighs tightened and the knife actually dug into your jawline. He came, releasing a groan from deep within his belly as he did. You were gasping for air just as much as he was, you hadn't realized you had been holding your breath. He came down from his climax and finally released your hair. He noticed the nick on your jawline from his knife and he chuckled. "I got a bit carried away, didn't I?" He reached out to your chin and pulled it towards him, allowing you to face him once more. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing your mouth for the first time. You felt your heart flutter. The kiss was too short. He pulled away and bent over to pull his trousers up.

"Go wash your wound. I may need you again later tonight." He grinned as he turned to walk away, leaving you a panting mess. You were desperate for your own release, feeling the sexual tension built up in your own body. You watched Ramsay disappear in the hallway and you looked down at yourself. Your open shirt hanging off your elbows. Your dress even dirtier than it was before, but this time you didn't really seem to mind as much.

#game of thrones #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsaybolton #ramsayboltonsmut #got #ramsey bolton #smut #ramsey snow #forceful

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resident-gay-bitch · 7 months

Text

“james, love…” lily puts her hand soothingly on james’ thigh. it’s soft, and small, and smooth, and almost delicate in her touch. everything about lily is so right to james, in every sense.

but gosh, sometimes he wishes that hand were bigger, rougher, scarred and pale with long bony fingers and black chipped nail polish.

james doesn’t even know why he feels that way sometimes. he loves lily. he really fucking loves lily. she’s everything to him, and five times out of ten he’ll yearn for her hand and her touch and her love.

but those five other times…

fuck, it hurts. and it’s so goddamned confusing. james drives himself crazy thinking about it.

actually, he drives himself crazy trying not to think about it. he doesn’t want to think about it. he can’t hurt lily. she’s the love of his life. so wonderful, she is, the brightest witch of her age, and she’s sassy and challenges james and doesn’t put up with his arrogance but also loves when he gets a little snobby. she’s so wonderful, and his parents adore her, and they’re engaged. to be married!

james doesn’t think life could get much more perfect than her.

oh, but his heart, it’s a terrible fucking thing. it’s the worst thing in the world, he’s beginning to think.

everyone’s always told him he has the most pure heart they’ve ever seen, that he has so much love and wears it on his sleeve. james potter has a wonderful heart, so good and lovely.

but james potter thinks his heart is so horrible, the betrayer. why? why would it do this to him?

it loves lily so dearly, and he’s certain of that. so why does his heart race so fucking fast when those long bony fingers reach out and tickle his skin. why does it ache and yearn for james to look into ice grey eyes and embrace another? if his heart so full of good and love, why must it hate james so much?

his body quakes when her delicate touch gluides over the meat of his thigh, the covers kicked down to his shins. her nails are painted a pretty pale green colour, and they look lovely, sitting in the place where his boxers end. he usually loves the sight of her hand there, so perfectly placed, her freckled skin contrasting against the tan of his own.

but not tonight. not right now. right now it’s his hand that james wants to see there. it’s his bony pale fingers that james wants to see spread out over the thick muscle. it’s his touch james yearns for.

he convulses, caving in on himself more. he’s distraught, arms wrapped tight around his almost bare body, snot in his nose, hot cheeks covered in tear tracks, his glasses all foggy.

“love…” she whispers again, her perfect, sweet voice. james loves the way she chants his name, weather it be soft, or tender, or loud, or excited, or desperate, or angered. he loves it all. he loves how perfect the melody of everything she says sounds to him. but he wishes for the deeper baritone of someone else to call his name in all the same ways. someone who’s not supposed to call his name in all the same ways.

james can’t even look at her. cant bring himself to look at her. he can’t hurt her the way hes hurting himself. cant believe he’s feeling this way. it’s horrible, guilt sinking it’s claws into his chest and tugging everything out until there’s nothing left but empty pain.

he can’t tell her, or she’ll leave him.

he can’t tell him, or everything will be wrong.

he can’t lie, or he’ll feel even more guilty.

he can’t be honest, or things will get messy.

he can’t rot like this forever, or hill drive himself to insanity.

they’re getting married next week, for fucks sake. and james loves her so much, and he’s so happy, and so excited. they’ve been taking about kids, about life. james got so excited about the thought, he impulsively bought a tiny pair of baby sneakers he saw in the store one afternoon.

so why is it, on his bucks night, of all nights, that he’s getting cold feet? why is it now just hitting him harder than it ever had before, these horribly betraying feelings?

had it been because those ice grey eyes looked at james with such pure affection and softness it made his heart want to explode? had it been because calloused hands felt good wrapped around james’ biceps as he had to be hauled back up to bed? had it been then kiss left on james’ forehead from pretty pink lips that didn’t belong to his fiancé? had it been the quiet words muttered into the night, when james was presumedly asleep, that had been playing on an insistent loop since they’d been whispered?

she can give you everything i can’t, amour. be happy, please.

or did it only really hit him, how horrible this all is, when he heard lily get home right as he was leaving. when he heard them talking downstairs, unable to decipher what they were saying, but sobered enough in the head to know they were talking for a while, taking about good things and bad.

or is it worse, because james feels the way he does, and he knows it’s bad and that he shouldn’t think on it, but sometimes he notices those ice grey eyes drift over to look at the soft curves of lilys figure? is it anger, he feels, for his friend to look at his fiancé like that? is it jealousy that he feels, when he notices her looking back? or is he jealous that those ice grey eyes aren’t always set on james?

“james.” lily whispers once more, moving herself closer to him on the bed, her hand shifting from his thigh to his cheek where she wiped his tears and held him. her makeups smudged, her hairs all messy, and he has a gaudy feather boa on. she wanted an all muggle henz night, and it looks like she had a wonderful one. and now james was here, ruining it because his heart yearns for a second.

why isn’t she enough for him? why can’t she be enough?

“i’m sorry, love.” james splutters out, surprised he can actually string his words together.

“oh, jamie.” she whispered, the soft pad of her thumb swipes over his wet cheek, flicking away more tears as they spilled. she leant in close to kiss his forehead, so delicate and warm, her kisses. so perfect. not enough. she smells like champagne, and sweat, and her floral perfume. it’s nice, comforting, it’s her and assurance she had a good night.

james sobbs more, they rip through him like waves; a never ending stream washing him away, and he aches.

“i love you so much, darling.” she whispers again, “and you love me?”

oh, more than anything he’s ever loved, almost. besides that one other incessant, irritable, beautiful, perfect disaster. he loves the both of them equally, he thinks, which is wrong. it’s so wrong. pick one, he tells himself. you can only love one person at a time.

“of course.” he nods, bottom lip wobbling as he speaks. “oh, i love you so much, lily, you have no idea-“

“i know, my love.” she smiles, so pretty, so perfect. “but your heart… it’s not only mine, is it?”

james stills, his said heart stops still in his chest. he isn’t entirely sure he’s actually breathing for a very long while. how would she know such a thing? how can she know? how- how… oh how?

“oh, my love.” she giggles, so softly. it sounds so familiar, like a warm summer breeze, and it settles something deep in james’ chest. it provides him comfort, as she always does, and he breathes again. “don’t panic. i’ve known for a while- for years, james. before we started going out, you know?”

“i’m so sorry.” he breaks, slumping into her arms and almost wailing against her chest. she holds him tight, soothing her hand over his back and petting him there, another hand sifting through his hair as she kisses his crown. she’d make a wonderful mother some day, james knows it. but now he’s gone and fucked it up, hasn’t he? “i don’t want to hurt you, i love you, lily, so much-“

“i know, james.” she sighed, kissing his crown once more, “you don’t have to be scared. not with me. you know you can tell me these things? i’ve been waiting for you to tell me years, thought maybe once we tied the knot you would.”

“you’re not… mad at me?” james peaks up at her, his eyes stinging from crying so much, his glasses askew. “why are you not mad at me?”

he’s terribly lost right now, his heart practically on another planet already with how fast it’s moving.

“you can love more than one person, james, and still have your love be pure.” she smiled, so sweetly, so pretty. he wants to kiss her, but thinks this is hardly the time for that. “you can love anyone you desire, as much as you desire. i know your heart is mine, i just share it with sirius, is all.”

hearing her speak his name like that, it’s unsettling at first. it makes james jolt back in shock, looking at her through eyes blown wide. she was never meant to know, no one was ever supposed to know. it’s weird, now she knows- she’s always known, apparently. but since he’s been made aware. why isn’t she angry? why isn’t she saying his name with such distain?

why does she speak his name like it’s something tender, like he’s precious? why does she sound out each letter the same way james would?

“you’re not a terrible person, james. please know that. i only waited so long to bring it up because i wanted you to feel good about it. but i can see it getting to you…” she sighed, smoothing her soft hands over his shoulders, “i love you so very much, no matter how many other people i share your heart with. i think it’s wonderful, how you can love me so strongly and still have more to give. don’t you think it’s wonderful? you do really have the biggest heart.”

james doesn’t know how to feel right now. he doesn’t know what this means. she loves him, still. is glad, perhaps? he’s baffled, actually. and he must show it, because she laughs so brightly at him and wipes the last of his sticky tears away before kissing him kindly.

james sinks into her wonderful, wonderful kiss. oh, she really is brilliant, his lily.

the brightest witch for certain.

“you relax, my love. lay down.” she mutters, pushing james back to lie under the covers again, folding his glasses for him and setting them on his bedside, “i’m going to put on a spot of tea, and then we’ll lay together for a while, and we’ll talk more in the morning about what it all will mean, okay?”

“okay.” james muttered, closing his heavy eyes.

oh he really loves his lily.

he must have fallen asleep, because one minuet she’s laying him into bed and the next she’s making him sip a hot cup of tea. his glasses stay off, too tired to worry much about seeing, too drunk to process much else anyway. he sips his tea, and she sips hers, and smiles at him softly.

“i love you so much, james.” she whispers to him, taking his teacup and setting it on his bedside table. “let’s sleep?”

she doesn’t give him time to argue, shoving him over into the centre of the bed. rather than climbing into her own side, she crawls under the covers on james’ and curls in at his side.

but james can’t focus much on the soft curve of lily, or her pretty smile, or the inviting smell of her; there’s another body climbing into bed behind him.

“shhh…” lily whispers, taking james chin and turning him to face her, as he startled. she kisses his lips again and wipes away the confused furrow of his brow. “not now, love. just relax, okay. let us hold you, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

james nods and turns to look at the other body, and finds pale skin and ice grey eyes looking down on him softly.

“would you like me to hold you, jamie?” he whispers, and james’ heart burns with how fast it’s beating.

james nods, too delirious to question it, if he’s honest. it’s not as if they don’t cuddle, regularly. it’s just… this is a little different, he suspects. lily has this look on her face, like she’s meddling, like she’s happy to be meddling.

james usually loves when she meddles, so he can only assume this is something good. he doesn’t have to worry now, they’ll talk about it in the morning.

for now, he lays his head on his pillow and wraps his arms tight around lily, their legs slotting together with ease, a position they have mastered. she’s curled into his chest, her forehead pressed against the flesh of his, and her hair tucked under his chin.

but tonight another set of arms wrap around them. strong biceps and ink blead into pale skin lay over james’ own. those long bony fingers skate over the back of james’ palm, the one that rests on the meaty flesh of lilys lower back, and they slot between his own. a strong jaw tucks itself over james’ shoulder and nuzzles there, warm breath fanning over his neck.

it’s sirius, pressed up against his back, spooning james whilst he holds his fiancé. it’s so oddly comforting to be sandwiched between the pair, his heart never had felt quite so full.

lily shoots her hand up and shoves sirius’ face away, and she tiredly groans. “your breath smells like cigarettes, dog-boy. don’t breathe on me, or i will kick you out.”

sirius snickers, and james utterly loves the sound. it contrasts the melody of lilys laugh quite strongly, and perhaps lily is right; maybe it is kind of beautiful how his heart can love two entirely different things, so intently, and so equally.

“please don’t kick me out.” sirius grumbles, tucking his face behind james’ shoulder and kissing him there. james’ heart positively somersaults. “i’ll probably have a bigger meltdown than james,” james kicks his foot back against sirius’ ankle, and he laughs before continuing, “i love you both terribly.”

this time lily is the one to kick sirius, right between james’ legs, “shh! don’t ruin it!”

sirius kicked her back, “he’s so drunk, he won’t even remember, mrs. potter.”

“he’s significantly more sober now, dipshit.” she muttered, “sorry, jamie, go to sleep.”

“oh…” sirius muttered, pressing his face into the back of james’ neck, “sorry, prongsie boy. we’ll, ah… we’ll talk more tomorrow. but you can understand, right? waiting so long and all-“

“shut up, pads.” james groaned, hoping neither of them could notice the red smatter of blush on his face or the lovestruck grin he had plastered to his lips, “i’m trying to sleep.”

“right.” sirius muttered, and shut his trap.

silence lulled over the room again, and james mind was so heavy, so desperate to sleep. however, his heart was hyperactive.

this was something.

oh, this had to be something entirely wonderful.

he wasn’t sure he could wait till morning to talk about it further. he just had to get one last word in before he let himself sleep.

“i love you both terribly too, i suppose.”

james fell asleep feeling much better than he had before, lily and sirius sandwiching him in; the shared warmth of their body’s settling comfortably over james. they were here, now, all of them, together. james and lily love eachother, and by the looks of things james and sirius love eachother too; and perhaps even lily and sirius might. but either way, james’ heart is too fucking full of love and he never intends on ridding himself of that.

they both pressed pretty little kisses to james skin in sync, and james certainly dreamed much more wonderful things than he had in a while.

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